#( nemo voice: over my cold dead body )
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nemo makes lukas feel dead inside k thnks
“ oh, what a crybaby… i could teach him what it’s like to be LITERALLY dead. “
#faithbound#( nemo voice: over my cold dead body )#( nemo voice: which is literally the body i'm in rn )#( nemo & lukas ) // his heartbreak .
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Poly!Laughing Jack x Fem!Reader x Offenderman
Title: Punish Me // The Odd Throuple
Plot: Y/N gets shot in the neck and through the chest and is rushed to get help at Slender Mansion. This is your boyfriends’ reactions to you being seriously hurt.
Notes:
I wrote most of this on my phone on the train so I’m sorry probably lots of errors!! My autocorrect likes to correct properly spelled words to the wrongly spelled versions I’ve accidentally typed in the past. 😒
Why, oh why, are my fluffiest works always with these two bastards??? Comfort characters...
Warnings: Well, you get shot because Offender raped someone. So, decide with that how you will. Sexual references also
~~~
"This is for my daughter, you f-freaks!" The man behind you is sobbing now. When he caught you it was just an itchy fidget, now that Offender and L.J are here he's falling apart.
The gun pressed into the crook of your neck moves and shifts with his ugly, heartbroken cries and all you can think is; I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, even as your body goes cold and you shiver with fear at having such a lethal weapon pressed to your skin at the hand of someone so unstable at the moment. You didn't even do anything to this man, but you feel his pain and feel sick anyway.
I'm so, so sorry.
You can only imagine what he means. What happened to his daughter...
"Who's your daughter!?" Offender growls, desperately. And uselessly. There's no way he remembers, there's no way he could help now. He doesn't ask for the names, and he certainly doesn't bother to listen if they tell him. He's just pleading. He doesn't know what else he could do. Just don't shoot her lethally. Miss the heart, he chants in his head. He can get you to Slender then but if you're dead... there's just nothing he can do. Its out of his power and he feels useless.
And this is his fault.
L.J doesn't respond at all, standing beside him. His eyes are on you, watching carefully. Communicating through his eyes. He hasn't moved since he realised the situation, struck completely still. He doesn't know what to do. If he fights for you, and he loses you still? ... He doesn't know if he could do that.
And then again, if you're killed anyway and he did nothing, it'll still hurt... but then at least he would have plausible deniability. He can... he can live like that. The alternative is worse. Far, far worse, to him.
And more then that, he doesn't care about bartering with this man.
Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes- losing a few tears you didn't know, through the shock, where glazing your eyes.
"You... fucker... took her before it was time, and now... " The man takes a deep breath in, making it cold on your neck where his face is hidden. "I'm going to take something you care about."
"WAIT- "
BANG.
A searing hot pain tears through your skin, everywhere as the bullet rips your insides open and a terrible scream rips out of your throat, more from shock, as the man lets your body go and gravity drags you down, nearly knocking your head on the concrete. Before that could happen though, Offender teleports and catches you.
As your sight dapples away into blackness and L.J's cries for you to say something peter out, you feel the familiar terrible whooshing of teleportation just before the world goes
completely,
and
utterly,
still.
___TIME SKIP___
"Y/N... Y/N... I see your eyelids flickering, are you awake? Or experiencing some kind of terrible neural damage I need to get Slender for?" Claws slide under your neck, against the pillow and sit there cool against your skin as L.J shifts his body, and his chair, more impossibly close to your bed. "Lollipop~ You have to give me a sign, I'm not a real doctor."
"You... play one... pretty well. D-don't you?" You whisper, voice croaky and hard to utilise. Your eyelids are heavy, too, but you manage to peak at him for a moment. He opens his mouth in a sharp grin, relieved.
"So no amnesia then??" He exclaims, excitedly.
"Was that," Coughing into the air, because your body is still too weak to really move, you taste metal on your tongue. "A possibility???"
"Well, Slender didn't say it in those words, but... I feel like it was unspoken."
Knitting your eyebrows together, you start to worry about your condition yourself, before a weight like a folder or a clipboard drops on the bed by your feet and Slender heaves a great sigh.
"You were worried." He says sternly, assuredly to L.J. "You were in no danger of enduring inflicted amnesia, Y/N. L.J just has a wild imagination due to a birth defect called stupidity. Unfortunately there's nothing we can do about that."
L.J says nothing in response to that for a moment, and you can imagine him just looking deadpanned at the taller creature. "You're toad, Slender."
"Whatever. However, Y/N, while you do not have amnesia you do have a number of other inflicted injuries and because of that I am suggesting you stay here where you can properly be watched until they're manageable for you to deal with on your own." He pauses, apparently tired of our presence already. "That is unless, of course, you want to rip your many stitches or contract any kind of infectious disease because you trusted the man that thought you had amnesia, and the one that fully trusts in the 'psychologically healing' properties of copious amounts of alcohol," Oh, so that's where Offender is. "to take care of you medically."
"Um," Your voice is high, unsure quite how to respond. Slender and his bluntness does this to you a lot. "No, that's okay? Thanks for offering for me to stay?"
Another cough forces itself suddenly out of your throat from the use of your voice, as your throat is so dry - How long were you asleep?? - and, this time, L.J extends his free arm to gently cover your mouth like you would with your own if you could move right now. As soon as you're done, he retracts his long, loong arm and your stomach squirms pleasantly about how cute and affectionate that was for him.
He takes a deep breath. "Very good. I'm leaving. Offender can read your chart when he gets in here." Then, like a light, the heavy atmosphere that Slender carries with him everywhere disappears from the room and you feel L.J stretch and snatch the folder object at the end of your bed.
"I can read this, thanks." With one hand to hold the thing, L.J peers at it for a moment... for so long, in fact, that you risk your energy to peak at him again just see him use his pointed nose to slide the page up to look at the next one... Before he frisbee-throwing the folder back to the end of the bed and returning his attention fully back to you, crossing one elongated, stripy leg over the other. "Never mind. What’s with this family? They make up there own language?"
Grinning at his antics like you always do, your eyelids fall shut again and you feel the relief of not using so much energy. "I think medical charts everywhere are like that."
"So the whole medical profession started there own code, then. Bastards."
A chuckle escapes you, as you're slipping closer to sleep. "L.J, I think I'm... gonna... go back to sleep... for a bit... "
"You do that. I'll make up jokes."
"Okie, yay... "
As you fall back into the welcoming arms of sleep, L.J puts his free claws to work removing the crinkles out in your bed spread and nightgown- unable to stay still. Unable to leave you alone.
He has to stay with you.
___TIME SKIP___
The next time you open your eyes, Offender has joined L.J, but instead of sitting in a chair he leans sloppily on the wall by the door, evidently still feeling the effects of his 'psychological healing' with the alcohol.
This time you're able to open your eyes a crack and keep them open like that. You’re able to to see the room now, which is basically just like any other bedroom in Slender mansion with hard wood floors and dark walls, except there’s an IV beside you and sheets on the floor.
Again, L.J's keen eye catches your consciousness first. "You're awake again!"
"Hi." You grin in greeting, noticing L.J's claws are on your tummy now, the one on his thumb rubbing up and down a small area.
Offender comes forward immediately and leans close to your face over your bed, draping an arm over the bed frame to hold himself up. "You good there, squirt?" Wincing at the nickname, because it does not come from Finding Nemo, you shift your head on the pillow in a nod. He chuckles.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Well, you're not, but that's my girl." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling back and picking up the medical chart on hi way back to the wall. Blowing air out of his cheeks in reaction to the information, he leans back on the wall again and starts reading the 'code'. "Now, lets see what's wrong with ya... "
L.J and you sit - and lay, - at attention as he lists and explains what it says. Some of the things that come out of his mouth do scare you, but honestly most of it was just stuff you expected. You still may be in a bit of shock, to be honest, but at the moment you're just more concerned with the fact that Offender really can read it! Unless he's making it all up, in which case, boo.
When he's done, you're all quiet for a moment, taking in how long that took - and therefore how much damage was really done by that bullet, - before L.J, of course- well, doesn't lift your spirits exactly, but changes the course of the worry in the room, for sure. And that's why you and Offender love him. Well, one of the many reasons. Raising his pointer claw off your stomach, he announces, "I call conspiracy!!"
Offender puts down the chart and crosses his arms, bemused at him. "What this time?"
"These charts. You say this is English??" L.J squints, looking between your and his boyfriend.
"Yeah."
"I don’t buy it. I'm British and I tried to read that, and it was total gibberish. Tell him, Y/N."
"He is British and he did try to read it." You concur.
L.J nods at Offender. "Yep."
"And he did fail." You grin, this time.
L.J nods again, without shame. "Yep."
"Well... " Offender leans menacingly forward, towards L.J who leans back despite them being feet away from each other, then grins. "I read it just fine."
"I feel like I'm being gaslighted."
"Oh jeez." You grin, turning your head on your pillow to set L.J with a look, amused by him.
"Oh, and- Your brother called me stupid. Again. You need to fight for my honour." L.J informs Offender, swivelling in his seat to properly face him, while still holding me.
"Oh, you poor victim, you." Offender shifts, shaking his head amusedly at L.J. "Tut, tut, tut. What a cruel world."
L.J ignores that obvious sarcasm. "Yes, precisely. Oh woe is me, and all that. Hop to it." Nodding to the door promptly, L.J turns back to me. A little grin plays at his black lips.
"Oh sure thing." Offender shakes his head again, before pushing off the wall and straddling the arm of L.J's chair instead. "Anyway, the only honour I care about right now is Y/N's." L.J seems to agree with that, eyes going steely and lips curling at the memory of why you're all in this room in the first place. "So, what'll it be, beautiful? I'm the reason you got hit, so, by Vikings oath I've vowed to endure whatever punishment you decide is necessary." You open your mouth immediately to laugh him off, but he makes no movement like he usually would if he were joking. Instead, he quickly adds, "Go on."
"... hold on, you're German. Aren't Vikings Scandinavian?-"
"Shut up, clown man; I'm old. I've been places. Get with the program."
Rolling your eyes, unintentionally fondly at the two, you look around the room. "Um," Unbelievably croaky, and painfully, you ask. "Get me a cup of water?"
"Oh!-" While Offender quickly teleports off to get you that, L.J just absentmindedly brushes some hair out of your face. Offender comes back in a young moment and they both help you sit up. L.J helps guide you by your hands, while Offender stuffs pillows securely at the base of your back.
"Thanks, guys," You accept the glass of water with a gracious smile. "Thank you."
As you're taking a sip, Offender returns to his spot on the arm of L.J's chair and watches you expectantly, heavily. Swallowing the water, you raise a curious brow. "So? My punishment?"
You nearly choke on the water, but instead take a moment to compose yourself. "Wha- I thought that was the punishment!"
"Getting water??"
"I didn't say please!"
L.J clicks his finger claws, lifting them off you for a moment to point and nod in agreement at Offender. "Right, that's true. She didn't. 'S not her fault you have no sensitivity towards good manners." He turns back to you as Offender makes a perturbed shape with his mouth. "You have lovely manners."
"Thank you!"
"Of course dearest."
"Wha- I- F- hah???" As you and L.J have your 'Old British Sit Com' moment as Offender would always refer to it from then on, he stutters and looks between the two of you confusedly. "Hold on, hold on stop that this instant-" Reaching over and waiving a hand between the two of you as you were looking sweetly at each other, he successfully snaps you both out of it. "Neither of you are taking this seriously. You," He points his finger at L.J, who narrows his eyes at the offending appendage. Probably thinking 'And your manners, are terrible.'. "Shoosh. And you, “ L.J presses his lips firmly closed as Offender turns his stern finger to you, making you sit up straighter at attention. “Come on, baby.” He slips to his knees as you start to fully understand his desperation right now and grips the side of your mattress. His hat slips to cover the top of his face and your eyes flicker to L.J’s, which are also sheened in a very covered layer of worry, and back. “Punish me. It’s my fault. You got bandages and tubes and... fucking bloodstains. I did this. And in order for our relationship to continue healthily you need to get back at me somehow. So come on, one more time I’m gonna say it so L.J if you say something about masochism I will throw you out the window; Y/N, punish me. Goddamnit, please.”
“Offender,” You start in a scolding voice, pushing yourself off the pillows with difficulty, wincing at the pain shooting through your collar bones. When L.J’s eyes flicker over you and your pained features, because, while Offender is clearly perfectly fine with showing his affections, L.J certainly is not. You flash him an ‘its fine’ smile as you push your legs off the end of the bed. “I’m not that hurt! And I’m certainly not upset with you in any way, its not necessary!”
“You were shot, Y/N!”
“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes, as if the infliction wasn't a big deal. Like there are more important things, which in the moment you do think there are in Offender’s outlook at the moment. It honestly scares you. It isn't him. Dropping your hands on his shoulders, you dip your head to look seriously at him. “Its not that bad! I mean, I think Slender woulda told me if I was gonna die, don’t you think? And you read the chart! You know I’ll be okay.”
“... Yeah, he would've. And then the little punk woulda left the room chuckling."
"Oooh," L.J leans back in his chair, thumb claw between his teeth as he imagines how it would have gone, arctic blues glazed over with imagination. "He totally would... "
Nodding in agreement, you kneed your thumbs into Offender shoulders comfortingly. "Yep. Same thing for if I wasn't going to recover at all. Don't you think?"
"Y/Nnnn,” He groans, resisting.
“I’ll, be, fine.” Leaning down, you press your forehead to his- breath hitching when you feel your stitches stretching but forcing your self to stay put for a moment. “Don’t feel so guilty. Or, at least try- its an odd colour on you.”
“Mm.” Offender’s mouth twists like he tasted something gross. Then he sighs, the muscles in his shoulders easing. “Oh, what, you think a good old ‘belligerent’s more me?”
“Maybe a gentle ‘creepy’, at most.” L.J pats his back, breaking out of his dream world. You grin and nod.
“That work for you?”
“We can try it on for size.”
L.J snorts. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Offender turns and looks up at him, a bemused smile on his face. Still reluctant to let it go, but trying. “What? Does BEN need to re- try on his used condom hat now, too??”
With that, Offender and you dissolve into barks of laughter, you hiding your pink face in your hands while L.J just shrugs, holding up his hands like ‘Aren't I right though??’. “What?? Its one of your charms!” He adds, a corner of his dark mouth fighting to point up even as he looks confusedly at your shaking bodies.
“OKAY,” Slender pushes the door open then, interrupting and dropping his shoulders slowly. “I’ve heard enough. It time for Y/N to return to sleep- what. What is she doing out of bed? Put her back. And then, both of you, can get out of my house! ... and take your unfortunate analogies with you.” Shoulders slumping, he then mutters, “... I’ll never be able to look at that hat again without thinking about that... “
Offender heaves his own sigh, so like his brother in the moment as he pushes himself up and guides you back into a comfortable laying position, muttering himself. “You would think, after so... so, many centuries with that man, I would be immune to his annoyingness... But no.”
Snickering, L.J leans back in his chair, reaching down into the pockets of his pants as you start to feel exhaustion wash over you again. Slender’s right, you do need more sleep...
Slender just opens the door more fully and gestures towards it for his brother and Laughing Jack. Slowly, he drawls the next word. “Out?”
“G’night sweetheart.” Offender gives you another kiss on the forehead, completely ignoring his brother this time. “Just keep thinking about that punishment, okay? Just... keep it in mind.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you wish Offender would let it go... but nod anyway, for his sake. Not like you actually will think about it at all. L.J brushes your hair back after he steps back and taps your forehead gently with his thumb.
“Sweet dreams lollipop!”
Then L.J returns to his chair and Offender drags up a chair beside him for himself and Slender grips the door tighter. “Oh, no. No no no. Get, out, of my home.”
Slowly L.J looks over at Slender, then squishing his butt down further into the chair pointedly, and Offender props his legs up on the end of your bed. You chuckle, and close your eyes. Embarrassed by your weirdly good boyfriends. They aren't perfect by any, a n y means, but they are pretty cool sometimes. You like them- and that's an understatement.
“Aghhh, don’t think I’m bringing you dinner.” Slender lets up quickly, disinterested in putting up any fight and rolls his shoulders of you all, closing the door as he walks off. “Hooligans.”
As you close your eyes, and pull the blankets up further over your body to your chin, relaxing into a resting, sleep exposed state Offender crosses his arms, setting in probably for a nap himself, with no other idea how to pass the silent time and L.J turns promptly to him, with a colourful but mostly black box in his hand.
“Silent Uno??”
#Poly! Laughing Jack x Reader x Offenderman#Laughing Jack x Reader#Offenderman x Reader#Laughing Jack x Offenderman#Oneshot#Creepypasta Oneshot#Slenderman
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MK OC Randomness part 5? 6? What part am I on?
I am having trouble with writer's blocks... so here are more OC jokes
Some of these jokes contain spoilers for both my Switched and Fate AUs.
enjoy
------
Michiko: Sektor is such a wonderful brother! Look he made me this dress!
Krow: Gae one time took me to a forest with nothing but birch and hickory trees and left me there for 3 days.
Krow: I'm allergic to birch and hickory trees.
------
Ash: Hate to break it to ya, but there are in fact three genders.
Ash: And those are, Good girl, Good boy, and little shit.
Kamden: So what do you identify as?
Ash: Little shit.
------
Shinnok: Hello No- *studies her haircut for a minute*
Nozomi: don't say a word!
Shinnok: *in a serious tone* Nozomi, is there something you're trying to tell me? Something you can't tell your father?
Nozomi: *looking at him quizzically* what do you mean?
Shinnok: *getting up and walking over to a storage closet, opening it and gesturing vaguely*
Nozomi: *groans* For the last time Shinnok. I am not gay! I just had to get my haircut again and dad wasn't there to help. So I did it myself
Shinnok: Oh. Well you know there's nothing wrong with being gay Nozomi. It's perfectly alright. Your girlfriend or partner will be treated the same as if you had a boyfriend
Nozomi: Thank you Lord Gaydar, but I don't like anybody like that!
Shinnok: Alright, hey is that your mother's cloak?
Nozomi: NOPE! *teleports away*
------
“Quan Chi”: I’m not possessed! What makes you think I'm possessed? You have no proof ! Prove I'm possessed Fuyuka! Prove it! You can't!
Fuyuka: *already sick of this bullshit* I know it's you Onaga.
"Quan Chi", now revealed to be Onaga: Damnit! What gave it away?
Fuyuka: *sighs* Well one, your eyes are really yellow with an odd slit in them, something I know my Chi does not have. Two, I don't think you've noticed, but you've grown some wings and horns, and last I checked Quan Chi never had any of those. And three, MY HUSBAND DOESN'T HAVE A FUCKING TAIL!
Onaga: *looking at the features he never noticed* Yup that'll do it. Could've sworn I hidden those.
Onaga: Oh well. You still wanna mate?
Fuyuka: Get out of my husband's body.
------
Seth: *walks by laughing*
Yamato: Shut up. *smacks him down*
------
Satoru: He doesn't deserve you.
Satoru: If he doesn't treat you right by now, you're gone.
Xue: I'm gone.
Satoru: Good. NOW GO CHOP HIS DICK OFF-
------
Ash: Dad look, it's the good kush!
Kano: This is the dollar store how good can it be?
------
*While in isolation*
Fuyuka: Fuyuka the tea is done
Fuyuka: Fuyuka?
Fuyuka: *thinks; "Maybe I'm Fuyuka?"*
Gae: *pops up out of nowhere* Did you say tea-?
Fuyuka: *screams*
------
Old LK Grandmaster: I should've left you out in the cold with your dead father!
Michiko: But ya didn't!
*Trying to figure out who killed Havik*
------
Raiden: Alright, who do you think did it then?
Nozomi: Argus!
Raiden: Argus is dead.
Nozomi: Wait, Ar-
Raiden: Argus is still dead.
Nozomi: Ah this is really difficult. Hold o-
------
Raiden: Melantha, this is a crime scene.
Melantha: *taking some Edinan pie* What is this the murder weapon?
Melantha: Get off my dick!
------
Erron: Hey Klaudia ya got something I can cut this thread with?
Klaudia: Yeah right here man
Klaudia: *skillfully opens up a switch blade*
Erron: Hey are you ok?
------
Taven: He's dead!
Nozomi: *yawns then looks around*
Nozomi: "not the dick-head", what do you want me to say?
Idalia: are you gonna wake up today you little shit?
