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jakeyt · 1 year

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Covet: Chapter 7 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great.

Was.

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home.

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); allusions to ~future happenings~...and that is all i'll say (enter at your own risk); smutty smutty smut; oral sex m!receiving; unprotected p in v sex (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 10.4k+

Covet Masterlist

a/n: hello, lovelies! i present to you the first half of chapter 7!

my personal life is crazy and my job is crazy (understatement). aaand the cherry on top: my dog chewed up my laptop cord this week! 🙃 that instance made my computer completely inaccessible (since i suck at keeping it charged) until today when the new charger arrived in the mail.

this is a shorter chapter than what i'm used to posting (and edited MUCH more lightly than what i’m used to), but the second half is not completely done yet!

i just felt like i needed to post something since i promised a chapter yesterday. i truly hate not keeping my word. hopefully this first part is enough to tie you over :)

ty to my sis @joshym for being a fucking amazing sister, talking through ideas w me, and proofreading for me (plus some) <3 ilysfm

and ty to @alwaysonthemend for being an a1 friend and supporting + encouraging me always. u r truly amazing & ilysm <3

(((the dream at the beginning of this chapter is alluding to something /extremely/ important that is coming in this story, and i've been dying for y'all to find out what is coming since day 1.......)))

soooo, all of this to say, i hope you enjoy the first half of chapter 7 <3

-🌼🌼🌼-

Screaming.

So much screaming.

In the dimness of the new dream, it seemed as though this obtuse, unintelligible screaming was coming from . . .you?

Why did you feel swollen?

And why was everything hurting?

There were also tears. Tears you felt coming from your tired eyes, rushing down your cheeks in steady tracks. Mass amounts of sweat exuded in hot beads from your forehead.

You tried to reach a hand up to wipe at your soaked face.

But the hand you were trying to move was stuck in a vice grip.

Looking over, you tried to decipher the person holding your hand so tight.

You were met with a familiar face, his eyebrows scrunched so tightly together. You’d seen them like that before. But now, it felt almost sacred seeing his concentration.

In your dreamscape, you couldn’t tell what was going on, but it seemed like a long time coming. All you knew was that this was an important moment. Pieces were clicking. A hole was being filled in your broken heart.

And this man with you —he could only do so much. It was bothering him. You could tell that much. His forehead, wet with sweat, from his own stress. His lip was shiny with perspiration, too . . .

Funnily enough, you noticed there was something else taking up residence on the handsome face you knew so well. . .

. . . a mustache?

Whose face was it? The dream-veil was still covering the distinction from you. . .he just felt so safe.

It seemed the mystery man was struggling with his inability to steal the pain from you. He didn’t want you feeling it. He wanted to feel it for you. He hated not being able to help you more.

This person, you knew that he was your anchor at this moment. Your only saving grace. The only person you wanted near you.

His long hair was pulled up.

Then, his soft voice helped you to fully see him through the veil of your dream.

Jake.

“You’ve got this,” he encouraged, his eyes locking with yours. His voice drenched you in relief and overwhelming comfort, in spite of your pained state. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got this.”

But what was your current state? You couldn’t even distinguish . . .

Something in the back of your brain told you to look down. Why was there so much blood?

And why couldn’t you see your feet? Weird.

Suddenly, a loud scream tore through you again. You felt the scream in your muscles. In your bones. Damn. You felt it—everywhere. Sweat was exuding from every pore.

Tendrils of your hair were plastered to your forehead.

But in this position, with all you were feeling, you couldn’t be bothered to push the sticky hair away from your face. It was bothering the hell out of you, though.

This was all too much.

You didn’t need to worry long, though, because the man, now confirmed as Jake, reached up to smooth it away for you.

Oh, he was amazing.

But fuck—the pain.

Another scream ripped through you—

Fuckfuckfuckshitdamnfuuuuuck!—

Suddenly, you heard something from outside of your pain.

Your eyes flew to Jake, then to the sound.

It was coming from somewhere else.

Not this place.

It was grounding. It was reassuring — a steady, secure thrumming pulling you—

Your eyes shot open. Your body was sticky with sweat—reminiscent of that in your dream. (Thankfully, there wasn’t as much as there had been in your subconsciousness.)

Mostly, you were surprised by the lack of screaming. Screaming hadn't been what’d awoken you.

Strange.

No, it was the steadily thrumming heart below your hand, drawing you back to a safe reality.

That was the sound. What had pulled you back.

Jake’s warm, firm chest that held the steady beat was breathing full, sleeping breaths underneath you.

And a strong, comforting arm around you, keeping you close.

You took a minute to regain your current, real surroundings.

It was peaceful. Still.

The serenely sleeping man underneath you.

Your body was still on top of his, the only evidence from your dream being your body, which was sticky with sweat from your exertion in the dream. But other than that, everything was just. . . calm.

Everything was calm. Everything was okay.

You felt true peace. There wasn’t underlying stress from what had happened in your sleep.

It made you desperate to just focus on soaking up the feeling you were experiencing now.

You heard birds singing outside. The morning sun was peeking through the small opening of his black curtains. . .

And he was. . . Peace. Present. Real.

You had a hand laying on his chest, your cheek atop it, and the other arm, wrapped around his midsection.

The feeling was reminiscent of the satisfying feeling of finding a puzzle piece for which you’d been searching. And finally placing it where it belonged.

You used the hand that was resting with a cheek atop it, on Jake’s heated chest, to level your chin to turn and observe him.

His eyes fluttered behind his lids. His mouth was slightly ajar, his top row of teeth peeking slightly from behind his parted lips. You grinned at the way he had the slightest curve to his lips. . .not quite smiling, but almost. One of your favorite things about Jake’s mouth was how his top lip curled anytime he opened his mouth with a grin. And it curled just the same as he slept.

There were steady breaths, lifting your cheek slightly. You took a closer look at his other features. His sharp nose. . .not quite the same as Josh’s. No, Jake’s was just a tad bit rounder. But still sharp.

A handsome nose.

And. . . was that . . . A deviated septum? How was he not snoring?

Somehow, as if on cue, the slightest snore left him. It was only momentary, and it made a grin fit to your lips.

Your eyes flitted down, and your brain fully registered the feeling of being wrapped around his naked body. And fuck, it felt good. You took notice of how it felt to have your bare breasts pressed into his naked side and chest. It felt so right to be so close to him. To be skin to skin.

Your thigh was tucked between his, and when you moved to lay back against his chest, your thigh grazed his smooth sac. He was so neatly groomed.

Moving your leg again, just the slightest bit, you relished in the rousing feeling of being tucked into him. You felt the muscles in Jake’s thighs react to it. His stomach tensed underneath your arm. His dick twitched against your thigh.

You felt your entrance gather wetness, your body craving him.

A low moan came from Jake, accompanied by a deep breath through his nose and a hearty yawn, his chest rising beneath your hand.

He was awake.

And all of these noises he made, combined with his manhood against your leg made your heart rate increase.

Your core ached, where it was pressed against his skin.

When you looked up to survey him, you noticed he was already looking at you. His eyes, still hazy from sleep, but taking every piece of you in, nonetheless.

Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Hi,” he quietly initiated, his voice matching the quietness of the room with a soft timbre. A gentle grin flitted across his lips.

You could feel your cheeks heat. You didn’t know how to react to him being awake. It all became too real. The situation you were in.

Suddenly, it all came flying back to you that nothing had really been solved last night.

You tensed the slightest bit.

This was Jake. The roommate who’d been fucking with you in more ways than one since he’d crossed the threshold of your home.

You weren’t friends. Was he quite possibly the most sexy, fuckable man you’d ever met? Hell fuckin’ yeah.

But this couldn’t be right. The plan you’d had before to have it be a one time thing seemed the only logical thing to cross your mind at that moment.

Though, his eyes were begging for you, pulling you in, practically golden in the early morning sun.

Jake wasn’t all bad. Not even close, actually.

He’d been a hurting person. A healing person.

Recently enough, he’d shown a different, decent version of himself in little acts and things he’d say.

His eyes sparkled in the sun, showing you little pieces of him inside. Pieces you wanted to know.

And he was, undoubtedly, someone who drew you in.

Your mind was screaming at you.

Why do you keep fighting this, y/n?! You heard the small voice in your head berating you. Just let yourself enjoy something for once.

But—he was, by nature, an asshole. And the most unpredictable man you’d ever met.

And you couldn’t chance Josh finding out that you’d corrupted his brother’s dream. You were not doing to be that girl.

Though, try as a you might, a huge fucking part of you wanted to give in to the voice in your mind: savor the moment, soak it up a bit longer. Drown in him.

Let yourself explore. Fuck it all.

You saw him reach up to your head, and brush some hair behind your hair, lazily. Sweetly.

“Whose record player day is it?” He asked, continuing to play with your hair, making you lean in closer.

Fuck.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden realization.

Records.

The Black and Gold.

You worked today. You’d almost forgotten.

So, before you could get more comfortable, and give any of this any more of a chance in your mind, you straightened and bolted upright.

His covers fell from your chest, and your skin goosebumped, your nipples peaking in the cool air of his room. You quickly covered yourself.

“Y/n?” He mumbled, his smooth voice still sleepy behind you as he grasped at your hip. You felt your skin tingle at his touch, your legs nearly trembling for him already.

He was so close. Your body was reeling at him being so near to you. If only you could stay with him.

Ignore any sensible thought.

Fuck.

“Shit,” you muttered, lunging further into the ruffled covers, fumbling around for your phone to check the time. Then it came to you. It was definitely still sitting in your purse, where you’d dropped it on the table the night before.

So, before you could think any better of it, you threw the covers completely off of you, bare, round ass jiggling as you ran to the dining table to grab your phone.

Why were you hoping he’d watched the natural sway of your ass as you’d left?

What in the fuck had you let yourself do last night? You knew what. But why?

And why had you let yourself lay there and savor this morning with Jake? Why had you allowed yourself to quite literally sink into him?

He’d been warm and welcoming, y/n, that’s why, your mind fluttered with a fluster of thoughts as it calmly spoke over you. You want him. It’s okay.

You shook your head at the thoughts, taking your phone, holding it to your chest and closing your bedroom door behind you to let yourself breathe.

Now was not the time to consider it.

You were trying to beat the clock to get to work.

But you needed a quick shower before you even started your day.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You had walked into the quaint little store, just in time to adjust to your surroundings before the clock struck 8 a.m., customers filtering through the door soon after, the bell chiming every time.

