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atinydise · 3 years

Text

Ateez reacting to their s/o holding their hands for the 1st time

❦ Genre: Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3k3.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

HONGJOONG

You were peacefully staring at the sky from your window. You've been staring at it since the departure. It was such a beautiful view that you wouldn't be bored it even with 11 hours of flight. "What are you staring at, love?" Asked Hongjoong, finally removing his earphones. 'Love'. You will never get used to him calling you this way. It never fails to make your heart beating faster than ever. "The view with the sunset is just so relaxing." You smiled. "Look at this with..." he struggled to untangle his earphone. The short imagination of him losing his AirPods for the 823rd time, got you smiling. "Song." He finally inserted it on your ear.

A soft and calm music started to play. All of your senses were comforted by these clear notes. "Sounds like a commercial music, right?" Giggled your boyfriend. "No... it's relaxing." You claimed. "I could fall asleep in 2 seconds because of it." "Then go ahead." He patted his shoulder, telling you to rest on it. Without hesitating, you put your head on. It was comfier than what you thought. Not something pointy and hard that could bother with your earrings or piercings. "Is it comfy?" Asked Hongjoong, a tiny bit worried. Too reassure him, you simply nodded and grabbed his forearm with your hand. Just to keep him close. Hongjoong wasn't used to you, showing this kind of attention in public. He was a bit taken a back, but finally only you mattered. The song was leading you in a soft and calm mindset. Your eyes were closing at every note and your entire body felt like a feather. Your boyfriend guessed that you were falling asleep because your hand was sliding on his forearm. 5 minutes later, your head almost fell from Hongjoong's shoulder. He quickly put it back in place, but it caused your hand to rest right in his free one. The warmness and the softness of his palm made you unconsciously held his hand. Tight. Hongjoong took his time to realize what was happening. Even if you were sleeping, he was hickey flustered. He was staring at your fingers, intertwined with his. Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile and blush. More when he tried to remove your grip, but you tightened it. "Cute." He whispered. Hongjoong and you were not really tactile and clingy persons, but when these moments happen, for the first time or rarely, both of you desire that it never stops. It was your moment only.

SEONGHWA

"I can't believe we are here already!" You stomped enthusiastically. Seonghwa was staring at you. You were so happy and cute. The way, you were holding your backpack straps made him melt instantly. "Disneyworld..." you sighed joyfully. "It's magic!" Seonghwa nodded, they really created a whole world and it felt unreal since he put a foot there. "Where do you want to start?" He asked, opening the map. "Space mountain!" You almost yelled, pointing at the localization pin. "Really? But we ate 2 hours ago?" He gulped, thinking at the amount of looping. "What a baby." You smirked. "Then what about... Peter Pan? Or Ratatouille?" "Okay I agree for the last one." He accepted. "Let's go!" You almost ran to the crowd, not wanting people to take your place in the queue. Seonghwa was looking at every details of the amusement park. All the shops had their own magical surfaces. He needs to come here with the members one time. They would go crazy for sure. "Fast Park Seonghwa!" You pouted. To tease you a little bit more, he started to walk slower. He deducted that it was working well because he spotted the vein on your forehead. "You are so slow!" You complained. Not thinking twice about your actions, you held his hand and led him to the attraction. The moment he felt your hand in his huge one, his stomach clenched. A thousand of butterflies were flying there. You were too focused on the board that you didn't saw the light blush on his face. But you secretly liked to hold his hand. It felt just right. "Bingo!" You pointed at the clock, "only 5 minutes of queueing." Seonghwa was barely listening to you. He was looking at your hands fitting perfectly in his. You had a moment of doubt, maybe he didn't like it and was too nice to tell you. You tried to detach your embrace slowly, but he tightened his grip on it. "Don't." He said seriously. "I like it." You smiled shyly at him. "It's the first time we are holding hands." He giggled. "A-Ah really?" You stuttered, a bit flustered. Seonghwa was about to reply when his phone buzzed in his pocket. You thought that he would let your hand free, but you were wrong. He struggled a bit to get it out of the pocket but no way he would use both of his hands. "Yeah Joong?" He rolled his eyes. "No. I told you I had a date today with Y/N. At Disneyworld." You glanced at him when you heard the word "date". Seonghwa saw your facial expression and winked cockily. You ignored what feels the most magical now; Disneyworld or a date with Seonghwa?

YUNHO

More and more you were moving forward in the queue, more you wanted to run away. Your friends advised you to go in a haunted house with Yunho, for your first date. At first, you didn't realize the situation. You only thought about a way to be close to him without being awkward. Yunho is scared of absolutely, nothing. He could play with a tarantula, then dance with a venomous snake without problem. So, a haunted house was nothing for him. But for you, it was another story. "Are you okay Y/N? You are shaking a bit." Asked Yunho thinking that you were already scared. "Even a lot." "I'm good!" You slapped his shoulder, puffing a bit. "It's just the anticipation." "Ok cool. I thought you had this kitschy idea to stay glued to me for the whole time. But I would probably be the one doing it." He laughed. "N-No. So, cliché." You laughed nervously, cursing at your friends in your mind. Not even 30 seconds later, the host led you inside. You were completely terrified. You couldn't even enjoy a single moment the proximity or the thought or having a romantic intercourse with Yunho. "Oh wow, that's well made." He pointed at the spider above you. You did your best to suppress the scream stuck in your throat. "W-Wait. You are working too fast." You tugged his shirt. "Are you scared?" He teased you. "We can go out if you-" "No." You shook your head. "Just stay close." You wrapped your arm around his. Yunho admitted that it was cute. Of course, he was aware of your plan when you invited him to the haunted house. You couldn't even walk next to a worm, without yelling. Suddenly and even Yunho shivered, a skeleton almost fell at your right. Your first reflex was to grab his hand and to hide behind his tall figure. Even though the situation wasn't the best, Yunho's heart flustered. Thanks to the darkness, you couldn't see the blush on his cheeks. His stomach clenched when your fingers placed right between his long ones. This action never had such an impact before. He was used to hold Atiny's hand during fansign. But it was nothing compared to this feeling. The rest of the way, you never let his hand go. Nor let 2 centimeters away from you. When finally, you exited the nightmare, the reality hit you. "Well done Y/N." Said Yunho. "F-For what? I've been a scared baby there." You faked to fix your clothes. "I thought you would jump on me right when we entered, but no. You had shown an amazing braveness." He giggled patting the back of your head. You grunted few words, too nervous and shy to admit your plan. "Give me your hand lady. Let's go inside again. I liked it." He smiled.

YEOSANG

["Y/N"] ["Bring ice cream."] Without hesitation you run to your kitchen and took a vanilla post in the refrigerator. You messily put your shoes and exited the college dorm. ["On my way!"] After 5 minutes of walking and avoiding bumping into every single person in the street, you arrived to Ateez' dorm. Right when you exited the elevator, you saw Wooyoung closing the door. "Wow. I want a best friend like you. In less than 15 minutes you there." Claimed Wooyoung. "How is he? Good or?" "A complete mess." He replied. You rolled your eyes, "I swear... I told him to stay away from this type of girl." "Good luck." Shrugged Wooyoung. "Wait, you are not going to comfort him?" "Why. I know that you are here." He patted your shoulder. "I'll watch a movie. See ya!" "Jung Wooyoung! I swear-" "Are you going to stay there the whole day, or you are going to enter and comfort me?" Asked Yeosang, who came out after hearing your voice in the hallway. "Be nice with me. I brought you a vanilla pot." You lifted your plastic bag. "Cool. Now I can be completely depressed and heartbroken." He whined. After that, you both sat on the couch, enjoying the calm for once. Yeosang explain that he prepared the best date for her and he even bought flowers. But she never shown up, nor replied to his texts. "You don't deserve her. I told you that already and a bunch of times." You ate another spoon of ice cream. "Are you going to eat all of this by yourself?" He slapped your hand, causing the spoon to fall. You rolled your eyes and faced him. "Yeosang, stop being sad for her. You are a real treasure and too bad for her, she lost someone really special." You grabbed both of his hands and rubbed it with your thumbs. "Even if you are a bit savage sometimes, you are such a good person." Yeosang's eyes couldn't leave the sight of your hands, holding, squeezing and rubbing his. "And she's stupid. You are probably the perfect boyfriend on this earth." You claimed. "I would be grateful to have a boyfriend like you." He raised his brow, by surprise. You instantly flickered his forehead. "Don't even think about it." He sneered, knowing that you would say something like that. "How do you feel?" You asked when you finally saw a smile on his face. Yeosang hesitated a second, but finally chose to take his sad facial expression back. "Hold my hand and tell me how amazing I am again. It might help." You rolled your eyes. "This guy... Anyway." You ordered and held his hands once again. Screw the compliment. That's what he really wanted.

SAN

You were waiting your boyfriend for 15 minutes already. He as late. Like always. But you never been mad about it. San was doing his best to spend some time with you despite having a heavy and full schedule. The last thing you could do, to just show him how grateful you are, is to be patient. "Y/N!" Shouted San, running to you. He was smiling widely and waving crazily. "Slow down, you are going to trip." You warned him when you judged he was close enough. "Sorry." He paused, catching his breath. "I'm late again." "It's okay babe." You pecked his cheek, making his heart jolt a tiny bit. "To apologize, you can choose everything you want us to do today." He said happily. Next thing he knew he was trying to walk for the first time with rollers. "Y/N, I can't do this!" He whined, holding the ramp on the wall. "Come on! I know that you can be really good at this." You encouraged your boyfriend. "How do you manage to stay still with this?!" "It's still my feet. I'm the only one controlling them." You smiled, turning around him. "Oh my god, help me." He sighed, trying to stop his legs to shake like a newborn. "Okay." You stopped at his left. "I'll help you." San gulped when you slid your hand over his forearm to gently hold his hand. He was still amazed by the softness of your palm that he didn't realize that the wall was getting far away every seconds. "I can't believe that we are holding hands." He finally said. You simply giggled, ignoring what to say. "I thought that I would need to do it first. I know how shy you are princess." "Stay focused Sanie." You replied, a smile glued on your face. "Your hand is so cute in mine. It's like it was meant to be there." "San." "I want this moment to pause forever." He claimed. "Babe." "I can’t believe!" He sang, using the same tone as Chen in Exo*. "And I can't believe, you made a whole round without falling." San finally looked around him. He was so focused on your hand that he completely forgot his main task. "I'm roller-skating!" He shouted victoriously. "I'm a grown man now." "Can the grown man detach his hand now that's he's a pro?" "Never."

MINGI

Mingi is shy. On the stage, he always looks fierce, confident and cool. But in reality, he is a cute and shy boy. It took him 20 minutes to ask you on a date. You spent your entire break from your old part time job, to listen to him, stuttering 2 words by minute. With respect, of course, you always kept your distance and understood that he was not into showing affection in public. Then you always 'stayed in your place' and be affectioned in private. But even not that much because he was still taken a back. Tonight, they all had a rough day and Seonghwa offered to walk an hour in the park below. You encouraged them, saying that it was a good idea. So here you are, leading the walk with your boyfriend. The rest of the members behind you, a bit like chaperones. Everyone could tell that this little walk was relaxing. One by one, they all found their smiles back. "Do you remember Bridgerton?" You asked. Mingi raised a brow, "the show that made you drool and fangirl about the dresses?" "Yeah!" You snapped. "The boys looks like our parents, checking that we don’t do anything wrong." You smirked. The tall boy looking behind him. The 7 other boys were minding their own business. "Not really. They totally don’t give a f about us." He sneered. "Ah really? So, it won't bother anyone if... I do something like." You removed your hand out of your pocket to held Mingi's one. As expected, he blushed and stuttered that they were just behind. "Come on...." You teased him, squeezing his hand. "We are dating for 3 months and you never held my hand. So, I do it." "Y/N!" He blushed even more. "Ooooouh Song Mingi!" Shouted the boys behind. Some of them were whistling, one by one. Few ones were clapping, and San Yunho were imitating the scene. Even though Mingi was cringing, it was not bad at all. "Song Mingi is a man now! He's holding a girl's hand." Shouted Wooyoung. All of their comment started to make you awkward too. But in a good way. Judging that you teased Mingi enough. You tried to untangle your fingers. "Finish what you started." Said Mingi, tightening his grip. "You put us in this situation, so you need to assume it too." A nervous laugh came out from your throat when he put both of your hands in his pocket. Of course, this move caused the other boys to start yelling behind both of you. But you could still live with it.

WOOYOUNG

Even if you agreed to spend the night at the dorm Wooyoung still found the situation awkward. It's been 2 weeks that you were officially dating. Everything was perfect. You both had a real great harmony. Even the other members claimed that they were jealous of your chemistry. The only problem which was not a big deal but still bothers Wooyoung, was that you were not really the 'clingy type'. You barely touched each other. He respected that you needed to hold our hand sometimes or just give you a hug or a peck randomly. "What are you thinking about?" You asked sliding under the sheets. "You keep looking at the ceiling." Wooyoung hesitated a second to tell you what was bothering him. But he finally decided to not say anything and to not put you in a awkward situation. "Nothing, just tired." He yawned. "Let's sleep." You nodded and made sure both of you were well covered. "Good night Wooyoungie." "Night Y/N." You couldn’t see his face, but he was disappointed when you turned around, showing your back to him asking if he was asleep already. He finally cracked an eye when he felt your warmness just next to him. His heart started to rush. Wooyoung even though it would stop functioning when you grabbed his hand to held yours. You slowly rested your interlaced hands on your belly. Wooyoung was burning behind you. The dozen of mini him were dancing and shouting along in his head. When you started to rub your thumb over his skin, it completely drove him crazy. Wooyoung could felly your belly on his forearm. because of that, he wanted so bad to squeeze and hug you until you couldn't breathe anymore. "I know that you are awake." You whispered, giggling a bit. Just in case this moment would stop, he preferred to stay quiet. "I feel your heart bumping, jolting and clenching in your chest." You added. "I just... love this." He finally admitted. You simply stuck your body closer to him and snuggled gently against it. "This shit drives me crazy. You seem so tiny." "Just sleep." You giggled, enjoying his presence. "I can't sleep anymore! I feel like I'm going to explode." He replied, happily. "What did I do..." you sighed, smiling a little bit.

JONGHO

You just felt your friends. You spent the whole day looking for a dress. And not a casual dress. An amazing and fancy one. Just to go with your boyfriend at a gala. You needed to get along with everyone there or to be at least presentable. Jongho told you that you could wear anything you want, but your desire was to impress everyone there. Especially the CEO, so he could stop looking at you like a trash. Just when you got out of the café, you spotted a red-haired guy, in the same alley of you. You doubted a second, but you saw him holding an Ice americano. It was your boyfriend for sure. Without hesitating, your ran to his direction. When you were at 5 meters behind him, you walked slowly and quietly. You recognized the Chanel earrings you gave him and his Louis Vuitton sport bag. "He's so expensive." You thought. Not waiting anymore, you grabbed his free hand. Jongho had the instant reflex to step away and to brush the hand off. "Hello young man, are you single?" You winked at him. His face softened, when he saw your face. "No sorry. I'm taken and take care because she's crazy." "Hey!" You pouted. Jongho sneered, proud of his own joke. When finally, he realized. "Oh." Wondering why this sudden behavior and glanced where's he was looking at. "What?" "It's the first time that you are holding my hand." He blinked. "We do this all the time." "No. You don't get it. It's incredible." "What?" "Your hand is hold mine. It's the best thing ever." You raised a brow, "you are too much." “I’m usually the one holding yours but now!” “You-” "Do not move." He kept staring at it. People walking past to you, were giving you a weird look. Jongho was looking at your hands in awe. "She's holding my hand too! And the first time!" He said to a couple passing by. "Choi Jongho." You slapped his shoulder gently, completely embarrassed. "Let's go to Hongdae!" "Why suddenly?" You asked. "So, we can walk there!" "It's 1 hour far away from here!" "Yes. Exactly. That's the point." He smiled widely, already enjoying the idea.

*Exo - Tempo: it’s a song which had been praised by many (I do recommend to watch Ateez covering this because it’s a m a z i n g) and Chen’s lyrics intro (0:02) really had his impact.

#ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez cute #ateez x you #ateez x atiny #ateez kpop

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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howdy! may i request for a matchup? your blog is so splendid and your writing is incredible ^^ can it be a mix of romantic and nsfw? do whatever your heart desires tho!

first of all, i go with she/they! and i’m pansexual, however i’m mostly inclined towards the ladies because ✨girls✨. but i also wouldn’t mind a male matchup tho! i’m aquarius sun, libra moon and virgo rising, and if it is helpful, i’m an infp 4w5 :)

about my looks! i’m 18 and italian, i’ve kind of got a curly wolfcut with deep purple hair, it reaches my shoulders now, and i’m settled in letting it grow long. i’ve got cat eyes, they’re hazel, and this funny button nose that has a nostril piercing and a septum ^^ my face has a lot of tiny lil moles, which i find really cute, and i’ve got thick thighs and hip dips, i used to dislike them a lot but i vibe with it now :) also my eight is 5’9, i’m a tall gal and i tower over a lot of my friends, i hate it though because i’d love to just pass unnoticed- lastly, my clothing style is dark fairycore! my favorite outfit is this cute black dress with a small ribbon and moon jewel at the top, along with this…. really fairy-sh giant open shirt with weird turquoise designs, and simple skull thighs paired with short black converse!

i suffer from social anxiety, depression, slight eating disorder and extremely low self esteem, i’m really insecure and i always apologise because i’m terrified of talking too much, being too scatterbrained- every moment’s a good one to say sorry for me, i’m just scared i’ll do or say something that’ll mess everything up. i joke around alot about how sensible and empathic i am, seeing a stranger being sad while i’m taking a stroll around the park will literally bursts to tears in the middle of the street, i just can’t help it- i always overload myself by trying to help and regularly check on my friends, to see if they’re doing well, if they’ve tried to eat something, took some breaks from work and all, but i’m always mindful of not asking every single day in fear of being oppressive. i know i’m too caring and nurturing, i’m a mom friend, and the last thing i want to do is annoy them by being over-attached-

talking about my personality, i’m very very playful and sweet, i like being helpful to people and am studying to be a psychologist!! at first i’m extremely shy and try my best to stay quiet, but once i open up my dorky side comes bursting out lol, and then there’s no stopping me because i’ll start being a scatterbrained clumsy mess with no fears of being judged 😎 i’m proud of my creativity, i have this cute little recycled sketchbook where i’m constantly drawing skulls, skeletons and flowers, and also i love singing while strumming my uke or guitar <3 i often talk REALLY fast, it’s usually when i’m really excited about something that i enjoy, and i also get tongue twisted frequently, which is kind of fun because when i’m totally into something i’ll start also say weird things, too busy paying attention to what i’m doing than actually register what comes out of my mouth. and that’s pretty fun, if you also know that i even talk in my sleep. it runs the family or some shit, my dad and my sister have whole conversations while resting and it’s THE BEST THING EVER- sorry i got giddy and started ranting- i’m really affectionate, i love hugging people, but before starting physical contact i always try to see if they don’t mind being touched, and if that’s a no then i’ll smother you with goofy love, such as gently head butting you while we’re laughing (i started doing this with my mom when i was a child, it’s our way of being sweet to each other ^^), kissing your cheeks often or just playfully biting you. i always joke a lot with my blinding black humour, but there are days when i get really melancholic and tired and i just spend the whole day crying or being lazy because i’m unmotivated. it might happen sometimes that i get a bad anxiety overload where the tiniest sound makes me snap badly, and i might get really irritated. i always feel guilty of snapping afterwards and i make sure to excuse myself. my personality is kind of.. awkward in a funny way, i always get told that i remind them of Emily the corpse bride. we have the same name actually, and that movie brings me so much comfort <3

i’m a huge softie, i love stargazing while holding pinky fingers with someone, talking about crazy conspiracy theories and staying awake late at night, talking and giggling till we’re both on the verge of crying. (black humor is majorly involved-) i’m interested in witchcraft, my grandma and mother have the third eye and me and my aunt are into spiritual stuff! so i could be the big tiddy with gf 👀 i have a whole collection of cute crystals, and my favorite one is my black star necklace! i’m also into tarots, meditation and the likes. i’m also in love with flowers but i’m sadly allergic to pollen, and i’ve got four cats ^^ i also enjoy writing! i write small poems and cute things, usually because i’m a lovesick pup 💀 i’m smitten with philosophy and knowledge and i know how to translate ancient greek and latin!

nsfw part here, gonna get spicy- i’m 100% a submissive brat, i’m a huge masochist and i love being choked. please bite me, and i’ll love you forever. i can’t stand degradation, praise is my way to go, as i’m really insecure. call me your pretty girl while holding my chin and i’ll die andjwjjw- also i kind of… have a blood kink? i love the taste of blood, and i wouldn’t mind small cuts and little bruises. overall i need praise and i’ll be a brat about it, i just love playfully denying and defying orders ;) and lastly i don’t know if it’s a thing, but i’ve got a smoking kink? just- smoking is bad kids, but people smoking are hot? how is it even-?

this was so long, i tried to be as detailed as possible and i’m really sorry for the inconvenience. you’re a wonderful author and you masterpieces never, and i mean never, disappoint! i’m so happy that you’ll take a week of, breaks are important for your mental health and well-being! <3

Your matchup is… Clockwork!

Read more because of NSFW

In General

I have found myself back on that ?? with who to put you with and that’s honestly just because I see you working with a few different people! I love that. At first, my brain bounced around to Jeff simply because of the blood kink, or maybe Kate, but like,,,, your hobbies all line up with Natalie?? So Natalie it is! I think she’d just adore everything about you and that your other kinks match up with her SO WELL. So! Let’s get into that. I also happen to like both Natalie and Aquarius-es.

Things she likes about you:

What doesn’t Natalie like about you? She’s such a sweetheart ngl and everything about you fascinates her. Physically, she thinks you’re the epitome of beauty? Like, your hair is just so pretty?? She could spend hours just threading her fingers through it, playing with all the curls and remarking how the purple hue changes in different colors. She’s also a sucker for piercings, like that could’ve been what physically attracted her to you at a glance first - the piercings. She’s weak. The moles too?? She’d just straight up “did you know moles are places your past life lover used to kiss you?” And then she’d smother you in kisses. Your face would always smell faintly of her chapstick ngl. I also like to think that Natalie herself is pretty tall! So she really like have a partner she can just smooch when standing and doesn’t have to swoop down or crane upwards. You’re perfectly sized and she’s just in love. Heart eyes. She also really likes your sense of style! If you wore that outfit around her? Either Natalie’s gonna act up or,,,,,, she’s gonna show you off,,,,,,, She also really finds your altruism endearing! Admittedly, Natalie is a little rough around the edge so someone as sweet and kind as you? It’s just melts her that much more. PLEASE SING TO HER and play your uke omfg that would be so precious I CANNOT stress that enough. She also really loves your art! I will come back to that point. And by all means, she loves hearing you talk! Sometimes, Natalie doesn’t know what to say so it’s nice to have a partner fill her head with sweet words. Sometimes, she just likes listening. Also YES PLEASE HUG HER. Just touch her! I think all of the creeps are touch starved but Natalie especially.

General cute stuff:

Back to the music thing, please do this. I genuinely mean it, like just sit in the room with her while she writes stuff or draws and just sing to her and play your instruments she will adore it. She’d probably also hum with you, just spending time with you. Also also, little sketch dates are an absolute must? Going to pretty places out in the world, sketching together. You could be sketching the world around you and flowers and she would sketch,,,, you! Because you are the most beautiful thing present. Natalie would love to hold your pinky and just swing your hands gently as you walk together. Just lots of cute, soft stuff, y’know? She doesn’t understand witchcraft at all ngl but feel free to tell her all about it! She loves learning, especially when the info comes from the lips of someone she loves. She might also buy you little crystals or pick them up in nature, maybe find some nice things for you and give them as little gifts to show you she listens to what you’re saying and because she thinks it might help in your craft/just be nice to have. Because you have an allergy to pollen, she might just take up to painting flowers to give to you instead :} The poetry thing!! I can see the two of you laying on a blanket under the stars, just tracing constellations and talking about the universe, your head on her chest and reciting poetry to her? It’s just so cute in my opinion.

You two as a couple & NSFW:

Natalie understands that sometimes, the days are hard and all you can do is be there for the ones you love when they come. And she’s there for you 100%. She’d always want to be there for you, making sure you’re eating alright, and that you know you’re loved, appreciated and absolutely cherished in more ways than one. She would be your number one hype woman!! And once again, please keep talking around her. She will never make you apologize or feel bad for going on rambles or just going off track because she appreciates it so much. Just lets you talk and talk and she’d commit every single little thing to memory, really. She’s admittedly not as empathetic as you but understands it’s important to you - she just doesn’t want you to spread yourself thin. Wants you to take care of yourself and remember that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes. You know how you check in on everyone else? Let her do that for you. She is 200% here to love and support you, let her take the wheel every now and then. She wants you to feel pampered and loved. If you start crying over something sad like in the park and someone looks sad? She’s got you. Just holds you, lets you know it’ll be okay. Just lean on her for support, and she will hold you with all her love. Also you are never annoying to her! Natalie just appreciates everything about you, from your deep empathy, to your kindness and all your hobbies, your physical body and just you as a complete human being. Furthermore, Natalie is really understanding about the overload thing. Sometimes that happens with her too, and she will always apologize as well. If you were in one of those bad funks, she’s there to do what you want her to. Just tell her, and she’s already on it. You're also a mom friend? That's perfect she honestly,,,,, she honestly needs that sometimes,,,,

Alright here’s the most decisive part for me, the kinks! Natalie is, without a shadow of a doubt, a brat tamer. Lucky for you, she’s also a masochist as well. She’s pretty dominant, but she likes be challenged every now and then so it works out that you’re bratty. I think in Natalie’s OG story she mentioned liking the taste of blood so like, if you had any little cuts, or maybe just let her bite just hard enough? She’s licking you all over. Her tongue knows no bounds. Also please mark her up she adores that stuff. You can cut her and she’d moan lmfao. She also doesn’t really like degradation either and she’s got praises from here to Timbuktu. She’d have you kneeling in between her legs, hand gripping your cheeks, pulling you upwards and looking into your pretty hazel eyes and smirk, “show me what you’re capable of, pretty girl. Make me smile.” Spanking, if you defy her too much. Good girls aren’t good all the time. Unfortunately, I don’t think Natalie smokes cigarettes. Maybe weed and vape pens? So, you got puff the adequate magick dragon over here too. Blowing rings and heart shapes into your face before patting your cheek and telling you to be a good girl for her? Yes.