------
------
Kabal: Oh come on Kristy, it's not like you actually killed somebody.
Kristy: *does a vague face gester*
Kabal: hehe- *to this side* fuck!
------
*In Fuyuka's temple*
Nozomi: Alright, grab onto my staff, we'll teleport to the 16th floor.
Reiki: Wait, couldn't we just walk there?
Nozomi: Well if you wanna walk up about ohhhh about 369 steps and 15 flights of stairs, then be my guest
Reiki: ... And we're teleporting!
------
*then*
Reiki: Michiko obviously loves me more. So run along ice boy!
Bi Han: I will destroy you and your clan if you don't take that back! *now*
Reiki: I love you more. Don't fight me on this Bi Han!
Bi Han: I will throw hands with you over this! I love you more!
------
*then*
Scorpion: Since Reiki assigned me to protect you, maybe we can be friends?
Michiko: *smiles widely* Oh sure! *smile drops* when foxes fly!
*now*
Hanzo: Heeeeey... can I also get a kiss?
Michiko: I don't know. How many did I give you today?
Hanzo: t two
Michiko: *kisses him two more times*
------
Reiki: I'm a healer but-
Reiki: *makes his flames turn black*
------
Harmonia: If you hate dad so much, how were we born?
Melantha: *not looking up from the paper* fever season.
Harmonia: What?
Melantha: Hormones.
Discordia: Huh?
Nemos: Oh my fuckin- SHE GOT HORNY! MOM GOT HORNY!
------
Meixiu's ghost: So how's motherhood treating you?
Michiko: It's going great actually, just didn't expect there to be so much crying.
Meixiu: Oh, all babies cry. You'll get used to it.
Michiko: Oh no, Xue is fine. It's Bi Han I'm talking about.
*From the nursery*
Bi Han: *sobbing* She's so beautiful!!!!
Bi Han: *bursting into the infirmary* Is she ok!? How is the baby!? Have they been born yet!?
Medic: Actually Sub-Zero you'll be happy to know that your wife gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl.
Michiko: *holding the twins* Hi honey. Look. This one is Nori, and this one is Su.
Bi Han: *tearing up*
Little Satoru: *sighs* I'll get the tissues for dad.
------
------
Erron: Hate to disappoint Blade, but another gal has my heart. < *talking about Kristy*
Sonya: *raises an eyebrow* Are you gonna ask her out?
Erron: shrill voice I AM WORKING ON IT!
------
Quan Chi: I would tell you not to hurt her, but technically she's not my daughter so-
Meixiu's ghost: Oh it's ok. I got this.
Meixiu's ghost: ahem!
Meixiu's ghost: Hurt my daughter and you'll wish you were back in the void with nothing but your shadow based hallucinations, and when you do get back there, not even those will keep you company!
Bi Han: Good Elder Gods!
Reiki: *from the background* OH IT'S OK! YOU GET USED TO IT!
Klaudia: I wake up everyday and chose violence in hopes that someone will kill me.
------
------
Michiko: Wait the floor's made of glass?
Old LK GM: Yeah I had it updated.
Michiko: Dad, why the fuck would you do it?
Old LK GM: I don't know. I thought it would be nice. Does it look good?
Michiko: PEOPLE ARE GETTING HURT ON THE FLOOR DAD!- I mean yeah it does look kinda nice, not gonna lie- BUT WHAT THE FUCK!?
Tomas: You can't live off solitude and alcohol forever!
Demon form Michiko: I've made my choice!
------
Satoru: Can you show any emotion besides "meh"?
Xue: Can you show any sign of intelligence?
Satoru: Why are you like this?
Xue: Why are you an idiot?
------
Satoru: Xue's got a boyfriend! Xue's got a boyfriend! Xue's got a boyfriend!
Xue: *glaring* I hate you!
Satoru: Aww.. Why? *grinning*
Xue: Because I can't get you back on this particular subject!
Satoru: *sticks his tongue out and snickers in AroAce*
@feistyfandomthings
@dontunderestimatemypoison
@doodlewagonbug
@yuvononik
@yuvon
@deepinthefog
@toomanyf4ndoms7
@toomanyf4ndoms8
@cyberneticbloodgoddess
@tora-lotus
#mk oc michiko#mk oc krow#mk oc ash#mk oc kamden#mk oc nozomi#mk oc fuyuka#mk oc seth#mk oc yamato#mk oc satoru#mk oc xue#mk oc melantha#mk oc idalia#mk oc klaudia#mk oc kristy#mk oc reiki#mk oc harmonia#mk oc discordia#mk oc nemos#mk oc nori#mk oc su#mk oc meixiu#mk earth god#mk shinnok#mk quan chi#mk onaga#mk kano#mk lin kuei grandmaster#mk raiden#mk erron#mk taven
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Hell Hath No Fury
Bruce Wayne/Batman X Batmom!Reader X Jason Todd/Robin
A/N: Mmmhhmm I’ve been chugging the angst juice so y’all already know what time this is. sorry,otsorry. - Nemo
Warning(s): Character Death. Major Angst. Ugly crying.
Summary: Bruce comes home, and Jason doesn’t - not really. Batmom doesn’t like the new development, and makes sure Bruce knows.
Listening to: ‘Skyfall’ by Adele - ‘Feel the Earth move and then, hear my heart burst again.’
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd -
Bruce came home, wet and bloodied. The rain outside never stopped, and the crackle of thunder came as often as he thought his heart was beating.
She knew something was wrong the moment he came back into the cave. She didn’t even have to see him, she could just feel it. What she didn’t notice right away was the fact he was missing someone. Well, not their body.
“Did you get him?” she asked, turning in the seat at the computer to see the distraught Batman coming up the stairs. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her. “I heard you were struggling slightly over the coms, then you cut out. Where is Jason?”
“The infirmary.” he said, taking off his cowl, exhaustion washing over his features - it was like it was etched into his bones and written into his eyes. He’d had enough. “You shouldn’t see him.”
“Bruce, tell me what happened.” she persisted. But she never left her seat as if to give the impression of not pushing the answer, but Bruce knew better. Neither of them were budging until he told her what happened.
“I was too late.” he placed his cowl onto the desk, leaning on it so much it started to creak under his weight. “(y/n), I couldn’t-”
He stopped, she guessed because he didn’t want his voice cracking, and ran a hand over his face, letting it cover his eyes as he took in deep breaths. She took this chance to stand from the computer, then tracking back in Bruce’s steps down to the infirmary.
She should’ve listened to him. She shouldn’t have seen Jason.
It wasn’t like she could see him, but she knew what that black tarp meant, she knew what that figure underneath it was - and she definitely knew whose hand was not underneath the black tarp while the rest of him was.
She frowned, pursing her lips together, and walked closer to the body - to Jason. She felt like she was trying to walk through water, ice cold water.
Bruce watched as she took Jason’s beaten hand, gently holding it before placing it on top of the infirmary table and covering with the tarp. He felt lucky that the tarp was there at all, and that Dick wasn’t here - he’d taken the week to visit Blüdhaven, and although Bruce was reluctant to let him go he was ever so glad he did now.
“Joker did this, didn’t he?” she said, voice like a knife in the silence. She didn’t look back at him, instead choosing to lean onto the table, her head hanging low. How she knew Bruce had followed her at all was beyond him, and he found himself not caring.
“Yes.” She sighed, and Bruce could already tell she was taking it harder than she was showing. She muttered something under her breath, then turning to finally face Bruce after a few more moments.
“I could’ve killed him.” He noticed her hand clutched the tarp, holding it so hard her knuckles turned white. He didn’t say anything - partially because he didn’t know what to say, or what exactly she meant - he was tired. “The Joker,” she explained, “I could’ve killed him no more than a month ago.”
He looked back into her teary eyes, and he could tell she wasn’t joking. As much as he wished to not believe it - that she was so close to going back to her old ways - he knew the one thing she never was to him was a liar. A killer, maybe now, but no liar.
“How?” he asked, daring to pry further.
“That last ‘once-in-a-blue-moon’ patrol I did. He was in a building, surrounded by his goons, but with my gun on me I’d of had a perfect shot.” she said, not once looking away from him. His jaw clenched, and she could tell he was fighting himself.
On the one hand - if she had taken the chance and kill Joker - Jason would still be here, but at what cost? A new supervillain taking over Gotham City? Hitmen on her tail? No Joker? Jason alive and standing with him, while She could be the one with a cold heartbeat on the table?
And on the other hand - it went against everything Bruce stood for - and worst, she would’ve broken her promise to him. She was to never kill again, and with that lost her son, her Jason. She didn’t kill Joker - at a cost.
She felt like she could go mad at the now missed opportunity.
“I had a clean shot Bruce. He wouldn’t even have known he died. It’ would've been a too humaine death for someone like him.” she said, scoffing as she wiped under her eyes. “Sure, I would’ve been shot at in turn, but at least he’d still be here.” She gestured to Jason, voice breaking - much like her resolve.
“You know that’s not how it works-” He started, stepping closer as if to hold her, but she just stepped away.
“Joker is alive while Jason is dead!” She yelled, looking up at Bruce with her tears flowing freely - and yet her voice was as strong as ever. “What if that was the Mayor instead of Jason? What if it was Dick, huh? Or Alfred!” He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and finally broke, looking away. “Bruce, what if it were me? Would you still have preferred me to not have killed Joker if it was me that died?”
“I don’t kill people, you know that!” he said, snapping his eyes back to hers. “What you do is up to you, but if you did kill Joker - and even if you did have a reason to do it - I wouldn’t have let you back into this house. You know me, you know what I stand for, and you knew I wouldn’t stand for that.”
“That’s why I didn’t do it.” She said quietly, looking up at him through even more watery eyes. “As much as I wish I did now, I didn’t. All because of my promise to you.” He saw her chin wobble, and then her jaw clench as hard as her knuckles.
If he didn’t feel like this was his fault before, he sure as hell felt it now.
“(y/n)-”
“No, Bruce. Not now.” She turned back to Jason, leaning over him with closed eyes.
If anyone saw her - hunched over with quivering lips and wet cheeks - they might think she was breaking herself in prayer over the lost boy. Bruce knew better. Bruce knew she was thinking.
She let out a sigh, wiping away her face dry - and this time no more tears fell after. Looking over at him, Bruce could already tell she had made up her mind about something - whatever it was.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“What?”
“I’m going to kill the Joker.” She said, now facing Bruce with a face of stone-cold resolve. “Nobody hurts my son and gets away with it.”
“You won't.”
“Watch me!”
- Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
‘Batmom’ Taglist: @eternaleviee @super-hereos-are-my-life
[Taglist is Open!]
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x batmom#jason todd x reader#jason todd x batmom#bruce wayne one shot#batfam x batmom#bruce wayne imagine#jason todd imagine
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Beyond the Sea
Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas, Marlin, Dory, Crush, Squirt, Fluke, OFC Oliver
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: Weird shenanigans (I guess?) This is fairly PG
A/N: This fic is written as my submission for @deanwanddamons and @impala-dreamer ‘s “I Do Understand That Reference” Challenge. It was super fun and quite challenging to write but I sure hope y’all like it!
Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️
Dean opened his eyes slowly, head throbbing with the sound of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. As his eyesight regained focus, Dean noticed that he was surrounded by what seemed to be brightly colored trees. Except these trees were moving - no, swaying.
Even though it was somewhat dark, he could see light streaks around him, almost as if there was a plastic film across his eyes. Confused, Dean tried to get up from the cold, bumpy surface upon which he found himself only to fall sideways as his legs gave way to a gentle, wave-like motion underneath him. He looked down at his feet only to find that they weren’t there. In fact, Dean could see no body parts at all. Patting himself down, Dean realized that his body felt quite round and slimy, a feeling that reminded him of days off at the lake, fishing with Sam. Eyes widened in realization, Dean looked down at his hands only to see two large orange fins staring back at him. He flapped them around frantically, suddenly propelled off the hard floor.
Dean looked to his surroundings once more, the swaying anemones and brightly colored corals confirming his feared suspicion.
A fish; somehow, somewhere, Dean had been turned into a fish.
24 hours earlier
“I don’t know, Sam. This feels too clean to be witches, we haven’t found any hex bags and the vic isn’t spewing gross bodily fluids,” said Dean, running a hand down his face in frustration.
“True, but what else can make a person stuff themselves with popcorn to death? It’s not like famine is back, and even if it was, we have his ring. No way he could do something like this without it,” replied Sam, “Maybe we missed something, why don’t we go back to the theater tonight, it’ll be less crowded so we can do a better hex bag sweep.”
“Fine, but I still don’t think it’s witches,” Dean grumbled under his breath.
Later that night, the brothers headed down to the local movie theater where the security guard had been found dead, belly full of popcorn. Upon arrival, they got out of the Impala, Dean still muttering about his disbelief in witches being to blame for the guard’s death. Walking across the street to the neon-lighted entrance, Sam and Dean looked around the vicinity in search of any unusual activity. Sam stopped in his tracks and motioned at Dean towards a dark figure entering the theater from a side door. Quickly, the brothers headed to the door, glancing around to make sure no one saw them. Once inside, they split ways to each take a row of auditoriums looking for the mysterious individual that had snuck into the building before them, Dean taking the rooms to the right while Sam checked the rooms to the left.
A soft whistle caught Dean’s attention. He turned around to see his little brother pointing at the entrance of an auditorium adorned with a light blue frame, signaling the movie showing as Finding Nemo. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over to Sam, both entering the room as inconspicuous as possible to avoid attracting attention from the scattered crowd inside. As they walked down the dimly-lit aisle, Sam touched Dean’s arm and pointed at a person in the very front row, doubled over the seat as if holding on to their stomach. The brothers approached the figure slowly, not wanting to give away their presence when a bright blue flash illuminated the entire auditorium. Sam and Dean covered their eyes with their arms, a cold wetness overtaking them being the last thing they felt.
Present time
Coming to terms with his predicament, Dean flapped his fins gently to propel himself forwards, finding Sam the only goal in mind.
“Sam!” Dean hollered, “Sammy!”
He swam his way past the anemones and corals, following the strange rock beneath him until he came to a large blue emptiness just past the cliff created by the far end of the rock.
“Dean?” said a squeaky voice behind him, “Dean, is that you?”
Dean turned around to see a small clownfish staring back at him, “Sammy? Why do you sound like that?”
“Why do I sound like what? Dean, what the hell is going on?” said the tiny fish.
“I think you were right. I think the dude in the theater was a freakin’ witch and it looks like we’ve been turned into fish. And your voice dude, you sound like a scared mouse,” replied Dean.
“Have you heard yours, Louis Armstrong?” said clownfish-Sam in a sassy tone.
“What? My voice is fine. Whatever, how the hell are we supposed to get out of… whatever this is?”
“Honestly? No idea, but I might know where to-” Sam stopped suddenly as the sea around them turned pink, large creatures with long, slimy tentacles surrounding them completely.
“Are those…” Dean started.
“Jellyfish,” confirmed Sam. They turned around, backs to each other, taking in the gravity of the situation. Dean reached out behind him, gently pulling a much smaller Sam under his fin to protect him from the deadly stingers.
Frantically looking around to find a way out, Dean saw a flash of blue and orange to his right. Faint sounds of a conversation alerted him to the fact that they were not alone in the jellyfish forest.
“Boing! Boing, boing, boing!” sang a quirky, yet familiar, voice.
“Dory!” said the accompanying raspy voice.
Dory? Dean thought to himself, realization hitting him like a freight train.
“Sam… I think we’re in Finding Nemo,” Dean whispered. Coming out from under his fin, Sam looked up to his brother in confusion.
“What? Dean, this isn’t the time for your crappy jokes. We’re going to die stung by jellyfish!”
“Shh.. listen!” said Dean, placing a fin over Sam’s mouth. Swallowing his protest, Sam focused on the sounds around him and heard the voices his brother was talking about.
“‘Cause you’re about to eat my bubbles!” someone yelled in the distance.
“Sam, there’s no time to explain. Just trust me on this; I need you to follow me, hop on the tops of the jellyfish and avoid the tentacles at all costs, got it?” Dean ordered his little brother.
Sam nodded, and Dean twirled to face the direction in which they had seen the other clownfish zoom past. Taking a deep breath, Dean looked back at his brother one last time before propelling himself toward the top of the jellyfish in front of them. Bouncing off the soft, spongy surface Dean jumped forward, closely followed by Sam. From one jellyfish to the next, fear of electrocution pushed to the back of their minds, Sam and Dean hopped towards the edge of the jellyfish forest. Although they had started slowly, trying to avoid the tentacles, the brothers soon found themselves zooming past the pink creatures, laughter emanating from their gills as panic turned to thrill, feeling like children in a bouncy castle.
Before they realized, the brothers were out of the forest, wide smiles on their faces as they took in large gulps of sea water in relief. Coming down from an adrenaline high, Dean looked to his surroundings hoping to see the fish they had heard earlier. He felt Sam’s small fin touch his own and turned around to see him looking up astonished. Dean followed Sam’s gaze and saw a large current, although that was clearly not what had caught his little brother’s attention. In fact, Sam was focused on the hundreds of sea turtles the current was carrying. Dashing past at impossible speeds, the turtles smiled and waved at the brothers; some seeming as big as space shuttles in comparison to their own measly clownfish sizes.
Snapping out of the shock and awe at the view, Dean looked down to see a rock formation peppered with sea cucumbers and other small sea creatures. He was about to suggest following the turtles’ path to Sam when a deep voice coming from the rock formation caught their attention.
“Dean? Sam? Is that you?” said familiarly gravelly voice.
“Cas?” both brothers replied, looking for the source of the questions.
“Yes. I’m down here,” said Cas. Sam and Dean swam down towards the rock, looking for their friend, “Not that way, over here to your right”
The brothers stopped in their tracks when they found their friend, disbelief in their faces.
“Cas? Uh, are you a clam?” Sam asked the old, rusty-looking creature in front of them.
“Uh, I suppose I am. I cannot see myself in this form,” said the clam, jaws opening and closing comically as it spoke.
Unable to control their reaction, the Winchester brothers burst out in laughter, copious amounts of water entering their mouths.
“This isn’t funny. I need to give you a message before the connection breaks. I’m burning through a significant amount of my already-limited grace to talk to you,” Clam-Cas said frustrated. Clearing their throats, the brothers looked at each other, then to the talking clam.
“Sorry, Cas. It’s a bit funny,” Dean chuckled, “do you know where we are though? How do we get back home?”
“I need you to listen very carefully, although some of what I say won’t make much sense.” replied Cas, “It seems you’ve been cursed by a very powerful witch who has transported you into some sort of alternate reality. I believe you’re currently experiencing events from a children’s film. I can pull you back but only from certain frames in the film, so I need you to get yourselves to a place called Sydney, in Australia I believe. Once there, head towards the opera house where I’ll be able to retrieve you.”
“You must hurry,” Cas continued “it’s a very limited window of opportunity and if I don’t get to you in time you may be lost to me forever”
“Great, tell us how to get there,” said Sam.
“That I do not know,” replied Castiel “you must figure it out on your own.”
Dean looked to his brother, determination on his face, “Don’t worry Sammy, I got this.”
“Perfect, I will meet you at the rendezvous point,” said Cas.
“Wait, wait, wait Cas,” said Dean “how come your voice doesn’t sound all funky like ours? You’re a freakin’ clam”
“Uh, I’m an angel, Dean. Now hurry, there isn’t much time,” Clam-Cas turned around on his bottom shell and hopped off the edge of the rock, leaving a confused Sam and Dean behind.
“So, Finding Nemo huh?” Sam teased as they swam upwards toward the current they had seen earlier.
“I watched it once, a while ago,” Dean mumbled, avoiding Sam’s mocking face, “Shut up, Sam”
“Hey, I was just asking. Anyway, it’s probably a good thing. It’ll help us get to Sydney faster,” Sam chuckled.
They reached the edge of the current where the last turtles of the nest were swimming past. Waiting for instructions, Sam looked at Dean who was watching the current, carefully coming up with a plan.
“Well,” started Dean, “from what I remembered they didn’t show how Dory and Marlin entered the East Australian Current but I’m thinking we can just swim straight in and it should be fine.”
Sam bit back a smile, “sounds like you really know what you’re talking about”
“I said shut up about it, Sam.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Sam and Dean swam backwards, preparing to plunge head first into the Current’s liquid wall. They flapped their fins forward in a rapid motion, closing their eyes in anticipation of a painful impact. Except that the impact never came, just a light slapping motion as their clownfish bodies entered the water tunnel. They opened their eyes to find themselves walled in by majestic turtles talking and laughing with each other.