But, in the quiet times of the day, your mind kept shifting to the handsome, restful man you’d left behind that morning. What had he been thinking when you left?

Why did you have to leave? Why couldn’t you just accept the wonderful feelings tempting you?

Why did you even fucking care?

It was not worth the time or effort.

He’d shown his ass too many times. There were too many things to risk.

You were glad your shift at the Black and Gold had been there to tear you away before you could consider anything else.

As you checked out a sweet elderly couple and wished them on their way, your mind wandered to your dream.

What had that dream been about? It was taunting you, allusive and fleeting.

And Jake’s heartbeat, being what’d brought you back to reality.

It just wasn’t normal in the slightest for something like that to bring you back to real life.

You were used to waking with the same blood-curdling screams you’d emit in a dream. Granted, it had been awhile since you’d even had a screaming dream. Years, really.

Why the hell had you just had one again?

Every single time in the past you had had a dream with terrible screaming, you’d awoken with the screams, too.

But this time, your throat didn’t feel dry from waking with screams. Your mouth wasn’t open. Your body wasn’t tense.

And with how peacefully Jake had been slumbering beneath you, you’d used that as evidence that you hadn’t woken with screaming, too.

He would’ve heard it. You were loud.

One more thing—the screams from your dream hadn’t been like the screams from dreams past that had scared you. No, the screams from this fleeting dream had felt oddly fulfilling.

Like you were on the cusp of something wonderfully new.

The details from the dream were quickly trickling from your mind. Like a faucet you couldn’t turn off. Not staying put like your dreams normally would.

It was like your mind legitimately couldn’t hold onto this dream.

Huh.

All of it was honestly a very welcome change.

Since you were a little girl, you’d had extremely vivid dreams. They had a bad habit of sticking with you, haunting you more than you’d ever liked.

“The dreams are due to your trauma, sweetie,” a therapist had tried to soothe you once as a little girl. “You use your dreams as a means to escape your sad reality,” she’d assumed. You had tried to understand the counsel the best you could as a child. And then it had gotten even deeper, the therapist delving in. “You have a deep seeded want to control things. . . I mean, understandably, honey. . .and maybe, since your dreams are something you can create and control, it is the only time you feel you have some semblance of control over what’s going on.”

In the cushy chair across from the wrinkly counselor with bright red nail polish on her fingernails, you’d sat there, barely registering what it all meant. You had been eleven, for God’s sake.

So, when you left counseling that day, you had just shrugged it off. It didn’t make any sense to you as an eleven year old girl.

Your therapist had been an older woman with gray hair and kind eyes. She’d been nice enough. Your grandparents had taken you to her as a child.

For a year.

Religiously.

Sometimes, you and Elsie would attend together. Those were the best sessions. Other times, you two would swap therapy weeks. One week she’d go, the next week you would.

But you hated going without her. Being by yourself, you felt totally trapped, listening to words you really didn’t understand at all. Sometimes, Els could translate some of the things the therapist said that were more difficult for you to understand.

But sessions that got super deep? Too deep? You didn’t even care to ask Elsie. You didn’t want to. They always got pushed to the back of your mind.

It was just plain uncomfortable.

Back then, your dreams were much more frequent, and oftentimes turned into full-fledged nightmares. You were plagued by them. That alone had made you question your therapist saying it was a way for you to “control” things. You hadn’t felt any control in those “dreams”.

With those dreams (or nightmares, rather), you would wake up— crying, yelling, and thrashing around. Elsie was usually allowed to stay with you on those nights. . .and she would stay, combing through your hair, shushing you, until you would calm down enough to drift back to sleep, sobs sometimes still choking you as your eyes would close, back to a shaky sleep.

Now, as an adult, there weren’t as many nightmares as there were dreams. Some that made sense. Some that didn’t. Most of them, you remembered.

The main theme of all of your most recent dreams had been much more enjoyable than your dreams as a child. And the most recent ones. . .all of them had been about Jake. And they were always fun.

Fucking mind blowing.

But what in the hell had that last one been about? What was happening? Why were you screaming? The pain? And why was Jake there at all?

He wasn’t ever there for the bad dreams.

But had that one this morning been a bad one? You honestly couldn’t tell.

The remnants of it were leaving your headspace way too quickly for you to be able to give it much more thought, anyway.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Just as your shift was about to end, you saw a vinyl get placed on the counter, across from you.

An Evening With Silk Sonic.

And then you saw the perfectly manicured nails that tapped against the record.

You’d know those hands anywhere.

Your eyes flicked up to your sister’s deep blue ones.

Rounding the counter in no time, you were hugging her tightly to you. She smelled of vanilla shampoo and her go-to Bath and Bodyworks body spray. Champagne Toast.

Damn, being away from her sucked such ass. Being close to her again felt heavenly.

You separated from her, both of you leaning against the counter in the same way, at the same time. The store was occupied by only a few customers.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?” You questioned her, laughing at the situation. What a fantastic surprise.

Strange, you’d been thinking of her all day, and now this had happened.

“What a shitty welcoming committee,” she giggled, too. You smiled. “Damn.”

Going around the counter, back to the register, you eyed the clock on the wall opposite you.

“Perfect timing, Els,” you commented, taking the vinyl to scan. You applied your employee discount, bagged it, and slid it back to her. “I’m off in like ten minutes. Also, you have this record already.”

She grinned. “Just felt like stopping by. And you are not one to judge for having vinyl dupes,” she winked. “I also might’ve gotten a text from Josh telling me of an upcoming show.”

Shock flooded you, a beam taking over your features. “Are you and Josh. . .?!”

“No,” she played with the handle of the bag. A quiet smile was on her face. Content, but obviously wanting. You knew her. “Just texting. But he asked if I’d come to this one happening tomorrow, and I figured: you only live once, it’s summer, and he’s hot as fuck. So I decided I should probably take him up on it.”

“Well, I’m a little hurt it’s not for me,” you joked.

“Get over it, bitch. You were my first stop,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll never forgive you. But I definitely support this whole Josh and Elsie thing,” you fist pumped the air. “Fuck yeah. About damn time you admit how you feel about him.”

She slapped your fist out of the air. And with a laugh on her lips, she added, “I’m going to see Grandma and Grandpa,” she grabbed her bag to go, already pushing the door to the store open.

“Els, I get off in less than ten minutes. Just wait,” you paused. “Also, what are you gonna do? Take a fucking Uber? Just wait for me and we’ll take my car.”

She groaned with a fake exasperated sigh. “Fine. But hurry,” she slung the bag over her arm, letting the bell chime as the door shut. She checked her phone, mindlessly scrolling as she added, “By the way, I’m staying with you.”

At first, you were excited.

And then, your heart jumped into your throat when you remembered what your sister would be walking right into.

Fuck.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You couldn’t remember for the life of you if he had rehearsal or worked tonight. Surely they didn’t have rehearsal since they’d just had a gig last night. That was practice enough for their show tomorrow.

But he did have the occasional client on Sundays.

As Elsie walked around one of your grandparents’ gardens with your Grandma, you stood to the side and pulled up the text thread between yourself and Jake.

A few blue bubbles on your end, with nothing from him.

See? This is why you shouldn’t pursue him, a bothersome voice perked up in your head. The same one that always convinced you out of him. He is flaky. Can’t even respond to texts.

And still, you typed yet another text to him that would most likely be ignored, too.

It was admittedly nerve-wracking to even think about sending the text. Your chest tightened, hands getting sweaty. Dumb. You weren’t a fucking teenager with a damned crush, for God’s sake.

You bit the bullet and sent him the text. You were an adult, dammit.

And so, the first thing you said to him since he’d fucked you into his mattress was:

You, 4:54 p.m.: Please don’t be home tonight. Find a place to go.

Well, that was real nice, y/n, said the other voice. The one that brought reassurance to your lingering, recurring feelings for Jake. Very sweet of you.

You still couldn’t decide if that voice was the devil or the angel.

You, 4:54 p.m.: Also, don’t you dare tell a soul about what happened last night.

And surprisingly, he texted back almost immediately. You got butterflies for God-knows-what reason. Ridiculous.

Had he been waiting for you to say something? No. Surely not.

Jake, 4:56 p.m.: Already had plans. But thanks for the instructions. Appreciate it

You growled quietly under your breath and narrowed your eyes at the screen.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your stomach did drop the slightest bit at him saying he had other plans. Were the plans lessons with a client? A girl? A girl client?

Why did it matter? Ugh. Absolutely ridiculous.

You suppressed the juvenile train of thought and hastily typed back, holding tight to how he’d initially irritated you.

You, 4:57 p.m.: Are you going to fucking tell people? You better not.

Jake, 4:57 p.m.: No, y/n. I won’t tell Josh. jesus christ

You couldn’t believe him. Pouty ass. Always concerned with Josh this and Josh that. How was he so blind to even think—?!

Deciding you didn’t want to think about him, and rather enjoy time with your family, you clicked your phone off and stuffed it in your jeans pocket.

You didn’t need to worry about him for the time being, getting a decent enough response to your initial text.

But as you trailed after the sound of your Grandmother’s voice, locating her and Elsie, talking about her red roses, your mind went back to wondering. . .what were his plans?

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I swear to all that is holy if Silk Sonic doesn’t tour, I’m going to riot,” Elsie remarked as ‘After Last Night’ came on her shuffle.

You’d since pushed away your thoughts of your texts with Jake.

But now, this sexy song made your insides buzz. Your mind was clouded with flashes of your night ‘last night’.

The voice at the beginning echoed the bouts of thought that’d been following you around all day, desperate for you to keep up with them.

You’d been ignoring them all day.

You couldn’t help it when the featured woman’s voice enveloped you.

“Mmh,

Damn, I don't even know who I was last night,

It's just somethin' about you,

You just make me feel, mmh”

Fuck. All you could see was him. His face above you, how he felt moving in you, his hair sticking to his forehead with the delicious sweat he’d exuded.

But—thinking too much about it was a dangerous idea.

He was dangerous.

Better to leave it at what it was. One time.

You couldn’t deny wanting more of what happened last night, though. . .the feeling of him was addictive. He felt so damn good. . . moving his hips just right, hitting every spot possible within you.

But, you also couldn’t fully accept that things would be okay if you did give in to the (ludicrous) idea of more.