Closing Thoughts/Other Stuff:

Ah you are so so sweet! Also I was so happy to see that ‘howdy’. And no, thank you so much for giving me so much to go off of! I LOVE to fill up these matchups to their limit and you gave me such a good amount. Thank you so much for all the kind words! Also also, oh my goodness another witch!! I always get so happy to see other witches. Seriously though, never apologize for being who you are! I was so happy to receive this ask and you seem like such a delightful human being who deserves the world and more! Remember to take care of yourself, okay? Have a fantastic day/night, love bug, from both me and Natalie! And ofc, let me know what you think. Hope you enjoyed <3

#clockwork #natalie ouellette #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #clockwork x reader #creepypasta matchup #matchups #clockworkheadcanon #nsft #matchup #conversations with a fish woman

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theseathatsparkles · 3 years

Text

On Bugs

so for creative writing class we were told to imitate Amy Dillard’s writing style. This is the essay on bugs that I ended up making. Not Bleach, I know, but I thought someone might enjoy it.

This took so long to write oh my god ;-;

also, I am fully aware that not all insects are bugs, and that spiders aren’t either of the two, but. bug is much more fun to say.

Word count - 1500 on the dot

@despairforme THE BUG ESSAY. IT’S HERE. @onenicebugperday you inspired me to write a four page essay about bugs i hope you’re happy

When I was in third grade, I dropped a dandelion down the back of my classmate’s shirt. She was upset, having thought the rather inconspicuous dandelion was a daddy long-legs spider. She’d screamed, slapped me on the chest in an attempt to escape her arachnid harasser, and had decided to wage war against me for the rest of our time together in school.

I never was afraid of spiders the way she was. Spiders and snakes and all sorts of bugs, so long as I could be assured they weren't poisonous, had always held a special place in my heart - and, more often than not, my hand. Growing up in woody, wet Germany gave me a healthy dosage of ladybugs, crickets, and snails at a young age, and I never looked at a bug with anything other than fascination.

It’s the middle of winter, now. There aren’t many bugs around. Forty-two little silhouettes in the light above my desk, but none of them move, empty exoskeletons like shells. They’re probably dry, and if I touched one I’m sure it would crumble under my fingers. There seem to be more of them every time I look up; it’s the middle of winter, so the warmth of the indoors must be especially tantalizing. Right now, there isn’t any wind outside, but the world seems to be painted in shades of grey. Even looking outside makes you feel cold, and the drifts of iced-over snow outside of the window just emphasize this.

I have mixed feelings about winter. I love the snow, love having an excuse to stay inside wrapped in blankets on the days I don’t have school. I love that there aren’t mosquitoes to follow me around - I must taste good to them, since they always seem to swarm me. But the lack of the bugs I do like - spiders, caterpillars, grasshoppers, even the jeweled dragonflies that swarm our canoes in summer - makes winter feel especially harsh.

When I’m feeling more grey than usual, I turn to the internet to soothe me. My computer has a tab open - one nice bug per day. The third picture that appears on image search is a gorgeous skeleton leaf moth, the row under that containing a domino cuckoo bee. I smile, looking at the pictures. A photo of a hissing cockroach wearing a tiny paper party hat jumps out at me, curled around a leaf. I click on the picture, save it to my gmail by emailing it to myself. I’ll take some time to admire them later.

The bigger the bug the better, of course. Small bugs are hard to track, and the idea of one getting somewhere without me knowing about it gives me chills. That’s probably why I hate ants; they swarm up your legs and into your shoes and socks and it takes far too long to extract them all, and you feel phantom itches on your body for the next day or so.

The fear of ants is called myrmecophobia, and often goes hand-in-hand with entomophobia - the fear of insects. When I was young - still in Elementary school, at a time before my decision to quit soccer - I’d practice with my mom in the field a bit southeast of the elementary school tucked at the base of the mountain pass. The playground had been north of us. I always wanted to go back to the playground. The whole complex had been a good half hour’s drive from my house, so we didn’t go there often, but it had an excellent jungle gym and some new swings. It got hot easily, out there under the sun; if I didn’t bring water, the ninety-degree weather would feel twenty degrees hotter, the sort of heat that makes you lightheaded and grumpy.

But my mom had told me to play soccer, and she wasn’t the sort of person who you could say no to easily. I tried, of course, in futile attempts that would end with me in tears and my mom seething, but always ended up on that field, kicking the ball back and forth as my mom chastised me for skipping to the goal. Skipping, apparently, was slower than running.

I’d hated soccer.

It was one of those days that solidified my fear of ants. Wyoming doesn’t have fire ants or most other nasty biting bugs, so I was never in real danger, but that didn’t stop the whole experience from being traumatic. My mom, of course, had laughed about it later; it seems to be a habit of adults to take the irrational fears of children lightly. The ants crawling up my leg had probably been just as afraid of me as I was of them, but knowing that didn’t help any. Adults will tell you that the shark that bit off your arm was just as afraid of you as you were of it, but that doesn’t change the fact that your arm’s gone.

I’d been unlucky enough to step right in an ant nest, the sort that stays hidden by the short grass until something, or someone, disturbs it. It hadn’t looked different from the regular ground from my five feet, but the moment I felt a tickle on my leg, I knew.

I’d screamed. I think anyone would have screamed when confronted with one of their worst fears, so I never was ashamed of my reaction, even if I’d hated the exasperation and faint amusement on my mom’s face. The ants had come right off, lady fortune smiling on me that day, and I hadn’t found any tiny ant corpses in my shoes when I took them off that afternoon - a rarity; ants always seem to turn up in unexpected places post-encounter. I’d been paranoid, though, and had hopped around on one foot until I was a safe distance from the nest before shoving my hands down my socks to search for any lone ants. There were none.

I refused to resume play until I was positive there were no ants on me, of course. Even when we started the game again I was wary, taking light steps and watching the ground like a hawk for any sign of another insect. It had taken the fun out of the game pretty quickly, and we went home soon after.

The internet goes out for a moment, and the photo of the mantis I’m looking at shifts to a grey screen. I frown, take a second to stand up and stretch. My legs and shoulders are especially sore. By the time I sit down again, my picture has loaded again, and I scroll to the left to see a swallowtail butterfly looking out of the screen at me. They have yellow fur around their eyes and antennae, and look vaguely curious. This picture also goes to my saved folder to look at later, and I keep scrolling.

When I was in second grade, we studied bugs in science class. Not extensively; there’s only so much work you can get done as a scatterbrained second grader, and bugs weren’t on the top of my list of priorities. But we studied them, and after a few weeks our teacher imported seven Madagascar hissing cockroaches to be our class pets.

Nobody in my class was afraid of them; I think we were too young to be afraid of something as hideously cute as those little insects. They remind me of pugs now, disgusting in the sort of way that makes you want to coo over them. We’d kept them in a little glass terrarium in the back of the classroom, and took them out during lunch break and sometimes to sketch them during art. Our teacher had told us how to tell the males and females apart, but the information had gone straight in ear and out the other, like water through a sieve. There are two things I can remember about them now: first, that they would shed their skins sometimes and we’d have to clean out their terrarium; second, that if you poked their heads, they’d hiss.

The second thing was the most important to my little second-grade brain. My classmates and I took great satisfaction in poking the cockroaches and watching them puff up and make little hissing sounds like air coming out of a tire. They’d always make their funny wheezing sound, and we’d sit there for minutes on end - the longest amount of time our young minds could stay on track for - and tap them, giggling uncontrollably as they got progressively more frustrated.

I like bugs. I’m no entomologist, I would never spend my days in the wild watching them through magnifying glasses. But I still like them. Their colors remind me of spring and summer, and I love their size - perfect to pick up and put on a fingertip. They’re much more simple than people, never worried about money or jobs or politics. They have no worries, no fears.

I would love to be a bug.

#Sparkles writes #not Bleach #bug #bugs #insects

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obutsuwrites · 4 years

Text

work friends (miruko x reader, part 2)

summary: basically, miruko convinces reader to meet at the mall. possessive behavior and fingering ensue.

warnings: light dom/sub, thigh riding, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, mommy kink

part one

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

word count: 3,729

A high-pitched chirp pierced the woman’s dreamless sleep. Setting such a deafening ringtone was supposed to be an advantage. Hot stories don’t stop once night falls, an unfortunate truth the woman had already learned. The woman rolled over; tired hands latching onto her phone.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:45 am

ur laugh was almost cute 🤪

Speak of the devil, and she will appear.

Air caught in her throat, somehow worse than a punch in the gut. Crimson eyes burned in the woman’s mind. Cherry pits she couldn’t ignore. She exhaled. The act was almost orgasmic as greedy lungs resumed function.

What… what do I say? Naturally, words came to the woman like magic. A gift she attributed to countless All Might articles. All Might. His name felt heavy somehow now. The woman sighed and typed a short response.

「XXX」 | 12:47 am

This is Miruko, right?

Three dots appeared as half lidded eyes struggled to maintain focus. What does this stupid bunny want this late? Her mind felt fuzzy, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Exhaustion was rooted in her bones; a slow ache.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:48 am

wats ur addy

Of course. Wait. Is… is she trying to hook up? A lump of disgust and anxiety swelled within her stomach. Casual sex wasn’t foreign to the woman. It was a concept she celebrated, but the image of hungry, crimson eyes plagued her. Carnivorous orbs that threatened to eat her alive.

「XXX」 | 12:49 am

You woke me up. It’s *midnight*. I can interview you tomorrow.

This was a bargaining chip. Perhaps ignorance would save her. Or maybe I’m committing career suicide, she mused. Rumors and whispers of reporters doing “favors” for interviews wasn’t unheard of. Morality wasn’t a concern for the perfect article.

The woman stared intently at her phone, eyes bleary and heavy. Dread mounted in her stomach as minutes passed. The woman rubbed her eyes. Maybe she’s asleep already. The thought brought her comfort as sleep dusted over her. Fatigue had won.

≛

A hearty exhale left the woman as throbbing muscles stretched against morning light. Another dreamless sleep with a side of awkward sleeping positions. Nothing out of the ordinary for her. She layed in bed, determined to absorb the early sunlight. Eventually, the woman rolled over and began to check emails. Ignorance was a blessing. The woman’s phone vibrated in her hand, the motion jarring and obnoxious. Right. The rabbit.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 - INCOMING CALL

Red eyes flashed through her mind. Soft hands trembled, knuckles white and taunt. Her finger hovered over the answer button. The notification was imposing; a beast that dwarfed her. An electrical wave crept through the woman’s spine. Anxiety now rooted in her stomach.

“H-hello?”

The pro hero snickered. “Finally ya answer, kit. Think you owe me your name for the wait.” She could almost feel Miruko’s hot breath through the phone. A sweltering gust that starved the room of oxygen.

The woman swallowed, saliva thick and tongue bulky. She muttered her name like a prayer.

“Cute name, kit. You never replied to my text. Still game?” Miruko’s voice cut into the word kit, as if it were an insult. Belittling.

She shifted in bed, words unable to become tangible. Prey caught in the powerful jaws of a predator. Shivers continued to assault the woman as she opened Miruko’s text.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:55 am

watever. meet me @ hiro mall.

Hiro Mall. Hiro Mall! She giggled; the sound unnatural and falsetto. A laugh she hated. Hiro Mall was thirty minutes away via car, but… I don’t own a car. No reliable transportation!

“I don’t live near Hiro Mall. S-sorry, can’t do it.”

Miruko’s thin lips pulled a mischievous grin. “Don’t apologize, it’s annoying like that laugh. I’ll pick you up,” the Rabbit Hero insisted, tone assertive and deep. Like rich chocolate.

A sour expression spread through the woman��s features, panic in her veins. An icy chill ran into her skull. The beginnings of a migraine.

“N-no it’s fine. You’re probably too far away.” She glanced around, desperate to escape the call. “We can arrange an interview later in the week.” A mall is too unprofessional anyway.

“C’mon. I gotta scoop for you, little kit.” Miruko sounded almost eager. A tight edge to her voice.

Another laugh left the reporter as she spoke, “Listen, M-Mi-Miruko… I appreciate this offer I really do. I just can’t today. I have -- I have other arrangements today.”

The Rabbit Hero released a hearty chuckle. Playing hard to get, huh?

“Can’t clear your schedule for an interview with the number seven pro hero Miruko?” She teased.

She feigned a smile. “I did agree, didn’t I? O-okay. I’ll text you my address.” There was no escape from the rabbit. Coils of anxiety refused to unravel within her gut. Painful, hot bundles that tore into her.

“Good kit.” A click followed the rabbit’s voice. The woman released a pent-up whine.

Are all pro heroes this rude?

≛

“I like your hat,” the woman mused, her sentence punctuated by a gentle chuckle. Miruko’s ears twitched at the sound.

Pro hero Miruko stood before her in casual attire; denim shorts, a plain t-shirt, and a brown baseball cap. It felt almost wrong to see the number seventh hero like this. Vulnerable. Human.

“That laugh was cute. Why don’t you laugh like that?” The ghost of a smirk rested against Miruko’s lips. Blush for me, kit.

A yell echoed through the mall before the woman could reply, “Hey! It’s Miruko! Miruko, can I get an autograph?!” Like magic, a young boy appeared in front of the couple, his smile was sunlight. Too bright to ignore. Pen and paper in tiny hands.

Crimson eyes observed the child with anticipation. She was not a rabbit, but a peacock. A peacock that revelved in attention.

“Sure!”

Miruko bent down and lightly grabbed the parchment from the boy; signing an indecipherable signature. The action seemed too gentle for the carnivorous woman. She’s creepy when she’s nice, the reporter thought as a shiver crawled down her skeleton. Like a dull ache in her bones.

The boy’s face broke out in a boyish grin; a smile too big for his face. Curious orbs drifted from the mythical hero and stuck to the unfamiliar figure beside the rabbit.

“Hey… are you a hero too? Are -- are you Miruko’s friend?” the boy prodded, his voice soaked in excitement and stars in his eyes.

The woman awkwardly shuffled and inspected her shoes. A pit began to widen in her stomach. The feeling left her empty and anxious. Starving. “Sorta. Work friends.”

“What’s it -- “

Before the child could ask, Miruko interjected. The woman’s tone was hard and rough, like sandpaper. “Sorry kid. We gotta bounce.”

Calloused hands reached for the reporter, finding purchase around her waist. A quiet yelp was exhaled from the woman; the sound sharp and sudden. Maroon rage bubbled under Miruko’s intense gaze as she ushered the woman away.

“Friends?” Miruko hissed, a dangerous glint in her eyes. The woman felt like injured prey, ready for the slaughter. “We’re not friends and you fucking know it.” Snowy ears twitched in annoyance. Little kit doesn’t know her place. The thought was venomous and ravenous; a lion starved and wild.

Her hand burns.

"Miruko… Are we not friends?" Curious eyes locked onto the rabbit. Begging for Miruko's attention. Was a pro hero a liar? Her brain felt branded by the question. Burnt. Ruined.

Large hands released the woman. Strong arms encased the woman; like a dragon hoarding gold. A wolf with teeth trained on a young doe. Poised, prepared. Miruko's heart threatened to leap from her chest, the sound like thunder. The woman couldn't ignore the roar against her.

The hero swallowed. "I want you to call me Usagi. No, Usagi. It'd sound cuter coming from you." Miruko grinned, lips too tight and teeth too sharp.

"Usagi, let me go. This is too intimate," the woman stated plainly. The situation was too familiar. Too similar to last night.

"You like my hat?"

Gross hot carrot breath.

Silver strands hung over muscular shoulders as a confident voice tickled the woman's ear.

"I'll try some on for you, because it's you!" Stars danced in Miruko's eyes. Crimson orbs now enveloped in joy.

≛

The couple sat on a bench, both parties tired from a day of giggles and coy smiles. Hidden signs of affection between the two. A genuine laugh from the woman made Miruko’s ears twitch in excitement. It was the same feeling she experienced before; the hero’s stomach was in knots. A hot, tangled mess that stung.

Miruko watched as the reporter gingerly checked her emails. She demanded a detour to rest and get her bearings. Miruko peered over her shoulder, unaware of the anxiety that began to bubble in the woman’s throat. Like mucus stuck in her nose. Thick and suffocating.

The woman turned to her, lips tugged into a curt grin. Too formal, too polite.

“I was thinking,” she began; still enamored by work, “you promised me an interview. We can grab lunch and I can pick your brain.” Finally, I’ll get my story. The woman vibrated with elation. It was a buzz that warmed her down into her bones. Her dreams were within reach; so many opportunities.

Miruko’s calloused palm slid across the woman’s thighs, creeping along as if to memorize the supple flesh. The rabbit wanted to bury herself between them. Pillowy thighs that touched deserved to be worshipped.

She caressed the woman’s thigh as she spoke, “Don’t live too far from here… You like your coffee black?” The hero’s casual attitude left a horrible taste in her mouth. A bitter, rotten taste. Miruko’s hand was scorching against her thigh, a juxtaposition to her clammy skin.

“No, tea. I know… I know of a cafe not far from here.” Words were impossible again. Intangible things. The woman’s sentence was punctuated with a shrill chuckle, another sign of internal concern. A part of her dreaded being alone -- in a private space -- with the hero. Famished eyes still regarded her as prey. Oval cherries.

“Got tea, too. I think you’re just scared. I don’t bite!” Much, Miruko thought, playful lips stretched into a lop-sided grin. She was desperate to taste the woman, to spread her apart and worship. Miruko kneaded the doughly flesh underneath her, as she waited for a response.

Finally, the woman looked away; too ashamed to face the rabbit.

“O-okay.”

≛

Miruko’s apartment was unexpected. It was plain -- almost unbelievable to imagine a hero living here -- much less the number seventh hero. The only noteworthy addition were flowers, as if the room had exploded in a bomb of flora and perfume. They looked out of place with morning dew still fresh on vibrant petals. Was she anticipating this? Hints of flowers assaulted the woman’s nose; the smell was nauseating.

“I redecorated!” Miruko blurted out, a move uncharacteristic for the headstrong woman. She felt exposed like this. The object of her desires was so close -- and yet the rabbit had to be vulnerable. It wasn’t uncommon for Miruko to bring a woman home, but a sea of flowers wasn’t her normal. She was inexperienced in... this. The hero’s heart began to tremble again, the sound booming, leaving her breathless.

The woman only nodded, as if aware of the lie. “Flowers are pretty, aren’t they? I suppose we can start with the first question; Miruko… you don’t have a scoop for me, d-do you?” Her voice faltered as the woman lost her conviction. Plush lips quivered, afraid of the answer.

Her lips look so soft. Without thinking, a tanned finger brushed against the woman’s lips. Miruko quickly withdrew her hand. A muted pink dusted her cheeks, like a child caught. The hero’s snowy ears burned with embarrassment.

“Do it again.”

“What?” Miruko asked, hungry eyes wide. Saliva pooled in her mouth. A predator drooling over wounded prey.

“D-do it a-again.” The woman’s tone was pleading, in need of attention.

My attention, Miruko thought as she swiped a thumb across delicate lips. The flesh reminded the rabbit of her thighs. A familiar heat began to pool in the bottom of her stomach. The rabbit inched closer; the woman’s chin cradled in her palm, thumb still caressing her lips like ritual. Touching the woman was electric. A shock that left Miruko in a daze of want.

Hot breath tickled the woman’s nose as Miruko spoke, “I’m going to kiss you.” Chapped lips collided against the woman. The kiss was forceful and hungry. A lion finally ravishing a meal. Miruko continued to lean into her, as if trying to establish dominance. Gentle hands rested against the rabbit’s toned chest. Miruko tasted like carrots and mint. An obvious attempt to hide the vegetable. The weight of Miruko caused the woman to stumble, and the pair landed awkwardly on the carpeted floor. Miruko landed on top of the woman, hard muscles pressed against delicate flesh.

“Sorry, kit. Guess I got a little too excited. Are you okay?” Miruko’s tone was laced with worry. The genuine concern was new to the woman. Humanizing. Patches of red decorated the woman’s cheeks and her heart pounded against her ribcage like a drum. The sound was deafening.

Red orbs watched with interest and long strands of silver hair settled across small shoulders. Her hair tickled. The woman tried to stifle a chuckle and nodded, even now her soft frame was dwarfed by the hero.

Abruptly, Miruko kissed her again, grinding wide hips into the woman. The rabbit’s hands transversed the woman’s body, starving for her touch. Calloused palms cupped large breasts and massaged. Miruko’s touch wasn’t gentle like a lover’s, but rough and greedy. An involuntary moan slipped from the woman, who was now unable to keep composure. The hero took advantage; seeing the moment of weakness as an opportunity, and jammed a wet tongue into her mouth. Miruko’s hot tongue explored the damp chasm. She wanted to commit every part of the woman to memory.

The rabbit pulled away, the act only to allow her companion fresh air. Lungs gasped for air. Hungry and starved. Before she could force in another lungful, Miruko pressed further against her, and roughly grabbed tiny wrists. The woman was puzzled by the action until she felt the warm presence of Miruko’s finger hooked around her waistband. Miruko licked her lips in anticipation as drool threatened to leak out.

Crimson orbs locked onto the woman, as if to ask permission.

“Please,” she begged. Her voice was small and quiet. Too ashamed to admit the burning ache that settled into her core. The need for Miruko hurt. The woman was racked with impatience. She wanted needed the hero’s greedy fingers in between her.

A thunderous laugh vibrated from Miruko as she discarded the woman's undergarments. “You’re so cute. Submissive and begging for Miruko the hero.” The rabbit shoved a thick finger in between large thighs -- thighs Miruko wanted to dig into. Miruko’s finger curled inside the woman’s craving, wet core. Vicious teeth were bared in a smirk; she could just eat the woman. Devore her whole. On instinct, Miruko’s mouth latched onto the woman’s neck. Her pulse was rapid against the hero’s tongue as Miruko began to suck upon the supple flesh. Erotic sounds of pleasure escaped the woman. Her face was flustered and on fire, a sweltering heat that ravaged her.

Determined fingers pumped into the woman’s slickness. She lifted her hips into Miruko, franic for the hero. Her stomach twisted as shivers shot through her spine.

“Tell Mirko the hero how needy you are. Beg for me.”

"U-Usagi --"

"Miruko," the hero corrected, her sentence punctuated by a second finger. The sudden intruder caused the woman to gasp. Such a cute noise! Miruko curled the second finger and pumped both digits in rhythm. The woman continued to lift her hips, greedy for Miruko's touch.

A low whimper drifted from the woman, "Mi-Miruko, please, please, please … Kiss me. Claim me." She shrunk under the rabbit's gaze. The heat across her cheeks felt permanent. The woman quickly turned away, too embarrassed to allow Miruko a peek.

Miruko grabbed her hips and shoved the soaking woman against her. A small puddle began to pool against the rabbit's shorts. The woman -- too enthralled by Miruko's fingers -- was blissfully unaware of her mess. Delicate wrists were released as sturdy hands palmed the wet spot.

"Look at what you did, kit," Miruko said, placing the woman's hand against the puddle. Gentle orbs locked onto the mess; her cheeks now a vibrant red. Like poppies on her cheeks. She quickly withdrew her hand; as if the puddle was fire.

The woman's voice was muffled and hushed. "I’m s-sorry…” she mumbled, her face hidden by trembling hands. Embarrassment was segmented back into her reality; the woman left too conscious of Miruko’s gaze. It was uncommon for strangers to see the woman so… exposed. Even past lovers weren’t afforded the treat.

“You’re just leaking for me. So fucking wet for Miruko.” She wiped a finger across the mess and used another hand to free the woman’s sight. “I want you to watch.” Miruko’s sentence was entwined with lust. An insatiable need. The rabbit brought her juice stained finger to her mouth and sucked, cannibalistic red eyes locked on the woman. Her pink tongue swirled around the digit. A line of saliva connected the rabbit’s finger as she slowly dragged the apendenge from her mouth. After teasing the woman, Miruko shoved the spit covered digit into the woman. Her cunt now ached with three thick fingers. It felt like too much; her core stretched around Miruko.

The hero didn’t continue to finger fuck the woman. Like a predator playing with injured prey. Enjoying her meal.