“Duuuuuudes! That was awesome!” said a small turtle behind them. Sam and Dean turned around to see a large group of baby turtles beaming at them in admiration.
“Dean. Is that tiny turtle talking to us?” asked Sam in trepidation. Even though they were talking fish in this universe, the fact that all other animals could talk and hear them shocked the brothers into silence.
Snapping out of it, Dean smiled at the excited group of turtles running their mouths a hundred miles an hour as they twirled and bobbed in place, “Hey kids, is there maybe an adult we can talk to? Mom or dad maybe?”
“Yeah! Come on, I’ll take you to my dad! He’s the coolest dude on the planet!” replied the tiny turtle that seemed to be the leader of the pack. Dean nudged a still bewildered Sam to follow along with the pack, not wanting to lose his tiny clownfish brother in a sea of turtles. They swam towards the very back of the nest, where yet another group of baby turtles was huddled on the shell of a much larger turtle, completely engrossed in the story being told by a familiar goldfish. The baby turtle huddle made Dean stop completely in his tracks, causing Sam to bump into his large, slimy fin.
“Dean, what the hell?” said Sam, angrily swimming around to face his brother. Dean, however, was staring ahead, an excitedly nervous smile tugging at his scaly lips.
“Dude, it’s her. It’s Dory!” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned around to see what Dean was so excited about and noticed a Pacific blue tang, barely visible among the baby turtles.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s reaction and turned around to urge his brother to keep following their tiny tour guide, who had stopped to talk to a much bigger turtle swimming alongside the one upon which Dory and her friends were sitting. Hesitantly swimming forward, Dean followed Sam towards the large turtle that now sported a huge smile directed at them.
“Hey dudes! Squirt here tells me you did an awesome flip coming into the current! That so totally rocks!” said the reptile enthusiastically. Taken aback by its laid back demeanor, Sam hesitated before responding
“Right. Uh, thank you, Mr. Turtle, sir,” Sam stammered.
“Oh no, dude. Mr. Turtle is my father. Name’s Crush,” said the turtle.
“Oh, uh, okay Crush. Could you maybe help us? We need to get to Sydney, Australia and were told to take the East Australian Current,” explained Sam. Dean simply nodded in agreement, too starstruck to say anything.
“Well, whaddayaknow! Marlin and Dory here are headed that way too!” Crush replied excitedly. He turned over and pointed to the orange and blue fish that were still talking to the group of baby turtles. Upon hearing their names, Marlin and Dory turned to look at Crush and the Winchesters.
“You called, Crush?” asked Marlin, swimming towards them with Dory close on his tailfin.
“Hey jellyman, guess what? These dudes are also going to Sydney!” Crush gestured toward the Winchesters.
“Hi! I’m Dory!” exclaimed the blue tag, as she swam hurriedly towards Sam and Dean.
“Hi, Dory. I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean,” Sam looked up to Dean who was treading in place, his lips moving in an attempt to form words.
Dory looked at Dean curiously, “Hey Dean! Wanna come play hide and seek with us?”
Dean mustered up enough courage to nod, swimming alongside Dory, leaving Sam behind with Crush and Marlin. They headed towards the large group of baby turtles that Dory had been playing with earlier, Dean looking over at her in disbelief.
Hide and seek with Dory? Awesome, he thought.
Suddenly, Dory began swaying side-to-side while muttering what sounded like an address under her breath. She looked in Dean’s direction and grinned, sticking her fin out for him to shake, “Hi! I’m Dory! Wanna play hide and seek?”
Dean was confused for a moment, until he remembered Dory’s inability to remember most things. He shook her fin with his own and smiled sheepishly, “Hi Dory, I’m Dean. Hide and seek sounds great!”
“Yay! This is going to be so much fun! Okay, I’ll count, you go hide!” said Dory as she dropped down on the shell of another large turtle who simply winked and smiled. Dean looked around for a place to hide when his little brother came into view, waving him over. He sighed and swam towards Sam in defeat, He’s no fun.
“Where the hell have you been? I talked to Crush and he told me how to get to Sydney. Apparently we have to take something called the-”
“The swirling vortex of terror?” Dean interrupted.
“Yeah. How did you..? Never mind, I forgot you’re a child. Listen, the vortex is coming up and we have to take it together, otherwise we’ll lose each other and miss our chance to meet Cas.”
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and nodded, pouting as they swam back towards Crush and Squirt, who was giving directions to Marlin and Dory. They reached the group quickly as the current speed began picking up and Dean grabbed Sam under his fin, the vortex visible in the near distance.
“Okay, Sammy. Just hold on tight!” Dean yelled, the sound of the current around them growing louder as they neared the exit.
Dean waited for Squirt to kick off Marlin and Dory before jumping towards the water tornado. As they were about to enter, however, an unexpected wave slammed into Dean and forced him further into the current, causing the brothers to miss their exit.
“Dean! What are you doing? Now we’ll never get to Sydney!” Sam screamed in frustration as they saw Marlin and Dory exit the vortex. Crush remained behind, swimming against the current to yell goodbye to the fish before turning around to see Sam and Dean struggle to stay in place against the current.
“Awe dudes! You missed the exit!” groaned Crush as he threw both front fins up.
“Wait, no! We can go back! H-how do we go back, Crush?” stammered Dean, angry at himself for missing the exit.
“No can do, compadre. You’re going to have to wait for the next exit and swim back.”
“Great! Now we’ll never get back to Cas and we’ll be stuck as animated fish forever!” exclaimed Sam.
Dean ignored his little brother as he fought against the current to catch the blue tang’s attention “Wait! Dory! Trust the birds!”
Unable to hear him, Dory simply smiled and waved, “Bye, Liam! Bye, Sean!”
“Dean! Focus! How the hell are we supposed to get back?”
“Shut up, Sam! There has to be another way to Sydney,” Dean racked his brain for possible exits or alternatives but came up empty. It was all seeming bleak for the brothers until Crush swam towards them, an idea in mind.
“Alright, listen dudes, Squirt here has an idea but I gotta ask. How do ya feel about flying?”
“Flying?” the brothers asked in unison.
“Little buddy here’s got some fish friends, who have some sea lion friends that know some pelicans that can take you to Sydney,” explained Crush.
Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks.
“Pelicans? I don’t know, Dean. What if they eat us? Or drop us somewhere?” asked Sam. Dean frowned at his little brother, weighing their options.
“Dammit,” Dean started, “I don’t know but it may be our only chance to get to Cas in time.”
Sam sighed as he nodded and turned around to face Crush.
“Okay, Crush, we’ll do it.”
“Sweet, we’re coming up on the next exit. Wait here for Squirt to come back, he can give you the low down on the new plan.”
The brothers nodded and swam along with Crush, worried about the new plan and their chances of actually making it to Sydney alive. Squirt came back quickly, giving them directions for the risky plan. Although it was hard to hear him with the current noise picking up once more, the brothers nodded along as the small turtle twirled around in place, detailing how to properly exit and where to go once they got out.
“Okay dudes! Water Tornado of Destruction coming up!”
“The what now!?” exclaimed Sam. He looked to where Squirt’s fin was pointing, mouth dropped open in shock at what lay ahead.
Coming up in the distance was the biggest tornado-like current Sam and Dean had ever seen. Swirling upwards for what seemed like a thousand feet, the vortex moved violently from side to side. The younger Winchester looked to his brother, who was staring at the exit, fear apparent in his wide, green eyes. Even the laid back turtles surrounding them called to their little ones to protect them from the vacuum created by the terrifying exit.
“Dean? I don’t think we’re going to make it.”
Dean looked down at his little brother, who looked so small and fragile it reminded him of that fateful night when his father put six-month-old Sam in his arms and told him to run out of the house as the place filled up with smoke from the fire raging in the nursery. Swallowing the knot at the back of his throat, Dean nodded in determination and grabbed Sam once more, reassuring the small clownfish, “It’ll be okay, Sammy. I got you.”
“Okay dudes! Time to go!” yelled Crush as he pushed them towards the Tornado’s mouth.
“Good luck dudes!” Squirt’s voice was barely audible as the Winchesters were sucked into the liquid twister. An invisible, yet blunt, force pushed them upwards in a rotating motion. Dean barely managed to hold on to Sam, taking the hits as they were violently thrown around for another minute until, finally, the vacuum let go and spit the clownfish upwards and out of the water. Unable to hold on any longer, Dean let go of Sam as they fell back down towards the ocean, two soft plops signaled their landing.
Disoriented and nauseous, Sam looked around to where he saw Dean last. He glanced down and saw the older Winchester swim downwards. Except he wasn’t swimming, he was falling into the depths of the sea, unconscious from the beatings received while in the tornado. Sam dove quickly towards his brother, praying that Dean would wake.
Luckily, Dean regained consciousness before Sam reached him and, feeling himself sink, he flapped his large, orange fins upwards.
“Dean! Are you okay?” Sam hollered as he struggled to close the distance between them.
“Yeah,” Dean replied, groggily. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I am.” Sam sighed in relief, “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“You don’t say,” Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. At least they were both okay.
“We have to find the sea lions, Dean. I don’t think we have much time left.”
Dean looked to his brother and nodded in agreement. They swam up towards the surface and searched for the sea lions, a small archipelago visible in the distance. Switching glances with each other, the brothers headed towards the nearest island. As they grew closer, the loud sounds of flapping caught their attention. Instincts kicking in, Sam turned around and came face to face with a large sea lion. Wide black eyes and long whiskers pointed straight at him.
“Uh, Dean?” whispered Sam, slapping at Dean’s side. The bigger clownfish turned around to see what Sam wanted to show him and pulled him back, swimming in front to protect his little brother.
“Say, are you two the fish that need to get to Sydney?” said the sea lion, with a British accent.
“Who the hell are you?” growled Dean.
“Woah, no need to get tough, mate. I just heard about two clownfish needing a ride to Sydney, thought you might be them.”
Sam swam around Dean, “Actually we are. If you could help us, we’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course, lads. That’s what we’re here for. Now wait just a moment,” The sea lion turned away from the brothers and began squawking at the air, the shrill noise loud enough to startle the Winchesters.
Holding his fins over his ears, Dean looked up in search of their ride, while a confused Sam stared at the shrieking sea lion. Soon, the shrill sounds of birds replaced the sea lion who stopped making pelican calls when he saw the squadron of white birds arrive. They dove downwards towards the brothers and landed harshly, creating waves that carried Sam and Dean in opposing directions.
“Hey Fluke! Where are the little fish that need to get to Sydney?” said one of the pelicans.
The sea lion, Fluke, replied, “Where’s Nigel? I thought he was the one who volunteered?”
“Yeah, no. He went off to help that Marlin fella. Sent us here instead.”
“Alright well, here they-” Fluke stopped in his tracks as he saw the Winchesters were nowhere in sight, “where did they go?”
“Here! Under the pelican!” yelled Sam from under the belly of one of the pelicans. Dean, on the other hand, emerged from under the sea where he’d been thrown when the birds landed.
“Ah! There we go! Two clownfish, ready for transport,” said Fluke.
“Woah wait, how do we know this is safe?” asked Dean, as he swam to Sam’s side.
“You gotta trust us, mate. We’ll get you to Sydney, fair dinkum” replied the leader of the pelican group.
“Fair dinkum? What the hell does that mean?” Dean whispered at Sam.
“I think it’s like Australian for like the truth or something like that.”
“Of course you’d know that,” Dean shook his head and turned his attention to the Aussie pelican, “Alright then, how are we gonna do this?”
“Well, ya gotta jump in my beak here. But don’t worry, I won’t eat you.”
“Woah woah woah, and we’re just supposed to trust that? Listen here, uh-” Dean hesitated, realizing he hadn’t even asked the pelican’s name.
“Oh, Oliver, mate. At your service.”
“Right, Oliver. How can we be sure you won’t just use us as a snack?”
“You’ve got to trust them lad, it’s the only way to get you there quick,” Fluke interrupted.
“Dean, I don’t think we have a choice here,” said Sam, “we’ve gotta get to Cas.”
The elder Winchester was unsure once again, but agreed to trust the pelicans. After all, the one that helped Marlin and Dory didn’t eat them, and Oliver seemed to be friends with him. They lined up in front of the large pelican, who had opened his beak wide enough to let them jump in.
“You better not be lying, Oliver. You try to eat us and I’ll kill you,” Dean threatened. Taking a deep breath, the brothers looked forward and swam quickly at the pelican’s beak, jumping as hard as they could to land in the puddle that had formed in its mouth.
They landed softly and swam straight to the edge of the bird’s beak, quickly holding on to it to avoid falling into its throat.
“Alright lads! Now hold on, and good luck getting to Sydney!” Fluke waved at the brothers as Oliver extended his wings and pushed upwards, swiftly and smoothly lifting off the surface of the ocean and up toward the blue sky. He continued a flapping motion until they reached a height at which he could glide without much movement, small drops of water sloshing out as they went.
Sam, while somewhat alarmed, was mesmerized by the view in front of him. A vast, cloudless canvas stretching for miles on end. The wind blew softly in his face, while the sun provided a warmth that he had not felt in a long time. The combination of all these sensations made Sam feel exhilarated, as though there was nothing in this world he couldn’t do. For the time being, he could forget about his life. Forget about hunting; angels, demons, and all other monsters flew out of his mind, carried by the soft breeze. For a moment, he even forgot he was a fish; the only thing that mattered was the impossible peace that settled within him.
Dean, on the other hand, was praying to all kinds of gods that the bird would not fail. His fear of flying kicking in, he shut his eyes to avoid seeing how high the pelican had taken them. Every sound a reminder that at any moment, something could happen to this bird, pummeling them down to their death.
“Aaaigh, weehe aahoss heehe,” Oliver struggled to say something to the Winchesters.
“What the hell did he say?” yelled a petrified Dean.
“I think he said we’re almost there!” replied Sam, earning a muffled “Uh-huh” from Oliver.
Suddenly, Oliver dove eliciting terrified screams from Sam and Dean who were now holding on to the pelican’s tongue for dear life. As quickly as he dove, Oliver evened out as he looked for a place to land. Dean glanced over the bird’s beak, hoping to spot the opera house. To his left, the white arches of the opera house peeked over surrounding buildings. He tapped excitedly on Oliver’s tongue as he yelled, “There! Go to the opera house!”
“Ohhay!” responded the pelican, leaning sideways to turn towards the target. He flapped his wings softly, gliding over the crowds while Sam and Dean searched for Castiel. A task that proved unexpectedly easy since the angel was the only person wearing a large, tan coat in 100 degree weather.
“There he is! Oliver, take us to the guy in the trench-coat!” Sam yelled excitedly. Oliver turned and headed towards their friend, squawking to get his attention.
A perplexed Castiel looked up to see a large, white bird headed straight for him. Eyes widened in bewilderment, he raised his arms in an attempt to block the impact but was unsuccessful as the bird hit him with incredible force, managing to knock the wind out of the already weakened angel. The tourists around them scrambled to get the bird off the confused man, Castiel holding its beak at bay, unaware that Oliver was simply trying to drop the Winchesters off in his palm. With another loud squeal, Oliver was able to distract the humans, and Castiel, long enough to lean down and spit out the clownfish he’d been carrying in his mouth. By sheer luck, the Winchesters landed next to Castiel’s head, who then turned to look at them, and without a second thought picked them up.
“Cover your eyes!” ordered the angel, prompting Sam and Dean to shut their eyes just in time to avoid the bright light that emanated from Castiel’s chest, showering the entirety of Sydney in luminescence as a familiar coldness washed over the brothers before they lost consciousness.
“Dean, wake up!”
The deep voice barely registered in Dean’s mind as he regained consciousness once more. Keeping his eyes closed, Dean reached up to his chest, expecting slimy scales but met by soft, dry material instead. His eyes fluttered open as they tried to adjust to incandescent light emanating from the cheap motel lamp.
“Hey, he’s awake, Cas!” said Sam, sighing in relief.
“What happened?” Dean groaned, pain slowly spreading throughout his body.
“It seems the injuries you received while in the animated ocean traveled with you. I tried to heal you but I was too weak. I am sorry,” said Cas, regretfully.
Dean attempted to sit up, an action that only caused the pain to multiply. He groaned in pain and laid back down, “I feel like I got run over by a damn truck.”
“Yeah, well pretty much. This was probably caused by that stupid tornado of destruction or whatever,” Sam got up from where he’d been sitting at Dean’s side to get his brother a drink.
“The… what?” Castiel cocked his head to the side, wondering what Sam meant.
Dean chuckled, “Nothing, Cas. Thanks for getting us out of there.”
“Yeah, thanks Cas. Also for taking care of the witch that sent us there. Although, I’m not sure Dean would’ve suffered much if we stayed a little longer. After all, he didn’t get to say goodbye to his ultimate idol,” Sam said, biting back laughter at Dean’s bitch face.
“Hey!” Dean’s voice dropped an octave as he growled in pain, “You know what, I’m not gonna apologize for loving that fish. Not to you, not to anyone.”
“Dude, relax. I’m just playing,” beamed Sam, shaking his head. He sat back down on his own bed and placed a glass of whiskey on the bedside table, close to Dean.
“Whatever,” Dean replied, “just promise me; no witches for the next year, at least.”
Knocking back his own drink, Sam agreed, “Alright, no witches for the next year.”
Dean Sweethearts Taglist
@lyarr24 / @akshi8278 / @pillowjj / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl / @attackonnat
Sam Darlings Taglist
@austin-winchester67 / @supernaturalgrandma / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl
Forever Loves Taglist
@deanwanddamons / @hobby27
#i do understand that reference challenge#dean winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fanfiction#castiel fanfiction#finding nemo#spn x finding nemo crossover#spnfanfiction
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the bookshop on the corner b.h
this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?
WC: 3.3k
warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.
John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”
And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!
Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody.
Until today.
Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions.
The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone.
Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place.
After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop.
Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her.
Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.
As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book.
Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it.
In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman.
Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly.
Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day.
It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it.
Y/N has never truly been in love.
Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies.
Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.”
That’s what she said every time.
Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye.
She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life?
And then he showed up.
The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop.
Until one day, she didn’t anymore.
It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake.
A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever.
It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose.
Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her.
As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading.
Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her.
“Excuse me?”
Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago.
“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound.
“I’m looking for a book.”
“What kind of book?”
“Well... that’s what I need your help with.”
She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.”
She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say.
“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation.
Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.”
“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”
“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”
The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him.
“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.
The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
She grinned at his eagerness.
--
After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve.
Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left.
Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number.
--
The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store.
That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye.
“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu.
“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.
“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor.
Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).
“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”
The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment.
She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly.
“Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.
Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time.
“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?”
Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand.
“Right. Well. I have a few questions.”
Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”
--
Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things.
When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell.
She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much.
“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.”
Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker.
He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was.
Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life.
--
Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration).
So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time.
The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that.
For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day.
Y/N and Ben got very close.
Insanely close.
So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts).
Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben.
But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben.
She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more.
Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left.
Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben.
And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news.
Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news.
He was leaving.
“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.”
Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk.
“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?”
"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.”
--
The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other.
It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose.
On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that.
She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her.
His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving.
He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant.
Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen.
So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks.
She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something.
The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her.
He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do.
She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up.
She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.
The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door.
Ben.
The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace.
“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain.
“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.”
Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons.
“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-”
Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months.
Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly.
It felt like they were made to be together.
It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle.
“I think I love you.”
“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore.
Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep.
Slowly, then all at once.
#ben hardy#ben jones#ben#ben hardy fanfic#ben hardy blurb#ben hardy imagine#ben hardy cute#ben hardy x you#ben hardy fanfiction#ben hardy x reader#BoRhap#borhap boys#borhap cast#borhap blurb#borhap headcanon#borhap cute#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rhapsody movie#bohemian rhapsody cast#bohemian rhapsody blurb
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I tried my hand at writing erotica, its non fiction based on my daily life. Tried to keep it as gender non specific as I could.
r/Ruiasoftporn
mom says, always brush your teeth in the morning:
I have read about liminal spaces. The waiting rooms between the Then and Now. The connection between what was and what will be. This Dadar railway skywalk in the cold morning feels like one. I relish cold mornings in Mumbai. I relish anything cold in Mumbai. We don’t get a lot of cold here.