He was a jerk. And you couldn’t risk what Josh would think if he ever found out. Distracting his brother from his dream.

But dammit, the memories—shiiiit. If they weren’t tugging at you, tempting you. . .

The deep, brown irises that had looked so intimately into yours as he’d taken you. Your tight body welcoming him in, his room filled with combined whimpers and moans.

Your sister interrupted your thoughts with a deep sigh, followed by your usual shared sentiment about Bruno Mars. “Bruno can have me any fuckin’ way he wants. I will leave the door open, okay?”

But you were barely registering what she said, because your thoughts were finally giving way to being improperly preoccupied with your fucking roommate.

You’d done so well distracting yourself all day with the thoughts of your faded dream, work, Elsie, and your grandparents. . .but now that this song was on. . .

Your mind could only linger in the one place it wanted most of all.

Damn, he’d been incredible last night. Fuck, you thought, your body feeling alert and ready for him, all over again in this moment. The best I’ve ever, ever had.

He’d known exactly what he was doing. . .a fucking pro.

Your clit throbbed at the mere thought of how he’d felt licking at you, lapping up your release. . .

The things he’d said.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me have it.”

“I was fucking the mattress because I loved getting to tongue fuck the hell out of your perfect pussy.”

Fucking hell.

And then, when he’d been deep inside of you, stretching you out. . .

“So fucking tight.”

You crossed your legs, needing to control yourself in the presence of your sister. The friction of your jeans making it worse. Shit.

Then Jake’s smooth voice invaded your brain again.

“I love this fuckin’ view of you, y/n,” he’d groaned, you could still feel the way his breath hit your shoulder, his dick throbbing inside. “And the way you feel like this—goddamn.”

And then there were the soft things. . .the things he’d done and said that had totally made you feel like a girl with a little crush. The comments that made your tummy flutter.

“You are so fucking beautiful, y/n. Dammit,” he’d said it with awe in his velvety tone. His voice had even hitched on his next words. “This is— you are . . .,” he’d shaken his head, and he hadn’t ever been able to come up with the words.

You went back to that moment — where you’d been totally exposed to him, your wet center wrapped around him, his gaze not able to leave your heaving body. Vulnerability had never been your strong suit, but in that moment, more vulnerable than ever to him. . . It had been okay.

And in this moment, reeling at the thought of it all, you felt prepared to be that opened to him a thousand times over.

Shit.

And finally, there’d been after. . .

“Wanna see your face,” he’d sighed, rubbing at your shoulder, ready to see you after positively fucking ruining you.

Your skin heated, thinking back on the intimacy of the moments shared.

And afterwards, snuggling into him, you had decided so many things. The main thing being that you wanted him more than just that one time.

Why had you tried to convince yourself this morning that you couldn’t—?

And why were you still being a bitch to him over texts? Why were you insistent on not giving it a chance?

He’s a dick, y/n, the annoying, sensible voice echoed at you. And Josh would never forgive you.

Fuck. You were tired of the inner battle.

A hand against your shoulder, shaking you, brought you back to reality.

Holy shit. How had you escaped so fully?

“Earth to my fucking sister!” Elsie continued to move you, her hand grasping your arm.

You slapped her hand away. “Jesus fuck, Elsie,” you snapped at her, looking at your arm after she released it. “You’re going to leave fingerprints! Dammit.”

You were being dramatic, you knew this. She hadn’t gripped you that hard. But you were, admittedly, embarrassed you’d been so gone.

So you’d get onto Elsie instead of focusing on yourself and your sexy, fuckass roommate.

“Oh, shut the hell up, Little Miss Drama Queen,” she punched your shoulder. At your squeaky ‘ow!’, she just rolled her eyes. “You were literally absent. Nowhere near this car. La La Land. Just trying to get you the fuck back. I was talking to you.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes back at her to mask your flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry. Just out of it.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Mom?”

“No.”

“Did Grandpa say something mildly offensive to you when we were there just now?”

You laughed at that. He was definitely more than only mildly offensive. But it wasn’t him. Not even close.

“No.”

“Jake?”

Your silence answered for you. Shit.

Speak, y/n, speak!

How did she know?!

“What the fuck did he do now?” She sassed, glancing sideways at you for a few seconds.

Looking away, you dodged any of her accusing peeks. Needed to divert her. . .move on from her assumptions. Cover up the silence.

“Nothing,” you shifted down in your seat, your feet going up on the dash. “I didn’t even say it was him.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You looked out the window, pretending to be otherwise distracted. You hummed.

“When did Bruno spark your interest again?” You poked back, working to make her argue about something that wasn’t Jake related.

She scoffed. “As if he ever stopped sparking my—hey! No!” She scolded, smacking your arm lightly.

“What?!” You played dumb, rubbing your arm. “I just thought with you buying another record and with us listening—“

“Stop trying to distract me!” She clucked, stopping at a red light and turning the music down. You felt her eyes burning into the side of your skull as you stared out the windshield, now. “You little fuckin’ weasel. Don’t avoid the conversation.”

You huffed a dramatic breath. There were two drastically different parts of you feeling things right now.

One that wanted to tell Elsie absolutely everything, because you knew she’d be the voice of reason you so desperately needed.

And the other part that wanted you to be fair to what you’d asked of Jake. . .which would be to not tell her anything at all.

You were also not looking forward to the shit she’d give you if you were to bare your heart to her about this.

(Because, either way, you had a feeling you knew exactly what she’d say.)

“Elsie, it’s really nothi—.”

“Did you fuck him?”

Shit.

Your heart was racing.

Fuck. What would you say?

What would you do now?

And how did she do this shit?! She’d always been able to read you like a damn book.

You swallowed thickly.

And once again, you let your silence answer for you.

If you didn’t actually say anything, you weren’t technically telling her. . .right?

The light changed to green and minutes passed.

It was slightly awkward. Neither of you said a word until she pulled into a parking space at your complex.

Instead, she’d simply turned up the music in response to your silence.

And that was unlike her. Normally, she’d have something to quip back, right away. You weren’t used to her silence.

You were freaked out.

So, as you walked up the steps to your apartment, you decided you’d be an adult, and be the first person to say something.

“What do you want for dinner?” You asked, almost absentmindedly as you opened the door.

Better to act oblivious. Maybe it would go away.

She followed you in, meandering about, not acknowledging your question for a few minutes.

You tried again, muttering her name in question, “Els?”

She got up from her crouched position to pet Stevie, and when she rose, she looked you square in the eyes with a look that could only be described as pure irritation. Her eyes were blazing.

“What?” Elsie snapped, turning her back to you, hair swishing around her shoulders, then taking her bag to your room. Following her, you saw her plop her bag on the ground next to your bed. She hopped onto it, her feet dangling as she sat there, her eyes downcast. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?” She sounded sad, it made your heart lurch the slightest bit. And then her voice fired up again with her next question. “And why the fuck do you always act like a little puppy that’s been kicked when Jake comes up? What’s wrong with you?”

You couldn’t mask your offense.

“What’s wrong with me?!” You choked. “Why are you acting like this?”

She squeaked, her mouth gaping. “Why am I acting like this?! Why have you been so turned off to the idea of Jake since he came into the picture?”

“Oh, I definitely haven’t been turned off.”

It just slipped out. Shit.

“Ha!” She leaned forward, her elbows on her thighs as she leveled you with a stare. “Then why are you trying so damn hard to deny it?”

You decided it was pointless to reject that you’d said it. Better to just own it. She was the only person you could talk to about this, anyway.

And you needed to talk about it.

You momentarily felt bad for Jake that you’d closed him off to talking about it when you were about to let yourself.

He just couldn’t be trusted to not tell the wrong person . . . Aka his twin. The last person who ever needed to know.

Deciding you didn’t need to worry about it, you continued.

“I just can’t pursue it, Elsie. . .we’ve talked about this,” you sighed, going about taking off your jewelry, placing it delicately where it went every night. Except last night.

You changed out of your jeans and short sleeved button down, and into a pair of smaller comfy shorts and an oversized crop top, revealing the sliver of skin at your hips. Elsie’s eyebrow lifted at your choice in clothing, the lack of material covering your ass. Your eyes set firmly as you glared at her. “Shut up. I wear this kind of shit all the—.”

“Trying to impress your roommate with that ass?” She smirked with her question.

You rolled your eyes, flushing at being caught in your little game you’d caught yourself playing recently. You liked him looking at you.

Yes, but you don’t need to know that, you thought.

But she didn’t stay on it for long when she hopped off the bed to most likely dig in her bag for her own comfy clothes. When she pulled out leggings and a crop top, your suspicions were confirmed. She shut the door to your bedroom before she started changing, she smirked. “I don’t want Jake to see me naked, thank you very much.” Once fully changed, she went to put her hair up in a claw clip. You went to quip back, but she started speaking before you could. “You’re changing with the door open, for God’s sake. How many times have you sexed him up to feel comfortable enough to do that, y/n?”

You scoffed with an eye roll, putting your own hair up in a clip. “First of all, he’s not going to be here tonight. That’s why I changed with the door open,” you pulled a couple tendrils out to frame your face. Your thoughts pulled to the idea of seeing Jake with his hair up. . .now that was a thought. You just knew he’d look so good. “And secondly, we have only. . .done it once.”

“Done it?” She guffawed. “Oh my God, y/n. . . what is it about this man that makes you sound and act like a fucking teenager?”

Putting two hands against your face to cover it, you moaned in aggravation because now she had noticed how he made you act like a fucking school girl. Why did he have you down so bad?

“I don’t know!” You went to sit on the ground and lean against your bed. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them. Your chin sat atop your knees, eyes following Elsie as she took her own jewelry off and threw it in her bag. She joined you next to your sulking form, positioning her body to be facing towards you, crossing her legs. “What do I do, Elsie?”

“Before we get into all of that, I have to ask. . . why are you being so melodramatic?” She inquired, seeming genuinely curious. “You’re making it this giant thing when it doesn’t need to be.”

Why were you making it so big? By doing that, you were giving whatever the hell this predicament was —giving Jake—way more power than necessary.

“I don’t know.”

She squinted at you, her patience obviously wearing thin. “Okay, I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’ over and over again. I can’t work with that. Let’s start with the bare bones: do you think he’s cute?”

You literally cackled at that.

“Really? Do I think he’s cute? That is such a juvenile way to—.”

“Well, you’re acting like a juvenile, so fair’s fair. Childish question for someone acting like a child.”