Pleading eyes bore into Miruko as she pulled her soaked fingers from the woman. Lips held a dirty smirk. “Rub your clit against my thighs, mommy wants to feel your cunt.” The woman winced at the word. It sounded so dirty, so inappropriate… and yet she shivered at the hero’s words. Desperate for relief, desperate for stimulation; the woman began to rub her slickness against the hero’s exposed thigh. Her face almost sizzled with a crimson blush. She felt the heat up to her ears. Molten lava.

The woman was unable to face Miruko’s starving eyes. Cherries that wanted to rip and tear into her. Muffled sobs racked the woman; the sensations of embarrassment and pleasure blended together in a blur of pathetic arousal. Her body betrayed her as she grinded harder into Miruko’s thigh, the stimulation proving not enough for her swollen clit. The woman could feel the hot blood that pulsed through her core.

“Mi-Miruko, f-fuck me,” she begged.

“Look at you, kit, using such dirty words. You call this begging? This is pathetic. Tell Miruko how much of a slut you are.” Her tone was aggressive, as if the woman’s pathetic nature was an offense.

She swallowed, her mouth devoid of spit as she sobbed, “Please, Miruko! I’m such a slut; I need your fingers! Please, please, please.” The woman’s sentence was chanted, almost like a mantra. A perverted prayer.

Sharp teeth clashed against the woman’s ear. “Sit on my face. Wanna fuckin’ drown in you.” Miruko’s voice was no higher than a whisper. Like a secret between friends. Without hesitation, the woman nodded and stood up as Miruko positioned herself between pillowy thighs. The rabbit’s mouth salivated in anticipation. I’m going to fucking devour you.

The woman slowly lowered herself onto the hero, afraid of injuring her. She wasn’t small and fit like Miruko. She was big and jiggly. Like jello. A body Miruko wanted to grab fistfulls of as she fucked her into a mattress; letting the woman know how beautiful she was. Her aching, wet cunt finally made contact with Miruko’s pink tongue. Sandwiched between gigantic thighs, Miruko began to run her tongue down the woman’s folds. The woman released a lustful moan. She clamped a hand to her shy mouth as Miruko’s tongue slipped into her. She yelped at the sudden action. Miruko snickered underneath the woman, her sounds were like calls from heaven. Honey that coated her ears in a thick sweetness.

She worked at the woman’s mound, only encouraged by her lewd sounds. The woman could no longer muffle her moans; her body stuck in a sea of shivers. Her tongue -- her tongue felt so fucking good. Wide hips grinded into Miruko, hungry to have her tongue deeper within. Two thick fingers plunged into her hole, replacing Miruko’s tongue. The rabbit’s digits slapped into the woman’s drenched thighs. Her tongue wandered up to a swollen, red clit. She took the bud into her mouth and swirled the blood filled nub.

“F-fuck…” A long moan punctuated her sentence as Miruko began to suck on her clit; her fingers scissoring within her, stretching her. The woman’s greedy walls contracted around Miruko. The woman’s large chest heaved as breathing seemed impossible. Hot, short breaths mixed with wails of ecstasy. Miruko continued to suck on the woman’s clit, treating her puffy nub like a treat. Her tanned face now slick with the woman’s juices. The room was filled with the sloppy sounds of the woman’s cunt and her moans. Miruko’s ears couldn’t help but rapidly twitch, the rabbit almost too excited.

“Stop… stop, I’ll cum!” The woman whined, her voice lecherous and heavy. Like a fog. Her confirmation caused Miruko’s fingers to ramp up in speed, fingers now curled inside. An audible pop sounded as Miruko released the woman’s puffy nub. The rabbit’s sharp teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. She alternated between sucking and nibbling the woman’s clit. The woman felt an uncomfortable tremble crawl through her stomach, settling at the bottom. Her body begged for release.

A string of profanities erupted from the woman as she came, juices squirting down Miruko’s chin. The hero licked her lips, still hungry. With her moment of bliss gone, and her body weak, the woman gingerly stood up. Her ears and face were a bright pink; like cotton candy.

Miruko gazed at the woman, a lop-sided smirk ghosting her face. “You got me drenched in your pussy. C’here and clean it up, kit.”

#rumi usagiyama #Usagiyama Rumi x reader #smut #bnha #miruko x reader #wlw #chubby reader

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Text

Does anyone in the world remember Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!, a short and very strange piece of fiction I wrote while high on bad antidepressants because @unohanadaydreams told me to? Anyway, I wrote another chapter. I wrote this ages ago and never posted it because I was considering cutting the joke about the bowling shirts in favor of actually having them go bowling eventually. I still haven’t decided, but the bit about the bowling shirts is too good to cut. Why did I write this??? Anyway, it is transcendentally stupid and every single line of it is extremely hilarious to me. I just made a joke about Renji playing the tambourine and remembered this existed, so here you go. Happy Saturday.

🎨 🐱 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

“Are you seeing this?” Ichigo exclaimed.

Rukia sighed, cradling her phone between her shoulder and her ear. “Yeah.”

“First of all, since when does Soul Society have YouTube?”

“I don’t know why you keep calling it that, it’s called SoulTube, and how else would we watch cat videos and skateboard tricks?”

“Since when do you have skateboards? And also, what the junk, Chad and Ishida?”

Rukia sighed as Matsumoto narrated the highlights of Chad and Uryuu’s Shinigami Women’s Association-sponsored date.

“Chad and Uryuu decided to each plan half the date to surprise the other!” Matsumoto was trilling. “Tell me, Uryuu, what did Mr. Tall, Dark and Silent have in store for you?”

“Well, the Karakura Art Museum was doing a tribute to Leonora Carrington, who is apparently one of Chad’s favorite artists. He was clearly nervous about it. I mean, her works are a little avant garde, but he said that he wanted to share something about himself and that he felt I would understand. I was honestly really touched by that. I wasn’t exactly surprised that Chad is into magical realism, we all know that 100 Years of Solitude is his favorite book.”

“Do we?” Ichigo echoed. “Do we all know that, Ishida?”

The camera panned to Chad standing in front of a large painting in which some plague doctors appeared to be spray-painting a flamingo. There was close to a minute of silence, punctuated by a bit of zooming in and out, before Chad rumbled “This one is my favorite.”

“For the second half of the date, Uryuu took a bit of a different tack!” Matsumoto explained.

Uryuu was back on camera again. “I mean, I tried to think of things Chad likes. I’m kinda boring, and I felt bad for making him do this. I know I went for the really obvious thing.”

The video switched to the interior of a kitten cafe. Chad was covered in kittens. There were two on his head, one on each shoulder, and at least seven cradled in his massive arms. His face was just one massive grin. It cut over to Uryuu, a single, tiny kitten cradled in the crook of his arm, sipping at a cup of tea, gazing at Chad mistily.

“Awwwww,” Rukia murmured. It was the sixth time she had watched this. It was the sixth time she had involuntarily murmured ‘awwwww’ at this part.

“I am so mad at him,” Ichigo grouched. “I thought Ishida would screw this up royally. I mean, we all knew Chad would do a good job, but look at this! How am I supposed to take Inoue on a date after this?! Why did I agree to this?!”

“Because you were high on painkillers,” Rukia pointed out for the sixth time, as, on her computer screen, Chad and Uryuu fed each other bites of pastry. “What are you all nervous about anyway? Orihime is the kindest person in existence and she thinks the world of you. Aside from accidentally stabbing her-- which, sometimes you do accidentally stab people, so try not to-- there’s really no way to mess this up. Besides, technically, didn’t she ask you out?”

Ichigo let out a big huff, which Rukia assumed was at her, and not at Hisagi’s surreptitious, long-range zoom shot of Uryuu and Chad having a very chaste good-night peck on the lips.

“Askin’ a girl out is very hard, Rukia, and I’ve got this opportunity, and I don’t wanna blow it! I know that Orihime will like anything, and that’s why it’s so hard to figure out the thing that will actually really make her happy!”

“You. She wants to go on a date with you, dude.”

“I mean, would she be impressed if I wore a suit? Or would I just look like a mortician? Maybe she’s into morticians. Should I ask my dad if I can borrow his leather jacket? I mean, it’s super cool, but it’s also my dad’s, so it comes with terrible vibes.”

“She will like whatever you are wearing because she likes you. She has sent me no less than 18 text messages on this topic.”

“And Nanao and Hisagi definitely do not know how human money works, they gave us way too much. Do you think I should take her someplace really upscale? I feel like that’s a dangerous move on my part.”

“You could honestly just walk around with her. She likes you disgustingly much.”

“Is there some ancient disgraced shinigami sealed in a cave we could… y’know… loosen the bindings on…? Orihime loves sealin’ up an undead evil.”

“Dude, you just said this was a big opportunity for you, and b) that’s what we’re doing next week so I can get out of my date.”

Ichigo snorted. “C’mon, you have it so easy. I wish I could go on a date with Renji.”

“Fine. Let’s swap then, and you can.”

“Nooooooooo, because then Orihime would like you better than me, I don’t want that! And besides, that’s not really what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Rukia asked, her voice dropping down into Sode no Shirayuki territory.

“You guys go on dates all the time, even if you don’t call it that. Keigo was really confused when he found out you two weren’t married.”

“Keigo gets confused by vending machines. And I just take Renji to noble crap because Brother says he is ‘an acceptable escort’ and he’s really good at being tall and making growly faces at gross people who would otherwise be hitting on me.”

“You take him to noble stuff? I didn’t know you took him to noble stuff.”

“I mean, we go drinking, too, but everyone goes drinking, that’s not a date.”

“Sure, drinking in a large group is not a date.”

“It is also not a date to go drinking with just one other person. Sometimes you want to hear what the other person has to say, you know, or you just want to offload about your day with someone who understands you really well!”

“To be honest, Rukia, I was specifically referring to the time we went to karaoke and you two sang ‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac together and maybe also the time we went bowling and you guys had matching shirts, but now that I have further information, I think he might actually be your boyfriend.”

“I sound exactly like Stevie Nicks when I sing!” Rukia protested. “And Brother bought us those shirts. He has one, too.” She sucked her teeth for a moment. “I’m pretty sure if he were my boyfriend, that would have required us to kiss at some point.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence at the other end of the line. “D’you want to? Kiss him, I mean.”

Rukia scratched her head, and backed up to the part where Chad was covered in kittens again. “I dunno. Do you want to kiss Orihime?”

“I kinda do, Rukia. Have you met her?”

“Fair. You should wear a suit and also sunglasses. Wear a tie, but loosen it a bunch and maybe halfway through the date, take it off and stick it in your pocket. Bring flowers. Lounge against a doorway and occasionally stare off into the middle distance before you say something. She’ll flip her shit. I promise.”

“Thanks, Rukia! You’re the best!”

“I’m not,” Rukia grumbled, squinting at the screen, trying to figure out who had initiated the Chad - Uryuu kiss.

“Renji’s pretty hot. I don’t judge you for wanting to kiss him.”

“I-- !” Rukia protested, then closed her mouth. “Thanks, Ichigo.”

“This could be a big opportunity for you, too, y’know.”

“Maybe,” Rukia agreed, and started typing “eye makeup tutorial not look like clown” into the SoulTube search bar.

🎶 🍨 💖

Renji frowned at the bill of damages in front of him. Apparently, Harribel was in charge of Hueco Mundo now, and she had discovered paperwork. He was supposed to confirm all of the things that he, personally, had destroyed. He didn’t think he should be charged for destroying Rudabone’s skeletons, since the guy just made more of them. Also, 73 Menos Grande seemed excessive. He wondered if Queen Harribel was trying to have one over on them.

“Lieutenant Abarai,” Captain Kuchiki intoned. “I have seen the SoulTube video.”

Renji jumped a foot in the air. “Aw, jeez, Captain, you almost gave me a heart attack!” he gasped. “The one where me and Rikichi do sweet skateboard jumps? Or the one where Hisagi sings ‘Ship to Wreck’ and I play backup on the tambourine?”

His captain glared at him. “The one where the ryouka boys go on a romantic outing."

“Oh,” Renji replied. “Captain, I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?” Byakuya intoned, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“And I think a cat cafe could really take off in Soul Society, it would be a great investment opportunity! You should move quick, though, while this video is still so popular.”

“What I was referring to, Abarai,” Byakuya growled, “is that you are scheduled to take my beloved sister on a similar such outing, no?”

“Oh,” Renji said again. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Renji hunched a little. “It’s not a big deal, sir. Hisagi’s really been blowing it all outta proportion. It’s just a cute thing for the newspaper, like the time they printed your recipe for Ambassador Seaweed taiyaki, remember that? You got dressed up in a little apron and hat and stuff and then you got all that fan mail?”

“This is not like that at all, Abarai,” Byakuya informed him. “I knew it would be thus. I shall call Lieutenant Hisagi and tell him to call this wretched exercise off immediately.”

“Uh… why, sir?” Renji asked, his eyes wide.

“You are not taking this seriously, Lieutenant. My sister is the most beautiful and charming woman in Soul Society, and I will not have her affections treated as a publicity stunt.”

“You underestimate me, sir!” Renji barked. “No one has more respect and sincere affection for your sister than me! I swear on my sword, I will show her A Real Good Time!”

Byakuya scrutinized his lieutenant. “You will select an activity that will be both surprising, yet enjoyable to her?”

“Yes, sir!”

“You will compliment her clothes and hairstyle, even if she insists on wearing those horrific Living World combat boots she owns?”

“For sure, sir!” Renji replied. He was a great fan of the combat boots.

“You will return her home by 9pm?”

“That’s a little early, sir, and also, there’s a nonlinear time gap between…”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. Renji’s numerous Senbonzakura scars were starting to itch.

“No later than 8:45, sir.”

Byakuya nodded. “I am going to trust you on this, Lieutenant, but I shall be waiting up with ice cream and hot fudge, should you disappoint my sister.”

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things,” Renji frowned.

“I make allowances where my sister’s heart is at stake.”

“Well, I’m gonna do my best, sir, and I know her pretty well, so I don’t think you’ll need it.” It occurred to Renji that over the years, Byakuya had turned out to be a pretty decent brother, after all, but he didn’t think it would be particularly helpful to point that out. “Uh, sir?”

“Yes, Abarai?”

“You got any policies on good-night kisses?”

“If I am shown a particularly nice time, I allow myself to be kissed at the end of a date.”

Renji blinked. “I meant, uh, vis-a-vis Rukia.”

“Ah.” Byakuya contemplated this for a moment. “Obviously, your own preferences carry some weight, but my sister is quite a catch. If Rukia wishes to kiss you, I think you should let her.”

Renji nodded curtly. “Will do, sir!”

#my writing #chadishi #renruki #ichihime #i am afraid to put this on ao3 because i'm afraid I'll never finish it #and i don't want to be that person #maybe i'll give those antidepressants another shot before the end of the year and see what comes out

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moonb-eam · 5 years

Note

from tarot list: DEVIL?!?!?!?!? PLEASE?!?!?!?¿

the devil: failure, lust, temptation

“you want it too”

possible AUs/settings/ideas: desire, nsfw, unrequited love, demon au

tarot card prompts

alright listen anon i’m so sorry this was supposed to be SHORT and SEXY but instead it’s almost 8k of shmoop, which….are we even that surprised anymore

still, i hope you like it, darling 🧡

this was a pretty perfect prompt for a halloween-theme fic so here we goooo 👻

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

read on ao3

It begins with Eliott coming out of his room at seven p.m. to tell Idriss and Sofiane that he’s no longer coming to the Halloween party they’re hosting that night.

He’s groggy from a nap, still suffering from a headache that’s plagued him all day, and he’s desperate to dive back under the covers, to lock himself in his room and watch black and white monster movies until it’s safe to come out.

He’s not prepared for the looks of utter betrayal that meet him in the living room, Sofiane and Idriss freezing in the middle of stretching swaths of fake cobwebs across the ceiling, a techno mix of the Monster Mash playing in the background.

“But Eliott,” Sofiane says, eyes wide, “you promised.”

Eliott tries a weak argument, saying he doesn’t have a costume, definitely doesn’t have time to make one now, but that is quickly shut down by Idriss, who calls in a last-minute favour from Imane.

Do you or any of your friends have something Eliott can wear? He didn’t plan anything because he’s lame.

Just after nine p.m. Eliott opens their apartment door and a cascade of loud, giggling girls spills into the entryway, one of them wearing a skeleton onesie holding up a bottle of white wine like a ceremonial offering and another, dressed as Wonder Woman, thrusting a cloth bag into Eliott’s face.

“Eliott, yeah? Here’s your costume, gorgeous.”

So, it ends with Eliott standing in his kitchen, holding a cup of the “mystery punch,” and wearing a full angel costume, wings and halo and all.

(Or maybe, this is where it really begins.)

He’s alone, nursing his cup of disgustingly sweet punch slowly, closing his eyes so the neon colours from Idriss’s blacklight projectors are nothing more than muted flashes behind his lids. His headache is pretty well gone, but he’s tired, a bit grumpy, and the last thing he wants to do is throw himself into the pulsing mob of people taking over his apartment.

He drums his fingers restlessly across his leg, tapping out the beat of an imagined song. He thinks about sneaking onto the balcony for a cigarette, thinks about letting himself be carried away by the windy night, thinks about laying down in his dark room and throwing layers of blankets over himself until the throbbing bass of Idriss’s music is soft enough to be indiscernible from his own pulse.

He glances at the stove, at the digital clock displaying 23:00 in tiny blue numbers.

One hour, he tells himself. I’ll stay for one hour, then I’m going to bed.

“Yo.” It’s Idriss, appearing at Eliott’s side out of thin air, holding onto a plastic chalice filled with pale liquid that glows neon under the black lights. A gold crown is sitting crooked on the top of his head and he’s wearing an expression Eliott is immediately suspicious of.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just think you should come into the living room. You know, to socialize.”

Eliott frowns. “I’m socializing.” He says it a bit defensively, a bit embarrassed, waving his free hand between them. “I’m literally socializing with you right now.”

“Not with me.” Idriss hisses, eyes darting to the kitchen doorway. “You should be socializing with other people. With the people in the living room.”

“What?”

“Socializing, Eliott. In the living room.”

“Why do you keep saying those words like that? Is it supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

Idriss sighs, long and loud, tilting his head back to the ceiling, his crown sliding further back on his head.

“Just know,” Idriss tells the ceiling, “I tried to be subtle. I really did.” He returns his gaze to Eliott. “That guy in Imane’s class you like is here.”

For a moment, Eliott genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about. “Who?”

Idriss stares at him. “Seriously? The guy you’ve been talking about for months? You know, the one with…” Idriss rests his elbows on the counter, blinking up at Eliott dreamily, “…eyes so blue I could drown in them.”

“My voice doesn’t sound like that.” Eliott argues automatically, which is good. It’s good he’s able to get an entire sentence out despite how his brain is whiting out in panic.

“It does when you’re in love.” Idriss coos, bopping Eliott on the nose.

“I’m not in love,” Eliott says, horrified. He darts his eyes over to the kitchen doorway, still thankfully empty. “I’m not…I just…”

Idriss laughs, gently patting Eliott on the arm. “I know. I’m just messing with you.” He dunks his cup into the punch, taking a loud slurp off the top when it resurfaces. “But he actually is here.”

“Oh god.”

“Which is why,” Idriss says, “you should come into the living room. Imane can introduce you.”

“Oh god.” As if the idea of leaving the safety of the empty kitchen wasn’t already terrifying. Eliott has been crushing on this boy for weeks from afar, ever since he saw Imane walking with him across campus one golden afternoon in September. Oh, he thought, taking in a small frame, bouncing brown hair, and a sweet face. He’s cute. Then Imane had said something that made the boy laugh, and Eliott felt his entire chest cave in.

Oh, he thought, clutching onto his takeaway cup of tea like a life preserver—helpless, unmoored, devastated. He’s beautiful.

Ever since then, Eliott’s life has been a swinging pendulum of desperately wanting to see him again, and then running in the opposite direction when he does see him again, overtaken by infatuated panic. One time he actually leapt behind a trash bin. He’s not proud of it.

“Eliott, come on.” Idriss ducks to meet his eyes. “You’re on home turf, you’ve got your boys to back you up, and you look hot as fuck.” He flicks at the halo on Eliott’s head. “There are literally no better circumstances in which to shoot your shot with your dream man.”

“Idriss, I’m wearing wings.”

“And? Maybe he’s got a thing for that.”

Despite himself, Eliott bursts into laughter. “Jesus Christ.”

“Calling in favours from your friends. Okay, I see how it is.” One of his hands falls to Eliott’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Seriously, Eliott, listen. If you’re really uncomfortable you don’t have to talk to him. You don’t have to do anything. But I’ve had to hear you waxing poetic about this guy for weeks, and I want this to happen for you. I really do.” He sighs. “It’s the romantic in me.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Eliott mumbles, and suddenly it’s like he’s in primary school all over again, staring down at his shoes while he asks Thomas Chartrand if he wants to share Eliott’s pencil crayons with him.

Only now there’s Idriss, staring at Eliott like he’s just asked him the easiest question in the world. “Then he’s an idiot, Eliott, because you’re amazing.”

The words could sound like trite placation from someone else, but there’s an easy surety in Idriss’s voice that makes something rattle free in Eliott’s chest, something ugly and heavy that he hadn’t realized had been weighing him down.

He takes a steadying breath. “Fine, fine, okay. I’ll come. I’m just gonna…” He wiggles his cup in the air. “…fortify.”

Idriss cackles as he strolls out of the kitchen. “Atta boy, Demaury!”

As soon as he’s out of sight, Eliott collapses back into the counter, knocking back the contents of his cup.

He’s psyching himself up too much, and he’s painfully aware of it, of the way his heart is stuttering in his chest, the way his fingers are restlessly dancing over his now empty cup. He’s so nervous just from the the thought of seeing him, and it’s ridiculous, it’s completely ridiculous because Eliott doesn’t even know if anything is going to happen, just because—

“Oh wow. An angel.”

Eliott’s head snaps up, and of course, of fucking course.

Just like that, he’s there, standing in the entryway of Eliott’s kitchen, plucked from the deep caverns of his thoughts and made real. He’s dressed in black jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt, he’s holding a beer bottle loosely by the neck and he’s wearing a smile that could only be described as wicked.

There’s a chance Eliott might pass out.

Then his eyes land on the two small, red horns nestled in the boy’s hair, and he lets out a hysterical bark of a laugh.

The boy’s grin deepens. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” He says, stepping into the kitchen, to where Eliott is stuck still at the counter, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge. “An angel and the devil walk into a party. The set up to a joke we’ve all heard.”

“Yeah,” Eliott says, scrambling for something to say. “Except I live here.”

“I know you do.”

Eliott blinks.

“Sorry.” The boy laughs, holding his hands up. “That sounded weird. I mean, you’re Eliott.” There’s another pause, and the boy rushes to fill it. “I know Sofiane and Idriss through Imane and they, uh, they talk about you all the time. I’m Lucas,” he tacks onto the end, tapping the centre of his chest with his beer bottle. “I’m in Imane’s year.”

It’s a lot of information to take in at once: that the boy’s name is Lucas, that Lucas already knew who Eliott was when he arrived tonight, the apparently Idriss and Sofiane have talked to Lucas about Eliott before. Apparently they do it all the time.

Eliott is going to have words with them about that later.

But right now—

“It’s nice to meet you, Lucas.” Eliott says, extending a hand out. The gesture feels a little formal in the setting they’re inhabiting: the empty plastic cups and neon lighting and distant drunken shouting, but it also feels like it might be the right one.

Lucas smiles, and grasps onto Eliott’s hand and that, holy shit that feels right.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eliott the angel.” Lucas parrots, and he winks.

It really shouldn’t work. It’s not even a good wink: it’s lopsided and awkward but Eliott still flushes from it, and then when Lucas huffs a laugh, lowering his eyes like he’s embarrassed, something feather-light and dangerously fond stirs under Eliott’s sternum. He follows Lucas’s gaze to where their hands are still locked together.

“Do you, ah…” Eliott licks his lips, shifting awkwardly on the spot. “Do you want to dance?”

Lucas’s gaze snaps up to his. “Yeah.” He say excitedly, his face lighting up in another smile. There’s a pink flush on his cheeks that Eliott wants to memorize, to try and recreate on his sketchpad later. “Yeah, come on.”

Eliott nods, and leaves his empty cup behind, letting Lucas tug him out of the kitchen by his hand, letting himself, finally, be pulled into the chaotic throng of people.

Somewhere, faraway, Eliott thinks he can hear a faint sound—maybe it’s a choir singing, maybe it’s the voice of god, if they exist, or the voice of the universe, but what ever it is, it’s telling Eliott to pay attention, not to forget what happens next.

Get ready, the voice, song, sound says to him. Get ready, Eliott.

Eliott can feel the wind racing past his ears. Like he’s at the top of a slide.

Let’s go.

🕸

It all feels like a dream.

There’s Eliott, dancing to Electric Feel with a boy, but not just any boy. It’s Lucas, the boy Eliott has been infatuated with from the first moment he saw him, and it’s not just dancing, it’s moving freely, rapturously, forgetting that he’s in a corner of the living room, forgetting that he’s inside his own apartment.

He’s aware only of Lucas: of Lucas’s hands ghosting touches along his waist, down to his hips; of Lucas’s toothy smile and his loud laugh; of the smell of Lucas’s hair when he gets bumped into Eliott’s chest, the feel of him pressed close.

Lucas giggles at Eliott’s flailing dance moves, then tries to copy him, and Eliott forgets to feel self-conscious. He expected he would be nervous around Lucas, and he is, nervous in a way that feels familiar and new at the same time, but it also feels so easy with Lucas: to dance with him under Idriss’s shitty black lights, to laugh with him when one of them trips and they collapse into one another, to sing in broken English along to the songs they both know.