In movies, they always show liminal spaces empty. Like it’s your own personal moment . Lonely . But I don’t feel lonely here. Maybe before you, maybe before us. There is a floating anticipation in this chilly air. This space is my waiting room for now, till you come. Till I see you. Waving at me, on this bridge lightly shaking from the footfalls. Lightly shaking like me.
You arrive with a smile on your lips and sleep in your eyes. You hug me good morning and I hold you still. I’m listening to my favourite song and the saxophone trill is perfect for this moment. I push a earphone in your ear and kiss you tight. It takes you a moment to register, but you pick up quickly. You pick me up quickly, and push open our mouths. Tongue on tongue at this time of the day is almost taboo but we are far from our beds and freshly brushed and bathed to start the day. Brushed mouths and fresh bodies roiling against each other.Your hands in my hair, my hands on your back. And now you aren’t sleepy anymore , rather energetic. I’m pushed against the thick metal railings, their wet cold seeping through my t-shirt. But I don’t want this kiss to end, we can go on for longer and this bridge is empty.
Also I really like the cold.
********
Nipples aren’t weed, they don’t need to be rolled like a joint everytime :
I’m in college now. I travel halfway across the city every morning to earn my degree. I will insert a line here now that my friends wouldn’t catch me dead uttering. Ruia isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. It’s a small world here, but it’s foreign. A quaint building nested in a quiet neighbourhood. But I’m standing in it’s epicentre and I can almost feel it engulfing me. It’s small, but it’s huge. It’s a fish tank sitting in the dentist’s reception area. I feel like Nemo.
I do get carried away with these thoughts once in while. I get carried away a lot, mostly by you. The Quadrangle is a strange place. It’s not square at all. It’s shape is a quarrel for another day, because right now you are staring into my eyes. I hope the midday sun is doing me some favour hitting the right angles of my face. After all, I don’t get your attention like this in public all the time. I straighten up in an attempt to make my boobs conspicuous. You laugh. “ You’ve got really bad posture, you’re going to get a hunched back someday”, you say.
Apparently the next lecture is cancelled, it was 50/50 anyway. The professor is running errands for the Principal, couldn’t be helped. We have half an hour more, to while away. We both got dragged by our friends towards the stage at one end of this open yard. The Quadrangle is bustling with people and there is no other place to sit. I sit on the edge of the stage with my legs hanging over the edge. You sit cross-legged, behind me. I lean back into you and my ill-postured back finds comfort in this position. There are my friends on one side and yours on the other. My idiots couldn’t find a place and are standing on the ground in front of me. I put my bag on my lap, there is really no place here.
You are so busy talking to your friends, and my friends are busy talking amongst themselves. I might almost drift off to sleep. Your voice reverberates from your chest and I close my eyes in peace… until I feel your hand snaking under my arm.
My eyes are wide open now. The hand has progressed to the boob now. I regret having pads in my bra now. Suddenly I am eerily aware of the number of people here. It’s bustling with people. My eyes dart all over the place, is anyone watching? My breath hitches, and my heart beats faster. I half turn to look at you questioningly. What are you doing? Why does it feel so good?
You are immersed in talking with your friends, who are dangerously close to us. Too close for comfort. I try to sit up, but you hold me steady in place against you. I look at you, you smile at me. The sun is heating up the air, but that’s not why I am sweating.
You leisurely stroke my boob in rhythm with your talk. As natural as say, ruffling someone’s hair or swinging hands in hand. My toes curl inside my Converse. I look anywhere and everywhere except your face. I almost scream when the other hand lands on my other neglected tit. An audible “Oh shit” escapes my lips. The friend who was talking to you turns to me. He agrees, the tv show he was talking about had an unexpected main character death.
Now I have to focus on her and control myself. But your relentless ministrations won’t stop. My size doesn’t matter, you’re covering every inch. The gentle pressure is driving me crazy. I want to rip my bra off so you can find the nipple. But you find it even through the thick fabric, pressing on instead of rolling it with your fingers. I am losing my mind.
I am exposed here like this, naked amongst these people and your horny self. The strokes go back and forth from my tits to my back and everything in between. How hasn’t anyone noticed? My legs shiver from all of this madness. I slowly arch into the cup of your fingers, and my feet hanging of the stage lift on their own accord. I am no longer in control.
And I accidently kick my friend standing in front. Fast as lightning, I sit up straight and apologize. And that’s when I realize someone has unpinned my bra.
*************
Its considered rude in Japanese culture to not slurp your noodles:
The canteen is a funny place. It isn’t enough of a place, there needs to be more of it. There aren’t many tables inside and we always need to fight for a table to sit. Especially now, in monsoon every inch of the area that is not covered by a warm butt is cold and soppy wet. So the actual lunch tables are much coveted. Today’s star is me. I coaxed a group of people I knew to give up their seats to me. Hence, today everyone loves me.
Our seat is near a window, I am opposite to it. I have a good view outside. The canteen windows are funny too, they overlook the quadrangle and people can look directly into your plate. Marketing gimmick.
I feel like eating oily noodles today. So I lose my new and crisp 100/- note today. Pity. I am slurping away when I hear your voice. I look up. You’re on the other side of the window looking directly into my plate. And then your gaze shifts to me.
The food is stuck in my throat. I take a fitful sip of water. I wave a ‘Hi’ at you. You wave back but don’t answer after that. You’re talking to someone on the phone. And that would be okay with me if you weren’t staring at me so much. I can’t question you, I can’t scold you. I can only look away. I am playing with my food now. I can’t eat. You make me so horridly uncomfortable in all the right ways.
But two can play this game. I start with the fork and lick it’s prongs. I smack my lips and run my tongue over them. I twirl my fork to heap noodles on it and caress the handheld end. I shove the glob of noodles in my mouth and lick the fork clean. I then proceed to moan like a kitten.
In any other circumstance I would be ashamed of myself, but this you totally deserve. You look visibly shaken. I see you gulping air, swallowing nothing. Your neck. “ I’d like to lick it someday” I think. Now I am getting distracted by the possibilities.
You end your phone call and half a minute later I get a text.
--you’re coming home with me today.
Welp, looks like I might get to experiment today.
“hey, Hey!” my friend sitting beside me calls me.
“what?”
“tell me what you ordered looks like it was really good, I’ll have a plate too”.
*************
Sometimes its better to bathe with Holy Spirit instead of Dettol after getting drenched in the rain:
Its really pouring cats and dogs today. We might get sent home early. We get phenomenal rains like these once every year in Mumbai. And Ruia lies in a low lying zone. Meaning water pools here like crazy. Just getting to college drenched me completely. The wind broke my umbrella. We all were sitting half soaked, waiting for lecture to begin. And again they got cancelled. But we still had lab work.
Me and my group of friends decided to go on the building terrace. It would be slipping wet, but we were soaked anyway. It was all empty and flooded. We dragged the tyre-cum-chaises and sat on them. It was lightly drizzling now.I looked around.
I really loved the terrace. It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t too small. It was the perfect size to hang out in. And from here, you could see the Matunga skyline. A weird mixture of really tiny, two-storeyed residential complexes and huge high-rising sky-scrapers. The clouds were rolling overhead. They looked so pregnant, their water ready to break at any moment. I loved being here, even if I was chattering from the ice-cold wind.
I text you, to come here. I need you to come here. You reply back a negative. You’re busy with your own labwork at the moment. This won’t do.
‘I am soaking wet from the rain and I’m so so cold’ I text back, attaching a selfie, as risqué as I can manage to get with people around.
I get a reply back.
‘give me 15 minutes’
Everyone else decides to leave. The labwork is simply not worth drowning for, we decide. Almost the entire college is emptying. I tell my friends I’m leaving with you. I wait inside until they leave and go back on the terrace waiting under the roof of the entrance. Out of the two entrances one is locked to prevent flooding. I am shivering.
I hear the elevator door open and close. I attack your form furiously kissing you,pulling you into the terrace area. Thank God you’re alone.
‘Whoa,you’re wet!’you say.
“And not how I’d like to be” I reply.
You take that as a challenge. My bra is unpinned under my shirt yet again. You’re getting irritatingly good at this. I back you up against the wall next to the entrance, just out of range for any pair of wayward eyes. Not that it mattered, we were literally out in the open.
‘You are so worked up today” you whisper in my ear.
‘Mhmmhm’ is all I can manage while peppering kisses on your neck. My hands are all over your chest and fumbling at your waist. Your hands are splayed across my back rubbing sensationally, sending delicious electricity down my spine.
You bring your hands around my waist to slip inside my shirt and under my bra. I exhale. My hands are in your hair now, I can barely do a thing. I am shivering, but not from the rain.
‘Looks like you need this way more badly than I originally thought ,we need a quick fix’ you say.
I bite your ear.
You look around and suddenly your eyes brighten. You lead me to a corner section of the terrace, where remnant beams of the building structure protrude outwards. They look like concrete tables. They are the perfect height to rest your elbows but a little difficult to climb and sit on.
But you straight up hoist me onto one, and pull down my pants. Track pants were a wonderful decision.
I gasped. I am soaking wet and now half naked, well almost, the pants pool at my feet. Your hands are under my thighs,over my calves racing across to my sex. Your fingers find me first, and I pull in your face for a kiss. I have crossed all my boundaries today. Your fingers come back slick, I blame the rain.
Pleasing me is difficult. Both your hands are at work. One rubbing circles on my clit, the other pumping finger after finger into my vagina. I my legs start to shake, my stomach starts to quake.
Every breath is inching me closer to glorious death. Le petit mort. I moan. Out loud.
The rain has gone from a drizzle to a raging storm. All that cold water on us, and I’m on fire.
You push away from my face only to bring yours on my sex. Your first lick on my clitoris sends me shaking into spasms. I can no longer sit upright, I lean over the surface, splayed out like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Your tongue finds rhythm with your fingers. Pumping me, sucking me, pulling me closer and closer to you, until I can bear it no longer. With a scratch of your finger and flick of your tongue, I convulse into climax.
A bone-shaking, muscle-quivering, petit mort.
I cannot move. You help me into my pants and steady me inside the building, out of the terrace plot. Everybody is going home. We get our bags and reach the exit of college too. We leave and walk together. You notice I don’t turn towards my usual way.
‘You’re home is that way’ you turn to me and say.
‘I’m coming with you today, I have to finish what you started’ I whisper.
*******
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An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.
Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38
AO3
@theministerskat, once more, thank you love, for beta-ing this story! ❤️
Chapter 39. The Exams
Biology.
Cell structure and genetics, homeostasis and synaptic neurotransmission. My first exam, just a week after Jamie’s birthday. A week after that perfect evening; the last time I removed school completely from my thoughts, free of the impending challenge of the exams that would shape my life.
Murtagh had disappeared after we cut the cake – supposedly to leave us alone, although we knew exactly where he was going – and the four of us had decided to make popcorn and watch old Disney movies, to keep the child in Jamie alive.
As if he wasn’t a child already, blowing out his candles with such wonder and fervor, as if a whole new world had opened in front of him.
Ian had declared that one of the movies we had to watch was Finding Nemo, since it had become our party’s unofficial theme. Jenny and I picked Hercules, already giggling over the lines of Hades and the Muses’ songs. Perched on the two couches of the living room – Jamie had stated we were to have the largest one because it was his birthday – we’d sang, laughed, and recited almost all the dialogue of each movie. When Murtagh had come back – whistling a happy tune that made the smiles on our faces broader – I’d given Jamie the longest goodnight kiss in the history of the world and went to sleep in Jenny’s room. After approximately two hours of talking and giggling, Jenny and I had eventually fallen asleep, smiling, celebrating our victory over Jamie’s grief, with his full, belly laughs still echoing in our ears.
When I left their apartment the next morning, I tried to memorize the feel of Jamie’s arms around my body, the softness of his lips, warm and inviting on mine.
We saw each other much less over the following month, and even though we had both agreed that this was the best strategy to follow, it still seemed like the stupidest idea we’d ever had. But we had a goal and we had to achieve it.
Not that many miles south of Edinburgh, lay our future.
Oxford.
Every time I was ready to give in and call Jamie to meet me for a walk, I refocused my mind on that single word, imagining us both strolling around in that fairytale city, hands linked, feet feeling the uneven cobblestones under our shoes. My life was already divided into the pre- and post-Oxford era, and that was enough motivation to make my eyes and my thoughts return to the notes laid out on my desk.
I just had to excel in my exams.
I had been planning, studying, and preparing for more than a year, and it felt surreal that the time of the exams had finally come. I was trying to remain calm, to remind myself that I was ready, that I had done the best I could. It was the truth, after all. Since the beginning of the year I had gone over the content of my subjects more times than I could count. I had even organized my time during the exams; what questions I’d approach first, what I’d leave for the end.
But I knew that my textbooks wouldn’t be enough this time. There was always something more to learn, some new information I could fit in with the knowledge I already acquired. Something that would make a difference, that would demonstrate how hard I had worked, how serious I was about my choice.
When I’d read everything I thought would be relevant, I started watching YouTube videos and reading scientific papers. It was then that Lamb started teasing me, saying if I’d continue like I was I could just skip going to medical school altogether.
Lamb, who kept saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I failed my exams, that life always offers new possibilities, some of which I probably never fathomed beforehand.
I couldn’t even listen to him talking about failure, about a future different from what I’d dreamed of. I wouldn’t let that happen.
But… What if I had missed something important? What if I hadn’t paid attention to a significant detail?
“Will ye stop before ye go completely crazy, Sassenach?” Jamie asked me when I voiced my thoughts. “Ye ken everything! Ye’ll do great tomorrow!”
I sighed dramatically and he pressed me tight against his body with a strong arm around my shoulders. I pulled his face down towards me for a kiss, to drink in some of his optimism, to feel the auburn locks cold between my fingers and his lips warm on mine. He had come straight from the swimming pool and had almost dragged me out of my house to prevent me from going through the previous years’ exams one last time.
“Just for a wee walk, Sassenach,” he’d said. “To decompress before the big day.”
It was impossible to say no to Jamie, so I’d tried to silence the little voices in my head, crying that I should stay at home and study, instead of walking around Edinburgh the night before the exams.
“Ye wee nerd,” Jamie said, when I told him I felt bad for going out. I huffed and I nudged him on the ribs, pulling away from him.
“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, in a voice that was more high-pitched than I’d have liked.
He kept silent but raised an eyebrow, while I could plainly see the corner of his mouth curling up in a suggestive smile.
“I’m not!” I repeated, and then crossed my hands across the front of my chest, pouting. Seeing that he still hadn’t said a word, I relented. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”
That made him chuckle. “Come here, my nerd,” he said, curling his index finger repeatedly in a come hither way, broadly grinning.
“Your nerd…” I murmured, thinking, but didn’t move towards him. “So that makes you my jock?”
“I’m not a jock!” he said in a nasal voice, and I could hardly contain my giggle. Following his lead though, I just shrugged and looked at him. “We’re not playing in a rom-com,” he continued, defiant. “First of all, you weren’t secretly in love with me from the beginning.”
I wanted to cackle, but I did my best for a serious voice instead. “No, I wasn’t.” It was a lost battle, trying to keep a straight face, and I knew it, but continued nonetheless. “I could never fall in love with you, the swoon-worthy swimmer... All muscle and no brain… No, not a chance.”
Jamie narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if deciding what was the best way to take revenge. “Like that, is it, Sassenach?”
“Mmm, you were sae repulsive, ye ken.” I tried my best to mimic his accent and burst out laughing.
“Ye’re dead, Sassenach,” he said and came towards me with long strides. I ran. He ran, too, and I hadn’t even reached the next block when he caught up with me, capturing me in his arms.
I was dead. I was sure my heart would stop beating at any moment, overwhelmed by a euphoric feeling that made happiness seem trivial.
“You do know I wanted you from the very beginning,” I whispered to him, my breath brushing against his lips. “Jock.”
“And I, you,” he said, his voice utterly sweet, and swallowed my sigh with his kiss. “Nerd.”
--
The next day I sprang out of bed listening to my alarm clock, with blurry images of cell membranes still fogging my thoughts. I had dreamed of the exams, again.
I took a deep breath and checked my phone, finding a text from Jamie.
Scot: Show them how it’s done, Sassenach.
Scot: ILY ❤️❤️
He had set his alarm clock just to text me.
Sassenach: ILY TOO! 😘
I couldn’t imagine a better way to start my day.
An hour and a half later, I was at school, sitting at my desk, waiting for the paper. The moments before we were handed the exams were the worst. I had quickly found that looking around while waiting was the worst thing to do, so I focused on my desk instead, feeling the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. I fidgeted with one of my two pens, swirling it around and running my nail over the carved letters, to hear the reassuring scratching sound of their resistance. Not having much more to do, I took deep breaths, waiting.
The room was quiet, but there was a tension hanging low over our heads, filled with dreams and opportunities, stress and hope. It felt so heavy and real, that I was afraid I would accidentally breathe it in and it would close my throat, linger in my trachea, to end up in my lungs and keep the oxygen out. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, and we could almost capture it between our fingers. The same fingers that minutes later, gripped the pens and started writing.
The moment the paper was in front of me everything around me disappeared. It was me versus myself – my favorite competition. My brain was on the verge of being burned with overthinking, my hand hurt from holding the pen too tight, but I continued to write the answers. I knew them all.
I almost danced in the middle of the street when I met Jamie later, success making me deliriously happy. Jamie had one more week before his English exam, which was his favorite subject, and the only one he wouldn’t need in his application for a business management bachelor’s degree. He wasn’t anxious at all, the bloody Scot, and I couldn’t understand how he did it.
Not anxious about the exams, that is. Because every day I watched him become more and more worried about the Scottish National Championship. It seemed absurd to me that he would care that much about swimming, right in the middle of the exams. Especially after all our work, to make his grades in math descent again. “You do realize that you have to finish the exams first, right? That we have more than two months until you’ll swim at the Nationals?”
“Aye, Sassenach. I do.” His voice was rigid, and it made me feel like a mother scolding her child. “Ye dinna trust me now?” he asked, and I kept silent, guilty, because the thought that he overestimated his preparation for the exams had crossed my mind more than once. Jamie exhaled loudly and took my face in his hands. “Claire,” he said, “I do study and I will get the grades I need. I’m no’ a fool.”
His eyes were so serious and sincere that I couldn’t but nod in agreement. Jamie kissed my forehead and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Tis just…” he started, but trailed off.
“What?” I mumbled, and nuzzled against his neck, breathing him.
“I think it’s more difficult to win the National Championship than it is to write an A+ in math and business management. My personal best needs so much improvement.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with the statement, but I decided to trust him. “I know you’ll make it,” I said, and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, that little part of him I had declared mine, months ago.
--
It’s sometimes difficult to realize, incomprehensible almost, how things you’ve been waiting for so long come to pass, like fast breaths taken after a long run. And the air I breathed in, leaving the testing hall for the last time, had the taste of accomplishment.
Math was our last exam. When I saw Jamie waiting for me with his red curls falling over his forehead totally disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through them, my heart stopped. But then I saw the huge smile on his face, and it told me everything I needed to know.
We had more than a month before the results would be announced, but we had done well. We had made it.
Oxford was waiting for us.
I walked towards him, grinning, and I felt like flowing above the shiny floor, my feet inches away from the surface.The moment I came to stand in front of him, Jamie hugged me tight, lifted me up in the air, and asked me if I would be his date at the prom.
“We’re going to the prom?” I asked, uncertain.This was the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.
“Aye! Of course we are! So, will ye be my date, Sassenach?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, teasing him. “This is really on short notice, and I might have plans for that night.”
Jamie shook his head, lowered me to the ground and bent his head to kiss me. “Cancel yer plans, mo ghraidh. Ye’ll be all mine that night.”
Chapter 40
#thermodynamics#The first law of thermodynamics#high school au#jamie x claire#outlander fanfic#outlander fanfiction
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after lunaris, anzo is no longer a hunter and lives with a tiny vampire clan whom he met in his early hunting days. he’s very close to one of them, and uh. so. here’s a fic idk.
Vincent always loved to watch Anzo sleep. The way his long blond hair spread and tangled over his pillow, the way his long body stretched and tugged his loose shirt up revealing toned muscles and the occasional love bites from an active evening. Vincent often found himself losing hours simply watching.
But since Anzo had returned from his business abroad, he’d been avoiding Vincent. He’d spend all day up in his treetop studio, basking in sunlight Vincent could not touch. When he returned to Vincent’s room for the night, he’d change clothes behind closed doors and turn from Vincent’s touch. He’d whine in restless sleep and Vincent found himself leaving so as not to intrude on too-loud dreams Anzo could not control.