“Jesus. Ouch,” you responded, feeling slightly hurt. But you couldn’t deny seeing her point for exactly what it was.

She rolled her eyes. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

You decided you’d give her exactly what she wanted.

“Firstly, have you seen him?! He’s more than fucking cute, Elsie,” you dazed off, thinking of him. His Amber-brown eyes, his tanned skin, his flowing chestnut locks, and that handsome, sharp nose you’d admired when you’d woken up. And his body. . .fuck. “He’s fucking enigmatic. . .entrancing. . .a sex god. . .,” You lost yourself in the thought of him. The way he walked with so much purpose, how confident he looked on every stage he graced. . .and how all of that upheld in the bedroom. How he—

“Oh damn. . .he’s that good?” She could’ve been eating fuckin’ popcorn with how invested she was in this conversation. “Also, glad you’re not blind. He’s sexy as hell.”

You grinned, looking into the flecks of light filtering into your room with the evening sun. All of the things from last night. . .you felt them overwhelming your brain to help you explain. “He’s more than good. He is the perfect amount of rough and soft. . .he shows he cares about pleasing you with how purposeful—how intentional he is with every damn movement of his hips. . . And he just knew exactly where to hit inside—.”

“Oookay,” she put a hand up to stop you. Your eyes snapped up to her, realizing you’d lost yourself in thought. Your cheeks blushed of their own accord. “I’d love to hear the details, but also . . . Damn. I’ve never seen you so gotten.”

“Gotten? What is this, a Jane Austen novel?” You mocked, covering up how you’d let yourself get away. Absently, you wiped the heel of your palm against the corner of your mouth. You’d literally started drooling.

Embarrassing.

“Um, yeah, might as well be,” she raised a brow, smug. “And the Fifty Shades of Grey version at that.”

“We’ve only had sex once, Elsie,” you reminded. “And it didn’t involve any of that BDSM shit. I’d rather not be compared to that novel, by the way. There are much better books with much better smut.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded. Her lips curled like the Grinch. “And it sounds like you could write your very own at this point, bitch.”

“Stop,” you shoved her shoulder. “It’s not even. . . It’s not anything. It shouldn’t happen again anyway. I need to just forget about it.”

All of that was a fucking lie. You wanted it to happen again. You never wanted to forget about it.

And it definitely wasn’t nothing.

And Elsie knew it. She growled, shifting up, standing from the ground. Her fists were curled. “Stop being a fucking idiot, y/n! Stop lying to yourself!”

“Idiot?! I’m not being—.”

She held up a finger to stop you. And you weren’t about to say any more. She looked determined to get her piece said.

“And it does mean something. You need to stop sulking and just have regular incredible sex with him,” she placed her clenched fists on her hips, her icy blue gaze penetrating your most stubborn thoughts. “Dammit, sis. Why are you being so obtuse about this?!”

You shrunk back, thinking of all she said. Your chest tightened. “There’s just so much at stake,” your regular thoughts invading. “And he’s inconsistent as hell.”

“Is the possibility of what Josh would think still holding you back? Because who says he has to know? Just keep it between the two of you,” she tucked a loose hair behind her ear, a twinkle in her eye with her smirk. “And me.”

You scoffed. “You’re the idiot,” you remarked, pushing yourself up to stand and lean the backs of your thighs against the bed. Crossing your arms, you gave her a look at the mess inside your mind. “And yes. I cannot chance him finding out. . .knowing what he’d think. I wouldn’t want him to think any differently of me. I’m also stuck on not letting this get in the way—.”

“Get in the way of his dream, yada yada yada . . . On that same bullshit,” she leveled you with a straight stare. “You know what I think of all that.”

“Yes, I do. But what if he does take it too far at some point? What if he lets his emotions become involved and it turns into more than what it is?” Well that was a new fear unlocked. And another was hurtling towards you. “What if I let the sex become more than sex?”

“Then you cut it off,” she reasoned, crossing her own arms. “Be friends with benefits. Don’t let feelings get involved. Have fun with it. . . Friends with benefits can be the best solution for two people dealing with stress,” a lightbulb went off in her head. “And when you’re friends with benefits, you don’t have to be consistent. So he’s good there.”

But what if you wanted him to be more consistent?

The nagging voice in your head came to life suddenly. No, y/n, you don’t care about that. Quit it.

You shook your head, ignoring it. “We aren’t friends,” you corrected.

“Even better.”

“And what am I stressed with?” You asked, knowing every single tiny thing that had been lurking in your mind as of late.

School. What you were going to do with life after school. Your mother.

And, of course, your gorgeous roommate.

But right now, it seemed awfully appealing to just drown it all out with sex. . . Toe-curling, back arching sex with said roommate.

“Something apparently,” she cut through your thoughts. “I don’t know what all is haunting your every thought, but it can’t be fun to live with. And I think letting yourself have something you want—which is obviously Jake’s dick—.”

“Elsie!”

“What?! You do! Let me finish,” she continued. “Letting yourself have something you want would be enough to ease some tension. Just give in. Don’t add one more thing to your plate to stress about when you could just let loose. Have fun while you’re still young and in college. It’s not as easy once it’s all over.”

Your eyes widened, as if she’d unlocked something in your brain. You were only young once.

The idea felt a little more acceptable.

The idea of just fucking him. Just enough to ease stress. Nothing more.

It would feel divine to let loose.

You craved it. You needed that release.

And you only wanted it from him.

How did Elsie do that? Just flip a switch and make you consider something?

She is the only person in your entire life that you quite literally trust with everything, that’s how, the sweet voice in your thoughts reminded you. She’s never let you down.

And so you decided.

“It really wouldn’t hurt anything, you think?”

“Not if you cut things off before you’re more than just friends—excuse me, not friends— having sex,” Elsie reminded. She added with annoyance, “Since you seem so set on a relationship distracting Jake from his dream, that’s what you’d have to do,” her voice softened. “Sex isn’t going to distract him. In fact, it may inspire him even more. Just look at it as you doing him—and yourself— a major service.”

“How do I make sure he knows it can’t go any further than sex?”

And once again, her stare flattened. Damn. Her being annoyed with you was becoming a recurring theme.

“Just. Fucking. Talk. To. Him,” she started walking towards your door, twisting the knob to open it. She looked back at you, with a stern look. “Let him in. Be open to the idea of letting him in just a little more. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

And for the first time since he’d moved in and uprooted everything in your godforsaken life, you felt reassured.

Felt okay with what you’d wanted from him for a very long time.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was late when your eyes flicked open. You were still sprawled on the couch, where you and Elsie had crashed while watching Friends.

You blinked into the darkness, only lit up by the blue hues of the television.

Elsie was snoring at the other end of the couch, your feet tangled together under a fluffy blanket. The pizza box from the pizza you’d decided to order (and devoured), still laying out on the coffee table.

Before long, you knew what’d awoken you. The overwhelming need to pee was pushing against your bladder.

Still half asleep, you clambered up from the couch, careful not to wake your sister. You glanced at the bright green lettering displaying the time on the microwave.

2:38 a.m.

Shit. You couldn’t even remember when you two had fallen asleep.

When you got to the bathroom, you were caught off guard.

Was that water running? Had Elsie left the sink on?

You scrunched your brows, twisting the knob and pushing the door open to find the sink was on.

But also finding a very naked Jake using said sink. His long wet hair sticking to his damp skin.

Heat immediately flooded to the bottom of your belly and between your thighs.

You couldn’t help but admire his physique. Right there in front of you. His broad shoulders, looking freshly tanned and freckled from the sun. His waist begging to have your arms wrapped around it.

And his thick cock, impressive even when soft.

Damn this man.

But—

“Why are you home?!” You started with an edge in your tone, for no reason whatsoever. You didn’t fucking care that he was home. In fact, you wanted him here. There was no reason to question.

He was brushing his teeth, so he didn’t respond, instead his dark eyes connected with yours in the mirror. He raised a brow, seeming to challenge your words.

Your body reacted to his facial expression. Your tummy erupted in butterflies.

“Don’t lift your damn eyebrow at me,” you said quietly, letting your feet guide you further into the muggy room, closing the door softly behind you.

Jake eyed you curiously in the mirror, looking slightly surprised at what you were doing. But before too long, his gaze became sultry, luring you in further. He turned towards you, locking his deep brown irises with yours. Then, he raised his brow again, playing with you.

In the back of your mind, all you could hear were Elsie’s words:

Let loose.

So, without really thinking—more-so giving into the moment—, you sank to your knees in front of him.

You could play with him, too.

As if he knew what you were getting ready to do, he was already half-hard by the time you were holding him in your hand.

Your hand gripped him softly, feeling him. How soft the skin was, stretched over his pulsing member. His pink head, equally as soft, already produced glistening precum.

Running a thumb over the slit at the tip, you spread the release over his entire tip. Jake’s hips twitched towards you at that, and you heard a moan emit from the back of his throat.

A hand combed through your hair and tightening it in your locks to indicate he needed you to pause. You peered up at him, seeing him nod toward the sink. You stopped your movements, but kept your hand wrapped around his dick, squeezing a time or two as you let him spit and rinse in the sink.

Jake’s lids closed, head lolling back. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed in pleasure, wiping his mouth with the washcloth he’d placed next to the sink.

You continued your teasing movements and pulled another close-mouthed groan from him, the sound making wetness gather between your legs.

And before long, he was turning all the way around, letting the backs of his thighs hit the front of the bathroom counter. He let his open palms rest on the countertop, his thighs tense and ready for you to continue.

Looking up to see his face again, you saw him nod down at you, in your direction this time.

“Keep going,” he commanded in his low tone.

Your skin heated, and you had to push your thighs together as you went back in. Your hands stayed on the tops of your clenched thighs.

You added your mouth this time, closing your lips around the top half of his pretty cock to savor him with a moan that vibrated around his thickness. He jerked his hips towards you harshly.

“Shit,” he groaned.

You went further down his shaft, letting your wet mouth envelop him almost entirely, then you slid back up, letting your tongue smooth along the underside of his dick. When you made it back to his tip, you curled your tongue to trace the crease at the base of his head.

He shuddered, a hand finding your hair again. You went to grab his thigh with one of your hands to steady yourself, the other hand grasping at his smooth balls. You felt more wetness gather at your thighs at how incredibly groomed he was.

You’d never been with someone who paid such close attention to taking care of himself.