It feels so easy. Like breathing. Like falling into the best dream Eliott has ever had.

He catches Idriss’s gaze across the room, and when Idriss points at Lucas and gives Eliott a conspicuous thumbs-up, Eliott only grins.

They give up dancing to join a semi-circle of truth or dare spilling onto the floor form the sofa, something that seems like a bad idea to Eliott when they first sit down, but turns out is a fantastic one when Lucas picks dare and Alexia, the girl who brought Eliott his costume, dares him to kiss the most attractive person in the game.

A series of oooooh’s rise up from the other players, but Eliott is barely able to register them before he feels warm, soft lips pressing to his cheek.

Everything stops.

Or more like, everything moves slowly. Like Eliott is underwater.

He can feel the weight of the collective gaze of the circle, expressions ranging from surprise to delight to smugness. Someone next to Eliott makes a swooning sound.

Lucas’s hand is on Eliott’s knee, giving him leverage to reach his cheek, and when he pulls away, Eliott can hear him make a small gasp, an exhale that shakes and shivers and tickles Eliott’s skin with warmth.

The entire moment lasts, in reality, a handful of seconds.

Then Lucas’s lips are gone, his hand is gone, and Eliott is physically holding himself back from following him, from kissing Lucas’s cheek, or maybe kissing him on the mouth, pressing him down into the carpet and making him gasp again, or maybe just leaning close enough to ask, Did you mean that? Did you kiss me on the cheek because you want to kiss me on the mouth? Do you like me? Do you feel as hopeless as I do right now? Do you also feel like you’re drowning?

Eliott doesn’t know if he’s ever wanted anything so badly as he wants to know the answers to those questions.

The game moves on, and it’s Lucas’s turn. He sends it right back to Alexia, asking her to reveal her most embarrassing sex fantasy when she picks truth.

Instead of shying away, she scoffs at Lucas. “That’s so fucking easy, Lallemant. It’s to do it in the dance studio on campus. You know,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “where all the mirrors are.”

That gets a riotous cheer from the group, and Eliott joins in, letting it distract him from the lingering sensation of Lucas’s lips on his cheek, from the obvious way Lucas is avoiding Eliott’s gaze.

Then, it comes to him.

“Eliott. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Eliott answers immediately.

Alexia smiles, resting her chin in her folded hands. “If you had to kiss someone in the circle, who would it be and why?”

Eliott thinks he’s beginning to understand Alexia, the more time he spends with her. Underneath that sweet, bubbly exterior there lurks an evil mastermind.

Someone else in the circle, a girl who Eliott thinks is dressed as Britney Spears, complains that the question is too similar to Lucas’s, but Alexia shushes her.

“Well, I mean,” Eliott shrugs, painfully aware of how intently Lucas is staring at the floor now, like he’s about to find the meaning of life there. “I would choose Lucas.”

Another chorus of oooooh’s rise up, but Eliott is only aware of Lucas’s head snapping up, the tops of his cheeks coloured that same pretty pink Eliott saw in the kitchen.

He wants to feel that colour it under his fingertips.

“The second part of the question is why,” Alexia sing-songs from her spot on the sofa.

Eliott nods. He doesn’t think there’s an answer he can give to this question that won’t sound completely wanky. Saying because he’s beautiful would be trite, and a bit cheesy, and saying because I’ve had a crush on him since the moment I first saw him would probably make him sound like a creep. So, Eliot tries to go for something simple. Something true.

“Because I can’t imagine kissing anyone else.”

He’s not expecting the reaction that gets.

Two girls across from him in matching doll costumes let out loud, drawn-out awwww’s. The boy sitting next to him in a football jersey cheers, slapping Eliott on the back. Another girl in the circle, wearing a cowgirl outfit, practically melts, “And they’re wearing matching costumes! Fuck me, that’s so cute!”

Then, there’s Lucas.

Lucas, who’s finally looking at Eliott again, his mouth dropped open into a shocked o, his eyes wide and bright.

Eliott now wonders if that was the wrong thing to say. Maybe it was too much for Lucas. They’ve been flirting, yeah, but Eliott is working off of a month-long crush that’s growing helplessly worse with every minute he spends in Lucas’s presence. To Lucas, Eliott is sure he’s just a guy he met at a party.

Someone is telling Eliott to go, that it’s his turn, and he pulls himself out of his thoughts, locking on Sofiane’s warm, familiar face on the edge of the circle. He chooses Dare, and Eliott orders him to give an a capella rendition of Don’t Stop Me Now.

Sofiane does it happily, and as he’s bouncing around the edge of the circle, spouting Queen at the top of his lungs, Lucas is leaning into Eliott’s side, close enough to whisper in his ear,

“Is there somewhere quiet we can go?”

Eliott doesn’t even think about it before he nods, and this time he’s grabbing onto Lucas’s hand, helping him up from his spot on the floor, ignoring the conspiratorial looks being shot to them from everyone still in the game. The cowgirl winks at him.

He doesn’t know if Lucas is asking them go to somewhere where they can be alone, alone, but Eliott feels a little overwhelmed from the noise, a little sweaty under his robe, and he wants exactly what Lucas is asking for—somewhere quiet. Somewhere they can talk.

He leads Lucas back towards the kitchen, and on the way there they pass a group of boys huddled close together near the entrance. As they get close, Eliott can see one of them, tall, handsome and wearing a grey robe with a green pyramid taped to the front, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, hi Lucas.” He says cheerily, a smirk teasing a the corners of his mouth. “Where are you off to?”

“Nowhere.” Lucas replies, just as cheerily.

One of the other boys, blonde and dressed as a vampire, laughs. “Nowhere, huh? And who,” his eyes snap over to Eliott, “are you going nowhere with?”

Everyone turns to Eliott, and he feels his cheeks warm under their speculative gazes.

Lucas, though, rolls his eyes. “You guys know Eliott.” He says easily, tugging Eliott closer by their linked hands. “He lives here. With Sofiane and Idriss.” He points at each of the boys with his beer bottle as he lists their names. “This is Yann, Arthur and Basile.”

The third boy, Basile, sporting a head of curls and navy boiler suit, sticks a hand out to Eliott. “I mean, we’ve never met, but we’ve heard a lot about you, man.”

“Um.” Eliott reluctantly releases Lucas’s hand to shake the offered one. “Good things, I hope?”

“The best things,” Basile says sincerely. “In fact, the first time I heard about you was when Lucas—”

“Right, okay!” Arthur interrupts, yanking Basile away from Eliott by the back of his boiler suit. “Time for another drink, boys, or what?”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Yann claps Eliott on the shoulder, grinning. “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

But instead of taking off to the kitchen, where the bowl of mystery punch and fridge stocked full with cheap beer and wine wait, they return to the living room, quickly swallowed up by the crowd that’s moving back to their tiny dance floor, Disturbia blasting from Idriss’s speakers.

Eliott spares a mournful thought for the inevitable neighbour complaints they’re going to get.

Then he feels a hand slide against his, fingers linking back together.

“You were taking me somewhere?”

And well, yeah. Eliott feels like he may have missed something with Lucas’s friends, some dramatic irony he’s not privy too, but he also has Lucas holding his hand, the memory of Lucas’s lips on his cheek, and Eliott wants to be alone with him. He wants it so badly.

“Yeah, just let me get some water.”

He fills an empty plastic cup from the sink and guides Lucas through the kitchen, to the hallway leading to their bedrooms, where Idriss set up a white sheet over a lamp with a sign hanging off of it that says, All trespassers will be haunted.

“Ah. So this is the part where you take me to your bedroom?” Lucas teases when they step around the makeshift ghost, bumping his shoulder against Eliott’s.

He wasn’t planning on it, but the suggestion, the curve of Lucas’s lips when he says it, sends Eliott into a tailspin of images: flashes of Lucas spread across his bed, sitting on his desk, standing in front of his window, his silhouette outlined by moonlight.

“No.” He blurts out, clearing his throat to mask the roughness of his voice. “I mean, I wasn’t planning, like I wasn’t asking you too…” His voice trails off, and he points behind Lucas, to where the door to the balcony is. “We can go outside.” He says helplessly, still recovering from the onslaught of decadent fantasy.

Lucas hums, turning to follow the direction of Eliott’s finger. “Actually, that sounds nice. It’s kinda hot in here, isn’t it?”

Eliott takes a deep breath. “Sure is.”

It’s blissfully cold out on the balcony, the ground littered with brown leaves that flutter and dance with every gust of biting wind. Lucas shivers, crossing his arms over his chest. He leans back against the door, gaze roaming to the apartment buildings across from them, to the streetlight on the corner, pale orange and flickering at odd intervals.

Eliott can hear faint music coming from another apartment, something dramatic, filled with bold, heavy organ. Below, there are groups of teenagers marching in a line down the street, capes, cloaks and long dresses billowing behind them, drunken laughter wrapping around their bodies like a well-worn blanket against the crisp autumn night.

The comparative quiet of the street, away from the chaos of the party, feels like something from a film: the flickering glow of the streetlight soft and knowing, the wind whispering with mystery when it curls around Eliott’s neck. It reminds him so much of what he used to love about Halloween when he was younger: the uncanny strangeness that always came with it, like the night itself was separate from linear time and space.

“I used to hate Halloween when I was kid,” Lucas says, his low voice breaking the spell of quiet.

Eliott turns to face him. In the blackened, star-touched night and the slanted glow from the streetlight, Lucas really could be an otherworldly creature, devil horns or no; something ageless and ancient, ethereal and terrifying.

“Why?”

Lucas rolls his beer bottle between his hands. “I used to hate being scared.” He says softly. “But I never wanted to tell anyone. I didn’t want to be seen as…weak, I guess. And then,” he shrugs, “it wasn’t easy, before my parents split. Holidays in general could be pretty hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliott says, and he knows the words themselves aren’t meaningful but he really means them. He can hear the exhaustion in Lucas’s words, a heaviness that speaks of burdens still being carried.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows. Eliott wants to kiss it away.

“No,” Lucas sighs, his head thudding back against the glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that on you.”

“It’s okay.” Eliott tells him softly, tapping his fingers along the rim of his cup. “And I—I mean, I’m happy to listen to anything you want to tell me.”

“You’re easy to talk to.” Lucas says, and Eliott smiles. “I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

“Me too.”

They stare at each other across Eliott’s tiny balcony, both of them smiling, cheeks pink from the cold. Both of them imagining what would happen if they were to kiss. If it would make the world itself fall away from beneath their feet.

Eliott leans back against the railing, tilting his head up to the night sky, to the half moon cast in cloud, “I used to love Halloween.”

Lucas smiles, taking a shallow pull from his beer. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Eliott’s angel wings are squished against the railing, pressing into his shoulder blades. “I started planning my costumes in the summer, and I’d make most of them from scratch with my mom. I was…pretty intense about it.” He can see it so clearly in his mind, the endless hours of sewing and glueing, and he laughs, closing his eyes. “I always loved how strange it is. How there’s an entire day devoted to everything that’s otherworldly. To everything that we’re scared exists, but love to believe in. I dunno, to me it always felt like the night where anything was possible.”

He lets his voice trail off, lost in memories.

“What changed?” Lucas asks after a moment. “You said you used to love it.”

Eliott shrugs, but he knows the answer. He got older, he got diagnosed and he began distancing himself from anything that was weird, any interests that would make him seem too different. It aches to think about, like prodding at an old scar. “I got older. I changed.”

“Do you feel any different about it now?”

Eliott slowly opens his eyes, smiling when his gaze lands on Lucas. “I think I’m starting to.”

Lucas nods, a matching smile curling at the corners of his mouth, dimpling his cheeks. “You know what? Me too.”

God he’s so beautiful.

It’s the sight of him: the wide, pretty eyes, the pouting, pink lips, the smooth curve of his neck, but it’s also the knowledge of him, of Eliott seeing firsthand how funny and sincere, sweet and sarcastic he is. He thought having Lucas as a crush that existed inside his daydreams was damning enough, but he was in no way prepared for the reality of Lucas: the endlessly endearing imperfections of him.

With every second that passes, he’s sinking deeper into an ocean of hopeless infatuation.

Eliott registers another silence growing between them and he realizes he’s staring, making moon eyes at Lucas like he’s a devout art student who’s just stepped into the Louvre for the first time.

He drops his gaze, face warm, and takes a swig of water to play it cool, but somehow manages to miss his mouth entirely, cold water trickling down his neck to his white robe.

“Fuck.” Eliott sighs, wiping a hand down his chest. Reason number three-thousand and five why he should never try to play it cool.

There’s a clink of glass being set down on the ground.

“Oh no, Eliott,” Lucas says on a laugh, and Eliott’s vision is suddenly filled with glittering red horns poking out of fluffy brown hair, Lucas stepping close enough to him that, if Eliott wanted, he could tilt his head down to rest his chin on the top of Lucas’s head.

“That wasn’t very smooth,” Lucas teases him, plucking the plastic cup from Eliott’s grasp. Eliott watches, rapt, his hand hovering uselessly in the air, as Lucas takes a sip from it.

“I have to tell you,” Eliott says, eyes fixed on a single drop lingering on Lucas’s bottom lip. “I’m not very smooth. At all.”

Lucas grins, leaning over to set the cup down on one of the metal chairs pushed into the corner of the balcony.

“I have to tell you,” Lucas says, matching Eliott’s solemn tone, “I really, really like that you’re not.”

“You make me nervous.” Eliott blurts out, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when Lucas makes this shocked, delighted face, like Eliott just gave him the best gift in the world.

“Oh my god,” Lucas giggles, and he’s gripping onto the front of Eliott’s robe. “Are you kidding me? You make me nervous. You actual, literal angel.”

Eliott blinks. “I do?” He asks, but the end of the question is caught by Lucas’s lips pressing against his.

It’s not rushed, not a desperate crush of their mouths like Eliott had initially pictured, based on Lucas’s frenetic energy, his bursts of confidence that exploded like fireworks. It’s gentle, a barely-there touch of lips that makes Eliott’s head swim.

They part with a quiet smack, but Eliott catches him before he can get too far away, cupping Lucas’s cheeks in his hands and lowering his head to kiss Lucas like he’s been wanting to all night, deep and lingering, stroking his thumbs across the smooth skin of his cheeks.

Lucas lets out a low whine against Eliott’s lips. His hands find his waist, skirting around to his lower back, pressing into the base of his spine. His lips part Eliott’s on a gasp, and there’s Lucas’s tongue, warm and sweet, and Eliott presses forwards, tilting his head to try and get closer, closer, until his halo bonks into one of Lucas’s horns, and both of them snap their eyes open at the impact.

They burst into laughter, and that, if possible, might be more blissful than the kiss itself—Lucas collapsing into Eliott’s chest, snorting in a way that’ shouldn’t be cute but really is, his eyes scrunching up at the corners.

“Fucking hell,” Eliott sighs, still shaking with laughter. “Why am I even still wearing this?”

“It looks good.” Lucas says emphatically. He brings his hands to Eliott’s front, fiddling with the collar of the robe. “It suits you.” One of his fingers follows a trail of water that dribbled down Eliott’s chin to his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. Eliott shivers from the touch.

“Yeah, well,” one of his hands moves to the back of Lucas’s head, brushing through the soft strands of his hair. “The devil horns suit you.”

Lucas giggles, and then his tongue is retracing the trail of water back up, all the way to Eliott’s bottom lip, gently kissing it.

“I think,” Lucas murmurs, lips brushing against Eliott’s with every word, “now would be a good time to show me your room.”

Somehow, Eliott manages not collapse to the ground in a pile of aroused, lovesick boy.

Small miracles.

🕸

They re-enter the apartment much in the same way they left it: holding hands, stepping softly, suddenly shy once away from the secure anonymity of the wide open night.

The party is still going strong by the sounds of it, a roar of cheers filtering into the hallway from what sounds like a nail-bitingly close game of flip cup, but Lucas and Eliott don’t bother to take a look. As soon as Eliott opens the door to his room they’re tumbling inside, Lucas pressing him up against the wall and kissing him, hot and open-mouthed, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“Oh god.” Eliott groans, flailing a hand out to lock the door. “God.”

Lucas breaks away from the kiss on a giggle, clasping his hands behind Eliott’s neck. “It’s so weird to have you calling out for god when you’re dressed like that. I keep expecting him, her, or whoever they are to appear out of thing air, punishing me for corrupting their little angel.”

Eliott nearly chokes on his own tongue. “What is wrong with you? That sounds like something from an old porn magazine.”

“Eliott, come on. What are the chances that we dressed in these specific costumes? When will we ever get the chance to make these kinds of jokes again?”

Eliott laughs, tugging Lucas closer to him by his hips, flushing only a little bit from his use of we.

“I mean it.” Lucas says. “We’re in some prime role-play territory right now.”

“You think so? Then let me try.” One of Eliott’s hands slides down to Lucas’s ass, his head lowering to whisper in his ear. “Oh, Lucas. You’re making me so hot, so…horny.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lucas yells, tearing himself from Eliott’s grasp and spinning into the centre of his room. The look of sheer disgust on his face sends Eliott over the edge, bursting into a fit of cackles that has him bending over at the waist.

“You’re the worst.” Lucas flings his horns at Eliott, the plastic headband bouncing off of Eliott’s arm. “I can’t believe I ever wanted to kiss you.”

I can’t believe it either, Eliott thinks, straightening up. He’s still laughing, the occasional giggle erupting like a bottle of champagne in his chest. Across the room, Lucas is biting down his bottom lip, like he’s trying not to smile, but Eliott’s making it really difficult.

Eliott thinks he might be a little bit in love with that expression.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

Lucas sighs, makes a show of being annoyed. “Yeah. Unfortunately I still do, so. Get over here.”

Eliott takes a deep breath. He removes his halo, dropping it onto the floor next to Lucas’s horns. “You know,” he says, sliding the wings down his arms, “I didn’t even plan a costume for tonight. Someone lent me this one to wear last minute.” The wings land with a soft thud on the wood. “It’s funny, you could say that it was—”

“Fate.”

Eliott’s head snaps up. At once, the mood in the room shifts, the shadows on Eliott’s floor lengthening with the weight of their gazes. In the darkness, Lucas’s eyes are pools of endless blue-black.

“Yeah.” Eliott whispers. “Fate.”

“You could say,” Lucas swallows audibly when Eliott takes a step towards him, “that it’s the universe trying to tell us something.”

Eliott takes another step forwards. “And what do you think the universe is trying to tell us?”

He takes another step, and one that brings Lucas close enough to touch. Eliott’s hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“I don’t know.” Lucas murmurs. “Maybe it’s saying that we should kiss.”

Eliott doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands find Lucas’s cheeks, tilting his head back gently while he leans down.

“Or maybe,” Lucas breathes shakily against his mouth, “it’s trying to tell us that we should—”

This time, Eliott cuts him off with a kiss. It’s a bit rushed, a bit clumsy, but Eliott doesn’t think he can be blamed, not with how his entire body is aching to touch, to hold Lucas in his hands, to feel his soft lips parting under his.

Kissing Lucas is unlike anything Eliott has ever felt. He could drown in him. Easy as anything.

So he does.

He angles his head to the left and coaxes Lucas’s mouth open, both of them whimpering as the kiss deepens, pressing even more tightly together. Lucas hands are at his lower back again, but they travel upwards, smoothing across Eliott’s back, fingertips digging in on certain swipes of Eliott’s tongue.

It’s dynamic, kissing Lucas, an intoxicating, euphoric push and pull. Their kisses will smooth out, become cleaner, more chaste presses of lips as they catch their breath, and then one of them dives in again and they’re gone, panting into each other’s mouths, kissing hot and wet, then teasing and biting.

Lucas’s hands come up to Eliott’s shoulders and he’s gripping him, turning Eliott on the spot, and shoving him down to the mattress unceremoniously, Eliott’s breath leaving him in a surprised gasp. He props himself up on his elbows, then nearly collapses back down when he sees Lucas, staring down at him like he wants to devour him.

“God,” Lucas sighs, lowering himself to the mattress, crawling up the length Eliott’s body. “You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and his hands are sliding into Eliott’s hair, tugging at the strands as he kisses him.

Eliott’s hands immediately go for Lucas’s hips, palming the curve of his ass, sliding under his shirt to touch the soft skin at the dip of his spine. His robe was pulled up with Lucas, and the hem is at Eliott’s knees now, making it easy for him to raise one leg up, pressing the inside of his thigh to Lucas’s side.

Lucas breaks away from the kiss to glance down. “Are you…what are you wearing under this?”

“Just boxers.” Lucas’s head snaps back up, but Eliott refuses to be embarrassed by it. “What? It’s really hot in the apartment,” he says defensively, digging his knee into Lucas’s side.

“Oh my god.” Lucas whispers. He untangles one hand from Eliott’s hair to smooth over his knee, eyes on the place where the hem of the robe is falling away from Eliott’s legs. “Oh my fucking god, I’m going to come in my pants,” he says, voice pained, and Eliott laughs, tugging Lucas back down into another kiss.

There’s an urgency to their movements that wasn’t there before—their kisses are desperate, the movements of their hands frenzied, roaming across each other’s bodies like they’re trying to touch as much of the other person as they possibly can.

Eliott doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before—burning from the inside out with a thick, aching rush of want. He feels wild with it, terrifyingly out of control but he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t imagine stopping.

He gasps when he feels one of Lucas’s hands move under the hem of his robe, gripping behind his knee and sliding up to his thigh. There are small fires left in the wake of his hands, as scorching hot as the bruise his teeth left on Eliott’s neck, as the gentle scrape of Lucas’s tongue as it trails across his collarbone.

“Fuck,” He whimpers when Lucas kisses him, wet and warm and sloppy and mind-numbingly good.

“I know.” Lucas breathes. His hand slides a little further up Eliott’s thigh, scratches gently against his skin. “I know, angel.” He shifts his hips, letting out a choked-off moan when their erections line up. “Oh, fuck, you’re so hard.” He grinds his hips down, tugging Eliott’s leg higher up on his side. He kisses up the side of Eliott’s neck, bites down on his ear lobe. “You’re so hard for me, baby.”

“Lucas.” Eliott pants, and he’s asking for something but he’s not even sure what, some desperate release from the rubber band being pulled taut along the line of his body. “Please.” He grips onto Lucas’s ass with both hands, guiding him down to meet his own jerking movements up, searching for more friction.

Except, Lucas lets go of Eliott’s thigh, gripping onto his hands instead, pulling them away from his ass and planting them on either side of Eliott’s head.

“Lucas.” Eliott whines, so overwhelmed, so close to the edge that he doesn’t even care how desperate he must look right now, trying to buck up into the empty air where Lucas is hovering over him. “Lucas, what the hell, let me touch you.”

Lucas grins. “Hmm, no. I think I like you like this.” He squeezes Eliott’s fingers, lowering his hips back down so he’s sitting in Eliott’s lap.

Eliott lets out a strangled noise at the sudden weight.

“I could ride you like this,” Lucas says causally, as though he’s telling Eliott what he had for breakfast that day. “Until you can’t take it anymore. Until you’re begging me to come.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Eliott is so turned on by the thought of that he can barely see straight, but at the back of his mind, there’s something else, something he’s aching for.

“Okay, yeah, we could do that. Or, you could fuck me.” Eliott says. He tries for the same, casual tone Lucas has adopted, but it doesn’t work. He sounds too strung out, the rubber band inside of him a second away from snapping.

That makes Lucas pause, the slow, teasing movements of his hips stuttering to a halt.

“Yeah? You…” He blinks at Eliott, slow and hazy. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” He does. The more he thinks about it, the more Eliott is sure that’s exactly what he wants to happen tonight. He’s light-headed just from the idea. “I do. Please.”

Lucas releases one of his hands to brush his hair back from his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you sure, angel?”

It’s so sweet, the way Lucas is looking at him. He’s so sweet, stroking his thumb across Eliott’s temple, gazing softly at him. It makes Eliott feel warm, looked after. He smiles, plucking Lucas’s hand from his hair and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the underside of his wrist.

He makes sure not to break Lucas’s gaze. “I’m sure.”

There’s no sudden frenzy, once he says it, no montage of stripping down and getting to business. There’s Lucas, leaning down to kiss him, unhurried, still holding onto Eliott’s hands. There’s Eliott, breaking the kiss to tell Lucas that yes, he really wants to be kissed, but he’d also really like to have sex now, please, and there’s stuff in his bedside table.

Lucas laughs and says stuff in a mock-sexy voice, but he goes, rifling through Eliott’s drawer, holding up the Anne Rice paperback Eliott forgot he stuffed in there with a smirk, and returning with a condom and a bottle of lube.

Eliott gets distracted by Lucas’s abs when he pulls shirt off, feeling the desperate need to apply his tongue to every ridge and divot of them, and then Lucas gets distracted when they wrestle Eliott’s robe off, kissing all the way from Eliott’s shoulder down to his thighs, mouthing up and down the lengths of them, biting into the sensitive, tender skin on the inside, high up near his hips.

By the time Lucas gets the condom on, they’re both delirious with want, overwhelmed and shaking when they come together, Eliott gasping into Lucas’s mouth and Lucas slamming a hand into the mattress, desperately trying to hold himself still.