Anzo sat by lantern light in his studio, reading in the moonlight in the pile of soft pillows in the corner of the large space. His hair was pulled back in a loose bun, stray strands falling around his face. He held the collar of his thick sweater in his mouth, an idle habit when he focused that Vincent found endearing. As much as he wanted to be by Anzo’s side, enjoying the calm, quiet domesticity of the scene, he stayed away. Well, as away as he could handle. He sat on the opposite side of the room, keeping his hands busy with knitting as he watched Anzo. He wanted nothing more than to hold him, to sit behind him and feel Anzo’s warmth and bury his nose in his neck and--
He stopped himself before he got carried away, already salivating. Vincent shook himself from his thoughts and focused on the Anzo of here and now, briefly startled to see he’d fallen asleep, curled up with his hand in his book to save his place. With a gentle smile, Vincent took the book from him, setting it aside after sliding the bookmark between the pages. He reached out to brush Anzo’s hair from his face but as soon as he touched him, Anzo flinched, whimpering softly in his sleep.
Vincent felt his chest grow tight, fear gripping his still heart. He reached out again, slowly, nervously, carefully. His fingers lightly brushed against Anzo’s skin and watched as Anzo curled in tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. There was an odd purple glow from beneath his shirt and Vincent’s brow furrowed as he gently pulled the collar down to get a better look, careful not to touch Anzo’s skin. He froze at the sight of the mark, a glowing purple rune appeared carved over Anzo’s heart. It looked painful and the way Anzo’s face twisted as Vincent’s fingers ghosted over his skin would have made his pulse race with anxiety if he had one.
Anzo snapped awake, looking up at Vincent in fear and pulling away, gripping his sweater in a tight fist.
“Anzo…”
“Vincent, what did you do?” Tears welled in his eyes and he inched away. “Why did you look?”
Vincent found himself floundering for words. “Why do you hide it? Who...who cursed you, Anzo?”
Anzo scrambled to his feet, putting as much distance between them as he could. “Why did you go looking?”
He looked so scared and Vincent, despite the voice in his head yelling at him not to, reached out and pulled Anzo into an embrace. It was instinct to want to comfort him, but as he pulled him close, Anzo screamed in pain, collapsing against Vincent. He lowered him gently onto the pile of pillows and backed away, not wanting to touch him more than he needed to. Vincent did not want to leave Anzo up here alone, but he couldn’t risk carrying him down the ladder to their cavern room himself.
He took a breath he didn’t need to steady himself and left for help, ignoring his gut telling him to go comfort Anzo.
——————
Hours later, Vincent stood at the far side of his and Anzo’s room, watching his witch friends enter and make their way to Anzo laid out on the bed.
The boy, Nominoë, studied him before looking up at Vincent. “How long as he been like this?”
“Since last night. I fear I made it worse bringing him down here…He was in such pain…” Vincent replied, shuddering at the memory. “Nemo, don’t—don’t touch him—” He flinched when the boy pulled Anzo’s shirt aside, prepared to see him in pain at touch again, but there was no response.
Nemo’s eyes widened at the sight of the mark and his twin sister beside him gasped. “Where did he get this? Vincent, where did he get this?”
Vincent shrugged, feeling tears choking him but they would not fall. “He left, he had some business somewhere, I—I don’t know…” he began pacing, running his hands through his hair. “Nemo, what is that mark?”
Nemo shook his head and moved aside for his sister to take a look. He watched her fingers dance lightly over Anzo’s chest as she studied the mark. “Amèlie thinks she knows who did this and I agree. This looks like the work of Solène.”
“Solène? Why do I know that name…?” Vincent looked taken aback as realization hit him. “Solène Zenaida? The coven that killed most of my clan? They’re still alive?”
Amèlie shook her head. “Only her.” She pressed her palm over the mark and it glowed brightly, Anzo stiffening, his face twisting in pain until she released him. “She is a wicked one.”
“Amèlie? What is it?” Vincent’s tone was concerned as he rushed to Anzo’s side. “What has she done to him?”
“It would seem Anzo killed her lover,” Nemo replied with wonder. “She didn’t take lightly to that. And, Vincent...she knows of his relationship with you.” He motioned to the mark on Anzo’s chest. “This is a lovers’ curse--and a powerful one. Your touch is like fire to him—not the fun kind. She made him suffer to be with you. She wants you both to suffer.”
“Amèlie got all that from one touch?” Vincent sighed in astonishment, looking over at her. “Can you undo the curse?”
She nodded and Nemo looked sadly up at him. “You probably...don’t want to be here for it. It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
Vincent shook his head. “No. This is because of me, because of my clan. I’ll stay.” He reached out to take Anzo’s hand and stopped just before their fingers met. “I just...want him back.”
Nemo nodded and rested a hand on Vincent’s shoulder reassuringly before helping Amèlie prepare her spell. He stood behind her, holding her shoulders and closing his eyes and as he did, a low wind swept through the room. Amèlie absorbed his energy and focused it through her palms pressed to Anzo’s chest.
Vincent held his breath, fought back the lump in his throat as he stifled his emotion as he watched helplessly. Anzo went rigid at first, but as a scream was ripped from him, he threw his head back against the pillows, his back arching and his hands balling the sheets in his fists. Amèlie pulled the magic from him, the purple glow of the curse mingling with her and Nemo’s orange magic flowing around them. Vincent watched tears fall down Anzo’s face, heard his cries of pain, and it took every ounce of restraint for him not to reach out to comfort him.
Finally the magic stopped, Amèlie gasped as she released her hold and leaned back against her brother. Anzo collapsed against the mattress, trying to catch his breath, reaching out absentmindedly for Vincent’s hand. Vincent hesitated, looking to Nemo and Amèlie for assurance. At their nod, he climbed onto the bed and pulled Anzo into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. Anzo let him hold him, simply gathering his strength back in his lover’s arms.
Vincent pressed his lips to Anzo’s temple and sighed in relief. “You’re all right. I have you,” he whispered.
Anzo shuddered, suddenly shivering. “S-sorry, I’m just--it’s cold.”
Vincent nodded, backing away and handing him the blanket. “Sorry I can’t help you there right now,” he replied, eyeing Nemo and Amèlie with a smirk. They took the hint and excused themselves, gathering their things and leaving quietly.
As soon as the door closed, Vincent was back at Anzo’s side, holding him, kissing him, relishing in every touch. “Why did you hide it?”
Anzo held his head back, letting Vincent work at his throat, preparing for the incoming bite. “I thought I deserved it. I--ah, Vince--I thought I could deal with it.” Vincent’s hand slid under his shirt and he quickly removed it, throwing it gods know where. He gasped as Vincent’s fingers traced over the now-dead rune on his chest, smiling when there was no purple light to be seen.
With a hungry growl, Vincent brought their lips together and worked his way down to Anzo’s chest, caressing him, worshipping him as he moved. “You deserve many things, Anzo. But that is not one of them,” he said between kisses, his voice hoarse.
Anzo smirked and laid beneath Vincent, hands tangling in his dark curls. “Oh? And what do I deserve?”
Vincent straddled him, sitting up and pressing a palm to hold Anzo down. “I’ll show you,” he replied, a glint in his eye as he flashed his fangs, hungrily eyeing his lover beneath him.
#when the night comes#wtnc#fan hunter#anzo iserngast#vincent ortega#my oc#fic#ive been watching a lot of reign so i was inspired by drama lmao
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C:R ~VE~ Chapter 59
Hatteras and Aleister.
One with a rusted sword in his trembling hands, the other one holding me like a pillar of comfort.
One so much more dangerous than the other, and you would never know.
“My, what a scene to interrupt,” Aleister says with a warm laugh. “Jonathan, aren’t you being awfully rowdy?”
“Jimmy...” Hatteras begins to move towards Aleister, but a look from the older man makes him shrink back.
“Are you all right, Aronnax-kun?” He leans down so I can see him, gray-blonde hair brushing my cheek.
“I’m fine,” is my simple reply. I shift and begin to walk away, but Aleister’s hand curls on my shoulder just enough to keep me in place.
“Aleisteeeer...”
Nemo’s voice cuts through the panic beginning to chill my body.
“I’m surprised you haven’t left yet. You’re usually preeeeetty good at picking up when things are going south, hmmm?”
“You’re right, Nemo-kun,” replies Aleister. “I’ll be leaving shortly, there’s just something I want to do first.”
Aleister moves his arms and leans forward as though he means to embrace me, a tall shadow that’s already cast so much darkness on my existence.
But it’s no embrace. That serpent-headed cane comes into my view, and two gloved hands quickly pull it apart to reveal a thin blade that makes my hair stand on end.
My body feels so heavy, fear is stopping me from moving...!
“Nemo-kun,” says Aleister.
“A-Aleister...?”
“I know how hard it is to lose a family,” Aleister continues.
Nemo, too, looks like he’s paralyzed.
“It was a firing squad, wasn’t it?”
That triggers something inside of Nemo, and he quickly reaches into his coat.
“Nemo-kun,” Aleister’s voice is sharp. “You’re too intelligent to risk an explosive in this situation, and you know that I’ve built an immunity to sleeping gases and the like.”
Nemo bites his lip, looking around helplessly.
I shift, seeing him like this is--- but that metal feels cold, and it makes me whimper.
Even Hatteras’ face is twisted in confusion, his eyes darting from my neck to the blade and back to Nemo as if he’s trying to process what’s happening-- process, and figure out if it’s what he really wanted.
Of course, he was supposed to be dead when this scene played out...
“Nemo-kun, one of the things I regret is that I wasn’t able to meet you sooner,” says Aleister.
Nemo tilts his head, his voice tight. “W-What are you talking about...?”
Aleister sighs.
“Well, then. I’ll make sure it happens slowly this time, so that your mind will be better able process it. I want to see the shadows of that young man losing his home once again.”
Meeting him sooner.
Losing his home.
What Aleister plans to do is--!
I quickly raise my hands to push back against the cane, but Aleister’s strength makes my body as useless as paper.
The blade slowly dips into my skin, and I feel a wetness on my throat from a trickle of my own blood.
“A... aaaa....!”
At the sight of my blood, Nemo collapses to his knees with a scream that sounds like it will tear his throat apart.
It’s not just a scream for me.
As I watch his fingers twitch, digging into the cold metal, I know that he isn’t in Northernmost Base, anymore.
“Pl-please...” Nemo’s voice is hoarse. “They’ve done nothing...”
He slumps forward, his hair covering his face as he balls his trembling hands into fists.
“I’m the one who did it all...”
It isn’t Nemo speaking.
“I’m the one who... who started the Mutiny-- it was all me--!! They did nothing, they did nothing...!!! So why-- why bring them into this?!”
He suddenly throws his head back, screaming at British soldiers that aren’t there.
“WHY ARE YOU PUNISHING THOSE WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING------?!?!”
All of this was so close to the surface all this time. The difference between 'as long as we can' and 'always' was a mere drop of blood.
The memories that Aleister is making him relive makes my eyes burn with tears. An empire that makes a husband and father beg, plead, try to make sense of it all... as his family is the one punished in his stead.
To make him go through all of that again is abhorrent!
I begin to struggle with all my might, slamming my boot into Aleister’s shoe.
It does nothing.
Aleister doesn’t move, his blade doesn’t even tremble. It presses closer to me, cutting off the cry rising in my throat.
Nemo.
He has to remember where he is, who he has become--! How he lived, how he kept on living ever since that awful time!
None of us, save one, is enjoying this. Even Hatteras is staring down at Nemo-- no, Dakkar-- with wide eyes. The prince who stood against an empire, the figure of war that Hatteras wanted to face in combat... the truth in front of him is making him tremble.
None of us, save one-- the only one getting enjoyment out of this is Aleister. I can see his smile out of the corner of my eye.
I’m able to tilt my head enough to see.
His dead, black eyes have a light inside of them now. A desire burning deep inside.
My ears are drumming with the echoes of explosions and something else thumping nearby. A far-off heartbeat.
Is Aleister truly the devil?
My mind swims as another bang interrupts these thoughts.
“Hey, hey! Woah, what’s with all the screaming?”
My mind feels groggy as that voice slowly registers in my mind: Impey Barbicane.
“Wha-- oh man!”
I hear the sound of Barbicane registering the reality of what’s happening.
“Don’t interrupt us,” says Aleister. “This blade is deep enough to kill her with a twitch of my hand. Not even a vampire is fast enough.”
“How--? You know what, I’m not going to ask. Anyway, Jimmy, can I call you Jimmy? Woah--!”
I wheeze as the blade is pulled back from my throat and swiped towards Barbicane. The quick removal makes me bleed even more, and I feel my legs go weak.
“Hey, hey, HEY!” Barbicane hobbles as he avoids Aleister’s strike (which really looks more like him swatting at a fly).
“My, criminal, it sounds like you’re being rather ungentlemanly.”
A clear voice, calm and thoughtful, comes from a transmitter in Barbicane’s hands.
Aleister’s hand twitches on my shoulder.
“... It can’t be...” he murmurs.
“Don’t tell me the thought never occurred to you,” says the voice. “Or do you think you’re conversing with a ghost right now?”
Aleister lets go of my shoulder and rigidly slides the blade back into his cane with a click.
Without his support, I begin to slump over.
Barbicane tosses the aether transmitter to Aleister before he dives towards me to catch me in his arms.
Aleister raises the transmitter to his lips, and I can hear him say in a voice that sounds almost loving: “Detective.”
He glances down at me, then at Nemo. Without so much as a tilt of his hat or a nod, he turns on his heels and briskly walks out of the warehouse.
From that last glance he gave me, it was clear that all interest in me had turned towards that voice on the other end of the transmitter. I doubt I will ever see him again.
With Aleister’s imposing presence gone, I feel light. So much lighter...
“Polly-chan, hang in there!”
Barbicane is above me, his appearance blurring and refocusing as he pulls off one of his gloves and pushes it against my throat.
I feel like, perhaps, I should be more afraid? I was so close to dying, and even though my throat wasn’t truly slit, I’m still losing a lot of blood.
I turn my head, ignoring Barbicane’s protests.
Nemo is still trembling, his features hidden behind his hair, fingers spasming as he tries to hold on to himself.
“Ne...”
“Nuh-uh, no way! You’re not moving!” Barbicane reaches into his pocket and pulls out another transmitter. “Cardia, we’re heading back your way! and we’ll need first aid! Disinfectant, bandages, all of it! Man, it’d be so much easier to treat her here, but this place is going up in smoke soon...!”
While Barbicane frets over me, I notice Hatteras looking down at Nemo. He tilts his head one way and then the next before looking down at the rusted sword in his hand.
Before my heartbeat can quicken, Hatteras sheathes it without a word.
“This is...” his voice has gone back to its usual volume, barely even a whisper. “... No victory for me.”
He kneels down next to Nemo and tries to search for his expression.
“I knew you were broken...” he continues. “But seeing it is different from hearing it. Aleister made it sound so beautiful. I suppose it was, to him.”
Nemo has no reaction, so Hatteras bends over and puts a hand on the other man’s back.
His lips part to take in a breath as he says a word, a name:
“....... Nemo.”
The scientist jolts like he had been hit by lightning, and slowly, jarringly, he turns his head to look at Hatteras.
“You are... Nemo... aren’t you?”
And a hoarse voice responds:
“I am the scientist who will shine the light of truth upon the world.”
Hatteras’ lips aren’t smiling, but a strange sort of relief comes over his eyes as he gingerly nods and puts his hands over his ears.
Nemo takes a deep breath, and though his voice is still tight with pain, it rings loud and true:
“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---!!!!”
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continuation of this goodbye . @hathlived .
nemo couldn’t look at him. he was angry, but not because lukas had actually done something wrong. no, for once, the biker seemed to do everything right. why, why now? they had done nothing but be enemies since their reunion, & lukas had done nothing but make nemo feel resented. he had always parted with lukas feeling like a traitor, someone who had lied, left & betrayed someone he was supposed to love. he had always parted with lukas feeling like he changed for the worse, like a person the person he once was & lost was ruined by his own hands, & he was responsible for the murder of someone who was good, a past self he had been forced to leave behind. he had always parted with lukas feeling like the one person who remembered him didn’t recognize him, & their past was nothing nemo could justify speaking about. for all this time, he felt like lukas hated him. so you’re saying you’ll be fine if we never meet again? yeah. the person who supposedly looked for him for years; the person who left flowers & cried at his grave. the person who seemed the least fine about his disappearance; the least fine about losing him; fine if i never show my face around here again. that was the knife to the back he needed to realize he had nothing to do in california. however, now, when everything was packed & his one-way ticket was bought, lukas dared to show his face & show some kind of remorse. he wasn’t at home, celebrating, getting drunk on alcohol & the idea of finally getting rid of him & the smell of death that he always talked about. rather than cheering, he was coming here, wishing him well. when had he ever wished him, nemo, well? was it all just a mind game, something to leave him hurt for one last time before he left? did he know this was the thing that would make his heart bleed more than any insult? it was the only thing he could think of; the only thing he dared to think of.