Massaging his balls in your hand, you held tightly to his thigh as your mouth made its way back down his length. This time, you went all the way to the end, your mouth just barely connecting with his tanned and toned stomach. The muscles there clenched as you felt his tip connect with the back of your throat.

You felt tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, but didn’t gag as you showed him one of your most secret party tricks.

He tensed more, and you felt the hard muscle of his thigh tighten impossibly beneath your hand.

“Fuuuuuck, y/n. How —? Your mouth—your fucking throat—shiiiit. . .,” he practically whined out, shifting his hips up so his cock smoothed ever-deeper down your waiting throat. You sucked on him the best you could from your position, your wet mouth tightening around him. He whimpered, a sigh leaving his mouth. “Feels so fucking—mmm,” he tangled a hand in your hair once more, bringing you closer into him.

You glanced up to admire what he looked like at that moment. His head was tossed back and all you could see was his glistening throat, his drying hair sticking to it. The columns of his throat were strong, bulging as he continued to give tiny little thrusts, replying to the hold you had on him with your mouth and throat.

But when he glanced down, his hooded lids revealed hungry eyes, the blacks of his pupils covering almost his entire iris. . . You realized you wanted—no, needed— more.

So, as much as you could handle this, you decided in order to use your tongue on him, and taste him like you wanted, you had to readjust.

You used the hand on his thigh to trail up to his hip and gripped him there, releasing a noise to let him know you were moving. You slid your mouth back down him, his tip nudging against your uvula as it left its tight, cozy spot at the top of your throat.

The sound that came from him was a combination of a sigh, a gasp, and a whine.

Shit.

Your body’s reaction to his sounds, the feeling of him gliding on your tongue. . .it made moisture gather on the insides of your thighs, still pushed tight together.

You were feeling all of the effects of the situation. It was fucking glorious. Having him at your mercy, snug in your mouth.

You rubbed your thighs together the best you could to create the friction you needed, your arousal slick between them.

You released the smallest cry from your mouth, the sound muffled around his hardness. It felt good to relieve some of the tension. But you needed more.

Fuck. You loved getting to hold him in your mouth, but. . .

Your pussy was aching for him.

As if reading your thoughts, before you knew it, your mouth was being pulled the rest of the way from Jake’s hard dick. His hands used their place in your hair to gently remove you.

Once he’d removed himself from your mouth, Jake yanked you up by your armpits. He held your sides and once again surprised you with his strength when he lifted you to sit atop the sink.

It was so reminiscent to your night in the bathroom last week, but this time. . .fuck— it was about to be so much better.

He tapped the slightest bit against your hip, and you knew what it was he wanted. You lifted your hips, quickly sashaying out of your thong and small pair of sweatshorts you’d absolutely worn in the hopes he’d see you in them.

Being caught by Elsie earlier had made you fully realize that it was something you’d started doing absentmindedly within the past month. You fucking loved it when you’d catch him looking at you. . .the fleeting glances he’d think you didn’t see.

His little peeks at the curve of your ass, peeking out from the hem of your shorts.

Finally, you took off your oversized cropped T-shirt, revealing to him your lack of bra. And his dark pupils overtook the entirety of his chocolate irises.

Your nipples hardened even more under his wanting stare.

“I take my bra off when I go to sleep,” you added, for no reason whatsoever. You were obviously still tired (and a little bit nervous), saying nonsense. “You didn’t need to know that, sorry.”

He grinned, his eyes softening the slightest bit. “I like knowing little things like that about you.”

Your insides became mush at his words for some reason, your arousal peaking.

He placed one hand on your breast, massaging the soft flesh in his palm. You both looked down at it, admiring the way it looked as he held it. The feeling of your hardened nipple rolling against the palm of his hand was almost too much. You bucked up into the air.

So, sensing your need, he released your breast and moved the same hand to momentarily hold and caress your cheek. Your lusty gazes entwined, seeing each other.

He was so handsome.

And lately, you’d come to realize that you felt truly seen anytime he was looking at you.

This moment was soft, his other hand going to grasp your hip, holding you in place. He nudged between your wet folds with the head of his dick, waiting on you. You shifted your hips to welcome him.

Then, without any more warning, he slammed into you, your ass shifting on the porcelain of the sink in the counter. You’d totally forgotten about your sister in the living room and released a loud yelp, followed by a pleased moan at the feeling of him.

Filling you up so well.

He shushed you, then pressed his mouth to yours to take in your satisfied, hungry sounds. His tongue entered your mouth, swallowing up every noise you made.

He stayed inside you, pounding into you relentlessly, hitting every spot he somehow just knew existed. Your whines were persistent, barely able to be covered by his mouth.

So, when he came up for air, he placed his warm hand over your mouth, careful to not cover your nose. You sighed sadly at not being able to elicit the noises he brought out in you. You didn’t know why, but it felt right to be loud with him. The way he fucked you—the action itself demanded you be loud.

When you locked eyes with his pretty brown ones, yours were begging and desperate to let him hear you. He acknowledged you with an, “I know,” right before you rutted your hips up to meet his, and he met your movement with one of his own, harder. You whined behind his hand, biting at the flesh. He bit his lip, his eyes darkening. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I wanna hear you. But your sister is in the other room. We need to be quiet.”

Oh. You blanched at that. You hadn’t necessarily forgotten about her, but everything outside of this bathroom had ceased to exist when you’d walked in and seen him bare ass naked.

You weren’t ready to be done with this, but you knew it wasn’t proper etiquette to be in here, fucking your roommate, with someone on the next room.

Even though you wanted to just say ‘fuck it’, him reminding you of Elsie also reminded you of your urge to pee. And you really weren’t prepared for her to catch you in the midst of the act.

You’d never live that down.

“Then finish the fuck up so I don’t have to worry about it,” you decided to sass in response, rocking your hips in little figure eights to entice him. “Finish it.”

Jake’s features quickly shifted from soft and understanding to something much darker, making your pussy get even wetter around his thick shaft.

His head bent back a bit, his stern eyes staying firmly on you. “One of these days, you’ll learn that you don’t always get to call the fucking shots.”

Your heart raced at his words, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. But you weren’t about to let him have the final say.

“If you want to finish fucking me, you have five minutes,” you said, not meaning the words in the slightest. “So hurry,” rock. “The fuck,” rock. “Up.”

And with your last word, he met your thrust harshly with a growl from low in his throat. Your head flew back, his hand going flat, just in time, against the mirror so you’d hit the back of his hand instead of the glass.

You bit your lip to mask a whine at the sensation of his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

With every jut of his hips, you saw stars. The feeling of his sharp, purposeful thrusts, your head hitting his hand with each one. He’d slide almost all the way out, and then all the way back in.

Your lip was near bleeding with how hard you were biting into it.

And suddenly, you felt the familiar unwinding of the tight ball in your stomach, letting way to your sweet relief of release.

It was spiraling towards you. . .his thrusts never let up, his hard cock never leaving you all the way.

You were not ready for it to be over. But with one final, purposeful rut of his hips, his tip connected especially hard with your secret spot and you felt the ball unwind. You pinched your eyes shut, throwing your head back, your legs tensing, as your back arched. You instinctively went to wrap your quivering legs around his hips to hold him to you as it washed over you.

All you saw were bright, blinking stars against a black sky. And Jake. So much Jake.

“Fuck!”

His voice snapped you out of your trance, along with him tapping earnestly at your thigh, and quickly you let him untangle himself as you knew what was coming.

And as soon as he’d pulled his throbbing cock out of you, he was grabbing the washcloth that was still on the counter, sitting next to you, making a mess of his cum into it.

You were still too out of it to look at his face as he came, your fucked out daze locking you in on watching how his pretty dick pulsed against the towel, releasing. Your lip was still being held between your teeth in a tight grip, observing this sexy display in front of you.

When he finished taking care of himself, wiping off into the towel, you snapped out of watching him. The need to pee, nudging at your bladder again with a vengeance.

You shoved him away from where he was standing in front of you.

“Okay, now leave,” you continued to push him to the door. “I have to pee.”

And, shockingly, without protest, he was gone. His brown eyes had been blissed out, a soft smile on his features as he flitted out.

When you were finally sitting on the toilet, feeling the relief you’d needed so desperately from your bladder, you sighed happily.

I could get used to this regular sex with Jake thing, you thought, a satisfied smirk settling on your lips.

Then, as you washed your hands over the sink Jake had just fucked you on, an idea came to you.

And maybe some rules will keep us in line. Rules will help. They always help.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i'm so ready to share M O R E (the rest of this chapter is...... eeeek!!)... please let me know your thoughts! you know i love hearing from you all :) <3

(do you think you know now what's going to turn Reader's life upside down?)

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

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kitthepurplepotato · 8 months

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Chapter 11 - The falling of the Number One

WARNING! This chapter ends with a cliffhanger and it’s really angsty for 2 more chapters. If you are sensitive, please wait until Chapter 14 is out.

18 +, please check the warnings.

Also: The beginning is really suggestive so please keep an eye for the red warning and skip that bit until you see the green writing!

Warnings: Suggestive then… uhm… Near-death experience, description of major injuries, mentions of blood, cliffhanger. I know, funky combination.

First Chapter Master List

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“I just read a fanfiction where you cheated on me with Pro Hero Shouto. What’s your opinion on that?” You look up from your phone with a grin. Izuku rolls his pretty eyes with a cheeky smile on his face and doesn’t respond for a second - probably have taken the question a bit more seriously than it was originally intended to be - as he sits on the sofa next to you in his pretty little glasses, which you can’t wait to ruin later. Well, that sounded like a threat but after the first few times you two ended up in a heated make out session while he was wearing it you decided to keep some spectacle wipes on the coffee table. It runs out as quickly as the milk in the fridge.

“Hm. While I’m quite certain I am a straight man, Kaminari said this to me once: You can’t call yourself straight unless you’ve tried both. Well, I haven’t tried both hence why there is a possibility that maybe, the fact that he’s a man wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it seems to be in my head. Although…” Izuku strokes the non-existent beard on his chin as he keeps pondering. Izuku can’t grow a beard by the way. He tried it once and ended up looking like a 14 year old. He literally had 10 little hairs on the two sides of his chin and a really thin “mustache” and that was it. Katsuki laughed his ass off that day. “Shouto is one of my best friends but if it comes to his personality, I’m not sure if I would be able to… think about him like that. I mean, can you even imagine him in bed with that face? Or kissing him and when you move away it’s just… his deadpanned face? Right in front of you? I would cry, Y/N. You know how much reassurance I need. I can’t see him clocking that there is a problem with me. He’s just… a little bit… emotionally constipated?”