Even when Eliott whispers move, please, Lucas goes slowly, gentle movements that are long, dragging and deep, that make Eliott feel taken apart, piece by piece until he’s nothing but one centre of ecstasy. He digs his fingernails into Lucas’s back, moans so loudly that he’s briefly worried everyone else in the apartment will have heard him, and he realizes he has no idea how long he and Lucas have been fucking for. It could still be around midnight, it could be three in the morning, but the thing is, it really doesn’t matter. It’s just him and Lucas, the time between one kiss and another stretching infinitely into the heavy night.

Lucas is sweating above him, biting down on his lip as he pistons his hips forward, stroking one hand down Eliott’s chest to his stomach. He’s thrown into broken shadow by the moonlight pouring in through Eliott’s window, and Eliott remembers when they were standing out on the balcony, how otherworldly Lucas seemed to him then. And now, Lucas is panting, tense and swearing under his breath and inside of Eliott, his skin scorching hot where they’re pressed together. He’s so unmistakably human in this moment, raw and real, and Eliott thinks it’s the most beautiful he’s looked all night.

Maybe Lucas can hear his thoughts, or maybe they were written on Eliott’s face, the proverbial open book, because Lucas brings hand back up and smoothes Eliott’s hair back, tender and adoring.

Beautiful, Lucas says, and Eliott has to kiss him. He has to.

He pulls Lucas back down to him and the kiss is clumsy, with how they’re moving, but it’s good, so good that Eliott can see the edge of the cliff coming, the inevitable plunge to oblivion right under his toes.

I’m close, he tells Lucas and Lucas nods, starts picking up the pace of his hips, reaching between them to grasp Eliott in hand.

Lucas says, Come for me, angel, and Eliott does, arching his back off the mattress and pulling Lucas close to him, biting down on his shoulder to muffle a broken cry.

Lucas follows only seconds after, and they collapse onto the mattress, sticking together in awkward places and gasping for breath, giggling and kissing each other on the forehead, cheeks, lips, occasionally gasping variations of holy shit and that was fucking amazing.

Lucas throws away the condom and Eliott uses Lucas’s discarded shirt to clean himself up, laughing when Lucas notices and snatches it out of his hands.

You can borrow one of mine, Eliott says, and he pauses before he adds, when you leave tomorrow. Or the day after.

Lucas grins, and searches for his phone so he can text his friends.

🕸

It’s four in the morning and they’re still awake, curled together under Eliott’s duvet sharing stories and secrets in low voices.

Eliott’s head is pillowed on Lucas’s chest, Lucas is playing with his hair, and his eyes are drooping shut. Exhausted and happy. So unbelievably happy.

“I’m really starting to like Halloween again.” Eliott says, and Lucas laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He feels himself drifting off, on the edge of sleep, when Lucas shifts under him, gently tugging on his hair.

“Eliott?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Mhm.”

“I didn’t have a costume planned for tonight either. Mine was a last-minute borrow.”

Eliott frowns, his near-sleep brain slow at processing the words.

“I…I know Alexia gave you the angel costume, and, well, I think it was the girls’ idea of matchmaking? Because Emma gave me the devil horns, although it took me a while to put it together.” He pauses. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is I should have known my friends would try something because, well, I’ve had a crush on your for weeks and uh, they all know about it.”

“Oh.” Eliott murmurs. He snuggles into Lucas’s chest, yawning around a smile. “That’s funny.”

But then—

Eliott’s eyes fly open.

“Wait, what?”

#prompt fill #tarot prompts #for anon 🧡🧡🧡#i know it may be different than what you were looking for #but when i got the idea 'halloween party' in my head it refused to leave #fic tag #elu fic #skam fr fanfic #skam france #happy halloween mecs!! 👻

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prettyboy-parker · 5 years

Photo

father

words: idk

warnings: none, really

author’s note: I really fucking hate this

this is heavily inspired by I Am Mother, 10 Cloverfield Lane, and Passengers. They are all great movies that you should watch! The poem featured (in italics) is titled “Fear of the Future” by John Koethe. If any of you get pissy I can properly cite it.

——

In the end one simply withdraws

From others and time, one's own time,

——

“Son, are you paying attention?”

Peter blinks a few times and shakes himself out of his thoughts.

“My apologies, Father.” He responds, pressing his hands to the cold countertop of the metal table, steadying them.

“You will not pass your exam if you keep this up.” Father tells him for the hundredth time.

Peter swallows thickly.

“Father, I-“ He starts, but quickly cuts himself off.

The empty classroom is silent, except for the sound of Peter’s heavy breathing. It seems to bounce off the white walls, amplifying his nerves.

“What is it, son?” Father asks, leaning forward and causing a metallic sound to ring out. “You know you can ask me anything. I will not be mad.”

Peter looks up at Father.

As much as he looks like a human, his smile is emotionless and mechanical.

“I don’t understand why I have to take exams. If I am the only one left, why does it matter?” Peter finally asks.

Father doesn’t drop his smile. His unnatural blue eyes shine as he speaks.

“They measure how well I am teaching you. They can only help you, my son.”

Peter nods slowly, staring into those glowing eyes. Father reaches forward, taking Peter’s small hand in his robotic one. His right hand is void of the fake skin that covers his skeleton, leaving a robotic limb exposed. His mechanical fingers curl around Peter’s. As much as it is unnerving, Peter likes Father’s bare hand. Father tells him that the extinct humans modeled him after their ideal man, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, and muscular. The exposed skeleton makes Father feel a little more real.

A little more flawed.

“Now, answer the question. 5 people are ill, but have the necessary organs to save one person of influence. On the other hand, the one person of influence has the necessary organs to save all five of the others, but will lose their life. What is the most ethical thing to do?”

“Easy. The person of influence should give up their life for the greater good.”

Father smiles.

“Good boy.”

——

Becoming an imaginary Everyman

Inhabiting a few rooms, personifying

——

Nothing goes bump in the night in their sanctuary.

That’s what Peter thought, anyways.

But a loud banging noise awakes him from his sleep. Peter sits up in bed, startled. His eyes dart around his pitch black room, looking for an indication of the noise. The banging doesn’t seem damaging enough to set off an alarm, so Father is still asleep. Peter reaches over to turn his bedside lamp on, an unnatural white glow lighting up the room. The room is untouched, glass door tightly sealed, closet doors unopened. Peter leans over to the crisp white side table, reaching inside it’s drawer to grab a flashlight. He slips out from under the white comforter, bare feet landing on the fluffy ivory rug. The banging starts up again. As quietly as he can, Peter shuffles towards his bedroom door, pressing the button to the side of it, the door opening with a soft whoosh. He looks down the hall, trying to find where the sound is coming from. He listens intently and it seems the banging is coming from,

The Airlock?

Peter furrows his brow.

There’s never any disturbance by the airlock, because, well, it’s an airlock.

His feet guide him to the airlock, since Peter knows the sanctuary like the back of his hand. The banging gets louder as he approaches, becoming clear and crisp as the door to the airlock room opens. Peter shines his flashlight on the giant metal doors, protecting him and Father from the contagion outside. The sound of something on metal rings through the room.

Slowly, Peter approaches the secure doors. He has to stand on his tippy toes to reach the small window, so he does and shines his light through the glass. What he sees makes him gasp and drop his flashlight.

There’s someone there.

Banging on the doors.

“Hey! Let me in!” The thing shouts, banging on the doors harder.

Peter is frozen as he tries to think of what to do.

If the thing is a robot, like Father, it’ll most likely be able to get inside on its own eventually. Opening the door for it would set off the alarm, causing Father to catch him and punish him.

But, if the thing is dangerous, Father will be able to protect him.

Peter presses the button next to the double doors and turns the key.

The alarm starts blaring, flashing red as the doors open slowly. Before the doors even lift up half way, the entity is scrambling underneath them.

“You couldn’t have gotten here faster?” The thing spits. He looks roughed up, torn clothes and dirt smeared on his face. Peter’s heart catches in his chest when he sees a fresh, open wound underneath his eye, and a bigger one on his left arm.

He’s human.

Peter’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of something to say. Both of them turn their head when they hear the sound of metal hitting the floor.

“Father!” Peter yelps as the doors to the airlock room slide open.

“A fucking droid?” The man hisses, reaching for the gun strapped onto his waist.

“Wait!” Peter yells, running in front of Father as the man cocks his gun.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you want to be saved?” The man sneers, hands shaking as he holds up his gun.

“Son, move out of the way.” Father says from behind him.

“Please. We want to help. Put the gun down.” Peter says softly, ignoring Father.

The man looks at him wildly, red light illuminating his face. Slowly, he lowers the gun, turning the safety on and tossing it on the ground.

“Turn that fucking alarm off so help me god.”

——

The urge to tend one's garden,

A character of no strong attachments

——

The only sound in the cafeteria is the clanking of the man’s fork on his tray. After the alarm was shut off, all he would grumble about was food. Father told Peter to take him to the cafeteria and get him dinner.

He hasn’t said a word, just grunts.

“You just gonna fucking stare at me, huh?” The man says through a mouthful of corn.

Peter gulps.

“I’m not allowed to leave you alone. I apologize.” He says softly.

The man shorts and rolls his sunken eyes. He takes another spoonful of his corn.

“Do you have a name?” Peter finally asks, fidgeting in the metal chair.

The man inhales, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.

“Tony.” The man, Tony, says, outstretching his hand that’s wrapped in a frayed bandage.

“Peter.” Peter responds, shaking Tony’s hand.

“I’m taking a shower. Thank you for your hospitality,” Tony mumbles, clearly not at all grateful.

Peter stands up quickly.

“There are private living spaces with showers. I can show you there. See, this place was built for-“

“Yeah, I’m aware. I can get there on my own.” Tony interrupts, pushing his tray towards Peter as he stands.

“But sir,” Peter rushes after Tony as he walks toward the main doors. “It’s a confusing layout. Let me show you there. You’ll get lost.”

Tony whips around, grabbing Peter’s wrist, twisting it slightly. The boy lets out a little yelp.

“Listen here you little shit,” Tony growls, face inches away from Peter’s, “I’m fully capable of getting around in here. I’m the one who fucking funded it, for God’s sake. Now, leave me the fuck alone or I’ll break your tiny little wrist.”

Peter is left speechless as Tony drops his wrist and walks away.

——

Who made nothing happen, and to whom

Nothing ever actually happened—a fictitious

Man whose life was over from the start,

——

“He is getting used to the changes in his life. Give him some time.”

Father squeezes Peter’s leg from where he’s sitting on the end of the bed.

“I know,” Peter says solemnly, “I just want to talk to him. Human to human.”

Father nods at these words.

“Did you know?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are, son. Get some rest. You can try to speak to our guest tomorrow.” Father says as he stands up.

“I must charge. Goodnight, my son.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

——

Like a diary or a daybook whose poems

And stories told the same story over

And over again, or no story. The pictures

——

“Why did you choose Tony?”

Tony looks at him in confusion, then hisses as Peter dabs his cheek wound with peroxide.

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, wincing as Peter covers the wound with a bandage.

“Well, I chose my name after Peter Rabbit. Father always read that to me as a child.” Peter tells Tony.

The older man chuckles and shakes his head.

“That’s cute.” He grunts, calloused fingers drifting over the bandage.

“Hey! Are you teasing me?” Peter giggles, sifting through one of the drawers to get a new roll of bandages.

“Not one bit. And in real life your parents choose your name.”

Peter sighs.

This is real life.

“I don’t have parents. Just Father.” He says quietly, unwrapping the worn bandage that encases Tony’s hand.

Tony rolls his eyes.

He seems to do that a lot.

“Would you stop with the father thing? It’s a droid. Not your dad.” Tony grumbles.

Peter is hurt.

“He’s taken care of me all my life. He’s never lied to me, has never hurt me.”

“Bullshit.” Tony growls, “It’s been telling you that humans are extinct. But look at me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Peter doesn’t say anything.

“I try to be a sympathetic man. So I’ll give you some sympathy. You deserve to live with other humans. Have some interaction for once in your goddamn life.”

Tony is now pacing around the room.

“Come with me. Back home. I’ve got 100 people living in one of these sanctuaries a few miles away. There’s room for one more.”

Peter looks into Tony’s stormy eyes.

“What about the virus?”

Angrily, Tony pushes over the metal supply cart. It falls to the floor with a bang.

“There’s no virus! Can’t you see?”

Tony grips Peter by the collar of his white t-shirt.

“No virus, no disease, nothing. Just droids.”

——

And paintings hang crooked on the walls,

The limbs beneath the sheets are frail and cold

——

“Your tags.”

Tony looks up from his tray of chicken.

“May I see them?” Peter asks, setting down his fork.

Wordlessly, Tony sets down his utensils and takes off the dog tags, bandaged hands brushing the leather of the jacket he refuses to remove. He drops the tags into Peter’s cupped hands, cool metal against his skin.

Peter lifts up the tags, thumb grazing over the raised letters.

Barnes, James Buchanan

The rest of the words don’t mean anything to him.

“Who’s James?” Peter asks, lowering his voice when he hears a door open nearby.

“Bucky. He went by Bucky.” Tony says, avoiding Peter’s eyes.

“Who’s Bucky, then?”

Tony rubs his face.

“He was my husband. Died 3 years ago. Can we stop talking about this?”

Peter gives back his dog tags.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I overreacted.” Tony grunts, finishing the rest of his apple juice.

Father enters the room.

“Is there anywhere private we can go?”

——

And morning is an exercise in memory

——

“Wow, you talk so much. I’m tired from listening to you talk.”

Peter giggles and flops down onto his bed, lying next to Tony.

“I’ve just got a lot to say.”

Tony smiles as he looks at the ceiling.

He smiles a lot more now.

Peter turns his head so he’s face to face with Tony.

“Lot going on in that pretty head of yours?” Tony asks, brushing a stray curls out of Peter’s eyes.

“Guess so.” Peter responds, face heating up.

Tony’s hand caresses his cheek gently.

“I’m guessing you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Peter turns his attention back to the ceiling.

“Hey,” Tony says softly, turning Peter’s face back to his own, “Would you want to try?”

Peter nods slowly, lips parted. Before he knows it, Tony’s lips are pressed to his. He melts into the older man’s touch, loving the feeling of his beard. Peter decides he could do this forever. Tony’s hand gently rests on Peter’s hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb. His tongue probes against Peter’s closed lips and the boy decides to open his lips slightly. Tony slips his tongue into Peter’s mouth with a groan. Lightly, Peter pushes Tony down so he’s lying on his back, climbing to straddle his lap.

“Holy hell.” Tony breathes once they part.

“Yeah.” Peter says, hands resting on his chest.

“Yeah.” Tony repeats.

Peter erupts in a fit of giggles, lying on Tony’s chest.

“Can’t wait to come home with you.”

“Me neither.”

——

Of a long failure, and of the years

——

“Let us go or I kill him.”

Peter lets out a sob as Tony tightens his grip on Peter’s throat. They’ve rehearsed this before, yet it is still frightening to have the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

Father doesn’t say anything, just watches.

“Open that fucking door goddammit!” Tony screams, yanking Peter closer to the door.

Silently, Father presses the button to the airlock doors. Once they’re open, Tony pulls Peter out into the open. The ground is dirt, no grass to be seen. There are a few withered trees, bare of leaves.

As the doors close, Peter catches a glimpse of Father.

He sobs.

Tony presses kisses to his cheeks, wiping away his tears as they fall to the ground.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

——

Mirrored in the face of the immaculate

Child who can't believe he's old.

#starker #starker fic #i hate this so much

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lynns-bitty-adoptions · 4 years

Text

Halloween Bitty Costumes

*You enter the Bitty Centre, and instead of the light purple walls and big clear windows, you’re greeted with pumpkins, spider webs, and little grave stone decorations dotting the vicinity. Somehow, the walls have been painted a darker shade of purple with little skeletal handprints and intricately painted Jack O’ Lanterns. The bitties seem mostly excited by the changes, the louder bitties discussing their Halloween plans.

Bitty Halloween Costumes

Saf:

These little guys are very lazy, so don’t put much effort into there costume- a t-shirt with a ‘404- costume not found’ error as a slogan added in messy, handwritten sharpie.

Mal:

Incredibly excited for all kinds of holidays, and Halloween is no exception. As the sweethearts they are, you can find an army of pumpkin Mal’s marching in perfect synchronization.

Dia:

These little babies will be the softest little warriors you’ll ever see. A myriad of knights, soldiers and archers charge forward with purpose- to steal your heart with their sheer cuteness.

Bambi:

Somehow ever lazier than the Saf’s, wearing torn and ripped shorts, or skirts, showing their ribs to anyone brave enough to get closer. Spooky scary skeletons who pull pranks by suddenly jumping up and screaming to anyone who is close enough.

Ember:

Ember’s make adorable little vampires, long capes and stereotypical outdated clothing, some pristine and some blood splattered. As the musical geniuses they are, most of them are playing spooky music the heighten the creepy mood.

Meral:

Fittingly enough, the Meral’s dress up as deranged doctors, holding tiny scalpels and needles filled with unknown glowing liquids that shine ominously with the darker decorations of the centre. Their exaggerated ‘evil scientist/doctor laugh’ is broken by the little innocent giggles and green flushes across their little cheekbones.

#Bittybones #Halloween

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lokislittlemagpie · 4 years

Note

ask 16 and 32 wuw

((WOAH OMG HI LMAO- I'll add a meme for them too just to show more of their personality-)

Lets start with Benny!

(THIS IS A 20 YEAR TIME SKIP TO THE CURRENT SERIES!!!)

32) (this actually helps with explaining him anyway-) Benny was designed after Brook the skeleton big time- He has darker skin and jade eyes like his mom (an undead demon 1800s girl i made a long while back-) Unlike both parents, he is fully living since he was created by CC! But he does have a veerry sensitive body (can get sick very easily or can very easily die by eating anything too spicy-) small heart issues, and is kinda thin- He is about 6 feet 7 inches and has dark black curly hair that he usually has inna tight pony tail! (kinda like Usopp but it drops down more, not as round rlly) He is 18!

16) Benny, as i said, is a lot like Brook but he is also incredibly inspired by Cyclonus too! He does have a love for old music and loves sword canes- But hes a huge chicken like Brook too- He loves Les Misrerables and he loves Hamilton- if you even get this man started, he will earrape One more Day and Satisfied until that's all you can hear in your worst nightmares-

32) Yunni is about 5 feet 6 inch of pure sass- He is blond with big green eyes that are quite beautiful actually- He loves pink booty shorts and crop tops with things that say the dumbest jokes like "kawaii on the streets" on the front and "Senpai in the sheets" on the back- He is a great cook and will gladly be your sassy prep boi- his hair is kinda a combo of Sanji and Italy from Hetalia- He has that one strand of curly hair like he does but theat medium hair that covers one eye like Sanji but it's longer on the left and curls at the tips! He is 24!

16) He is inspired by 4 characters! Sanji, Italy, Swerve, and Bumblebee- His personality is a mush of Swerves low self-esteem jokes, Bumblebee Bayverse sass, Italy's cuteness, and Sanjis slight anger problems and his cooking skills aren't as great but hes a great bar tender! He loves Jeff Dunham, Gordon Ramsay, and Kevin Hart and he references their jokes or threats on the daily-

32) Ruby is the daughter of two black magicians! Basil Hawkins and Dorothy Hopkins (whos next!) She has looong hair like her dad but is a slightly dark brown with black a the tips! She has his deep red eyes tho- Her face is more rounded like her mother's and she's only 5 foot 4- She's calm ajd quiet but can and will burn you not just literally but with just five words, your life is over- She always has a small smile on her face and always carries her book of spells! She has both her parents clothing sense wth dark clothes but she has to have her fathers old school frills and long black and red robes like her mother! She is 20!

16) She is inspired obviously from Hawkins- But she is very slightly tinted with Drift from Bayverse! She will tell dark dark poems at honestly the not so best of times- and she loves swords! She loves Adventure time and Steven Universe- Its the only light side to her just don't say that to her face-

32) Dorothy is a 5 foot 5 Long slightly curly black curly haired magician! She has a third eye that runs in her now extinct royal family. She is always gently smiling but will put you in your place- One cold stare and make you wanna regret being born- She keeps her third eye covered with her hair and has emerald green eyes- her third eye has a huge dry eye problem so its kinda lightly tinted yellow with red veins- but its still green! She loves her medical dark magic gowns and gear! She is more into demons and sacrifice while Ruby likes to summon little demons and do blood moon stuff! They both love crystals tho! Amythest and Quartz are a must-

16) She is inspired by only a two people- Loki from Marvel with her slight sense of humor and honestly her hair- And she is also like The Black Magician who is from Princess and the frog who I can't remember the name of- She becomes someone else if she uses dark magic too long at once! She loves soap operas and would die to see Phantom of the Opera live-

32) Lucas is a fun loving spider mink human hybrid! He is the son of Admiral Kizaru and My GFs OC Kasumi! He looks a lot like his dad but his personality is a little different! His hair is more curly and his a milk chocolate brown! He has four eyes but usually only uses the blue bottom eyes and keeps the red upper ones closed- He has elf like pointy ears and his dad's ridiculous lips- He has his eye brows too- But! he has his mom's fangs and eyes! He also has for slightly clawed arms and hands! He is just at perfect 6 feet! He uses swords and webs in battle that come from his hands like spiderman! He is calm but has many jokes and could be hiding anywhere- He is always smiling and tapping a foot to some song in his head- He loves his light peach orange uni pocket hoodie and his loose dark blue jeans with his converse-

16) Hes inspired by Kizaru of course and he is like a Rose Trantula kinda- More calm than most big spiders but still can and will fight you- He is also inspired clearly by spiderman! He also kinda reminds me of Whirl when he snaps- Or like IDW Drift when he gets Slicy dicey- He loves the old stuff like Ren and Stimpy and he still gets nightmare about "return the slaaaab" From Courts the cowardly dog-

32) Julie Ann is a pink haired girl with purple tips and is full of spunk and curse words- She has a thin mechanical arm after getting it blown of by her own inventions! She is smart and narcissistic but secretly fears being alone- She loves military boots and torn up rock shirts that are almost a little revealing thanks to the giant arm pit holes- she loves black leather pants and always has half her head shaved on the left while the right is just flying around! But she does have a piece perminantly braided in the front of her head on the right and it's a just a few inches passed her shoulders- She will fist fight god and walk backwards into hell with both birds up- she has sky blue eyes!

16) She is inspired By Julie Sue from the sonic comics! (The older stuff) and Eustass Kidd from one piece! She can be a lot like Braintsorm/ Whirl too- Shes a scary woman- Five Finger Death Punch and the all edgy verse of DC is her life-

32) Mel is A very shy GIANT Angler fish- I know in real life male anglers are tiny as hell but I really wanted a big shy man and Mel happened- Melvin is green with sea blue spike fins on his arms and back of his calfs! He has huge spike fin gills too but has learned to breath air over time- he has the little dangling trap from his forehead and has a combed over blue mohawk- He has big sharp teeth that poke out from his mouth in random places- his hands have blue webbing and so does his feet- His eyes are black and have gold squiggly irises- He is at a scary 7 feet 4 inches but he just wants hugs- This man cries when watching Endgame and Phantom of the Opera- He has a love for shirts that are just a little loose on him and loves jean shorts with sandles! He also loves crocs- Don't tease him he'll literally cry-

16) He is inspired actually by Ten from IDW and a bit of Endgame Hulk- He is also like inspired by Katakuri from One Piece! His sharp teeth from Kat and his body build is not quite as beefy as Hulk but he's kinda close honestly- He loves Steven Universe and the original Teen Titans! He squeals like a fan boy when ever he sees Beast boy-

32) Jake is happy smart mini Dobbie! He is the shortest standing at 4 feet 5 inches! He has a stub tail and a golden pirate ring piercing on his right ear! He has all the colors and looks of a dobbie he just smol- He loves to fix things and will growl if you poke to much fun at him- Ruby calls it 'Short man syndrom' and he hates it- He only wears blue torn up blue mean shorts- No shirt and no shoes- His eyes are bright bby boi sea blue! He loves head pats every now and then and loves bacon- You can kill this mans family and hell forgive you for 5 pounds of bacon- He blasts Wheezer and Gorillaz from his work shop at all times!

16) He is inspired by your typical tiny Dobbie! But he kinda looks like a mechanic version of Rewind- He is also inspired by an old friends dog who was named Jake! He doesn't watch much tv or movies but if he does its gotta Be Marvel- This man looks up to Tony Stark like a god and has an Iron man poster for modivation in his shop-

((I hope this isn't like too gross or annoying- Ive never mentioned any of my OCs- In fact i just forgot my main OC Lola- w o w- If you want stuff for her just let me know! I'll even try to find my old doodles and my gfs doodles if you want me to-))

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sofiazuhairin-blog · 5 years

Text

One in Each Hand

"She's too weak, her heart cannot beat on its own now but the machine keeps her alive." Adrian's voice is shaking a little even though he tries so hard not to show how weak he is. Isabelle is there beside him and she is holding his hand tightly as if Adrian would collapse if she let him go. And I am speechless for so many reasons but if you want me to list down a few, first, I can't believe that Addelyn is seriously going to leave me even when I have given to her every reason to stay. Second, it's our 5th anniversary tomorrow and I want to propose to her but Addelyn is actually dying. Third, Adrian looks so sad. It's obvious that he has stopped hoping.