he had left the ring, the one thing he had taken with him from his past life, & he had left it at his grave. he thought, maybe lukas would hate him a little less if he gave it back to the person it was given to. of course, the grave was empty. it was a mere facade, & there was no one there to accept it, but it still felt like the right thing to do. he, nemo, was not supposed to have it. it was given to someone else; someone lukas had loved. nemo might remember what it was like to be that person, but to lukas, he would never be that person. by leaving it behind, giving it back to kyle, nemo hoped to stop making the other so angry. he hoped that playing along would earn him something. he didn’t do it because he wanted to, but because it was what he thought lukas wanted. it had been difficult enough, & now... he dared bring that thing back? the tears started streaming from nemo’s face, & that’s why he wouldn’t look at the other. he was angry, but only because that was much easier to feel than sadness. it was easier to be angry than to face a goodbye. it was easier to be angry than to regret. the flashbacks returned to him; the last time. their last fight, the last fight that ended it all. the fight that ended them. he remembered feeling this angry, & he remembered lukas being this stubborn. he remembered wanting to disappear, he remembered wanting to scream, he remembered wanting to cry. he remembered standing there, facing him, because even though he was hurt, he wasn’t scared. now, he was scared. the memories caused panic to bubble up in his chest, full grown panic. his entire body felt stuff & cold, yet still sweating. he stayed completely quiet as the heavy boots walked towards the door. yelling, both old & new, rang in nemo’s ears even though the room was completely quiet. “ wait. “ he spoke, loudly. it wasn’t quiet a yell itself, but almost. it wasn’t a request, it was a command, & it sounded angry, so angry nemo was almost scared of himself. he felt himself moving, turning around, but every word that came out of him felt as if someone else was speaking them. his soul was merely a bystander, trembling at the forceful sound of his own voice. he was crying, but it was only tears; tears that streamed on & on without stopping, blurring his vision to the point lukas was merely a dark silhouette, surrounded by the cold hallway lights. he didn’t bother wiping his face, he didn’t let his voice tremble, he didn’t let his nose clog; he just cried. “ what do you want me to think, huh, lukas? this entire time you’ve been so fucking mad at me, & now you’re here to wish me well? i figured you’d be out celebrating right now, glad that i’m going to be fucking gone. the only thing you’ve done this entire time is make me feel bad. you’ve made me feel useless, cruel, ugly, pathetic, & you’ve made it very clear that you’ve had no intentions of getting on good terms with me, ever. you’ve made it very clear that you blame me for everything that happened. you’ve made it very clear that you hate the way i turned out, you hate the way i smell, & you hate that i’m not kyle anymore. “ a whole arm is violently tossed forward, pointing with a whole hand to the ring lukas left on the remaining coffee table in the center of the apartment. “ i did as i thought you fucking wanted. i accepted that you don’t think i’m the same person anymore, i accepted that you don’t love me anymore, i accepted that you think i turned into a pale, dead, slutty, useless copy of the person you gave that fucking right to. i accepted that the person who used to love me the most in the entire world now hates me. i accepted that the ring didn’t belong to me anymore, & i put it at my own fucking empty grave to try & make you happy. “ “ & now you’re not going to pick this fight with me, apparently, but then you could at least stand here & fucking listen to me for a fucking moment, okay? & i’m going to keep fucking yelling at you because it’s damned much easier than actually showing you how fucking hurt i am. “
“ you looked for me for all those years. you left so many gifts at that fucking grave. & when i came back, when i was here again, i didn’t expect to be kicked in the fucking gut. i thought you’d hug me, i thought we’d cry together, i thought that if someone would have missed me, it’d been you. well happy fucking birthday to me, cause no, you just wanted me gone again. or was i wrong? that’s at least what i interpreted from all the bullshit you’ve been saying for the last two years. i--- i have never been that hurt in my entire life. i felt like you spat me in the face, took my heart, & ate it! you finally found me, only to kick me into the dirt & back down in my fucking grave. “ “ this entire time, all i really wanted to say was--- thank you. thank you for looking for me. thank you for taking on the burden of going to my funeral, when you had to lie to my parents about how close we were. thank you for mourning me, making me feel like i did something with my short ass life. thank you for coming to all my shows, even when i insisted they weren’t a big deal, because no matter what i said i always wanted you there. thank you for always giving me your jacket when i was cold. thank you for making me feel pretty when i was in my most natural state. thank you for waiting, being respectful, not once questioning my morals of believes, that i was new & my hands were trembling & my breath was thin & i blushed at every touch & i didn’t know where to look or put my hands wasn’t something you laughed at... thank you for seeing right through me & the lies i had lived in for my entire life so i finally knew what it felt like to be honest & made me want nothing more... thank you for wiping the blood off your face before you kissed me & never bringing anything bad inside my doorstep. thank you for protecting me when people were tossing comments at school & always knowing what i deserved more than i ever knew on my own--- “ “ there were so many things i wanted to fucking thank you for, you fucking idiot, but instead... “ there was so much yelling, so much barking, so much arguing. so many times nemo came back home with tears burning beneath his eyes, the beast in him trembling to be hooked off it’s collar, like that first day where he bit him. he was scared, freaked out, knowing that if luke was here that meant he could recognize him & that meant breaking the masquerade & that meant people would be after him--- that meant he was in danger, & yet he wouldn’t leave... he wouldn’t take his word & just leave the god forsaken club when he was told. & also, he didn’t recognize him. not even when he pushed him against the wall & nemo had his arm against his own throat. not even when they stared each other in the eyes like the beasts they both were... not even then. “ --- instead you... made me feel like i should have died that day. “ at last, the dam broke, & the vampire’s adams apple started to shake. his voice cracked, & the saliva became thick in his mouth. his eyes were already bloodshot, his cheeks wet & cold, & now the crying took a hold of his throat & squeezed it shut. only a small gurgle came after he finished the sentence. he wasn’t done talking yet; he had so much to say, so much he needed to get out before lukas was gone forever. desperately, he took a few steps forward, as if to say; don’t go. don’t go. a cold palm pressed against his face, that was somehow still glowing, always spotlessly porcelain white, always beautiful. the chaos that was going on inside of him would never reflect on his surface, & it was one of many curses he had to carry. he made an attempt of talking again, but all that came out was speech-imitative whining. weak, his whole face clenched together in what seemed to be a scary defeat. his entire being wanted to climb out of his body, desperate to escape the panic attack that was slowly taking over. he fell down on the cupboard, seated, realizing he was in no condition to stop anyone from leaving at all. this was it; his last chance of making up every single mistake he had made since their last fight as kyle & lukas, but it was slipping out of his slender hands. again, ten years later, he was about to have his heart broken by the love of his life.
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Sub to Dom (Drabble 4)
WHATADO Everybody its your boi Nemo back at it again with another fanfiction. I rose from the dead to get back into the grind and continue ���Break the Silence’. So I got a brush of inspiration and decided to make a fic about Tootler Jooseph and the reader. The title pretty much explains the story..
Summary: Tyler gets tired of being a submissive boy and decides to dominate Y/n
Type: Smut
Warnings: Sub! Tyler to Dom! Tyler, Dom! Reader to Sub! Reader, mouth fucking, cursing, teasing?, uh, fluffy ending
Requested?: Nah
Word Count: 901
Without further ado, TAKE IT AWAY MARY SUE
"Shut it, baby boy. Keep talking and you wont cum at all" I scold, dragging my nails down his bare chest, leaving faint marks down to his belly button. He groans, pulling at the restraints above his head. They were homemade and could easily be broken by a strong male, but I never thought Tyler, my sweet little bottom boy, would be able to pull off such an act. He knew he would get punished for it, so he never tried.
"Y/n..please baby! I need you" He whines, squirming his hips a little bit.
I chuckle, staring into his lustful eyes. "Didnt I just tell you not to talk?" I ask, shaking my head. I firmly hold the base of his cock, wrapping my fingers around it tightly to give it a nice squeeze. He whines from the contact, pre-cum already oozing from the slit. I gently flick my tongue on top of his bell shaped tip, tasting each and every liquid. He moans out, biting his lip to try and stifle it. I ease the crown of his dick into my mouth slowly, my tongue still rapidly licking at the slit.
"Please, Y/n! Ive have enough of the teasing!" He whines, squirming his hips and pulling at the restraints. I swear I heard one of the ropes from the restraints snap, but my mind ignored it, too busy on making Tyler feel pleasure. I felt his dick twitch in my mouth, letting me know he was close.
I remove my mouth from his cock, shaking my head once more. "Tisk tisk tisk, Tyler" I say, a smirk forming on my lips. "I didnt tell you to talk, now did I?" I question and cross my arms, looking into his eyes. They were darker than before, making me feel a little bit intimidated.
"Y/n" Tyler growls, pulling at the restraints. "Suck my cock, now" He says in a demanding tone. I chuckle darkly, not knowing of what was to come next.
"You dont make the rules, baby boy. With that mouth I shouldnt make you come at all" I sass. I watch his face turn cold as stone, his eyes panning up and down my body.
"Lets try this again" He mumbles, pulling at his restraints harder. I saw the muscle in his arms flex, using all his strength against the rope. Suddenly, with a snap, the rope comes undone, falling off the bed. My eyes widen in shock of his bold movement, taking a slight step back from feeling scared. "Suck. My. Dick" He says, much more demanding than before. With a nod, my shaking hand wraps around his dick again, pumping him firmly. He leans his head back, groaning lowly. "Im done with your teasing, Y/n. Its time to teach you a thing or two about discipline" He barks, snaking a hand into my hair.
He guides my head to the tip of his cock, ordering me to open my mouth. I do as told, feeling him press down on the back of my head. I let him take total control of my mouth, slacking my jaw and hallowing my cheeks. I have never seen this side of Tyler. Hes always been my little boy since our first sexual encounter. He told me he always liked being dominated, but apparently not tonight.
"Im so fucking close because of all your teasing. You better put that mouth to some good use other than giving me sass" He barks, bobbing my head up and down his cock. I felt the tip of his cock hit near the back of my throat, making me slightly gag. I heard him chuckle darkly, suddenly thrusting his hips up to my mouth. I forgot to swallow my spit, saliva traveling down my mouth to his balls, dripping to the bed.
"Aw, fuck! Your mouth feels so good!" He groans, picking up the pace in his hips. I tried breathing through my nose, only being able to gather little oxygen. I hum around him, trying to get him closer to his climax so I could breathe. "Oh, s-shit! Im gonna c-cum.." Before he could even finish his sentence, he reached his end, hot spunk shooting into the back of my throat. I swallow as much as I can, the rest dripping to the bed.
I feel him soften inside my mouth, then pulling out. I gasp, coughing a little bit. I wipe a tear away from my eye, looking at the mess on the bed. Tyler sighs, laying his head on a pillow. We were both out of breath, out of words, out of energy. I crawl up to lay next to him, putting my head next to his.
"Did I go too rough on you?" He asks, voice soft as before. "I feel like I went total berzerk on you"
"No, you didnt. I actually kind of liked being treated like toy to be honest" I chuckle, earning a grin from Tyler. "I guess your 'baby boy' days are over?"
"I dont know yet. I just got really pissed that you kept teasing me" He responded honestly, moving an arm around me. I nestle into the hug, hearing his heartbeat in his chest.
"Lets sleep on it. Being mouth fucked is tiring" I mumble, closing my eyes.
"Night, Y/n" He sighs, kissing the top of my head. I smile, loving the cuddle time after sex
"Night"
#tyler joseph#Tyler Robert Joseph#tyler joseph smut#tyler joseph fan fiction#tyler joseph fanfic#tyler joseph fanfiction#Twenty One Pilots#twnety one pilots#twenty one pilots edit#twenty one pilots smut#twenty øne piløts#josh#joshua dun#joshua william dun#Josh Dun#Josh Dun!#josh dun fanfiction#josh dun fluff#josh dun fanfic#smut
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The Girl Who Knew The End {17}
Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader Watching, Waiting, No More
Chapter Fifteen // No King to Me
Chapter Sixteen // (You’re Here!)
Chapter Seventeen // My Brother, My Father, My King
A/N: *sobs* there's only nine more parts to write after this. We’re really on the home stretch now guys. I’m gonna miss writing this, and it isn’t evEN OVER ET! - Nemo
Warning(s): Death. Angst. Descriptions of the effects of fire.
Summary: (y/n) decides to go find Fili, and bring him home - whether that means carrying a body or helping him walk, she doesn’t care. But when she gets to Laketown, she get’s a little more than what she bargained for.
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
[Like my writing? Want to support me? Why not buy me a coffee? Times are hard now, so I don’t expect you to. Only if you want.]
It didn’t take you long to pack your things, especially since you never really unpacked. But before you could leave, two brothers stood in your way.
“Move, please.” you said, closing your eyes with a tight sigh.
“We want to know exactly what you’re planning to do.” Balin said, stepping forwards, down off the crumbled rocks of Erebor’s gates. “You can’t just go and expect everything to be fine and dandy. What if you do find Fili?” You looked up at Balin, pursing your lips together.
“I’ll know what to do.”
“You won’t.” Dwalin said, speaking softly, “Nothing can prepare anyone for what you might find if you go, even if the person is as special as you.”
You looked down at your feet, holding your bag a little tighter, then stood up straight, looking between them both.
“Even if I find the worst, he still deserves to come to Erebor. I’m still bringing him home.” They looked between themselves, having a silent conversation in a way only siblings could. You wondered if you could do that with Legolas.
Dwalin then came to you, wrapping his arms around you in one massive hug. You practically sobbed right there. He was warm, and welcoming, and felt exactly like a friend would. You hadn’t been hugged since the night before you left Laketown.
At this point, after everything you’d seen, you were cracking at the edges. Nothing was going like it should be, and nothing would after this either.
The Woodland Elves chased after the Company longer than they were supposed to. Orcs were after your blood as much as they were after Thorin’s. Thorin’s dragon sickness seemed to be worse than before. Fili was dead.
Nothing would go by the script anymore.
“You’ll be okay.” Dwalin said, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. “Do you need one of us to come with ya?”
“No Dwalin,” you said, shaking your head as you wiped your eyes, “You need to stick with Thorin and Kili. If anything happens to them -”
“- We’ll look after them.” Balin said, smiling as he patted your shoulder. “Just look after yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.”
----------
Erebor looked beautiful from where you were.
Looking back at the mountain from over the ruined Dale properly was something you decided to skip on before, you looked a little longer now. The destruction was still the same, but there was some beauty behind it. Sometimes things like this were less destruction, and more clearing a path for rebirth. Now there were refugees from Laketown there, faintly seen, but still there.
But you knew you couldn’t stay long. If Fili was still alive - as unbelievable as it was - he might not have long left. So you went back on your way again. Laketown was behind you, some parts still smoking, and a lot of it was complete ruins, even from the distance you stood. Hell, you even had a lake to cross to get to the ruins.
To your right you heard a noise, still faint, but still there. What you saw made your heart both sink and almost beat out of your chest.
Thranduil was coming.
But you weren’t going to wait around for him. You had a dwarf to find - you were not going to Thranduil.
You kept on walking, stones and grass both flattening under your feet. You kept your head down, clutching your cloak around you further. It was cold, and stopping to gawk at Dale didn’t help in keeping your blood circulation up.
“Princess!” someone called behind you. You turned, now only walking backwards. You were not stopping.
“Who are you?” you asked, looking up at the elf - clearly one of Thranduil's guards - who had ridden over to you. Further behind him was Thranduil. He obviously wasn’t going to make the effort to stray from his path - honestly neither were you.
“I am Maether,” he said, circling you as you walked, “The King wishes you to join him.”
“I am not joining him, I’m going to Laketown.” you said, stopping as you looked up at the elf, him stopping in front of you, “You can tell him he can either help me get there or leave me alone.”
Maether looked at you, slightly shocked, before smiling slightly down at you, nodding once.
“As you will. I’ll tell him.” He rode off, and you kept walking. Until you heard him coming back with someone else. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes as you stopped again. You didn’t feel like talking at all, let alone to some elves that wouldn’t leave you alone.
“Listen - Maether - I don’t want to go with Thranduil, I need to get to Laketown, so just tell your King that -” Your words caught in your throat, having turned around now you could see that Maether wasn’t there at all. It was Thranduil, looking down at you with a smile in his eyes, and a riderless horse beside him.
“Tell me what, my dear?” he said, letting the smile reah his face as he tilted his head at you. “That you can or cannot use a ride to get to Laketown?”
“I would - I would use it! But, why?” you asked, coming closet to take the reins from him. “I thought you were against dwarves?”
“Maybe.” He said, shifting in his saddle. “But you’ve reminded me it shouldn’t matter, grudges don’t get anyone anywhere. You’re mother was a lot like you when she was here. Selfless. Kind. She looked after her kin - just like you.”
“I can’t thank you enough - really.” You said, somehow managing to mount the horse and get somewhat closer to his level. “I wish I could repay you, but I have to go.”
“May I ask why you’re going back there?” Thranduil asked, nodding to Laketown as he turned his elk back to his army of elves. “Aren’t your dwarves in the Mountain?”
“One isn’t. I need to find him and bring him home.” He frowned at that.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They say Fili, the Heir after Thorin, has died. I don’t believe them.” you explained, looking over at the Lake rather than him. “So I’m going to find him.”
“You may need more than one horse to help you, if you’re so sure. Will you need me to send someone to go with you?” Your brain seemed to short-circuit. Would you actually need help?
You had already said no to Balin and Dwalin, but that was because their place was with Thorin and Kili, not with you. Could you need the assistance Thranduil is offering?
“No, I think I’ll best do it alone.”
“Very well. You’ll know where to find us.” Thranduil said, nodding at you once more before starting off to his kin, shouting back to you one last time. “Stay safe!”
----------
The trip down to the Lake was easy enough, especially with the horse. He was a very gentle and nice horse, and since Thranduil didn't tell you his name you decided to give him one.
Tom Hiddleston seemed perfect.
Your next challenge was getting from the shore to Laketown. You had no idea how to do that, and you had no idea what to do with Tom Hiddleston. Would he stay where you left him, or would he go back to the elves?
“Where will you go, hm?” you asked, holding onto the reins. You took his head in your hands, having already dismounted, and looked into his eyes. “You seem smart enough to do the right thing, don’t you?”
He let out a nicker, then sighed, bumping his head with yours.
“Okay, okay. Don’t get into trouble.” you said, laughing lightly as you let his reins go and then searched for a boat. Finding one wasn’t hard. Figuring out how to use it with one person was. But like everything else over these past months you sorted yourself out without losing too much more time.
Rowing was the hardest part, since you weren’t exactly used to it. You tried remembering what Bard did - he had a pole-thing, one used to move the barge. Your oars weren’t big, but there was a larger oar in the boat with you, and in its own way that worked better.
Despite rowing being the hardest part, the worst part was actually getting to Laketown. By now it was hard to see, the darkness of night had reached you - but that still wasn’t the worst of it. You could stop the darkness with your own light.
Death was everywhere.
Buildings were burnt to ash. Soot covered everything. There were bodies both in the water and on the wooden walkways. Some places were still burning, days after they were first set alight.
Anyone that didn’t make it out before now would be dead - if only from the amount of death they were surrounded by.
But you weren’t going to give up yet.
“Fili!” you called, waiting in hopes of something in reply aside from the water lapping at your boat and the small crackles from the torch in your hand. “Fili, are you there?”
Eventually you couldn’t differentiate between the cracks in your voice and the crackles from your fire.
You boat stopped, caught by something in the water. You thought it was probably just ruins - that’d happened at least twice by now - but when you placed your torch down at the water to see how you could remove it, you jolted back.
Your heart was beating up your throat, and you had to remind yourself Smaug was dead, and the dark of night was helping play tricks on your mind.
After all, it was only his body.
You peaked over the boat's edge again, taking another look. His eye stared back at you, blanck and glassy.
He wasn’t any less scary in death, but he did seem a little more harmless. Like seeing a shark in an aquarium - you know it can’t hurt you, but the respect for what it could do is still there.
“Sheesh Smaug,” you said, your breath festering in front of you in puffs, “You’re one big dragon.” You looked ahead, seeing where his body landed. Crushed buildings lay in its wake - both large and small.
If Fili got caught under the dragon, he’d be dead for sure.
“Fili!” you said, mustering as much strength as you could to try and project your voice further than before. And for a moment you got the same reply as a millions of times before - silence.
But then there was a crash, and a very distinct moan of pain.
“Fili.” you breathed, not believing what you heard. Could that really be him?
You pushed the boat off Smaug and towards a dockable part of the ruins, tying it to a pole as quickly as you could before jumping onto the wood deck and running to where the noise came from.
“Fili?” you said, rounding another fruitless corner. Maybe you were just hearing things? “Fili, please, tell me where you are!” You screamed, tilting your head back to speak to the stars above you.
A grunt came from your left. It was close. But now you were close you could tell it wasn’t Fili. It wasn’t even a man’s voice. You came here for Fili, but if there was another survivor, then what kind of person would you be to leave them here to die if they could be saved?
“Hello, anyone?” you called again, and another noise came. You followed it, keeping a hand tight on your sword just in case. You stopped at a supply-closet type of room. You lent against the door, there was definitely someone inside. But what were they doing in a closet?
“Hello? I’m going to let you out, if that’s okay?” you told them, somehow thinking that could calm them down. You tried the handle, but found it was locked.
“The hard way then.” you said to yourself, placing the torch against the wall, and took your sword out. You swung at the lock, and again, and again, before it finally came loose enough to break.
You pried the lock off the door, leaving a nice hole in the door to use as a handle instead. With nothing left stopping you, you swung the door open. What you saw almost made you fall into the water behind you.
“Mom?”
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Armor Champions Super R - Episode 161 (Do Not Copy)
Inside an old cave underneath the ruins of the enemy's hideaway, the three champions -- Billy, Carla, and Desoto -- confronted a foe from the latter's past.
Desoto of the BlackShadow pointed his right finger to the enemy as he reported "Dis is da bastard dat ruined Joe's life over-and-over!"
The cowboy lowered his head as he asked "Ain't dat right, Kyle Troi?"
The white-haired warrior now revealed as Kyle Troi gave out a sinister smile as Billy of the IceDome informed Carla of the GoldenGrail "Joey's ex. That answers how he knows the same abilities as Joey."
Troi explained "Agis Basileus came to me out of the blue. Once I heard about this Angel of the New, I wanted in. I provided not only weaponry, but the science behind what has made us invincible."
"You used your poisons..." Carla implied. "...to learn about everything from the Golden Eye of Hypnos to the boy that had the blood with its remains intact."
After everything was revealed, Billy gave out a quick chuckle and responded.
"You're an idiot if you think Joey will go back to worthless worms like you."
Carla turned to the boy in blue armor who stood at her left side.
She thought "What is wrong with you? This is not the boy I met at the cookie shop."
Then the girl in yellow armor faced forward as she thought "This is a cruel and unbalanced version. What happened to the Billy these people loved and admired?"
She finally gave out a shocked look.
"Could it be?" She cried.
Carla's thoughts:
In a dark room filled with large shelves of books, the courageous Jede of the CosmicFire ran toward the opponent Sir Laiyun as he carried his long red katana.
As he was close, Jede took the cover off the sharp red blade. Then he swung the blade to his enemy. The entire body of Laiyun had split into two halves and they created a large explosion.
During this, the smoke had brushed into the blue eyes of the champion, Billy of the IceDome.
After that, the girl held her right hand over her heart and stared at Billy of the IceDome with fear in her eyes.
"No!" She cried. "That explains his outbursts. This trait... This vicious trait came directly from him!"