“Wow. That was a really detailed response, thank you.” You gawk at your boyfriend who looks extremely happy from pleasing you. “So if you would need to choose one guy, who would you choose?”

“I would probably give Kacchan a chance.” Izuku blurts out without even thinking. Damn. “Not the old Kacchan, but this one. But I would miss being romantic and cheesy. I don’t think he does that too much. Then I have a friend, Rody, from Otheon. We got along really well while I was on a mission there. While he’s not the most honest person in the world he has a bird called Pino who’s basically connected to his soul and his real emotions are mirrored in the bird so for instance, let’s say he says something super happy but if he’s trying to hide that he’s sad, Pino will cry for him. It’s fascinating, really. But I don’t feel like I would be as happy as I am now with anyone else, to be honest. Man or a woman, it really doesn’t matter because even if you would leave me I would only look for you in everyone but there is no one in this whole wide world who would be able to be even as half as good as you are, so…” Izuku shies away from your gaze, his cheeks dusted pink. Your heart makes a somersault in your chest from his words; sometimes, it’s still unbelievable that this moment, here and now, is actually real and not just a daydream.

There is one thing weighting you down when it comes to this current situation though; the weird feeling in your stomach like everything is too good, too perfect and everything that’s this good must have an end date.

You read a lot of drama fanfictions before you actually ended up to be a main character in one and there was one recurring event in all of them; pro hero Deku dying. For you, for your country, from exhaustion, from an old, untreated injury… the list is endless but since you two got together you couldn’t even look at those stories without feeling sick. Izuku is a hero, one of the best ones at that, but being the best also means he’s the one fighting the most complicated battles, ones no one else can or no one has the guts to, depending on the situation. But it’s really hard to think about these dark, deep thoughts when Izuku slowly looks up, waiting for your response at his impromptu love confession, eyes bright and full of childish glee.

“What about you, Sweets?” Izuku asks cheekily, slowly crawling closer to you; he puts his cheek on your chest, snuggling into the soft bits, warm and content.

“Honestly? Call me a real fanatic but I never really wanted to date anyone else but you.” You admit sheepishly. “I did find Pro Hero Shouto handsome, I did like Katsuki’s bad boy vibes but… it was always you. Your kindness, your pretty little cheeks, the freckles, the curls, the way you go all shy when people ask you about love in interviews. You are so… pure, almost angelic. Even through the screen, you felt like someone I could trust with my life, not just as a hero, but as a person, a human being. You just feel… safe. Like the kinda person you want to marry and stay with forever. And now that I got to know you… I want nothing else but all of that, tenfold.”

“You want to marry me, Sweet Pea?” Izuku smiles with a tiny blush on his face as he sneakily pulls the strap of your camisole out of the way with his finger so he can pepper kisses all over your collarbones. Your whole face erupts in flames.

“Well… uhm… one day, yes, of course…” You mumble, a barely audible sigh leaving your lips as Izuku wets his own to make the seductive slide on your skin even more enjoyable.

“What else do you wanna do with me, Sweets?” Izuku sneaks further up, his kisses wet and so full of emotions your whole body trembles under him as the soft plush of his lips reaches your sensitive neck.

Warning! Cheeky

“Wh… Izu?” You try to look into Izuku’s eyes but your whole body freezes from his lustful gaze; his eyes are dark and there is something new sparkling in the depth of them, his eyelids fallen to half-mast as he gazes at your lips, soft but hungry and he takes a deep breath, tries to school his features but it’s way too late; his gaze is etched into your mind now, living there rent free for the rest of your life.

“Was that too much?” Izuku tries to pull away but you grab the back of his head, fingers clutching into the soft curls, keeping him in place and Izuku keens, a hiss leaving his mouth which ends up sounding like a moan by the end of it.

“I want… I want to go hiking with you again.” You mumble and you can barely hide your smile as Izuku looks up at you, utterly confused by the dramatic difference between your touches and your words. “I want to bathe with you in the river when no one is watching. Maybe find a secluded area, somewhere further away so we can… fool around until we have nothing to give to the other.”

Izuku’s breath hitches.

“Uhm…” Izuku tries to respond but you grab into his hair again; Izuku’s hips make a dive towards you, the touch featherlight and probably unintended but you can’t help but bite into your lips to muffle the moan that’s trying to erupt from your chest at the motion. Izuku doesn’t miss the tiny whimper though; you could cut the tension between you two right now, the air so hot and heavy you kinda want to breathe through Izuku’s mouth to soothe your stinging throat.

“I want to show you how much you mean to me in every way possible…” Your other hand snakes under Izuku’s shirt, caressing the skin on his back until the soft touch isn’t enough; you scrape the soft skin on his back with your nails and Izuku’s eyes fill with tears, but not from the pain. “I want to kiss every single freckle, every single scar, every bump and every crevice because you deserve it, Izuku. You are the sweetest, most caring person in the world and you make me happy so… whatever you want, you can have it. From a cheeky ice cream at 2AM to me pleasing you until the end of dawn, you can have all of it. You deserve all of it.”

You swear you can hear the snap of Izuku’s self-restraint, the sound loud and echoey as Izuku looses his composure and attacks you hungrily, his tongue barging into your mouth with a strong lick.

“I love you.” Izuku mumbles, his breath hot against your lips as he takes and takes and takes, until your whole world turns upside down again, the wet sound of your lips against each other the only sound in the silent room.

“Show me… how much…” You whimper, back arching from the sofa subconsciously.

“Fuck.” Izuku whimpers back, his arms snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against his growing erection and you can’t help the tiny yelp leaving your mouth as the hero takes you in his arms, bridal style, and RUNS into the bedroom with One for All crackling around his body to get there quicker, the motion making you dizzy for a few seconds.

Izuku puts you down with so much care, moving slowly as he settles on the top of you, hips flush with yours as he mutters to himself quietly, probably trying to calm himself down enough to be able to be to remember your first time for the rest of his life.

“Are you okay?” He mumbles hazily. There is a moment when everything freezes; Izuku looks deep into your eyes as though he’s trying to see what’s behind it, to see your soul, your heart, to see and experience everything that is You through one simple gaze and you can’t help but want more than that look; you find the bottom of his shirt and yank at it in a silent plea and Izuku responds by tossing the fabric to the other side of the room. His arms snake behind your back, pulling you up from the bed a little bit, manhandling you like you are weightless; he slowly rolls your top up, his movements slow and careful in case you want him to stop but needless to say there is nothing in the whole wide world that could make you stop right now; you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, it was almost excruciating in the last few days and now, Izuku is finally yours, just yours.

“You are so pretty, Sweets.” Izuku puts you back on the bed and slides his finger over your skin from your neck to your lower belly, then he stops there, playing with the hem of your shorts, as he moves his upper body up and his hips down to grind between your legs while he stares at your naked chest with lustful eyes.

“Closer.” Is all you mumble between two muffled whimpers as you pull yourself up with your hands on Izuku’s back and kiss the biggest scar on his chest. Izuku’s eyes tear up again, choking on a sob as he slowly slides your shorts down, you doing the same with his joggers, fingers slightly shaking when the soft fabric passes the tent in his underwear, his arousal loud and clear. “Izu…”

SAFE FROM HERE

Izuku’s high tech bracelet suddenly screeches, the annoying, high pitched sound ruining the mood completely.

“No fucking way.” Izuku mutters, so fucking frustrated he’s about to yank the fucking thing out of the window. He straddles your hips as he fumbles with his phone. “Not now, not fucking now!”

He’s a few seconds away from crying. It actually breaks your heart.

“Izuku, love, it’s okay. Everything is okay. We can finish this another time. Or we can… just fool around? If you uhm… want me to help?”

“It’s… this massive case we’ve been working at.” Izuku sighs, given up. “They’ve been lurking in the shadows for several weeks now and this is their first time coming to the surface hence why I was notified. I could technically ignore, but…”

You can’t help, but smile. This is Japan’s number one hero to ya’.

“… you don’t want to. And that’s why I respect the shit out of you, pro hero Deku.” You mutter while your hands caress the sides of his hips soothingly.

“I’m sorry.” Izuku lies on top of you for a second, stealing a few more kisses before he stands up and starts getting ready. “This will probably take a while, so… don’t wait for me.”

“You know I will, anyway.” You smile, but knowing how sensitive Izuku is, you decide to continue. “I have some commissions to do, don’t worry. I’ll keep myself entertained.”

“I love you. Thank you.” Izuku gives you one last kiss before he jumps out of the window and the flat is silent again, cold an empty without his warmth.

You sigh into the cushion then take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Maybe, a cold shower would be a good idea, so that’s what you start with.

Izuku wasn’t lying; he’s been out for several hours now. You turned the TV on in case they decide to show the fight, a bad habit Izuku always begs you to stop with but you just… can’t. It might be painful sometimes, seeing your loved one getting hurt while you sit on your sofa, safe and sound, drawing stupid fanarts for a living, completely helpless in case shit hits the fan but at least you can see him this way, know where is is, what he’s up to, know he’s alive and breathing.

It’s enough to soothe your troubled soul, the fact that there is nothing in the TV, that the situation isn’t dire enough for them to interrupt the broadcast for it, so you start on your commission, the TV nothing but a quiet background noise.

It all happens really quickly, in only a second which somehow still seems to stretch on for an eternity; the broadcast is cut off with a buzz, the tv making a low pitched, humming noise, grey, black and white dots fuzzily zigzagging on the screen right before it connects to another broadcast.

You don’t need to be a psychic to know what you are about to see on the screen; you had a feeling for a while, a terrible, dark feeling, a constant, unwelcome weight on your shoulders you tried to ignore and almost succeeded at it while Izuku held you in his arms, but once he left, deep inside, you felt something lurking in the shadows; you somehow felt like the next time he comes in through the door or the window he won’t be the same but you pushed the thought down so well it never even came to the surface during your emotional goodbye, it just kept lurking, somewhere between your heart and your soul, close to the edge but too far away for it to reach your actual brain and form words inside your head.

Maybe if you would have embraced your thoughts and followed your instincts… Izuku would have never left.