Adrian hopes for so many things but most of the time he hopes for Addelyn to recover quickly so that she can have a normal life. It's a nonsense wish and wishful thinking because we all know that it's impossible because Addelyn is dying and it's so damn obvious - but we want to live, we want Addelyn to live so we don't mind lying to each other, we don't mind lying to ourselves. Addelyn knows that we lie to her too but just like us she doesn't mind us lying because that's better than spending her last days with the truth that she's dying. I smile a little when Addelyn crosses my mind. It's so easy to smile when you can picture her smiling perfectly inside your head. I look back to Adrian, he is now sitting on the bench and his head drops so low as if his life has been taken away from him. Isabelle is still beside him, she's hugging him as she whispers comforting words to him.

I am always grateful that Adrian dates a girl as sweet and as kind as Isabelle. Isabelle never complains whenever she has to take care of Addelyn. Honestly, she can leave. She can date guys who don't have a dying younger brother but no, when she met Addelyn for the first time she actually fell for her. Of course, I fell for Addelyn the first time I met her too. Addelyn is just so lovable. You cannot resist her smile, her laugh, especially her eyes that are deeper than the ocean. Maybe, Isabelle fell for her because of one of those three reasons and I don't mind about it because I always want Addelyn to know that she is loved by many even when she is bald, even when her lips are chapped and she's as skinny as a skeleton. I want her to know that she is loved not because she's dying but because of the fact that she's beautiful and she is as kind as an angel.

I met Addelyn six years ago when were both eighteen. She happened to be my classmate and I was happened to be a jerk. I wasn't actually a jerk but as an eighteen years old boy it was so odd to have my heart beat like a drum whenever she was around so I chose to be a jerk. That way, she will hate me, and she will stay away from me but this is Addelyn we talk about. She is sassy, she won't back away unless you tell her what her fault is for you to treat her like a dog. This happened a year after we met, Addelyn just got back from a party the night before and his lips were so swollen that morning when I met her at class as if she was kissed by someone and I just can't stop thinking about how mad I was at the man who dared to kiss my Addelyn like that. Yes, my Addelyn, in my mind and heart, she is always mine. So I actually called her cheap for kissing around a random person and she glared at me and said: "What the fuck did I do to you that you won't give me a break? Did you realize that you act like a total jerk now?"

I remember myself smirking. "Give you a break? No, I hate you, remember?" I replied, confidently but she took a step forward and I lost half of my sanity upon seeing her flawless and beautiful face up close even when I have seen it thousands of times already, I mean, we were classmates so it was normal to see each other's face.

"Listen, Noah," she called me with my name and I was actually feeling so nervous that I broke into cold sweats because I never thought that my name was going to sound so magnificent slipping out from her lips like that. "If you like me, man up," she continued and I was gaping in disbelief. I was about to ask her where the hell she got an idea that I actually like him but she was fast to talk again. She said: "You call my name in your sleep as if your life was depended on me when you passed out on the field three months ago. Stop acting like a jerk because I like you too. I like you a lot! Because I’m just a normal girl who loves a jerk like you." and I didn't even wait for her to catch his breath because the next thing I remember she was panting and we were kissing as if there was no tomorrow.

Long story short. We became boyfriend and girlfriend. It was two years ago when Addelyn was diagnosed with stage three of myeloma. Myeloma is a rare type of cancer that develops in plasma cells. Normally, in our body, plasma cells are responsible for recognizing and fighting off invading germs and infections but in Addelyn's body, the cancer cells overtake the healthy plasma cells and this causes a depletion of much-needed white blood cells. The thing about cancer, it's a fast and silent killer - and it's so damn unpredictable. Cancer is evil. Addelyn eats a lot of medicine, I can't even name them. She underwent countless of chemotherapy sessions. But since cancer is evil Addelyn is now lying on a hospital bed with a machine by her side that keeps her heart beating.

To be frank, I want to cry. I want to curse our fate for being such a jerk. I want to shout. I want to kick things. I want to kill myself. But Addelyn made me promise to her that I won't shed a single tear in front of Adrian for he is her pillar of strength so I don't cry. Yes, Addelyn loves me a lot and she hates to see me cry but she loves his brother more than she ever loved anything. Adrian is her mother and father. Adrian taught her to read. Adrian worked so hard to take care of her. Adrian is all she has - so seeing him cry is the last thing she wants to see. That's why I never cry in front of Adrian. I have to convince Adrian that Addelyn is alright, that I am alright.

I take a deep breath as I seat beside Adrian, he quickly looks at me with his teary eyes and he hugs me. "How come you're not crying, she's your whole world." He remarks.

I smile. He's right, Addelyn. You're my whole world but I am not going to cry because I have seen you suffer enough. No offence, but I'm actually glad that God is going to take you away soon. As much as I love you, I want you to be happy too. I don't want you to be in pain just because I want you to stay by my side.

"Of course, she is my everything," I reply. "But I won't cry. Not now. Not when she can listen to us. Not when she's hoping for us to send heraway with a smile on our face."

"But it's so hard," Adrian sobs. He sobs so hard that I can barely understand what he's trying to say.

"It is, but let's do this for one last time for Addelyn. Okay?" He nods his head. "Now smile," I add and he smiles, as wide as he can.

Adrian is inside with Isabelle, they are talking to Addelyn but she isn't replying to anything they say, she can't. The clock strikes 3 in the morning and I am so damn tired that I can't even eat. My body is sore. My mind is blank. My heart is breaking. It's finally here, the Grimm Reaper is probably somewhere looking for Addelyn's ward and I couldn't even take a breath without thinking that in a few minutes (hours if the Grimm Reaper couldn't find Addelyn's ward) I will live without her by my side. Doctor Kim called us a few hours ago and told us that she is too weak, weaker than she was three days ago. So he asked us to get ready emotionally. Doctor Kim is silly. No one will ever be ready to lose someone they love but we nodded our head without much talking because we know that sooner or later Addelyn will leave us for a better place.

I take a glance on the clock again and it's 5 minutes past 3 in the morning now. Adrian is not going to leave Addelyn anytime soon, he has so much to say to her. So I take out my phone from my backpack which is packed with my dirty clothes but I find the tiny red box that I am about to give Addelyn two days ago instead. I open it and I see the ring that surely will fit perfectly on her finger. Of course, I am sad. No, I am beyond sad because she will never have a chance to say 'yes' but I know that if she can he will say it loudly, proudly and surely - and automatically a smile appears on my face. There's no way she will reject me, she loves me so much. I keep the tiny red box back and I take out my phone. I open my gallery and I am not surprised that I see a lot of photos of her.

I love taking photos of her. She's just so beautiful. Addelyn is like an ocean, she is beautiful from any angle. I come across a photo of her with my cats, I hate my dogs for loving her more than they ever loved me but then again no one and nothing can resist Addelyn, so they are forgiven. In that photo, she is smiling as Timmy licks her face and Jimmy is biting the hem of her tee shirt. She is wearing my tee shirt actually and I remember everything perfectly. It was on the 25th of June, she wanted to sleep at my house and I had no reason to turn her down. We kissed a lot that night. It turned out to be that she missed me because she was away for a few days for her chemistry decathlon. I thought that she was cute, so I kissed her hard on her lips before I told her that I missed her just as much.

And then I see a photo of her sleeping, I click to enlarge to photo. It was taken when she accidentally fell asleep at the library. Addelyn isn't a fan of biology but her best friend, Lisa made her study the growth of cells for hours. When I came to the library to fetch her, she was already sleeping and Lisa was staring at me like: "Your girlfriend is such a lazy ass, but she's cute, so she's forgiven." I smiled at Lisa, and then I thanked her for taking care of Addelyn. Lisa told me that Addelyn got tired easily lately, I told her that Addelyn was fine, but I lied. She was not fine. She just underwent a chemotherapy cycle yesterday and she threw up a lot that morning and that explains why she fell asleep. She was tired, but of course, she hates biology too.

By the time I click on the nth photo, Adrian is already standing outside of the ward. "It's your turn," he says. Adrian's eyes are so red, and Isabelle looks as messy as he is. I could only hug him to assure him that we will be fine. I hug Isabelle too, and she hugs me tighter. I don't know what to say to her so I entangle myself from her and give him a smile.

When I enter the ward, Addelyn is lying on his hospital bed, of course, she hasn't moved an inch since last week. I take a seat beside her, and I stare at her for at least 10 minutes without saying a word. I want to remember her face. I want my brain to remember every corner of her face, I want to sketch the outlines of her face inside my head and keep it securely so that I won't ever forget how beautiful she looks like. I want to remember the shape of her lips. I want to remember her pretty eyes. God! I want to remember every inch of her. Every line, every mole, every scar - everything of her. Once I'm convinced that I have remembered everything about her face, I dare myself to hold her hand.

Addelyn's hand is cold, so cold – colder than her hand when I held it for the first time in the winter last year. I hold it tight before I kiss it. "How are you?" I ask but of course, she doesn't reply. "You know, sometimes, I wish you can tell me that you're alright, that you're fine and you're happy but then I remember how strong you are so it's okay. You don't have to answer me. I know you're alright, and you're fine. You'll always be fine, my love."

I smile a little upon remembering how strong of a person she is. She doesn't even complain about the chemo port on her chest, but I know that it hurts a lot. She doesn't even cry when the pain gets too intense, but I know that she is on the verge of screaming on top of her lungs. Addelyn is just so strong. She won't do things that will make us worry about her. She is convinced that she's alright even if she's not. "Lately, I think about you a lot. About what we could be, about what I can actually give you but I want you to know that it doesn't mean I regret that I date a dying girl. I never regret loving you, let alone meeting you."

"But I can't lie to you. When I think about you, I imagine myself coming home and seeing you waiting for me at the dinner table, and I hug you so close that you could barely breathe. I can actually see ourselves, a few years from now with four kids. We will walk around the park together, with one in each hand. And you're going to smile at me and say: "I love you so much." and guess what? I will be saying the same thing because I love you so much. So much." I cry. I know I have sworn to her that I won't but I cry because it hurts so badly. I can't do it. I am breaking into pieces.

"I love you so much that I give you a permission to leave me. I don't want to see you like this anymore. I don't want you to hold your tears, I don't want to hear you silently moan in pain, I don't want you to go through countless of surgeries anymore. I want you to be happy, somewhere up there. I am fine here, I am fine so if you want to leave, just leave. Every day, I pray to God to not take you away from me because without you I lose my way, I lose my purpose to live but then I realize that I am so selfish to pray for something that will put you through so much pain. I know I imagine us having kids, I imagine us waking up next to each other but that doesn't mean I hate being with you now. For God's sake, I don't mind being reborn in this exact universe all over again, as long as I meet you, I don't mind, love."

"But I don't want you to go through this pain all over again, so if you leave now, I hope we will meet again in a different universe where you don't have to leave me like this, where we both can live happily as a family." I cry harder than before. I kiss her hand again, and then I slowly take off the oxygen mask that is clasped around her face and quickly give a peck on her lips. I kiss her forehead and then both of her eyes, and I whisper to her: "I love you now, as I love you even then. I will love you more each day until the end of my life." I take out the tiny red box from my backpack, and I slide the silver ring on her finger - and then I ask: " Addelyn, would you marry me?"

She doesn't answer me, but I know, she'll say yes if she can.

Addelyn leaves me a few hours after that.

She left me a note. Isabelle gave it to me a few days after she left.

She says: "Noah, I want you to know that I am alright. Yes, I'm in pain but you keep me going. I'm sorry that I have to leave you alone but I have told your cats to take care of you. They are more trustworthy than Adrian anyway. Thank you for loving me, thank you for making me happy. I owe you a lot, I wish I can repay everything but you know I can't. But I promise you that I will keep my eyes on you up in the clouds. I'll save you when you're in danger. I'll show you the way when you're lost. I force God to make me your guardian angel. Lastly, I know that you haven't asked me about it yet but I know you will. So here's my answer. Yes, Noah I will marry you. And I love you, then, now - forever."

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valduggerystuff · 6 years

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The Babysitter -- A Skulduggery Pleasant Fan Fic

“Thank you so much for babysitting, Gordon!” Melissa said with a big smile on her face as she handed Stephanie over to her brother-in-law.

“She is a good kid, really adorable. Except that she drives us crazy. But that is what kids do, don’t they? I tried to reason with her, explaining that we need our sleep and all, but she doesn’t seem to understand”, Desmond explained further.

“She is fifteen months old, Des. Fifteen-month-old babies don’t tend to reason with you”

“But she is our daughter after all! She is special! Look at her eyes, I assure you, she understands everything we say. Isn’t that so, Steph?”

The baby girl in Gordon arms giggled and he couldn’t help but smile. God, she was too cute to be true! It was moments like these when his heart broke over the thought that this may have been his daughter if things had worked out with Melissa.

“Gordon, she should be sleeping most of the time, except for when she’s hungry. I know she looks small, but don’t underestimate how much this little one can eat. There are fresh diapers in the bag and if anything goes wrong, just call us and we’ll be here as soon as we can!”

“I got it, Melissa. Really. Look at her, she is such an angel! I’m sure we will get along just fine”, Gordon assured her calmly.

“Okay, okay. Good. Thank you. Oh, and Gordon - no stories about monsters. I don’t want her to get nightmares!”

The author frowned. “Didn’t you just say she is too young to understand?”

“Yes, but… you never know, right?”

“I have everything under control. You two go enjoy yourself”

He kissed her gently on the cheek and shook his brother’s hand before closing the door in front of them. Then he grinned down to the baby in his arms. Her still quite short hair was already deep black, and her dark brown eyes reminded him of a puppy. He loved dogs.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun!”

She giggled adorably and Gordon felt his heart melt. He carried her to his study and showed her all the books he had collected.

“This, my dear, is my private collection. Everything in here is worth a good fortune, yet nothing is as precious as you are”

He let her down gently and Stephanie started to run around through the room, touching the books and marvelling at the height of the shelf. She ran and occasionally pulled a book at, frantically flipped pages, frowned when she noticed that there were no pictures in them, and then ran to the next one, creating a minor mess.

“Alright, maybe you’re a bit too young for books…”, Gordon said decidedly to himself and went to find something else she could play with. She ran after him excitedly, and as he noticed that he didn’t exactly have a lot of kid friendly things around, she was not behind him anymore.

“Um, Stephanie? Steph?” He didn’t exactly expect an answer, yet heard giggling from the bathroom and found the toddler in his laundry basket.

“What are you doing, hm? Making the laundry?” She didn’t react, instead pulled out a pair of worn socks and spun them around in the air. It didn’t take too long until she smelled them though, screwed up her nose and said “Yuck”, before throwing them out into the bathtub. Gordon laughed and went to pick them up.

“You don’t really like my socks, do you?” Stephanie ignored him, instead took one of his t-shirts. Her eyes widened as she saw how big it was compared to herself. Clumsily she got out of the basket, which she turned over in the process, held the shirt behind her and started to swing it around, looking as if she were dancing.

“Oh, so you like dancing, huh? Follow along, Stephanie!” He went to turn the stereo on, having her run behind him, the shirt flying behind her like a cape. As soon as the music played, her face lightened up and she moved awkwardly to the beat of the music, wrapping the shirt around herself, causing her uncle to laugh out loud. He got down to his knees and took her little hands into his, then made different movements with his arms, gently pulling her around and spinning her. She laughed delightful. A few songs in, the doorbell rang.

“Who may that be?” he asked Stephanie, picked her up and went to open the door. Skulduggery Pleasant stood there in an exquisite three-piece suit and hat, with the scarf he used as disguise casually hanging down at his skull, looking at him at first, then noticing the baby in his arms.

“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap her”, the velvet voice said jokingly.

“No, but I may just keep her. Skulduggery, this is my niece, Stephanie”

“Stephanie, what an honour to meet you”

The skeleton extended his gloved hand towards her and she giggled when she laid her tiny hand into his.

“My name is Skulduggery. Can you say it? It’s a big word”

“Skaldugery!” she exclaimed exited, causing him to tilt his head smilingly and chuckle “Fair enough”

“Why don’t you come in?”, Gordon asked, politely opening the door to let his friend enter.

“Thanks. I was around and thought I may just give you some inspiration for a book of yours.”

“Is that so?”

“I just talked to a friend of mine, Saracen Rue, I am sure you heard of him”

“I heard about every Dead Men story there is”

“Perfect. Anyway, he told me about an epic battle with a certain Tanith Low and some other things she did that I thought may just be quite interesting for you to hear”

“Brilliant! Just brilliant! Except that…” he looked at Stephanie in his arms, “I may have promised her parents to not tell her any monster stories”

“She is looking at a living skeleton as we speak”

“Ah, but you’re not a monster. Monsters look way scarier than you do.”

“Thanks?” “Well, maybe we can keep her distracted for long enough so she won’t hear all the bloody details… Stephanie, do you like drawing?”

The little girl clapped her hands: “Yes!”

“Very well then… Mind holding her for just a bit?” Before Skulduggery could answer, Gordon already placed Stephanie into his arms and disappeared into his study.

“Well, hello there”, Skulduggery said softly.

“Hello”, she answered, grinningly.

“You are not afraid of me, are you?” She laughed and shook her head no, then grabbed the side of his hat and pulled on it.

“You like my head, don’t you? Well, I’m afraid it may just be a tad too big for you, don’t you say?” He gently placed it onto her head, covering almost all her face, before lifting it up and adjusting it again on his own head. She looked a bit confused at first, before laughing again right into his face. If he had a face, he would smile back, but she didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t. Instead, she touched his cheek bone with her hand, examined how it felt compared to her own skin. Her face showed pure fascination.

“I see you two get along just fine” Gordon said once he re-entered the room.

“You have an adorable niece indeed. She has smart eyes too.”

“She surely is something special. She is an Edgley after all.”

“Stephanie, do you want to see something amazing?”

She nodded her head a few times, her face shining. Skulduggery used is free hand and snapped to summon a flame, then let it dance around his hands. The toddler’s mouth was wide open as she said “Wooooow”. Once the flame was gone, she demanded to see it again, and again, and again, in never ending astonishment.

“Okay, enough of that” Gordon said and Skulduggery was sure he detected a hint of jealousy in his voice as he took his niece back and placed her on the ground, equipped with some crayons and some paper. “Why don’t you draw something nice?”

She looked a bit disappointed at Skulduggery, but just a moment later started to draw on the paper while the two men sat down close enough to be watching her, yet far away enough to be out of her hearing range, and Skulduggery told him all about the mysterious Tanith Low and the wonders she committed. Gordon was more than just impressed, already forming ideas and formulation in his mind how to include all of this is his next book. They talked for quite some time, before Stephanie walked up to them with a finished masterpiece in her hand. She handed it Skulduggery full of excitement who felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest develop as he saw that she drew something that without a doubt resembled a skeleton in a suit, his hand on fire. Next to it, there was a man, most likely Gordon, and in the middle, there was a little person with black hair and a hat who covered half of it. He showed it to his friend, whose eye began to sparkle and water up a bit.

“This is very beautiful, Stephanie. Thank you”, Skulduggery said and picked her up a she reached with his arms towards him.

“I think you made yourself a new friend right there”, Gordon mumbled.

“Quite so. Well, why don’t you go take some notes for your book while I take care of her?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Look at her, she is adorable”

“Well, if you do want to make yourself useful, why don’t you feed her?”

“What do I know about food?”

“Just make sure she doesn’t choke on it”

“Well, that sounds easy enough. Are you hungry, little one?”

“Yes yes yes!” she proclaimed. He lifted Stephanie into his arms, carried her to the kitchen and looked around at what to prepare for her.

“So, uh, what do you like?”

“Spaghetti!”

“Really?”

“Pweeaassseee” she looked at her with her big, dark eyes and the next thing he knew is how he cooked whole package of spaghetti for her. Once done, he took the greatest care to cut them in tiny piece to make absolutely sure she would choke on them, then laid a kitchen cloth carefully over his suit to make sure she wouldn’t spill on it - it was an exquisite Ghastly Bespoke after all - then placed her into lap and fed her gently, until she yawned and leaned against his chest, her arms hugging his tie.

“Tired, aren’t you?” Weak nodding.

“Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” Nodding again, and so he gently began humming Mrs Jones while wrecking her back and forth in his arms. He stayed for two more hours, never letting her out of his arms. He forgot what is was like to have a baby, but being here now, with her, everything seemed to make sense again. Only when the sanctuary called him and demanded his immediate present, he reluctantly left her with Gordon again before whispering “We will see each other again, Stephanie”. Of course she didn’t hear him in her sleep, but for the rest of the night, the fuzzy feeling stayed. Before he left the mansion, Gordon handed him the picture she drew.

“Take it. Her parents would just question why, oh why she would draw a skeleton with a fire hand.”

“Thank you, Gordon. I’ll see you soon” With that, he wrapped his scarf around his head and walked back to his black Bentley.

** 23 years later **

Valkyrie and Skulduggery sat on the Sofa at Skulduggery’s house, she was gently leaning on him, her hand on his chest, her head resting at the space where his neck would be if he had skin. She was glad to have her friend back, glad that he didn’t want to kill her anymore.

“Is it true what you said?”, she asked after a while, stopping the silence.

“I say a lot of wonderful things, Valkyrie”

“Did you really meet me when I was a baby?”

He laughed amused. “Oh, yes. You used to be so precious”

“I still am precious!”

“In a different way, yes”

“So you’ve basically known me all my life…”

“And you have adored me all your life”

“Of course you would say that”

“I can prove it too”

Skulduggery gently pushed her from him and got up, disappearing in upstairs. Valkyrie frowned. What kind of proof was he talking about?

He came back mere minutes later, holding a piece of paper in his hands and showed it to her.

“You drew this for me that night you were at Gordon’s”

“I did?” She gently took it, looked at the badly drawn skeleton with the fire hand, and a man that very well could have been Gordon. And then there was a mini version of her, wearing a hat that reminded her too much of a certain one she knew.

“Looks like I adored your hat more”

“You did like it a lot”

“And you kept this? It was ages ago, why would you do that?”

“Naturally I did, this may have been the cutest thing you ever done”

She smiled, tears filling her eyes.

“That means a lot, Skulduggery. It really does”

“I always knew you were special and that we would meet again. Little did I know that it took eleven years for that or what else would happen, but here we are.”

“And I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.” Skulduggery tilted his head and she knew he was smiling.

“I’m glad you say that. So, you’re with me again? Until the end?”

“Until the end.”

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #just a little something #fanfic #derek landy #valkyrie as baby #valduggery

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blue-means-stop · 6 years

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So, I was going to draw but then my body flared up in pain today. BITCH YOU THOUGHT!!! So I laid huddled in my bed while my kitten snuggled with me. I’m feeling a bit better now, I need to take a shower but I wanted to at least write a little something today. Even if it’s nonsense.

But, I wanted to talk about my sona a bit. There’s a few pics of him in my “My OC” tag, he’s the TV object head hanging around the Swapfells (Because I love my trash babies so much) and I intended to draw him properly but haha, nope.

Gil is both short for his full name and Undertale name. Is it Gillian? Is it Gilbert? Is it named after some anime spaceship AI like the total weeb I am? Yep. Gil is short for Gilliam. He’s not particularly fond of it, but Gil works just dandy.

While I usually use male pronouns for Gil, he is technically genderfluid, but Gil is pretty chill with whatever you want to use. Please don’t call Gil an It, it bothers him a lot.

Gil is both a skeleton and an object head monster. His original head is an animal skull similar to a fox but he’s uncomfortable with it. It never seemed to fit him right, like it didn’t belong to his body. Very rarely will you ever see his original head unless he’s forced back into it. If you’re drawing some parallels to this, you’re not mistaken, but feel free to draw your own conclusions. If asked about his original head, Gil will fidget and change the subject.

His preferred head is a old fashion, boxy TV with some crooked rabbit ears. While usually red, he does favor blues and greens and can the change the color to suit himself better. Gil cannot physically speak with his TV head, but he is an expressive individual, using his body as a means of talking and coupled with emoticons and images he flashes across the static screen, he has little trouble communicating. Gil’s original voice is very rough and unused, he stutters and stumbles over his words and easily becomes flustered and he’ll lock up.

He has a secondary object head and unfortunately, if he’s using it, it means he’s not in a good mindset. Gil has his moments where he retreats into himself, becoming non verbal and closed off. He picked out a very nice, round, open glass terrarium full of lovely green things, growing things, things that are pretty and alive. It’s lush, full of creeping vines and plants, some old wood and a lovely little yellow snail named Merryweather. Please be nice to Merryweather, Gil loves her dearly. If Gil’s going to be a sad potato, he’ll at least give you something pretty to look at it until he can rouse himself.

All right, enough sadness. Gil is a great big, embarrassing nerd. He loves what he loves with every fiber of his being and easily gets caught up in the moment, babbling to anyone within earshot about what he likes only to realize what a dork he’s being and then blushes like crazy. He’s the fan that’ll write self insert fanfics and draw art with his totally original OC do not steal, with canon characters. He really, really loves cute things (And maybe because I saw a certain biscuit queen’s bitty sona and my heart did the flip flops) and may what to cuddle up to people a lot. Any sort of romantic inclination towards him, flusters him greatly but he so easily forms little squishes on anyone and everyone, but never acts on them. He’s respectful of boundaries.

He is a tiny bean, though I technically don’t have a set height for him, and though a skeleton, he is soft and plush. His baggy clothes lend to that image. He has zero fashion sense, someone help this poor soul, and so he defaults to his pants, shirt and suspender attire because it’s simple.

One of these days, I’ll draw my sona, but I’m going to drag my carcass to the shower like I need to. Also one of these days, I’ll get his Undertale version down on paper. It’s all convoluted, mish-mashed thoughts floating around in my head. I do know he was a Sans type and came from an aborted/collapsed Underswap timeline. But then the rest is just madness and angst and that’s for another day.