Desoto of the BlackShadow turned to her and asked "Wat's goin' on Carla? Why so gloomy?"
And Carla told Billy "Stand down!"
Billy turned to her and the frightened Carla backed two steps away.
"Stay out of this, Carla!" Billy yelled in anger.
"Wat da hell Man?" Desoto questioned. "Da hell's yer problem?"
"Desoto!" Carla cried. "Move away quick!"
Desoto turned to her once again and asked "Da hell's goin' on?"
"Look at his eyes Desoto!" Carla directed.
Then Desoto faced Billy once again. And the cowboy in black armor stood in awe.
"Wat's dis?" He cried.
The color of Billy's eyes had turned from a peaceful blue to a gloomy black.
"We need to get Billy out of here at once!" warned Carla. "If I am right, we are in real danger!"
Armor Champions Super R -- Episode 161: The Fallen Angel Arc -- The Wrath of the Fallen One
"Hey!" Troi yelled. "Eyes up here! I'm not finished with you, Desoto. In fact, I just started!"
And Desoto told him "Shut ur hole! I'm gettin' to ya in a minute!"
"What?" The enemy cried. "Do I look like chopped liver to you or something?"
A black wave soon rose from Billy as he stared at Troi.
"Lay one hand on my friend!" Billy yelled. "And I will KILL YOU!"
Desoto slowly backed away as he asked "Wat's goin' on wit' ya Billy?"
"It's Laiyun!" Carla informed the cowboy. "He might have transferred his essence into Billy!"
"Laiyun?" questioned Desoto. "Ya mean da old guy Kaballa beat back at dat big balloon? How?"
And Carla said "Sometimes a dark wizard is able to place his aura into a host's body. I am certain that was what Laiyun did once he was vanquished by Jede."
"No way!" cried Desoto. "Dat's why Billy's been like dis? He's gonna turn out like dat old bag?"
"I cannot be sure," answered Carla. "It is possible. That is why we must get Billy to withdraw from this battle. He will indeed kill if threatened."
The black aura around Billy's body grew larger as the area began to shake.
At the ruins of the hideaway, the other champions led by Jede of the CosmicFire had felt the entire ground shake as well.
"What is this?" questioned Relena of the CosmicFire. "An earthquake?"
"No," Joey of the EnergyTree implied. "That's not it!"
"He's right," replied Gei of the RedPlanet. "This is no quake. I can feel a strange power nearby."
"Truly?" asked Nina of the GreatRose.
"No way!" cried Jede of the CosmicFire.
"I feel this ki as well," Kody of the HardRock described. "And I have never felt anything like it before."
Then Aaron of the SilverLight wrapped himself with his arms and cried in fear "This power. It feels just as cold as the one we are fighting. But this... It is also vengeful and more destructive."
And Jede asked "Could it be coming from where Billy, Carla, and Desoto are fighting the other foe?"
The scared Aaron lowered his head as he continued to feel the evil ki.
"This power..." He cried. "This power is as dangerous as Azazel. We must all stay alert!"
The clueless Nemo held the head of his father's body as he looked into the sky.
"What is that?" He cried. "It is scary! A chilling force is out there!"
Inside the cave, the possessed Billy faced the questioned Troi with a wicked smile on his face.
Billy began to chant "Polgoleszhunta, Polgoleszhunta, Polgoleszhunta!"
Parts of the earth rose as both Carla and Desoto watched in horror. Next, a large wave of wind blew from Billy to the enemy Troi who held his wrists to his face.
"What is going on?" Troi yelled. "I have never felt a strong and demented power like this?"
Second, Billy spread his arms out as he looked up. And he slowly stepped forward as large balls of black fire flew from him to his opponent.
"What is this guy?" cried a feared Troi.
The black-eyed Billy faced the enemy once again with an wicked grin as small specs of white lightning came from his body along with more balls of fire.
"BILLY!" Carla screamed. "STOP!"
"Why, Carluko?" Billy asked in a soft voice. "Why should I stop when I have just begun to play?"
The determined Desoto of the BlackShadow hurried as he yelled "STOP IT BILLY!"
And a large explosion began to vaporize the whole cave.
Minutes later, the smoke began to clear.
"DESOTO!" Carla screamed. "BILLY!"
The smoke finally faded and Carla stared forward.
"What?" She cried.
The demented Billy was held by the arms of a caring but different Desoto. His body was muscular than before as his eye were green instead of blue. His hair was a lighter blond and in spikes. And a fiery golden energy had surrounded his entire body.
He held onto his friend Billy as a calm Desoto said "I got ya Pal. Let it out."
The black aura surrounding Billy slowly faded as he cried "Let me do this! Let me kill him Desoto! I can end this!"
"Is he?" Carla questioned. "Is Desoto? Has he transformed into a Super-Kainobi like Billy and Aaron?"
The golden energy continued to rise as Desoto held the destructive Billy in his arms.
And the eased cowboy said "It's okay. Feel my glow, Billy. Get dat damn power outta you."
The black aura finally disappeared as the boys lowered to their knees. Tears soon came from his black eyes as Billy stared at his friend in fear. Then Billy wrapped his arms around Desoto's waist. And his eyes had returned to blue as Billy began crying.
Desoto turned back to normal and continued to hold Billy. A relieved Carla walked toward them with her hands together.
"What's happening to me?" cried Billy.
And he leaned his head onto Desoto's chest.
"We'll figure it out," Desoto told him. "You'll be okay."
"What about Troi?" Carla responded. "He escaped when the explosion happened."
"It's fine," Desoto answered. "Billy scared dat bastard off. I'm sure we ain't gonna see him no more."
"Do you believe that?" asked Carla.
Desoto faced her and thought for a moment. Then he responded "He better. Troi ain't a sucker. He knows he's beat."
At the ruins, the other champions continued to watch the merciless Azazel who floated at the other side along with his servant Agis Basileus.
"Whatever had happened over there seems to be finished," reported Kody of the HardRock.
Aaron of the SilverLight blew out a large breath as his right hand was on his chest. And he said "That's a relief."
The emotionless Azazel continued to wait as Basileus reported "No message has come from him. But this is Troi I speak of. Perhaps he decided to play a quiet game with the three meddlesome lambs."
He stared at the remaining heroes and responded "And it appears the lambs here have not decided on a move against you, Milord."
Then the undead aristocrat gave out a soft chuckle and implied "It is possible that they all have gathered that there is nothing to do but to let God set this course, with due respect."
Suddenly, Azazel folded his arms on his chest as his eyes closed. He soon spread his arms apart and a barrage of silver energy in the form of feathers launched from his eight wings.
The champions began to see the swarm of feathers flying toward them and Joey of the EnergyTree called "Incoming!"
Kody of the HardRock hurried before his team and began striking many of the projectiles one-by-one using the front end of his long blue staff which emitted orange energy.
Meanwhile, Relena of the CosmicFire blew a barrage of small pink fire from her palms which burned the rest of the enemy's projectiles.
"You must all stay focused!" Jede informed his team. "We have no idea of what he plans to use next. We should attack from this range, and only this range."
"Not a problem!" Joey told him. "Long range is my specialty after all!"
Second, Nina of the GreatRose blew an even larger stream of purple gas from her mouth to the villains. As a cloud formed around the team of Azazel and Basileus, Joey of the EnergyTree fired an arrow of yellow energy from his bow.
"Dead Silence..." He whispered. "Annihilate!"
And the projectile created a large explosion once it reached the ghastly barrier.
Next, Aaron of the SilverLight formed a globe of silver energy around each hand. He threw his fists forward and blew a barrage of small energy balls into the explosion.
"Light Release..." He yelled. "Great Heaven's Wrath!"
A pair of small orbs resembling suns spiraled clockwise around the front of the champion in mahogany armor -- Gei of the RedPlanet.
"Scorch Release..." He called. "Twin Rotating Tears!"
And the energy orbs flew into the explosion as well.
The swift Basileus flew out and floated by the left side of the large smoke.
"Why you insignificant pups!" He yelled. "The lot of you would be wise to yield instead of signing your names into a death seal!"
Before he was able to attack, four small balls of purple energy fired at Basileus.
"What the devil?" He yelled.
Basileus dodged every projectile by performing pirouette spins. Then he spotted his attacker -- Desoto of the BlackShadow. The cowboy in black armor appeared to him from a quick flash and punched the left side of the undead warrior's face using his right fist that emitted black energy.
"Take dat Bastard!" Desoto yelled.
Basileus was finally launched like a rocket into the ground.
Another champion -- Billy of the IceDome -- appeared at the other side of the large smoke. He formed a large ball of silver energy from his palms and blew the projectile at the target as a blue light was emitted.
"Ice Release..." Billy yelled. "Silver Wolf's Howl!"
Carla of the GoldenGrail flew to Billy's left side and and fired a large ball of silver light that was surrounded by blue energy.
"Light Release..." She called. "White Heron Strike!"
And another explosion happened in the sky.
Aaron of the SilverLight flew down to his leader and asked "Do you think we got him? Or put a dent on him at least?"
Jede of the CosmicFire placed his palms forward as he told his teammate "I wish it were easy as you put it."
Then he formed a diamond using the fingers on both hands and blew out long spears of dark fire from his mouth after he shouted "Breeding Chaos Scatter!"
After spreading out his hands, leaves made of green energy whirled around Joey's right hand as he turned clockwise. And he blew the stream of leaves toward the explosion.
"Lightning Release..." He whispered. "Wintergreen Hurricane!"
Aaron of the SilverLight rose his hands as a globe of silver energy formed around each hand. And he threw his fists forward which blew out a barrage of small silver balls.
"Great Heaven's Wrath!" He called.
Billy of the IceDome held his hands forward and blew a medium ball of blue energy that was followed by a blue light.
"White Timber's Eyes!" He yelled.
Lots of sand rose around Kody of the HardRock from the ground. The sand soon formed into a large sphere of orange energy. And a long projectile of the same energy fired from the sphere.
"Earth Release..." Kody yelled. "Atomic Flow Technique!"
Another explosion took place at the area which formed into a thick fog.
After the smoke slowly cleared, the team found their enemy Azazel standing at the same place with burned feathers falling from his long wings.
"As I replied earlier," Jede told his team. "I wish that this was easy."
"Look at that!" Relena cried. "No dent on him at all!"
"At least not his body," Joey reported. "Parts of his wings had turned black!"
"He got burned!" Desoto yelled. "Dat's good right?"
More feathers fell from his wings as Azazel watched every champion while he didn't display any emotion.
"How are we going to beat this guy?" asked Gei.
Billy lowered his head and yelled "Shit! Is he even mortal?"
A disgusted Carla turned her face to the right side and asked "Is there something else we can do?"
"We should think of a plan while we still can," Nina implied. "The demon grows stronger at every second."
"Now we know why all the deities had kept him caged," Aaron responded. "Azazel is too dangerous to ignore."
"I cannot understand this," cried Kody. "We all received this new power from the lady Mystic. We are supposed to be stronger than before. But how is it that neither of us cannot penetrate this menace?"
"Dis shit ain't right!" yelled Desoto. "We got did power for nothin'?"
Joey lowered his head as Carla implied "We were all given these powers for a reason. I know that there is something we haven't tried. We just need to find out what."
"Perhaps..." Jede informed them. "Maybe we should exercise what I have said for so long."
"You mean working as a team?" asked Relena.
"Maybe Blaze is on to something," said Joey..
"Wat?" cried Desoto.
Joey turned to his cousin who stood by his right side. And the boy in green armor responded "I think Jede's saying that we should give our powers to him."
"Wait!" Aaron replied. "That may work. We used that attack against other enemies and succeeded."
"What attack?" questioned Gei.
Then Kody explained.
"If we were to lend our powers to him, Jede may be able to finish this enemy by using a great attack with his sword."
"What do you all think?" asked Jede.
"Is that possible with this guy?" questioned Aaron.
"It's worth a try," said Billy. "We give our energy to Jede. And Jede blasts the enemy to outer space. I'm game."
"There are seven of us," Kody told Jede. "Perhaps this plan may either work or give us time. We must try something."
"I'm convinced," said Relena.
And Gei said "Make that nine."
"We shall help," Nina told the team. "Receiving energy from the nine of us should be more than sufficient."
"Cool!" Desoto cheered. "We got da A team wit' us!"
The calm Jede faced the malicious Azazel and told his team "With the powers from the nine of you, I may be able to give some amount of damage to the Devil Incarnate at least."
He soon gave out a confident smile and said "Or we may at once vanquish him. But we only can do this together, as a group."
After that, the nine champions had made a circle around him as Jede of the CosmicFire took out his long red katana. Jede slowly uncovered the shining blade of the weapon from its cover as the others joined hands. And the team closed their eyes as Jede held the sword with both hands.
Jede praised "By the help of Lady Mystic and the other deities... I hope for this plan to work."
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Day 1: Thin Walls
Writing Prompt: Day 1, Surreal and Mundane: In today’s work, take something mundane and make it surreal, just like it says on the box. Play around with something normal until you make it strange!
Thin Walls
The floor of my first apartment was covered in a dense, beige carpet that I wanted to hate, but I couldn’t. I loved the way I could slip silently from my room to the tiny hallway bathroom like a cat. I loved lowering my feet to the floor in the morning and scrunching up my toes in the shag. I had always dreaded getting out of bed in my dorm room, where the floors were an ancient grey tile that made me feel like I lived in a janitor’s closet. The tile was always frigidly cold in the winter, and weirdly moist in the summer months, a result of an overworked A/C window unit. I had come to college in the city expecting a more idyllic experience, surrounded by hardwood floors and tattered paperbacks, the sound of coffee brewing while I would sit writing, blowing cigarette smoke out the window of our eighth-floor dorm room. I don’t even smoke. I don’t know what I was thinking. The dorms were shit, of course. My roommate was a business major with a Disney obsession that bordered on fetish territory. Instead of the vintage maps and photos I would have gathered from thrift shops on lazy Saturdays, our room was covered in Moana and Finding Nemo posters. On the deadline to renew our space in the dorm, neither of us asked the other if were going to continue living together. I felt somewhat panicked about the prospect of finding an apartment in the city, but I knew the alternative was hating my life. I’m a nester, and I was trapped in a cage with nothing but torn up newspaper for bedding.
My first night in my new apartment was exhilarating. The blank walls, the vast expanse of beige carpet--it felt like a newly-stretched canvas begging for a Pollock-esque attack of color. I had spent my freshman year living like a monk, saving every penny from my job stacking books at the school library. Even still, the only apartment I found in my price range was, by any first-world definition, a complete dump. The carpet was, admittedly, hideous and filthy. The oven face was half-consumed with rust, the fridge howled like it was in its death throes, usually in the middle of the night, and as I set my last box of things down in the middle of the living room floor, I heard two voices through the thin walls. They were fighting.
Hey, I thought, That’s the city! This will be character building.
I don’t mention this as an excuse, but I am from a small town a couple hours out from the college I enrolled in. My father was a farmer, my mother sold MAC cosmetics, her eye on a pink Cadillac that would never materialize. I don’t feel like a country bumpkin, as a coworker would meanly (he thought endearingly) sometimes address me. But in retrospect, maybe in some aspects I was overly naive. I suppose the reason I’m writing all this is so you can be the judge. Are my experiences tainted by my inexperience? Or are they, as I suspect, a little...off?
I ask because I am biased, mostly due to the fact that I am terrified.
Too exhausted to put together the cheap IKEA bed frame I bought the weekend before, I slept on a mattress in the middle of my bedroom floor. “Middle” is literal but not what you think. On three sides of my mattress there was less than a foot of carpet before you reached the wall. At the foot of the bed, there was a generous yard of space before you reached the door. I could literally jump off the bed and into the bathroom across the small hallway, if I wanted to, which I did, but I was scared of scaring the people who lived below me. I was on the fourth floor of a building that reminded me of the Happiness Hotel from The Muppets Take Manhattan (if you haven’t seen the movie, it’s not what you think, i.e. “happy”). I saw a couple other students there, but none that would make eye contact with me, or return my polite, tight-lipped nods in the long cement hallway that led to the underground laundry room I was secretly terrified to use. Mostly, the building housed adults in their late twenties to early thirties who looked so beaten down by life it made you wonder if they were ever innocent, or if something happened when they were born that stole that from them. There were not many older residents, as the building had no elevator, but the people who lived there were ancient enough in their stone-faced weariness to feel as alien to me as an octogenarian. It does not help that I am also painfully shy.
As I fell asleep that first night, the voices on the other side of the wall were no longer fighting. They seeped through the plaster as a warm, muffled hum. I couldn’t make out the words, just the cadence of two voices in a rhythmic back-and-forth, speckled with occasional laughter. I enjoyed the seeming ease of their conversation, something I rarely enjoyed in my own social life. I just wasn’t good at talking to people. I got lost in my own head, and none of what I found in there felt good enough to say out loud. There were always awkward silences, and I felt boring.
That first night in the apartment, I was exhausted and happy, and drifting off to the sound of their muffled conversation was oddly comforting to me. I dreamt about throwing my first party. I would introduce everyone by their first and last names, everyone would dress up without being told to, and we would debate philosophy and drink martinis. Note to self: Take a philosophy class, figure out what a martini is.
The next morning, I made an entire pot of coffee. Not because I would drink an entire pot of coffee, but because I loved the sound of it hissing and bubbling, and I wanted it to go on for as long as possible. I had spent almost every penny in my bank account on the move from the dorm, and cheap thrills were all I had. When it was done, I poured myself a cup in a mug I had found at Goodwill (“#1 Grandpa”) and began unboxing what few things I owned. It wasn’t long before I heard the voices again.
The first voice that spoke was a man, the second was a woman. This made sense to me, as it seemed that the apartment building I had settled in acted as some kind of beacon for couples who looked more like cellmates than lovers. The men carried themselves like middle-aged coal miners trapped in the bodies of twenty-something weed dealers. The women squinted like they were trying to harness their telekinetic potential. I later learned that the squint was a warning: Look at my boyfriend and I will spit on you. I learned this the hard way.
I easily assumed the couple with whom I shared both a living room and bedroom wall with was one such couple. I felt an smug superiority to them. I was nineteen: A glowing, vibrating ball of potential. They were....some other age: Two gas station Bic lighters, burning the finger of whoever tried to keep the little flame alight for too long. In retrospect, I was grossly pretentious and judgmental, and while I blamed my shyness for the fact that I didn’t have a lot of friends, I can admit now that it was definitely also my own fault.
As I arranged my books in alphabetical order on the mismatched thrift store bookshelves I had acquired, the voices raised again. This time I could make out words, some phrases.
Your job.
Stupid.
Gone.
(or was it “Done?”)
Fucked.
You do it.
We do it together.
No, your job, you do it!
Fucked forever.
Back and forth, an endless game of tossing blame to each other. My superiority complex tingled as I envisioned the day I lived with my future (hypothetical) boyfriend. We’d be renovating an old Brownstone together, a herculean effort for two graduate students studying English and Egyptology, but we’d cobble together our resources and return the property to her former glory on a shoestring budget. A montage of playful paint fights and blanket forts played in my head as I arranged my books to the sound of my neighbors screaming at each other over something one of them had fucked up at their dead-end job.
Later that afternoon, I went for a walk. Down the street from my building there was a hospital, and I discovered on accident that behind the building there was a small courtyard where patients could smoke, but almost never did. It became my secret garden, this patch of grass with a smattering of benches marked with bronze plaques bearing the names of people who never made it out of the hospital. I would read there, the peaceful silence only broken by occasional wailing, which was something I had grown used to since I moved to the city.
I had been in the apartment for a month when classes started back up. I had settled in, a stack of unwashed dishes and a cleared path from the bedroom to the bathroom cut between mounds of unwashed laundry were the tedious reality of life on my own. The fantasy of living on my own unmasked for its true monotony.
It was nearly Christmas, and the frigid weather outside made my increasingly-sad little apartment feel finally, suddenly, precious to me, as it had been only in my fantasies, and only because winter had metamorphosed the world outside into something so ruthless and unpleasant that even the dingiest of apartments felt like a vacation retreat. When classes let out for Christmas break, I tried not to leave the house unless absolutely necessary. It was then that I heard the familiar sound of my neighbor’s voices through the walls again, yelling at each other as if this argument were the one to end them all (though I knew better than to think that, at this point). I wasn’t sure if the walls had grown thinner, or their voices had just grown louder, but for whatever reason, I could hear them more clearly than ever.