You can’t help but laugh at your own, silly thoughts; Izuku staying home because of her paranoid girlfriend instead of saving hundreds of people from a tragic death? Good joke.

But maybe… he would have been more careful. Less… self-sacrificial. Maybe, if you would have said something you wouldn’t need to watch Izuku running into an obvious trap just to save a child from the massive gang of villains. Maybe, you wouldn’t be forced to watch him fall LIVE, on TV, broadcasted through the whole country.

“The urge to save everyone and everything is what makes us heroes but that urge is also what makes us weak; one day, we might jump into our deaths to save that one person who was left behind. To be honest with you, I don’t mind dying that way.” - Deku had said in an interview a few months back. Now the words haunt you, letters jumping in front of your eyes as the battle on the screen escalates; Izuku jumps right in front of a massive explosion which was initially heading towards the small, terrified girl. Katsuki and Kirishima yells, their hero persona long forgotten as they both run as quick as they can after the the number one hero but none of them are quick enough to catch up with him before the explosion hits Deku right in the chest, his blood splattering on both of his friends as they stand frozen in one place, their faces white as a sheet.

Katsuki falls on his knees as the remaining of the building crumbles right on top of Izuku after he throws the girl towards Luna and the rest of his team, making sure the girl is safe and sound even if it costs him his own fucking life because that’s who is; an undeniable hero, the symbol of hope and peace.

His best friend is rendered broken and useless even without being physically hurt, just yelling and crying on the floor while Kirishima pats his lover’s back a few times and says something you can’t decipher from so far away; after a few seconds he makes a beeline towards the battle field, throwing massive pieces of cement into the air as he searches for his friend; the villains are nowhere in sight now, they evaporated into thin air, literally, with a massive smirk on their faces. Their plan worked. They won.

After years of constant winning, for the first time in the last 10 years, the villains have won.

Katsuki still haven’t moved from the floor. He stares at the small splotches of blood with disgust, then a loud sob emerges from inside of him. Eijirou is still searching, yelling Izuku’s first name as tears streak down his hardened face, arms working as quickly as humanly possible until he finally finds something; he sobs and yells and pats Izuku’s face a few times but he’s unconscious, arms dangling in an unnatural way, chest so bloodied its impossible to see the real damage behind it but by the constant stream of blood on the floor as Kirishima makes his way towards the first aiders is anything to go by, the situation is… dire.

Right now, in this moment, just a few hours after you two almost had your first night together, Izuku is dying in his friend’s arms and you can’t do anything but cry, useless and broken while the whole world prays for Deku with tear stained cheeks and broken hearts, rendered speechless as the Number One Hero disappears inside the first aid tent.

The whole world goes silent after that.

… Next Chapter!

IMPORTANT: GUYS! You know me. I won’t kill him. Don’t worry too much. The next 2 chapters will be angst, I’m not going to lie, and I hated every second of it but it’s already written and I can 100% tell you that :

1. Izuku will wake up in the next chapter.

2. He’ll get better eventually.

3. There is at least one scene that’s less depressing in every chapter. Or at least I tried to write it that way but @porusuniverse would probably say otherwise 😂

Thank you for your patience and if you need reassurance or feel too overwhelmed due to the topic just send me a message and I’ll tell you more about what’s gonna happen. 💜

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Potato ramble:

- I hope you guys are okay! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but trust me, you need a bit of a break before this shit escalates ��

- I got so mad at this fucking angst that I wrote 15k words while working full time and finishing late every day just to get it out of the way. 😂 please don’t hate me, I’m also hurt by my own cruelty.

- Also, if you are a Shouto fan, don’t hate me! I don’t think he’s uhm… unattractive nor uncaring. I have a Shouto x Reader one shot up on my page, I love him with my whole heart btw and he was my first MHA crush so if you wanna read it, go into my masterlist and check it out!

- I stand by what Kaminari said though. 😂 don’t judge until you’ve tried both HAHA

- I will be honest, I’m glad they were interrupted because the cheeky bit of this chapter was a little bit uhm… too hot. I think Izuku wants his first time to be a bit more mild than whatever was going on before the phone call.

- HAVE A LOVELY WEEKEND, GUYS!!! I hope I haven’t ruined it too much! See you next week!

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #pro hero Deku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader

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irondadfics · 2 months

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Wow I’m so happy to see this blog still being active for years I remember this account being a big part of my Covid journey back in 2020 which was almost 4 years ago so thank you for that!

Just got back into Irondad fic reading and there was one fic that I’m having trouble finding but i recall peter was trying to grow like a beard or mustache or something because he was trying a new look. I think it was Bucky and Clint or some of the MCU boys making fun of him because it make him look really silly and then he tries to shave it with a knife and tony gets rlly concerned (because ur supposed to shave with a razor lol) so Tony educated him on how to shave. Peter was explaining to him he doesn’t know how because he never had any father figures to teach him how to do those things. It was something along the lines of that, Anyways thank u so much ☺️

sorry it’s been so long. Could any of these be what you are looking for? They don’t fit exactly but are close?

And I promise I'm trying by bluesweatshirt

Scene is in Chapter 2

5 times Peter missed having a dad (and 1 time he realized he kind of still had one).

To My Son by parkrstark

Tony teaches Peter how to shave.

little boy(s) blue & the man in the moon by orphan_account

this is Part 7 of the a motley crew series

Or: Peter and Harley’s 7 Foolproof Steps To Turn A Billionaire Into A Father. “We gotta go get ready,” Peter said, rubbing at his eyes with balled fists. “Today is a big, huge, important day, Harley. The most important day of our whole lives, I bet. This is… this is gonna be revolutionary. This is gonna change everything.”

#found fic #shaving #fluff

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Note

mwahaha now i get to force u to write rooster for me!!! may i please request 14. cuddles after being touch-starved from the cuddles & snuggles prompt list with one lieutenant bradley bradshaw? thank u i love u im so ready to yearn for him even harder <333

anything for you my darling kait <3 | cuddles after being touch-starved __

"You know we're in public, right?" you say, voice muffled because your face is pressed into Bradley's shoulder. He hums, chest rumbling against you. The arrivals area of the airport is busy as usual, plenty of families and friends and lovers reuniting just like you are currently, though you're pretty sure no one stands there for five minutes just hugging. Not that you mind, really.

"I've been unable to touch you for an entire week," Bradley says. His mustache rubs against your cheek, your earlobe. You're so tired that you're putting most of your weight on him but he seems perfectly content to hold you up. "I think you should quit your job and never go on a business trip again."

"That's rich," you say, thumping his chest gently with your hand, spreading your palm wide so that you can feel his heartbeat. "Mr. months-at-a-time-deployment." Bradley ignores you. His hands rub up and down your back, his arms solid around your shoulders. His heart beats steadily under your palm and your other hand slides into his back pocket. Your bags are in a pile at your feet where you dropped them when you crashed into him, the flowers he'd brought for you gently placed on top of the heap.

You're almost never the one who goes away. All of your time away thus far from home has been while Bradley has been on trips of his own, but this time he was just up to his usual stuff on base and left to his own devices. It's a little weird for him to be greeting you at the airport instead of the other way around, but you kind of like it. You'd spotted him before he'd seen you, his tall frame making him stand out as his gaze raked across every traveler emerging from the arrivals door. He was holding a small bouquet in one hand, the other nervously tapping on his thigh.

"The bed is cold without you," he murmurs. Silly man, you think. You pull away from his hold and he lets you go but only enough so that you can look at each other.

"Well, if we go home we can rectify that." You press your fingers into his ass just a little and his eyebrows raise.

"You know we're in public, right?" he says, echoing your words from earlier. You grin at him. His eyes soften even more and his large palms frame your face. You close your eyes and wait for him to kiss you. His breath is warm on your lips and he whispers and somehow you can hear it over the noise of the terminal. "I missed you so much," he says. "I'm glad you're home."

You close the gap and press your lips to his and it's like your entire body sighs with relief, with familiarity. Now you're home -- Bradley's embrace is your favorite place in the world.

"Me too," you say when you pull away. "Now let's stop giving these people a free show. They probably think I was gone for like, months, instead of a week." Bradley kisses your temple lightly before releasing you and bending down to grab your bags. You gently take hold of the flowers.

"They just wish they were us," he says. "I don't blame them."

You roll your eyes. "Just take me home, Lieutenant." He pulls your suitcase with one hand and holds the other out for you to grab, wiggling his fingers. You twine your hands together. "Thank you for the flowers," you tell him. "I'm going to start bringing some when you get home."

Bradley laughs and he sounds so happy it makes your heart squeeze. "Can't wait, baby."

request a prompt here!

#bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick

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oohbuggypie · 7 months

Text

another incredibly indulgent and projective headcanon list of Punch Out!! Wii characters and their special beauty marks / features ! with additional rlly dumb looking visual pointers 4 a couple of them bcuz idfk how 2 describe all this 🩷

Bald Bull

-a mole right beneath the lefthand side of his jaw, runs in his family

-a small mole on his left eyelid

-two missing teeth parallel to each other, further in the back of his mouth

-fairly crooked bottom row, teeth that tilt into each other

Don Flamenco

-mole right above the right side of his lip

-mole right beneath the left side of his lip

-mole justtt beneath his right V-line (the visual is probably soo wrong im srry his huge ass waistband makes placement hard)

-mole on his right shoulder

(image credit to @beatleswings !! thank you 🩷)

Soda Popinski

-has a rlly prominent mole on his nose 🩷

Aran Ryan

-IRIS FRECKLES ! has 4 in his left eye and 3 in his right eye 🩷

-rlly straight teeth but they're jagged at the edges (mee)

Von Kaiser

-SO MANY . u could count every single mole on this man's body and still find more the next time u try (source: Tiger does this)

-two moles to the left of his nose bridge

-generally a bunch of moles on his arms, scattered all throughout

-one mole on the tip of his left ear

-a mole on the lefthand side of his lower lip

-mole to the right side above his belly button

-EXTREMELY MILDLY stained teeth from nightly coffee

Piston Hondo

-has two moles in a diagonal ine between his left inner elbow

-a mole on his right eyelid

-a mole on his cupid's bow identical to his mother's, he thinks it completes him 🩷

Great Tiger

-has a Marilyn Monroe type mole on his right cheek but most of the time it gets obscured by his mustache lol

-a mole on his left ankle he inherited from his father

-a mole right behind his right ear

OKAYY that's all !! IM SRRY IF THE VISUAL GUIDES ARE WRONG IM GEN THE DUMBEST PERSON I KNOW AND I CAN BARELY DIFFERENTIATE OTHER PPLS LEFTS AND RIGHTS SO THEY MIGHT B WRONG BUT TAKE IT AS U WILL ✝️ these were sooo fun God bless beauty marks and unique teeth they're my fav things abt myself and other ppl , hadda project hard with this one :3 hope yall see the vision tewww

#punch out!! wii #punch out wii #punch out #bald bull #don flamenco #soda popinski #aran ryan #von kaiser #piston hondo #great tiger #headcanonz

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iholli · 1 year

Text

inhales fuck it, I had fun with this, you're all getting subjected to it. My singular braincell is unleashing Booigi like the plague upon Discord and my friends are happy to encourage me. thank u Holly for the galaxy brain dialogue that inspired this silly little drabble <3

King Boo × Luigi || flirt

It's been a hell of a long night in this hotel, and King Boo can't stand it any longer. Except he's really, really bad at communicating his feelings to a certain oblivious green plumber.