#Blue ChitChats #My OC #My Sona

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acuaticamber06 · 7 years

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Undertale, Chapter Six

Woo! Weekly goal: reached!

We left Sans blushing in the car last week. (And, OHMIGOSH @reptilerach drew out the scene in comic form and I just about DIED. <3<3<3 ) Let's see what trouble they get into this time!

Warnings: More light cursing. (This is becoming a habit. lol)

Obvious Disclaimer: I don’t own Undertale or any of the characters in it, just my own characters. This story is for fun. ^_^

***

Undertone, Chapter Six

Sans tried to answer Rin's questions about Grillby, but he was more than a little uncomfortable with the honesty of his previous words. Look, you're easy on the eyes, kid. Even my sockets can see that. Heck, if you weren't already taken, I'd- He rolled his eyes at himself internally. You'd what? Sweep her off her feet? Tell her how gorgeous she really is and make her fall for your charms? Have her wrapped around your little phalange with a few well-placed kisses? You're a fool, Sans Skeleton. A dreaming fool.

He acknowledged the feelings and did his best to let them go. Squashing them down and ignoring them wasn't going to help. He'd probably start obsessing over them, and then he'd have a real problem on his hands.

No matter what, he wouldn't do that to Grillby. The elemental had been an anchor for him through the years, becoming like an older brother to him and being a giver of fatherly advice. Whatever the rest of the Underground thought of Sans, Grillby had always been his reality check, for better or for worse. Now he had to be the reality check for himself. If you ruin what they have, you will be losing your best friend. You will fracture the monster community, and Grillby will withdraw into himself. Worse than that, he might never trust another woman with his heart again. Hell, he might lose faith in every other being on the planet. A car that was rapidly closing the space between them whipped into the left lane and passed them, hitting the gas and squealing the tires as it turned a corner. "Holy crap. Could he have gone any faster?" Rin frowned and raised her voice. "LEARN TO USE YOUR TURN-SIGNAL! Jerk..." "Eh, maybe he was just hungry." Sans shrugged. "Hungry? I don't care if he was starving, that's no excuse-" "You do know what the fastest fast-food is, don't you?" Sans interrupted with a smirk. "...What?" She asked with a grin of her own. "Lamb-Burg-inis!" "Ugh, you're driving me crazy, Sans!" She laughed. "Hey, a fella has to toot his own horn sometimes." Their giggles faded and her face grew a little more serious. "You know, he might just be angry that he's driving a lemon..." His belly laughs were tempered by the realization that splashed over him again like a bucket of cold water. Stop it. It doesn't matter how pretty she is or how much she likes your jokes. It doesn't matter how much you think you like her: you have to let this one go. For Grillby's sake. He lightly punched Rin's arm. "You've got a pretty good pun game, kid. I don't think there's much else I can teach you." "And so the student surpasses the teacher." She took a deep breath and let it out. "You know, Sans, I...keep most people at arm's length. If you're distant from others, they can't hurt you. And thanks to the circumstances, I didn't have any friends when I was growing up." He parked behind the bar and turned to look at Rin. There was a vulnerable honesty in her eyes.

"I'm really glad that you are my first real friend." His heart swelled and he extended his hand to shake hers. "Me too, kid. Me too." After she shook his hand, Sans pulled her under his arm and gave her a solid noogie on the head. Rin protested loudly through her laughter, and he eased off so she could sit up again. "Come on." Sans opened the car door and stepped out. "Let's go see how Grillby's doing. The bar will be open any minute now." Rin hopped out and beat him to the back door of the bar. "I've gotta run downstairs for a second, but I'll be back up in a few, okay?" "Sure." A wall of familiar smells enveloped him as he walked into the kitchen. Rin took a sharp right and practically flew down the stairs to Grillby's apartment. He plodded through the swinging doors to his place at the bar, greeting Grillby with a pat on the back. "Hey, Grillbz. We're back." The elemental lifted one eyebrow in question. "The cleaning crew finished and I paid them." Sans answered. He already knew what the bartender wanted to know. "Rin is downstairs. She said she'd be back up in a minute."

Grillby nodded and went back to polishing a glass. "I, however, would be interested in getting a Burg AND some Fries. My magic is totally gone and I'm starving." Grillby looked up at him, amusement written all over his face. He pointed to the clock on the wall. It read 3:57. "You're kidding." Sans said, exasperated. Grillby's smile grew as he shook his head. "You're really gonna make me wait until the bar officially opens to order my food? After everything I've done for you two today?" Grillby considered the question for a moment, then nodded decidedly. "Grillby, so help me Asgore, if you don't get your burning butt into that kitchen and make me something to eat, I'll-" Sans eyes shifted past the laughing elemental at the swinging doors. What he saw made him go slack-jawed. Rin walked into the room, dressed almost exactly like Grillby. She had black slacks, a white, button-down shirt, and over that was a smart, black vest. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, but one lock strayed down the side of her face. All of those things were very normal, but every piece looked like it had been made to fit her perfectly. He had never seen her in something so clean-cut. She was fully clothed, but somehow her outfit accentuated every beautiful curve on her body. Sans felt his face start to flush blue and he tried not to ogle her. Instead, he trained his eyes on Grillby, waiting for his friend to react. ~~~ Grillby was staring at Sans like the skeleton had lost his damn mind. Whether mute or not, Grillby could never get him to shut up, much less stop him cold in the middle of a sentence. Is he...blushing? When he noticed that Sans' eyes had moved to something over his shoulder, he put the glass down on the bar and turned around. Suddenly, Sans' reaction made a lot more sense. Grillby didn't know where she'd been hiding it, but she had an outfit almost identical to his bartending uniform. Although there were a few...subtle differences. For one thing, she was wearing short sleeves. Her shirt wasn't made to be tucked in, but he actually liked it better that way. It flared out at her hips like a tiny skirt.

As his eyes traveled up to her face, his temperature rose and he felt the flames on his face turn blue. Her shirt also wasn't buttoned to the top. She'd left the first few buttons undone, showing some skin underneath. But she hadn't forgotten the bow; she'd tied a black ribbon around her bare neck. He swallowed hard and tried to smile, inclining his head to her in welcome. She smoothed out her vest and looked up at the men. "Well? What do you think? Is this alright for work?" Grillby nodded a little too enthusiastically, and he heard Sans snort behind him. Laugh while you can, Sans... Rin pulled a small notepad from her pocket and tucked a pencil behind her ear. "Great! I figured we'd draft up something more official for tracking my hours later. Do you mind if I keep track of it in my notebook for the time being?" Grillby shook himself into action and handed her the tablet. *You don't have to start today if you don't want to. Aren't you tired? "Not right now." Rin shrugged. "And I'd like to learn as much as I can about how you do things. I haven't spent as much time here as I would have liked." She looked warmly around the room. "Actually, I wish I'd let myself take you up on your offer from before and just come to hang out. I guess I didn't want to inconvenience you." Grillby couldn't help the smile that peeked through his flustered state of mind. She was adorable. *You are never an inconvenience. Remember that. She read his words and returned his smile with a nod. Holding up a finger, Grillby reached beneath the bar and fished out a clean towel. He tossed it to Rin, and felt a little pride inflate his chest when she tucked the corner into her back pocket the same way he did. *Let's get started, then! Sans will be our guinea pig. I think he's hungry. Why don't you take his order? With a smirk, Rin swayed past Grillby and leaned over the bar directly in front of Sans. She looked up through her eyelashes at him seductively, and when she spoke, her voice was husky and low. "Hey there, stranger. What'll it be?" Sans gaped at her and tried to stammer out a reply when Grillby couldn't take it anymore. He and Rin broke down in a fit of laughter, leaving Sans looking flustered and confused. As soon as he was back in control, Grillby tapped her on the arm and gestured at Sans. "You're right. I'm sorry, Sans." She looked at the skeleton, wiping tears from her eyes. "I was just teasing you. Are you hungry? What can I get for you tonight?" ~~~

For the rest of the evening, Rin bounced from table to table, taking orders and chatting with customers. She especially liked talking to Big Mouth, a Monster who truly fit his name, who she immediately nicknamed "Biggie" out of fondness. She could have wasted an hour just discussing food with the guy. She also met Red, a Bird who used to communicate for Grillby before he got his new system into place. Rin wondered briefly if she had some kind of telepathic magic, but she promised that no, she couldn't read minds; she was just good at reading people. When Rin reflected on it later, she never remembered actually asking Red that question, so the Bird's response still left her wondering. But it was when the regulars from the royal guard showed up that Rin found her favorite customer. All of the Dogs were wonderful people who asked her as many questions as she asked them. Dogamy and Dogaressa made a cute couple (albeit a little over the top), Lesser Dog acknowledged Rin and then immediately went back to a variant of solitaire that she'd never seen before, and Greater Dog seemed overjoyed when Rin referred to him as "Major." Then she met Doggo. The poor fellow was practically blind. (Rin almost assumed he was totally blind by the way he dressed. She didn't know anybody who wore a bright pink tank top with leopard-print pants.) He explained that he could only see things when they moved, and from that moment on, she swayed slowly from foot to foot so he'd know she was there. She felt bad for judging him based on his clothing choices, so it was to Doggo that she directed her attention throughout the remainder of the night. After setting down one of his refills, he asked her a question that had been burning in her own mind for the bulk of the evening. He held out his arm. "Do you...do you want to touch it?" Rin stopped. "What?" "It is a common reaction in humans. We Dogs look so much like their pet counterparts that the first thing most people want to do is pet us." He held his arm out again. "Go ahead, if you want to." Haltingly, Rin brought her hand up and gently stroked his arm. It certainly wasn't the strangest thing she'd done around a Monster, and she didn't want to insult her favorite customer. "Oh! Oh, wow!" A grin crept across her face. "Your fur is so soft!"

She could hear his tail thumping beneath the table. "Thanks, but that's nothing. It's softest on my ears." Rin lightly touched his ears and was astonished to find that he was right. "So it is!" Rin leaned over to look at him. "You have to tell me. What's your secret?" "Careful, Rin..." Dogaressa spoke behind her hand conspiratorially. "He'll keep you here for the rest of the night if he can. Petting's his favorite activity. Well, next to fetch, anyway." Rin glanced back at Doggo. "Wait, you play fetch?" "Sure I do!" His tail thumped underneath the table again. "Huh. That's...uh, interesting!" "Why?" He quirked his head to the side. "Well, I didn't think Dogs would play fetch. With anyone." "Why not?" His head tilted all the way back to the other side. "I... I guess I thought it would be...demeaning somehow?" She explained delicately, twisting her towel between her fingers.

"Most of us did outgrow the game when we were pups." Dogamy nodded. Doggo folded his arms defiantly. "It's cardio with a purpose, Dogamy. Just like a foot race. There's nothing wrong with that." "Well I think it's great." Rin tousled the fur on Doggo's head and he leaned into the touch with a smile. "We should totally play sometime when I have a day off." She spotted Grillby waving at her from across the bar and excused herself. She might have been imagining it, but Doggo seemed to droop slightly as she walked away. "Are all Monsters this nice? I don't think I've met a rude Monster yet." Rin tucked her towel back into her pocket and leaned against the bar across from Grillby. *For the most part. Nearly every Monster I know is nice in their own way. Even Asgore has a kind heart, despite all that he and Toriel have been through. Rin nodded, trying to look like she understood while desperately digging through memory files to remember what little Monster history she'd been exposed to. I've GOT to get myself a book on the subject. There has to be a book, right?

To her right, Sans cleared his throat. "Heads up, Grillbz. It's a blue moon tonight." Grillby's head snapped up toward the door. Rin followed his gaze to see a beautiful Spider sweep into the room. Her skin was an iridescent lilac, and it sparkled in the low light of the bar. She was wearing a ruby red dress with butterfly sleeves for each of her six arms. Her handbag had a gold-chain strap and matched the black heels on her feet. Grillby moved out from behind the bar to greet her, and Rin could see that her hair was twisted up neatly with a red clip. As she spoke to Grillby, Rin decided that her most striking feature was her eyes. There were five in an arch across her face, and each one blinked in succession from left to right. "We use 'blue moon' as a code for her because she so rarely comes in to the bar while it's open." Sans said in low tones, bringing Rin's attention away from the Spider. "She's been pursuing Grillby ever since we came topside. Recently she's really stepped up her game; changed her look." "Oh?" A twinge of jealousy twisted in her stomach. "Yep. So I guess the 'heads up' is for you, too." Sans took a swig of his drink. "Remember when you asked me about your 'competition' earlier? Well, as far as Muffet is concerned, she's the only one who qualifies." "Did I just hear my name, Sans Skeleton?" Muffet strolled to the bar with three arms looped around one of Grillby's. He looked from Rin to Sans with an expression of defeat. "Indeed you did. Rin, this is Muffet. She owns a bakery up the street from here. Muffet, I'd like you to meet Rin: Grillby's first employee and new roommate." The whole bar seemed to go quiet, and everyone's eyes in the group did something different in that moment. Rin's widened in shock, Grillby's pinched shut with silent regret, Sans' tugged up at the corners in suppressed laughter, and all five of Muffet's narrowed directly at Rin. The look sent a chill down her spine. "Really? How...delightful." Muffet was almost able to remove the derision from her voice. "Muffet makes the best doughnuts you'll ever sink your teeth into." Sans continued. "And her bakery doubles as a tearoom. It's a quiet place; good for reading, if you're into that sort of thing."

The tension was palpable, and Rin couldn't handle it much longer. She offered her hand to the Spider with a smile. "It's lovely to meet you, Muffet." "Ah, yes. Charmed." She shook Rin's hand with the lightest contact. "And this may be Rin's first day on the job, but I can already tell that she will be an invaluable asset to ol' Grillbz here." Muffet's look narrowed further. "Hahaha, Sans!" Rin punched him not-so-lightly in the shoulder. "You're exaggerating. I'm just learning the ropes today." She glared at him beneath her smile with as much Knock it off! as she could muster. The last thing she wanted was to make an enemy on her first day in a new community. Sans must have understood, because he deflated a bit and redirected the conversation.

"Hey, it's a little later than we usually see you, Muffet. To what do we owe the honor?" "Oh, nothing in particular! It's just such a nice evening. The stars were practically begging me to take a walk." She leaned back against Grillby's chest and looked up at him with a dreamy look in her eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Domona understands. We are creatures that thrive in the darkness. Nights like these were made for Monsters like us."

Her words hurt Rin more than she cared to admit, so much so that hearing Grillby’s last name for the first time didn’t even phase her. It was one thing to know that she wasn't a Monster like Grillby, but to be reminded of the fact in a not-so-pleasant way by a beautiful Monster made that knife twist in her gut. Even worse, she was a beautiful Monster who wanted Grillby. A chime sounded and Muffet raised one of her left arms to look at her watch. She was looking down when Grillby shot a panicked I didn't ask for this! look at Sans and Rin, holding his hands up where they could be seen. "Oh, my! Look at the time! It's already two AM." She spun on one foot and took Grillby's two hands into her six. "Why don't we take a walk, Grillby? Just you and me and the starlight. Since you have an employee now, she can close up for you." Muffet's eyes narrowed and locked with Rin's. "You don't mind, do you, dearie?" Both Rin and Sans took a breath to protest at the same time, but Grillby beat them to it and slid the tablet in front of Muffet's face, breaking that steely gaze. When Rin let the breath go, it was more of a sigh of relief. "Aw, really? You still have to teach her how?" Muffet turned a boo-boo lip to the fire elemental which, frankly, Rin hadn't know to be physically possible. He nodded vigorously. "I understand." Muffet dropped her head with her many arms from the pleading position they'd been holding. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she walked the fingers on one hand up Grillby's chest towards his face like...well, like a spider. Grillby looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I suppose there will be many more beautiful summer nights to come. Now that you've hired help, maybe your schedule will be a bit more...flexible." Muffet turned and winked at Rin, obviously not caring about subtlety, then glided out the door and into the night.

You could hear a pin drop in the bar. After a moment, Sans broke the silence with a sigh. "And now you've met Muffet. She's less of a person, and more of...an experience." "No kidding." Rin honestly didn't know how to feel after the encounter. However she felt, she was pretty sure it wasn't good. ~~~ As soon as Sans spoke, Grillby went into damage-control mode. It had been a couple of weeks since Muffet's last performance, and it honestly hadn't crossed his mind as something he should warn Rin about. Seeing her downcast expression, Grillby really wished he'd thought of it sooner. He handed her the tablet with an apologetic smile. *Unfortunately, we need to check out the customers and close up for the night. Can we talk about this later? Rin nodded and seemed to bolster herself. "Alright. What should I do first?" ~~~ Sans was the last person to leave, but he kind of did that on purpose. He had called his brother to come and pick him up since his magic was gone. When he saw the headlights of Pap's car pull up to the bar, he got up with a groan. "Welp, there's my ride. I'd introduce you to Papyrus, but I think you've hand enough experiences for one night." He smirked up at Rin as she walked him to the door, but she wasn't really looking at him. She seemed worried.

"Rin." Sans stopped at the door until he got her attention. "I'm sorry if I made the Muffet situation worse than it had to be, but try not to jump to conclusions, alright? Muffet does that enough for all of us." Rin gave him a weak smile. "Okay, Sans. I'll try. Have a good night." He stepped outside and watched her smile fade as soon as she locked the door. Sliding into the passenger's seat, Sans had to admit that he hadn't felt this crummy in a long time. He'd hurt Rin. Sure, in was indirectly, but he'd made her sad. And as soon as that realization had hit him, he'd felt her sadness, too; as if it was his own. And that feeling worried him. No, not just that feeling, but all of them. How long had he really felt this way about Rin? He'd convinced himself that it was a new development, but that wasn't the truth. Sans thought back, trying to pinpoint the moment he began to fall for her. He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear what his brother was saying at first. "...HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE WOKEN UP BY A RINGTONE THAT SOUNDS LIKE FRENZIED DUCK-QUACKING?!? I ENJOY THE OCCASIONAL PRANK NOW AND THEN, BUT WHEN THAT PRANK CAUSES SOMEONE TO HAVE A NIGHTMARE ABOUT BEING CHASED BY A FLOCK OF ANGRY FOWEL, THAT'S JUST..." It was the moment I saw her sitting at the bar. The day her car broke down. The very beginning.

Sans was really stuck between a rock and a hard place. He'd never been in a situation where he wanted something that he couldn't have; something that he shouldn't have. If Sans had ever wanted anything, he'd just turn on the charm or the magic and make it happen. Grillby is too important to me to interfere. That would break his heart...and Rin is so happy with him...just look at how much it hurt her to think that he'd choose Muffet instead. I can't do that to her. He looked down at his empty hands.

So, that just leaves me. Here. Alone. With these...feelings. "...MORE CAREFUL ABOUT HOW MUCH MAGIC YOU USE, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO INCONVENIENCE THE PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT YOU. LIKE YOUR BROTHER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WHO WAS SOUNDLY ASLEEP WHEN YOU CALLED. REALLY, SANS, IF YOU- SANS? SANS! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?" "'There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired.'" Sans quoted under his breath. "I'm definitely the tired." "WHAT? SANS, NO ONE'S GOING TO UNDERSTAND YOU IF YOU KEEP MUMBLING LIKE THAT." Sans turned his sockets out to the passing scenery. "Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?" "WHAT'S A 'GATSBY'?" Papyrus stopped at a red light and looked at him incredulously. "Never mind. Hey, Papyrus?" "YES, BROTHER?" "What do you do when you have...a problem?" "A PROBLEM?" "Yeah." His eyes were back down in his lap. "What do you do if you have a problem and a bunch of feelings and you don't know what to do with them?" "WELL- actually, I run." Papyrus only ever lowered his voice when he was being incredibly serious. A humorless laugh crept out of Sans' throat. "So you run away from your problems, huh? I figured you to be the type to meet them head-on." "No, no, that's not what I meant." Papyrus shook his head. "If I have a problem that I can't find a solution for, I use the feelings as fuel. I take all the sadness, or anger, or frustration and push it through my legs while I run. I run until I can't run anymore. Then, if the problem isn't gone just by getting rid of those emotions, I can approach it with a clear head and think about it objectively."

Sans was stunned. "That was...very good advice, bro." "OF COURSE IT WAS! Just because I'm your younger brother doesn't mean I haven't seen my share of problems." He paused before he continued. "Are you okay, Sans? You've been a bit...moody lately, and you're drinking a lot more. I'm worried about you." Sans sighed and patted his brother's arm. "I'm alright. I just need to find a way to use these feelings as fuel." "You know, I was planning on going running tomorrow... Would like to come?" Papyrus asked. "You don't have to do it alone." Sans stopped himself before he shot the offer down. Sure, he was lazy. And no, running was NOT his favorite activity in the world. But he'd been ignoring his feelings for Rin longer than he should have. Maybe...maybe it would actually help. "Only if you're prepared to be a Drill Sargent. You know how much I hate exercising." "FEAR NOT, MY BROTHER!" Papyrus' face split into a grin. Sans was a little worried that his jaw would unhinge. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BE THE MOST MOTIVATING DRILL SARGENT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN! WE'LL GET UP AT SIX AM, SHARP, AND EAT A HEALTHY BREAKFAST OF SPAGHETTI! THEN WE'LL SPEND THIRTY MINUTES DOING WARM-UP CALISTHENICS IN THE DRIVEWAY! ONCE OUR BONES ARE PROPERLY STRETCHED, WE'LL-" Sans rubbed one temple and chuckled to himself. He was regretting it already. But if it helps... He looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky above. They sparkled with every color of the rainbow; it wasn't just one green light blinking in the distance. I want to be the best friend anybody could ask for. To both of them.

***

Rin against the world, Rin against Muffet, and Sans against himself...! We've got aaaaall the conflict in this story, haven't we? Hopefully some of this will begin to resolve soon. Muffet seemed pretty set on fighting for Grillby...

Tune in next week for Chapter Seven!

Chapter Five

Chapter Seven

#undertonefic #grillby #fanfic #Undertale

14 notes · View notes

qitwrites · 7 years

Text

Fandom: Boku no hero academia

Pairing: Kirishima x Bakugou

A/N: it’s kinda like a 5+1 thing? similar theme anyway. i promise lots of fluff and cursing.

The first time it happens, Kirishima is blissfully passed the fuck out in the common room, legs dangling over the side of the small-ass couch, shirt riding up a little and one sock completely rolled off his foot.

He’s dreaming about mustaches, muscles, the color red and all things he finds insanely manly when a shake, which then turns into a rocking, which then turns into a full on jarring-his-skeleton-holy-shit-is-that-his-brain-flopping-around-his-skull, rudely awakens him. He sits up with a gasp and narrowly avoids head butting someone. The redhead blinks a couple of times, eyes adjusting to the dark before he recognizes the familiar silhouette of spiky hair, the broad build and those thick thighs and he swears to god, he can see the everlasting look of something akin to disgust mixed with anger etched on his face.

“What the fuck?” Kirishima mumbles.

Bakugou smacks him on the head. “That’s what I should say, asshole,” he snarls, grabbing Kirishima’s collar. “Who the fuck falls asleep in the goddamn common room? I thought you were a fucking villain and I was gonna fucking murder you.”

Kirishima swats his hands away and yawns into the back of his palm, lifting his legs off the armrest and bringing them to the ground. He blinks a little more and shoots Bakugou a sleepy smile.

“Well then, thank you for not killing me.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou kindly reiterates, and maybe it’s just Kirishima’s sleep muddled brain, but the insult is softer somehow, mellow in a way that couldn’t possibly come from Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki.

“Must be dreaming,” he mumbles to himself and falls back, head lolling on the edge of the back rest.

Bakugou grabs the collar of his shirt again and brings his face ridiculously close before whispering, “Go back to your fucking room or I’m gonna actually blast a goddamn hole through your stomach.”

Kirishima groans like a petulant child but stands up, pushing Bakugou with him. They’re chest to chest now, and he’s so warm, the perfect union between a furnace and a campfire. Kirishima doesn’t even resist the urge to slump into him, putting his entire body weight on the man.

“Mmmm, toasty,” he sighs contently, and he feels Bakugou shake. Oh, he might be in a little bit of trouble. Then again, he knew he was signing his death contract with that stellar move.

“YOU FUCKING WEIRD HAIR BAS-“ Bakugou screams, shoving him away and shaking him rigorously. “Just go! Right fucking now!”

Kirishima backs up and cracks his neck before making his way to the other end of the room in a zombie trance. He’s near the stairs when he suddenly spins around, spotting Bakugou on the other side of the hall.

“Hey!”

Bakugou stops but doesn’t turn.

“Why are you down here?”

Bakugou makes a non-committal sound. “Water.”

It sounds like a lie, but Kirishima’s too sleepy to care.

The next time it happens is right after training, or more specifically, Aizawa sensei’s version of hell. It’s grueling to the point where Kirishima wants to throw up. He loves it, he loves that he’s getting stronger and better and he’s more emotionally attuned to his classmates and he’s so manly, but feeling nauseous sucks.

The entire class is crowding the common room but they seep out eventually, till just a few remain scattered here and there. Kirishima is plopped on the same couch as last time, and his eyes drift shut without his permission. He’s out in moments, entering that trance like state where he’s aware of everything happening around him but can’t really do anything physically.

He hears a voice suddenly, close and familiar. It’s Bakugou he realizes, recognizing that angry tone anywhere.