She: Worthless bum!
He: That’s not fair. I’m trying. I’m trying to help us! I want to (unintelligible).
She: You had a job to do and you didn’t do it.
He: I need more time!
She: Time? You’ve had time!
He: (Unintelligible)
She: (Laughing cruelly) You’ve had hundreds of years!
The voices stopped suddenly, as if they had been caught, and my bedroom fell silent. Alone in my bed, I swear to God I could feel them staring at me through the walls. I held my breath, willing them to keep arguing. I didn’t move for what felt like hours, and they remained silent. As I finally fell asleep, the only sound was the ticking of the radiator pipes.
The next day my mom picked me up to drive me home for Christmas break. I gave her a tour of my apartment, to which she responded with an enthusiasm that felt very sad and forced. I almost didn’t show her the bedroom, but she pushed the door open ahead of me and stepped inside. I had cleaned up in anticipation of her arrival, but the room still looked very sad. I was seeing it through the eyes of an outsider for the first time, and I felt embarrassed.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “What happened here? This doesn’t look good.”
She gestured towards the wall, in the direction of where the voices had come from last night. A dark, amorphous stain had formed on the wall around eye level. It was a sickly brown, the kind I had seen before, when I pipe burst in our bathroom at home and on our dining room ceiling the ring of water damage bloomed until my dad finally had to cut out a huge section of the plaster.
“Oh geeze,” I said. “I hadn’t noticed that before.”
She touched it.
“This is moist,” she said. “You better call the super ASAP or whatever burst could ruin this whole wall.”
I reached out toward the stain, but couldn’t bring myself to touch it.
“This is a shared wall,” I said. “I can hear my neighbors on the other side.”
“Well,” my mom said, turning to return to the living room. “You should tell them, too.”
Christmas break was perfect. I hadn’t realized what a relief it would be to fall asleep in my childhood bedroom again. The nights were so quiet it almost freaked me out. I joked with my dad that I needed an ambient sound machine that just playing ambulance sirens now. I helped him out with farm work (even the cold felt less oppressive out here, in the open air) and my mom and I got our nails done at the salon inside Wal-Mart. They let me drink wine with them at dinner. Mom bought me a trunk-full of groceries. She ordered Chinese food on New Years Eve. The smallest things felt so opulent to me. I hadn’t realized how completely broke I was, how adding cream to coffee had become a budgetary extravagance.
Returning to the city was like being sentenced to another year of hard labor. My mom helped me carry the groceries up to my apartment and tearfully hugged me goodbye. It was dark when I finally opened my bedroom door and saw it.
The water stain on my bedroom wall had grown to nearly triple its size. Now, it reached from eye-level to knee-level, its brown rings of soggy blotches drooping towards the floor. But it was not only larger. It had changed. Once just a shade or two darker than the yellowish paint, the spot had taken on the color of whatever it was that had begun seeping through the plaster surface--a dark brown, black in spots. I didn’t have to touch it (I wouldn’t touch it) to know it was wet. Parts had dripped onto the carpet, leaving dark stains on the beige shag.
God, I’m so fucked, I thought, remembering my mother’s warning to tell the building superintendent about the water stain, which I had immediately forgotten as soon as I locked the door behind me. I grabbed my pillows and blankets off the bed, thinking it was probably a good idea to sleep in the living room, and I was about to retreat to the safety of my couch when I heard it.
It was the woman’s voice, but she was alone.
She was alone, and she was laughing.
The next morning I called the superintendent, who took far more convincing than I had expected to agree to come look at the damage. I had imagined him rushing up with an old metal toolbox, sweaty and panicked, furious at me for my negligence of his precious building. Instead, I was met with a series of, Now you’re sure? I almost began to doubt myself, until I opened my bedroom door to peek in, just to remind myself that I wasn’t overreacting. I was almost knocked back by a scent I recognized from working on the farm--wet, decaying earth, alive with rich rot and mold.
The super was up in forty-five minutes, setting the record for slowest climb up four flights of stairs in recorded history. At the risk of becoming a lazy narrator, he was exactly what you might imagine the superintendent of the worst apartment building you’ve ever been in to look like. Instead of a toolbox, he held a bag of sunflower seeds.
When I opened the door to my bedroom, his face didn’t change, but he said “Mama Jama” and shook his head.
He reached out to touch it and without thinking I cried out, “Don’t touch it!”
“Why not?” he said, looking back at me with a squint that made me think I was going to be spit on soon.
“I don’t know,” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
He shook his head and touched the wall. His fingers came away wet and stained with a black mucus-like substance.
“I thought maybe a pipe had burst,” I offered.
“No pipes in this wall,” he said, popping a couple sunflower seeds in his mouth thoughtfully.
“Oh,” I said. “Well, what about the people in the other apartment? Have you heard anything from them?”
“Which apartment?” he said, not looking at me, still eyeing the stain like it was a stand-off.
“The one that shares this wall with me,” I said. “Do you think something this big would affect them too?”
He shrugged.
“It could,” he said. “If there was an apartment on the other side of this wall.”
A wave of goosebumps made me involuntarily shiver.
“This wall,” I said, pointing in the direction of the massive brown mass that took up most of it.
“This wall,” he said, tapping the stain, his fingers making a soft squelching sound. “Why would you think that? The other side of this wall is just insulation, wiring, and brick.”
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Anyway I’ll try to have someone out here tomorrow to get this...issue, taken care of,” he said. “In the meantime, don’t sleep in this room.”
“Okay,” I said.
As soon as he left, I packed my backpack and went to the hospital. I sat in the garden and read until my fingers were shaking so violently from the cold that I could no longer turn the pages of my book. In the hospital lobby, there was a vending machine that would spit out paper cups and fill them with hot coffee with that hissing, bubbling sound I had grown to love. I put in three quarters, got my coffee, and took my little paper cup to a chair in the corner. A nurse was typing away at a computer and hadn’t noticed me yet, as far as I could tell. I wondered how long I could feasibly stay there, sitting in that chair, sipping my watery coffee, before someone asked me to leave. Hours? Days? If I could just wait it out until the repairman came, I wouldn’t have to see, or smell, the stain again. Even still, that didn’t solve the larger issue, which I could not name.
I sat there, reading the same sentence of my book over and over again, tearing my now-empty paper cup into smaller and smaller shreds, until exhaustion finally took over.
If I go home, I reasoned, and I’ll be so tired at this point that I’ll fall straight asleep on the couch. I’ll be too tired to worry about whatever the fuck is going on with my neighbors. The super was wrong. He just got the floor plan confused. It’s a big building, and he seemed pretty out of it anyway.
I compiled a convincing list of explanations, convincing enough that I was able to return to my apartment, unlock the door, toss my backpack down, and flop down on the couch without realizing that there had been two voices yelling when I arrived, and that they had suddenly gone quiet. I had fallen asleep so fast I had not noticed when the two voices began whispering again, when they became frantic. In fact, it was not the voices that woke me at all. It was the tapping.
It was still dark when I woke, and I was in such a haze I did not recognize the sound that had done it. It was rhythmic, but not mechanical.
Tap tap tap.
Pause.
Tap tap tap.
Pause.
Tap. Tap tap.
I sat up on my couch, half wondering if the mechanic was already there, if I lost track of time and it was already morning. In my half-dream state, I tried to find the source of the sound. I wish I had not looked towards the wall. I wish I had not noticed the vintage map (that I had so sought after for so long) which hung above my couch, gently quivering. Quivering in time with a tap.
Tap.
Tap tap tap.
Coming from the behind the wall.
I stopped breathing.
And everything was quiet for a moment.
Until the whisper.
“She’s awake.”
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Jimjeran-Chapter 24 : The Drop Off
It’s getting deep.
Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents
Previously Chapter 23 : The Storm Rough winds are coming.
By nightfall the storm had tapered off somewhat, but in the early hours of the morning it picked up again, thrashing and whipping the tent fabric, breaking off branches and causing the surf to roar. Jamie and I had curled up in bed naked after making love, and when the storm woke us, he gently began stroking my shoulders.
“Your touch wakes me up,” I murmured, rolling back toward him slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a kiss on my shoulder. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“No,” I said, rolling back further, and sliding the covers down to expose my breasts. “I meant, your touch wakes me up.”
“You mean it rouses you?” I could hear the obvious pleasure in his voice, as his hand slowly began to caress me. “I knew I’d like sex,” he said. “That was never a question. What I didna ken was how powerful I’d feel knowing I could give you pleasure.”
I lifted my lips to him, unintentionally letting out a little murmured whine as he took me with his own, offering his soft tongue. I could feel his mouth pull back in a smile.
“That,” he said. “Oh God, Claire, that little noise you make when you like what I’m doing. Feel what it does to me.” He took my hand down under the covers; he was so firm, so big, I wanted him inside me right then. I tried to push up, but Jamie stopped me with his hand on my shoulder.
“I want to taste you,” he said, his lips moving down my throat to my breasts, then my abdomen.
“Jamie, I haven’t showered in days,” I said, squirming under him as if to get away. He moved to my legs, wrapping his strong arms under them and opening my thighs.
“Open to me, Claire,” he said. “Trust me with your body; ye canna disgust me. Anyway, you were in the ocean just yesterday,” he said, kissing closer and closer. I gasped, and he lifted his head. “More of that noise, please,” he said. He lowered his lips to me and my body contracted as I felt the warmth of his tongue. This time it was a squeaky squeal I inadvertently released. He laughed. “You taste like the sea, Ripālle. But you sound like a kitten.” I giggled, gasping as he returned to his efforts.
Finally I ran my fingers through his sleep-tousled curls and lifted his head. “I want to go with you,” I said. “You’re generous, Jamie. But I want to be face to face. I need to be closer to you. I need you to fill me.”
He drew me off the air mattress. Sitting on our blanket on the tent floor, I faced him, sitting astride his lap. It was, I thought curiously, like the way I used to swing with my friends in grade school. The pale light of morning was approaching as we kissed and caressed each other. I could see his blue eyes, intent on me as we moved together, and I gazed at him, open-eyed and fearless.
We lay in each other’s arms on the bed after that, not cradled or spooned, but face to face, our legs intertwined, our arms around each other as if we were trying to melt together. The last thing I remembered was Jamie looking at me, his eyes exploring my face as if to discover all my secrets. I didn’t understand why, but I started crying; and he kissed away my tears until I fell asleep.
A couple of times in the past few days while making love with Jamie, I had flashes of thoughts of Frank. I hadn’t been promiscuous in college. Frank and I had dated briefly the fall of my freshman year. He was interested in me, but he was older. After giving my virginity to him, I had dated a few other guys, being involved to differing extents based on how much I trusted or liked them. I might have had four sex partners other than Frank; well, maybe six. We got together for real in the spring, dated exclusively my sophomore year, and moved in together once I turned 21.
Sex had always been enjoyable with Frank. I loved being touched, loved the way I felt shivers at his fingers on my skin, the way my body warmed up from the inside out. I loved feeling breathless and achy with need. Some of my sex partners had acted like I was supposed to be some sort of porno actress, serving their needs and not even considering mine. When they were like that, they got an instant boot out the door.
On the contrary, Frank was gentle and generous when we made love; but he was never as hungry as I was. He could easily go for days without, even a week or more on occasion. I rarely felt pursued; it seemed like I was the one to initiate much of the time. I knew he was older than me, that his family wasn’t as touchy or affectionate. Sometimes I had to seek him out for a kiss at night if he was up late studying. We could go for days without touching at all.
I hadn’t realized I was starving.
Being with Jamie was the first time I had ever felt physically satiated. Not sexually—it wasn’t that. It was that I was finally being touched enough. A hand on my back or arm. Him pulling me into his side for a quick hug. A brief kiss on the lips, neck, or forehead. Being cuddled in bed, held when I cried.
And when we were together sexually, Jamie was present, enthusiastic, focused on me. If it was light, his eyes were often on me, studying my face, smiling at my reactions. Jamie was a student of my body, in constant learning mode. Maybe that was because of his youth or virginity, but I had a feeling it was just Jamie.
It felt bad to compare, but in some ways I needed to—to justify this sudden choice to myself. I thought of trying to explain to my friends back home, how to explain it to Joe. I had a horrified thought about having to explain myself to Frank, and found myself incredibly grateful that Boston was so far away and that I wouldn’t need to see him for months, if not years.
So whether it was right or not, I kept remembering how Frank would be distracted during lovemaking, like I was one more chore he had to do. How I could try to message with my body and voice that something was working for me or not, and he either wouldn’t pick up on it, or would get offended and turned off because he felt judged. How I could need him, reach out to him, and for whatever reason—stress or busyness—he would not seem to need me.
We woke up when the sun was streaming through the trees, making the tent almost too hot.
“What shall we do today?” I asked. Jamie responded by sliding his hand underneath the covers and cupping my butt, pressing me towards his enormous morning erection.
“Oh, Jamie,” I said. “I’m too sore. I feel like I’ve been riding a horse for three days.”
“Ye flatter me,” he giggled into my neck.
“I’m raw,” I said. “It’s going to sting to go swimming today.”
“We’ve got lube,” he said helpfully.
“Seriously. Hard no. Never thought I’d ever say no to sex with someone as hot as you, but no.”
“Not even if I say, ‘Itok, Ripālle?’” He looked quite hopeful.
“Not even then.”
“What do I do with this, then?” he asked, looking down sorrowfully and shaking his head.
“What you did every morning of your non-married life,” I suggested helpfully. “Whatever that might be.”
He blushed profusely. “Well, I have two options,” he offered.
“Which are?” I asked, teasingly.
“I dinna much feel like I should be doing the first one on my honeymoon,” he said. “So I guess, think about dead things, it is!” He gave me a swift kiss on the lips, smacked me on the backside, and got out of bed.
He stood there for a moment, as if to guilt me.
“Jamie, you’re gorgeous, I love having sex with you. But remember how fun it was to try not to have sex before we were married? Let’s do just a little of that today. Maybe say, we can’t have sex until 2 o’clock.”
“Oooo, I like that,” he said. “I’m going to drive you crazy, until you’re begging me for it.”
“I’ll be kinder,” I said, crawling out of bed and stretching. “I won’t try to drive you crazy.” After my closed-eye yawn, I looked over at him.
“Two o’clock?” he asked, eating me with his eyes.
“Two o’clock,” I answered.
“Do ye have a long, shapeless dress?” he asked. “Maybe an ugly hat, some gigantic sunglasses?” I laughed, and pulled on a bathing suit and cover-up.
When we left the tent, it was surprising to see the damage inflicted by the wind. There were downed coconuts and palm branches all over the place. Fortunately, Jamie’s preparations had protected most of our things.
“Would you like me to take you to the drop off?” Jamie asked, as we ate cold coconut rice and bananas for breakfast.
“The drop-off, like on Finding Nemo?” I asked. “Am I going to get eaten by a barracuda?”
“Yeah, that part was too scary for my little brother when it first came out,” Jamie said. “My ma had to fast forward it.”
“How old were you?”
“Um, if Willie was like 5, that would make me 8?”
“Baby,” I said, shaking my head.
“How old were you?”
“Have we not done the math yet?” I asked him. “I’m five years old than you.”
“Twenty-seven?” he asked. “Hmm.” He grunted.
“You’re disgusted. You’re married to an old lady,” I said, joking, but not feeling the humor inside. I’m not sure why it made me nervous to put it out there. It sounded so old in comparison to twenty-two. “You’re done being married to me. You want an annulment.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve consummated our marriage,” he grinned.
“Yeah,” I said, wincing slightly. “I think it’s too late. You’re stuck with me.”
Jamie wrapped me tightly in his arms. “Dinna joke about it. I chose ye, Claire. No matter what horrible words I said yesterday, I’d marry ye again. Ye dinna have to worry about my commitment to ye.”
I sighed deeply, and Jamie stroked my back, pulled my hair away from my neck and kissed me. I sighed again. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” I murmured.
“I can just touch you, Claire,” Jamie said quietly. “It doesna have to end in sex.”
I couldn’t explain it, but I started crying. Again! “Oh, my word,” I said. “You’re going to think I’m crazy! I’m not sure why I keep crying!”
“I dinna think yer crazy. I just think some things were broken in yer relationship with Frank,” Jamie. “And I may be wrong—it was yer life—but maybe ye felt like to get the touching ye needed, ye had to offer yerself.”
I pushed away from Jamie in shock and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “I wasna trying to be rude.”
“No!” I exclaimed. “That’s it. You’re right. I could never get enough, and so I had to make it worth his while.” Jamie looked down at me compassionately, his hand still tracing the lines of my back.
“You may be young,” I said, “But you’ve got some wisdom. That’s something I don’t think Frank ever understood.”
Jamie pulled me to his chest again. “Mo ghràidh,” he said.
“Oh, that’s Gaelic,” I said. “What’s it mean?”
“My darling,” he said.
“Okay, darlin’,’” I said, drawling the word like a Southerner. “To the ocean side to see the drop off?”
From Teacher Jamie’s diagrams, I was more aware of why there was a drop-off on the ocean side of an atoll. As the volcano sunk under the water, coral would work its hardest to stay close to the light, since most corals are fed by algae, which requires sun to produce energy. On the inside of the atoll, the drop wasn’t as drastic, so there are shallower sections, but the region around the atoll has a steep section where the coral reef is like a cliff.
I knew about the drop off. I understood it. I even expected it. That didn’t change the fact that when Jamie and I swam to the edge of the drop off and peeked over, my stomach dropped as if I was on a roller coaster ride, as if I was going to fall off a skyscraper. I panicked, backed up (which is harder than you might think with fins on), and quickly stood up on some coral.
“That’s terrifying!” I squealed, once Jamie had surfaced with me.
He laughed, continuing to hold my hand, but then his expression changed.
“Hey, Claire,” he said. “We need to get all the way into the water if we’re here on the ocean side.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Trust me,” he said. “Now. Get your mask and snorkel back on.”
I had no idea why, but he seemed serious, so I pushed my mask back on and was getting my snorkel in my mouth when I saw the black-tipped fin moving toward us.
I had to work to avoid hyperventilating once I had my face in the water.
The shark was smaller than I’d expected, probably about four or five feet long. It had been moving toward us, but as Jamie and I, fiercely clinging to his hand, swam toward it, it swerved and swam away from us. It was graceful and beautiful, with a sleek grayish brown body and black tips on its dorsal fins as well as its tail and belly fins.
I had heard that when sharks were in places where there was abundant food, they weren’t usually a threat to humans, but despite my knowledge, I couldn’t get over my anxiety. Jamie could sense it, maybe in the way I was shaking uncontrollably, so he swam with me to the shore, where I stumbled out of the water as quickly as I could.
When we were safely sitting on the sand, Jamie put his arm around me. “They’re skittish, unless they think you’re food. Here in the Marshalls, they know that the best way to avoid a blacktip reef shark bite is to swim instead of wading. The bigger you look, the less likely they are to think of you as food.”
“So when you told me to get in the water, you were preventing a shark attack?” I asked.
“Aye,” he said. “Aet.”
“That’s hilarious!” I said, with a tiny gasp. “The Gaelic and Majel for yes are almost the same word!”
“Strange things strike ye as funny, Ripālle,” he said.
“Well, that was terrifying,” I said. “Can we swim in the iar instead?”
“Sure,” Jamie replied, “But we’re not going in the water at all until you stop shaking.”
He led me back to camp where we grabbed our fishing spears and he stuck his fish stringer on his belt loop, then we headed across to the lagoon side. It was obvious the waves had been bigger than normal, as all sorts of flotsam had washed up on the beach—floats, plastic bottles, sprouted coconuts, palm fronds. I was looking at some of the shells there when Jamie swore.
“This is a muckle great pile of shite,” Jamie said. “The boat’s gone.”
Notes: Scariest thing ever, snorkeling on the ocean side on Arno. I did it exactly once. Between the gut-dropping sensation of going over the drop off, to seeing the blacktip fin shark, I was about done with that after one time. :) There are also tiger sharks around Arno on the ocean side, which are much more dangerous to humans. We were able to see beautiful fish and coral on the lagoon side, and that was good enough for me.
I didn’t have the shark-is-swimming-toward-you-get-in-right-now experience. My shark was gracefully swimming below me in the coral crevices. Wikipedia actually mentions that Marshall Islanders choose to swim instead of wade in order to avoid shark bites!
On to Chapter 25 : The Visitor
You wouldn’t expect this on your honeymoon!
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