“Just leave him the fuck alone, Deku!”

Why is he screaming? Actually, why is he always screaming? Isn’t that energy consuming? Wait, does that mean he’ll be more powerful if he’s calm? Wha-

Kirishima’s thought process comes to a halt when he realizes that the remaining people are, in fact, talking about him.

“But Kirishima-kun might catch a cold!” Deku says, sounding worried. Kirishima wants to glomp him, the cute fucker.

Bakugou growls, “Just leave him. Aizawa was really harsh today, can’t blame the fucker for passing out.”

“Just do-“

“I’m not gonna leave him here! Just fuck off.”

Kirishima hears Deku and another pair of feet walk away, and something warm and fuzzy settles right beside his heart, just below his sternum. It beats rapidly, filling him with a heat that makes his cheeks warm and his stomach flutter.

He feels Bakugou’s back hit the couch, right in front of his mid-section. His hair tickles Kirishima’s arm but he doesn’t move it, because fucking hell Bakugou’s hair is so soft and he smells so musky and manly and jus-

“Idiot,” Bakugou whispers, and damn, he sounds worried. Kirishima, not once in his short, weird life had believed Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki was capable of feeling legitimate worry for anyone except maybe All Might.

The fuzz and the warmth intensifies, and he damn near hums.

He really doesn’t want this tiny, cheesy-ass moment to end.

Kirishima is a patient person, or so he likes to believe.

He’s been compared to saints, and even the Pope, and with good reason. He’s tolerant and good-natured, taking insults in stride and befriending everything that walks the face of the earth. He’s a good guy, or so he’s been told, multiple times.

Which is why it shocks him, and pretty much everybody else, when he snaps, and by snaps he means he goes ballistic, on Bakugou’s ass.

Now, Bakugou being a grade-A asshole is nothing new. It’s become routine - Bakugou pretends to not know his name, calls him weird hair guy or bastard for short, then they squabble when Kirishima corrects him, then they fight while training, then they fight while walking back to the dorms, then they argue in the common room, then they sleep and then they repeat. Kirishima’s used to it, and he doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he’s come to enjoy it.

But there are days when even literal drops of sunshine such as himself are just off. Days when they can’t find their groove and just aren’t feeling themselves, and Kirishima’s having one of those. Bakugou’s timed insults come, but Kirishima’s witty responses never do. Bakugou, undeterred, tries again, to no avail.

He pushes and pushes, hitting a harder wall, till he goes too far. He says something about his mom (you do not talk about Kirishima’s mom) and the redhead is done.

There’s yelling and pushing, explosions and Kirishima trying his level best to stab Bakugou with his hardened hand. There’s blood and cuts and bruises that need to be treated.

It sucks. All of it.

Bakugou’s face had been painted with surprise when Kirishima had come at him, and he hadn’t breathed a word to him ever since. Kirishima refuses to cave this time, justified in his anger. Even insensitivity from Bakugou has its limits. He thinks of the man as a friend, a comrade, a partner in crime, but too much is exactly that- too much.

He goes to Midoriya’s room to rant, the flustered boy laughing awkwardly and trying to pacify him with his soothing voice and gentle actions. Somewhere between debating Aizawa’s best move and All Might’s really weird hair, Kirishima passes out, exhausted both mentally and physically.

He wakes up a few hours later, rousing from slumber with fluttering eyelids and a roll of his body in a bed too soft to be his own. He’s confused at first, because the bed doesn’t smell like him either, but then he remembers Midoriya and relaxes again. That’s when he hears voices.

“So he’s here?”

“Yeah.”

It’s Midoriya talking to Bakugou, of this Kirishima is sure. They’re talking in hushed whispers, or at least Midoriya is. Bakugou is trying, though not very successfully.

“He’s tired,” Midoriya is saying, “so let him sleep.”

Bakugou growls. “Deku, I need two minutes, get out!”

“Are you seriously kicking me out of my own room?” Midoriya sounds incredulous and annoyed. Kirishima resists the urge to giggle.

There’s silence for a beat, then the softest “Please?”

Kirishima resists every instinct in his entire body that’s screaming at him to shoot up straight and stare at Bakugou’s face because he’s a hundred percent sure his expression must be utterly priceless. Midoriya chokes, spluttering loudly.

“Kacchan? Are you really Kacchan? Am I dreaming?”

“Shut the fuck up Deku,” Kacch-Bakugou growls, before exhaling loudly. “Just please fucking give me two minutes ok?”

Midoriya chuckles. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be in Todoroki’s room, and I’m giving you five minutes, no more.”

There’s a little bit of shuffling and rustling, and then the door is shut, shrouding the room in silence. Kirishima forces himself to breathe normally, eyes shut tight, heart rate higher than usual and picking up steadily.

Bakugou paces in front of the bed, his footsteps angry and loud. Kirishima feels the heat from his body, his eternally hot (pun intended) body, and it’s oddly comforting. For all that he’s an asshole, Bakugou Katsuki has grown on Kirishima, and he hates that they’re fighting.

There’s a sudden dip in the bed, and Bakugou’s warm back is pressed into Kirishima’s abdomen.

“…’m sorry.”

It’s soft but genuine, so completely and utterly genuine. Kirishima hears him loud and clear, and he doesn’t need to look to know that Bakugou is blushing an adorable crimson. His hand, the one curled near his face, slides down slowly, till he touches Bakugou’s side. He moves it up slowly and finds Bakugou’s forearm, tightly curled over his chest and squeezes.

“’s alright.”

Bakugou grunts, and he’s even warmer than before. Kirishima’s stomach is fluttering, his heart thumping around his chest wildly, and not once in his life has he felt an urge this strong, it makes him shake with the desire to fulfill it.

The urge to kiss Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki.

They sit like that for a few minutes, till they hear the sound of the lock opening and Bakugou shoots up, yells a I’m gonna kill you tomorrow Kirishima before stomping out.

He doesn’t shake his hand off. He remembers his name.

Kirishima doesn’t stop smiling even when he climbs into his own bed.

There’s a beeping.

It’s consistent, it’s not too loud, and it’s close.

And it’s fucking annoying.

Kirishima wakes up to white. White everywhere, like it’s snowed, but less pretty. The curtains are white and so are the walls, the sheets covering him, the rails of the bed, the pillow case. It’s all white, and ghastly.

It registers, slowly but surely, that Kirishima is not in his room. That the beeping is a machine sitting beside him, with red lights blinking and flashing and somehow mocking him. There’s even a needle sticking out of his hand, leading to an IV drip, and his head – oh hell – his head feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in it. It’s unnaturally heavy, and the soft strands of red from his unspiked hair tickle his forehead every time he tries to move.

With a lengthy exhale, Kirishima takes a moment to clear his head, trying to remember what happened. He’s in a hospital, this much is obvious- but why?

His eyes keep shutting so he lets them stay closed, taking a break before mustering up enough strength to open them and actually look around. A warmth, familiar and welcome, is pressing into his other hand, the needleless one, and when he looks down, he sees a hand holding his own.

His eyes travel up, over the defined muscles and the toned mass, the curve of the person’s shoulder and the broad neck before settling on his face, and Kirishima’s breath stutters.

He’s never seen Bakugou sleep. It’s not lack of opportunity so much as it is missed opportunities, but a sleeping Bakugou looks nothing like the one awake. He’s peaceful, face smooth and eyebrows relaxed, mouth slightly parted and nose twitching every few seconds. Kirishima wishes he could take a picture or at least store this in his mind forever and ever, but he doesn’t want to move. He wants Bakugou to sleep, if only a moment longer.

Bakugou wakes up a few minutes later anyway, blinking against the sunlight filtering in. His eyebrows pinch in the middle and he squeezes Kirishima’s hand a little too hard, earning him a tiny yelp.

He jumps like he’s heard a gunshot, and his eyes go comically wide when he sees Kirishima awake.

“Y-y-you-“

“Hi.”

Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes like a fish before he stands up and rips his hand out of Kirishima’s hold, looking positively livid.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking, you asshole? Is there absolutely nothing in that big ass cranium of yours? Why the fuc-“

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kirishima grunts, “but what exactly happened? I don’t remember.”

Bakugou looks at him like he’s crazy before turning around and walking out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Kirishima hears a few explosions outside a couple minutes later before Bakugou comes storming into the room, looking calmer and madder simultaneously.

“Uraraka was in trouble, and you tried saving her, and nearly died.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows pinch together. “Oh.”

“Oh? OH? You’ve been unconscious for nearly three days! Your quirk kicked in just before impact, but you still took so much internal damage. So many surgeries and goddamn doctors and fucking tubes. Fucki-“

“Bakugou.”

Bakugou snaps, “What?”

Kirishima opens his palm, wiggling his fingers a little. Everything hurts- his head, his arms and his legs, his stomach, his back. Even the fingers stretched open and waiting.

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, sliding back into his seat and taking Kirishima’s hand in his own. He leans forward till his head is touching the mattress, right next to Kirishima’s arm.

“…. Thought you were dead.”

Kirishima squeezes his hand, feels his heart clench.

“Can’t die just yet. Who’d take care of your crusty ass?”

Bakugou looks up slowly, and his eyes are brimming with unshed tears. Kirihshima smiles at him apologetically, sniffling a little himself.

He sighs softly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Bakugou gets up slowly and gingerly sits beside Kirishima, the bed dipping in the middle. His free hand moves up to cup Kirishima’s face, tenderly, like he’s something delicate and fragile and something that deserves to be treated with care.

Kirishima’s never felt such love in his life.

“Then don’t fucking do it again.”

Bakugou leans forward till his forehead is pressed to Kirishima’s and Kirishima chuckles, wincing when his stomach pulls uncomfortably.

“No promises.”

“I hate you.”

“Me too.”

It’s not a confession, but Kirishima wouldn’t have it any other way.

“and then- oye, Bakugou, are you even listening?”

They’re in Kirishima’s manly room, chilling on his bed, and Kirishima’s been going on and on about crimson riot, his ultimate inspiration when he realizes Bakugou’s been uncharacteristically mum the entire time.

He looks down just when he’s about to shake him and freezes.

Mouth slightly ajar, nose twitching, eyebrows relaxed. Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki is asleep atop him, snuggling like the gigantic cuddle monster he is, and Kirishima can’t help the rumble of laughter that bubbles from his chest.

Bakugou’s sprawled all over him, leg thrown over his hip and feet tangled, arms wrapped around his waist, face on his chest. Kirishima reaches for the wall near the bed and feels around before hitting the switch, drowning them in darkness. He struggles for a little while before successfully covering them with the duvet, Bakugou still asleep. He kisses him on the forehead lovingly, whispers a soft Goodnight idiot and pulls him closer.

He’s in love with Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki, and it isn’t perfect; far from it.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia #I LOVE THM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THE #this is just fluff btw #legit #and also #gratuitous use of the word fuck because kacchaaannn

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2bitnoir-blog · 5 years

Text

Kitten Island

First he noticed the noise. Tiny eeks, like squeaky baby birds. Birds were all over, different birds, and they squeaked but not like this.

The veranda was long and low. Jutted out the back of the house like an afterthought. Stubby tree ferns squatted the length.

At the tank-stand end a rabid bouganvillea threw purple and green up onto the corrugated tin wave of the roof. Unsatisfied and still reaching it tried to hook tendrils onto the sky.

There was a bald spot of ground by the back door that was dead and smelled of piss.

Straight from dim indoors, his eyes squinty. The bright was broken glass.

Almost afternoon now, his morning was wasted.

Splat flat on the lawn, he listened. Slim grass tongues licking his toes. Bright yellow dandelions smearing sunny paint onto his face.

Wondering at the sound.

Sunlight stenciled prison bar shadows onto the dirt through the cracks in the boot-worn boardwalk. The noise came from somewhere under.

He crawled closer.

Many indignant insects in his face. Buzzing and clicking and skittish.

He could see movement like the swirling grey on black when he closed his eyes at bedtime. Something moving in the underhouse.

A stray thought to be turned and examined like something found. Could he make the same sound?

He had a talent for it. For mimic. He could give the three-bell ‘all’s well’ signal to the rosellas. Match the laconic caw of the greasy black crows.

Maybe this was another he could do. A new one.

He drew his lips across his teeth and squashed his tongue. It was a kind of squeaky-yowling he made in the back of his throat. It was “Yew, Yew…”

Wrong.

Close, but not the same.

He shushed. Listened.

No noise. No movement. No swirling grey, just black.

He pressed his fingers hard into the corners of his eyes. Scrubbed at his eyeballs, a trick to bring the sparkling fairy goldies. Friendly twinkling lights, sometime companions that came when he stood up too fast or sat too long on the toilet.

They didn’t appear.

A cloud blotched the sun, shat dim light over all.

He waited for it to fly by in the sky.

Frogs gronked down by the creek. Blowflies farted and zoomed. Cicadas tore strips off the air.

His heart thudded. Distant marching soldiers, louder the longer the cloud lingered.

He tried again. “Eew, Eww…”

It was closer. Almost there.

He worked the sound around. Chewed on the shape of it.

“Ehew. Ehew…” He had it. Spot on like a lyre bird, or near as.

Again. “Ehew. Ehew…”

He waited.

Nothing. Just screaming insects because it was so hot.

He drifted for a while under the warm and blue.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm... The afternoon hummed.

“Ehew. Ehew…”

Piercing, the noise stabbed the still.

He was swimming, swimming in the creek with the platyp-.

“Ehew. Ehew…”

Awake now and aware. Under the ferns, with a crook neck and itchy mosquito bites.

He responded.

“Ehew. Ehew.”

Two blue eyes peeked out at him through the gap in the boards. He saw them and they saw him.

“Ehew, Ehew…”

It wanted something. He wasn’t afraid though. It was something good.

“Ehew, Ehew…” He spoke to it.

“Ehew, Ehew…” It answered.

This was great.

It was joined by another. Then another.

They too said “Ehew, Ehew…”

“The bloody heck?”

Grey on black swirling. Blue eyes peering at him through the cracks.

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said.

“Ehew, Ehew…” the underhouse things said, then ventured out into the day.

Raggedy kittens, as many as the fingers on his hand. They blinked flinty eyes. Tried to focus on everything at once, swaying their little heads.

Grey tabbies with stripes like tiny tigers, crooked tails hoisted.

Impossibly cute.

Fragile magic, delicate and exposed.

The boy grinned from happy. “Ehew, Ehew…” he said.

They looked at him in unison. It was funny. Then they looked at each other.

They were wary of the stranger who spoke kitten.

He was like nothing they knew.

Tempted to flee, follow instinct and scatter, run, hide.

He made his new sound, rising like a plea. “Ehew?”

The kittens stared at him, afraid to move and afraid to come closer.

He could wait.

He would wait.

He could smell the sweet grass, the moist earth slightly cloying.

He thought about all the things that lived and grew and died there.

Slugs, seeds, caterpillars, weeds.

Harlequin beetles, grasshoppers and lizards.

Butterflies, stick-insects, bugs, lots of different bugs.

Bugs in your face, bugs in your eyes, eat a horse manure pie.

Too many things to count.

A cold shock dabbed briefly his hand. Silk brushed past his elbow like a whisper.

He lay still as a dead rabbit.

A wet kiss in his ear, startling.

The kittens were there, soft and suddenly all around. Jumping, climbing, scrambling over him. Scratchy claws catching in his t-shirt. Paws poking into his back, trotting down his spine. Whiskers swiping his nose and tickling his legs.

An adorable patchwork menagerie, stuffed toys come wonderfully to life.

“Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew…”

A head picture flickered, took form, played like a movie. He was the hero, the star, an idea that literally moved him.

Carefully so as not to alarm, he sat up.

The kittens looked up at him wide-eyed.

He slowly stood. They were unsure, but still squirming on the grass.

Then he moved quickly. He didn’t look back lest the magic vanish.

The shed was peeling weatherboards on an exposed wood frame and a dark mouth yawning.

Shabby white sheets nailed to an elephant’s skeleton full of spiders.

Hanging waving cobwebs and the strong smell of rats.

Moldering piles of junk almost to the roof and sprawling across the crammed gravel floor. Stuff and more stuff.

There were lead pipes and a bicycle pump.

Gamey horse blankets, horse ropes and leather bridles, horse medicines, horse shoes, horse stuff.

A metal bucket, a selection of birds nests and a big tractor tyre.

An untouched packet of ratsac and a half-full bag of super-phosphate.

A butcher’s knife, a fishing pole, a kerosene lantern.

A bunch of thick maroon books, pages slowly fleeing their bindings.

A stringless tennis racket, a box of nails, a mangy or moth-eaten fox’s tail.

A bunch of empty plastic bags, brittle and disintegrating.

It was resting on its side close to the back of one of the smaller piles.

Woven by some deft hand, the cane basket Mum used to haul fruit up from the orchard.

Peaches, pears, apricots, apples. Whatever the coddling moth or possums hadn’t got to first. He was pleased; it would be ideal.

He grasped the handle and hoisted.

It felt good in his hand and smelled faintly of lemons.

It was dusty so he wiped the inside of it with his shirt. Now he was dusty too.

That shirt would be big trouble later with Mum.

Sunlight fingers felt through the cracks in the shed wall. Motes swished in the shards, swirled, slowly fell.

The flattened patch of grass by the veranda was empty when he returned.

He sat and called to the kittens. “Ehew, Ehew…” he said. “Ehew, Ehew?” he asked. There was nothing.

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said louder. “Ehew, Ehew?” he asked louder.

The emptiness ached a bit, so did his stomach.

He called until at last they answered, little mouths opening to show little pink tongues.

Little inquisitive faces poking out from the gloom.

“Ehew, Ehew…” Up from inside the basket, a swinging pendulum from the crook of his fingers. Rock-a-bye-babies, his responsibility now.

Panicked blue eyes, they couldn’t get out.

He couldn’t see Mum. That didn’t mean she wasn’t watching, but he didn’t think so.

There was no yell to “Get here right now.”

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she wouldn’t understand.

She would take the kittens away. Hurt them, kill them.

Ferals.

This was no place.

He carried the basket like a secret up the garden path.

Grey concrete pavers, fragrant roses along the way.

At the end a wrought iron gate, ornate but exhausted. Old paint flaked off like dandruff.

Its hinges complained bitterly when he shoved through with his hip and into the back paddock.

It was ill, he should show more respect.

He wasn’t supposed to be in the back paddock, there were bulls.

He couldn’t see any but Mum said so. He’d never seen any but the fear was there all the same.

Bulls were all big horns and snorting fury.

A lone crow wheeled above and decided on the bony remnants of a gum.

Brooding and dreadful it sat in judgement. Then with a flap and dismissive “Waark…” it was gone.

A cockatoo shrieked and for a second he thought it was Mum.

No, not her.

Just a bird.

The sun baked the side of the hill. The air wavered in the heat.

Thump, thump, thump.

His feet determined thumps in front.

Over short crunchy stubble, summer-scorched pasture parched and beaten. Mainly kikuyu, some dock here and there.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The kittens weeped, their eyes pleaded.

He made the sound to them. “Mhew…” It didn’t help.

Reaching the base of the hill, he approached with caution a crowd of scotch thistles, most standing taller than him.

They were menacing, alien things. Huddled in groups, dire needles sharp and glinting.

Vibrant purple crew cuts sprouting from faceless heads held together in nodding conference, watching, whispering.

He picked his way through, feeling an occasional quick sting to his legs. They tried to grab the basket but he wouldn’t let them.

He was relieved when they thinned out and he spotted the creek fence, bedraggled posts struggling to stay upright under the constant duress of standing. Two strands of barbed wire hung red-brown and speckled with bird shit, drooping like a low clothes line.

He stooped and lifted the top wire, careful of his fingers, careful of the tet-nus.

Tet-nus meant big needles in his belly Mum said. Doctor’s needles, bigger and sharper than even thistles.

The kittens begged him to stop.

He squatted through into the rudely lush foliage edging the blasted paddock.

It was a riot of green.

Patches of clover, milkweed and waving bracken.

Long grass probably full of snakes.

Bunches of turnip gone wild, a hang-over from earlier days when the farm was still being properly worked.

Sweet yellow wattle. Ragwort, also yellow but sour.

Clumps of slicing razor tussock, innocuous enough but with hidden bastard blades.

He couldn’t see the water, but he could smell it.

The only way down was a steep narrow cow-track scar worn into the slope by generations of hooves. He used his free hand to grasp tufts of whatever; anything to steady.

He dug in his heels and slipped straight onto his arse, still holding the basket but quickly sliding out of control.

A jarring stop at the bottom and he saw the goldies at last.

It felt wet where he was sitting. The kittens were frantic, spitting and trying to climb out.

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said to them.

“We’re here now. Calm down. Don’t cry.”

He stood on the edge of the squishy bank and dipped his toes just into the water.

The intrusion stirred the silt.

Brown clouds drifted.

He stepped in up to his ankles.

Brown clouds billowed.

The basket was heavier now than when he’d left the yard. The handle seemed to strain in his hand just from the sheer weight.

Paddling water-clocks tilled the surface and left expanding Vs in their wake.

They paused occasionally to make the crazy ticking circles that gave them their name.

Weeping willows trailed golden strands from above, languid in the drowsy breeze. Tangled limbs embraced, rubbing and knocking, their gnarled bark skins as tough as tonka.

Friendly guardians of the creek, his favourite trees by far. Tall and stooped like Grandad, nicer even than oaks or poplars.

He would sometimes swing on them with a big handfull of their hair, out over the water, feet kicking, before returning safely to shore. Sending haphazard leaves spiralling down. Miniature yellow gondolas that settled to drift untethered, race trills and currents, or float helplessly caught on some piece of jetsam.

The sky, blue like no other colour, reflected up at him from the water.

It was a mirror. In it he looked small and weak.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.

He looked at the wriggling kittens. They were small and weak too.

It was easy to get lost watching the water.

Time flowed gently down the stream. The creek was beautiful, but not to be trusted.

There were deep holes with snags where kids could drown.

Slippery black eels hungrily patrolling the depths, bellies white and fleshy.

Crayfish with snipping claws and beady eyes on stalks in hollow-log lairs, scuttling under shelves of wormy willow roots or flipping their tails and shooting backwards through the murk.

Mesmerising sounds, hypnotic ripples, boggy traps of sucking quickmud, dangerous crossings…

Once in winter he had seen a platypus playing.

The water was brown and fast, right up the sides of the creek and spilling over.

Mum told him falling in meant dead as dead so to stay away.

The platypus was rolling on its back, bobbing and diving, having fun in the speeding flood.

Dead was dead though, so he’d just watched until eventually it bobbed under and didn’t come back up.

The bridge to the island was a half submerged root, like a pale wet bone reaching.

The island itself no more than a bump.

Two slow roads flecked with whitish foam flowed around.

Cress and water-weeds fringed the shore. Baby gudgeons bulleted, flashed, sucked at the waving strands.

Fishbone ferns gave an impression of solidity, alongside blanched drifts of disintegrating leaves.

Piles of wattle baubles - no longer golden but gritty soaked orange.

He tried not to think and just did.

He walked the root.

He jumped at the end, planted his feet and landed with a splotch.

He stepped forward. He hadn’t fallen in.

Tawny water seeped shallowly into his left-behind footprints.

At last they had arrived. Kitten Island.

A place away from all the bad things in the world.

A place he could visit any time he wanted.

A place where he could watch them grow, his beautiful secrets.

Tenderly he tipped the kittens out of the basket. They toddled onto the ground, lost and frightened. They were not where they thought they belonged.

He was sure they were wrong though.

They would be happy here, safe and privileged and private.

The way back was easier without the weight of the kittens in the basket.

It felt so much lighter.

He felt so much lighter.

Epilogue.

After a sweaty night he wakes still tired.

Rags of lucid dreams. Something about his stuffed toys attacking him, circling with bared teeth.

Then he remembers the kittens and leaps from the bed.

A hurried bowl of coco-pops and a disapproving scowl from Mum.

He smiles and tells her he’s going outside to play.

“Alright,” she says. “But stay in the yard.”

He steps off the veranda into a scalding wind.

No noise from the underhouse.

The insects scream about the heat. He doesn’t care, lets them scream.

He feels a sort of thrumming anticipation, the twitching tug of a line running to his guts and pulling at his insides.

How happy they will be to see him.

They’ll purr and rub his bare legs with their chins.

Little darlings.

A blowfly buzzes by. Fat and slow, patrolling for a feed or somewhere to lay its eggs.

It diverts to the plum tree, attracted by the soggy bombs that sticky the ground dark red with juice.

He avoids going over there this time of year. Hates the disgusting feel of the plums under his his bare feet. Imagines walking across a field of bloody eyeballs.

Spring is better. Petals cover the ground in pink snow.

He makes his way up the path and through the gate. It’s still sick and lets him know.

Mum is wrong, the back paddock has no bulls.

He isn’t afraid. He’s yelping and rushing forward, his feet quick thumps in front.

Thump, thump, thump.

Whacking the thistles with a picked-up stick, laughing.

Through the fence, the green curtain, sliding down the slope easily.

His heart drums fast-marching soldiers. The blood sings sugar in his ears.

Nothing could be better.

The creek is a shiny silver worm, a dark mirror over which iridescent dragonflies skim and linger.

The weeping willows groan and sway in the hot gusts, tossing leaves to the cool water below.

He looks to the island and his smile sinks like a clod thrown into a dam.

It sinks like Mum’s smile when he’s again broken something.

“Ehew, Ehew..?” he asks.

Kitten Island is empty.

The kittens are gone.

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