Takes place during the final boss fight of Luigi's Mansion 3, so you know, if you don't want to get spoilered or whatever <3

It's been hours. At least 10 of them. And the man is exhausted.

He's been through hell, awake all night, narrowly avoiding death at every turn, fighting for his life every step of the way. He's tired and afraid, damn it, and his night still isn't done.

So this battle promising to stretch for long minutes is not something he's excited for.

Honestly, he's almost disappointed when Polterpup crashes into him, accidentally knocking him out of the way as the painting falls.

Luigi sits up as the ghostly canine hops off him, scampering off to who knows where, and the poor little plumber is back on his feet just in time for the great spectre before him to turn a seething glare on him. It's all Luigi can do not to collapse under that enraged violet gaze.

"Luigi! What are you doing over there?!"

King Boo is also tired, and he is pissed. He's spent far more than the whole night with that disgustingly obsessive woman dogging his heels like a lost puppy, watching her useless staff be thrown around by Luigi-- though, of course, the king can't deny his admiration of the man's strength and quick thinking-- and in turn feeling the anger of his own Boos being sucked away into that damned vacuum. He's going to break that frustrating contraption, so help him.

And after all that, after all his carefully laid plans-- the countless romantic settings, the harmless spooks, his desperate attempts to flirt-- Luigi still hasn't realized it! Only that awful Hellen Gravely had been wooed by the candlelit dining room, the beautiful concert, the seaside view! King Boo has had all he can take. At least Luigi vacuumed Hellen out of the picture, what a relief that was, and satisfying to say the least. Oh, and who could ignore the way Luigi smiled and danced and cheered for himself every time he successfully captured a ghost...he's just too cute!

He couldn't possibly admit it aloud, but that little green plumber has the king of Boos absolutely wrapped around his gloved finger.

"UGH! That's it! I'm sick to double death of you!"

Sick to his heart of that cute little mustache, those soft shoes, those blue doe eyes, that adorable accented voice, that sheer obliviousness! How could King Boo possibly make his feelings any clearer?! Surely Luigi is just tormenting him, and he's sick of it!

"You want to fight me? FINE! Let's go, Luigi! This is the end for you, once and for all! HERE I COME!"

The Italian's teeth are chattering in fear, because of course he doesn't want to fight, and he's thoroughly convinced the Boo just wants him dead, or at least trapped forever as a decoration. Well, it's no fault of his, considering every attempt King Boo has made at flirting has nearly gotten him poisoned or skewered or whatever else-- it's been such a long night, Luigi barely remembers all the ways the hotel has tried to kill him. And the king of Boos is very, very intimidating, no thanks to his threatening dialogue.

Which, Luigi can't possibly admit aloud, is rather attractive, in an inexplicable way. That voice, and those eyes, and...

No, no, no time to think about that now. That "rather attractive" ghost is trying to destroy him!

King Boo cackles, nearly at the end of his rope, summoning lightning, showing off his tongue (very intentionally, that is), throwing fireballs and explosives, every time missing and angrily cursing before vanishing. That Luigi...too smart in all the wrong places! Like he knows every move the Boo is going to make! Yet he can't figure out King Boo's affection towards him?!

When Luigi throws an explosive back at him, sending King Boo reeling and coughing smoke until he collapses on the roof, he's feeling more frustrated than ever. The plumber and that strange, goopy green clone of his suck him up by the tongue and smash him back and forth against the roof until the Boo tumbles backwards.

Enough is enough.

King Boo rematerializes before Luigi, glaring daggers, his enormous maw closed in a deep frown. The man steels himself for another round of attacks...

...but they don't come.

Instead, King Boo snaps.

"You know what?! Enough of this! You're cute and I've been trying to tell you that for hours-- no, YEARS now!"

Luigi freezes, his whole body going still as a ghost hit with his Strobulb. He...what?

The Boo's mouth is open now in a snarl, his brows low, his eyes glowing bright with irritation. He looks so angry; surely Luigi misheard him! If looks could kill, the plumber would already be six feet under!

"There, I said it! Must you torture me further?!"

No, he heard right.

...

He heard right?

The nozzle of the Poltergust clatters on the now-cracked concrete, Luigi barely even realizing he's dropped his only protection. He stares, then blinks and starts sputtering.

"C...cute? A-ME?!"

Oh, the Boo is a goner when that heavy accent comes out. His face flushes royal blue as he drifts like a deflating balloon to the rooftop. "OF COURSE YOU! HOW have you not figured that out?!" King Boo tries to snap in his usual tone, but it comes out in more of a pathetic whine as his voice cracks in disbelief.

"You've been-a trying to kill me all-a night!" Luigi chokes out. He's so shocked, he sinks to his knees, taking off his cap as his other hand comes up to run through his hair, the Boo watching his every move-- has he ever seen the plumber without his hat? His hair looks as soft as his mustache...

"I-- I HAVE NOT!" King Boo retorts after a moment, equally stunned.

"What...what do you call all of-a that, then?!"

"I was trying to flirt with you!" The king frantically pinwheels his nubby arms in a desperate attempt to explain. "I know those idiots kept ruining everything, but I was trying! I had a nice dinner planned, a walk through the garden floor, a magic show--"

Luigi's hand drops to his lap and he stares again at the ghost. "You set up all that...as a date?"

King Boo stops his rambling. "...yes?"

The little Italian giggles breathily, then laughs harder and harder, until he's gasping, arms wrapped around himself and tears rolling down his cheeks. King Boo blushes furiously. "What-- stop that! Why are you laughing at me? What's so funny?!"

"Oh, scusa, bello," Luigi manages when he finally catches his breath, wiping his face with his shirt sleeves. "It's just-- you are-a terrible at flirting!"

The Boo puffs out his cheeks, impossibly blue as he crosses his nubs in offense. "Well-- well, you're terrible at noticing, then!" He grumbles, his mouth closing in a pout.

"Both people are-a supposed to be there for a date, you know." The man giggles once more. He can't help being amused at the adorable grumpy face before him, and he's giddy with relief, heart fluttering now that he realizes that the ghost wasn't actually trying to murder him all this time, that the little voice in his heart was a mutual feeling.

"I...knew that." Boo's violet eyes flick away-- he definitely didn't know that-- then snaps his eyes back to Luigi in sudden realization. "Wait, what did you call me?!"

Luigi just smirks, one eyebrow cocking up, a show of the confidence he's feeling now. "Maybe if you-a take me on a real date yourself, I'll-a tell you, tesoro."

"T-TES--" King Boo blows the rest of the word into a raspberry, flustered, not knowing if the Italian is taunting him or complimenting him.

"Wait...are you asking ME on a date?"

Luigi gets to his feet, shuffling across the roof to retrieve the frame lying all but forgotten on the concrete. He inspects it for a moment, then sets it upright along the wall of the roof, aiming the Poltergust's dark-light attachment at the image of his friends and brother.

The plumber glances back at King Boo before switching the light on, grinning once more at the uncertain though hopeful king watching him. "Yeah, I-a guess I am." The light activates, a beam of rainbow slowly coloring the painting.

Well, after he explains this to Mario, and gets the group comfortably settled in the hotel, that is. And maybe gets the Boos out of their respective containers, since he knows the king will be asking.

Luigi's heart flutters again. His night doesn't feel so long anymore.

#booigi #king boo x luigi #ratkingwrites #that's a tag i NEVER thought I'd be making #i actually used to write a lot of self indulgent bullshit in middle school #but i stopped for a long time until i had to come up with a story for a game last Halloween #so I'm...kinda writing stuff like this now and then #booigi Tumblr please accept this humble offering #should i post this on ao3? I've never posted on there 👉👈#luigi's mansion 3 #this is a Hellen Gravely hate zone #every time she's on screen i want to deck her #King Boo is cute as fuck #Luigi is also cute as fuck #they're both so stupid though (affectionate)#this was fun #and i am becoming very anxious very quickly #okay bye now

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therantsofawriterrr · 1 month

Text

The Umbrella Academy Final Season: My Version

Part Three: Old Faces With New Personalities

Overview: While Lila and Diego keep hiding secrets from each other, Luther encounters familiar faces, that don't seem familiar in some aspects.

TW: Mature language, implied sex (idk maybe), hurt with comfort, the cafe scene except its different, tell me if i missed anything! Pairings in the chapter: Diego×Lila (Fluff alert hehe) A/N: So, I saw someone say that Five attended the Keeper meetings because he was still looking for a way to get his fam and himself back to their original timeline, which ig, makes sense, but i have established smn so yk im going with that but dw, we'll get to see that. Also, again, the Diego×Lila dynamic that we deserved to see. And a little surprise too (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠).

Masterlist

After the Keepers meeting ended, Lila and Five sat in a cafe in the next block, discussing the contents that were discussed.

"Look, if these artifacts are from different timelines and now they're showing up-" Lila started saying.

"It's possible the old man's reset didn't take," Five finished.

"What does that even mean?" Lila asked, hoping Five would have an answer.

"I have no idea," Five said in a tired voice. He looked like he hadn't slept in a while, which worried Lila a bit.

Over the last six years, she had grown closer to everyone in the Hargreeves family. She'd grown to be a caring aunt to Grace, a fun-loving sister-in-law to Klaus, a caring, supportive one to Luther, and a snarky, sarcastic one to Five.

"Look, whatever this is, don't say anything to the family just yet," Five requested. "Not even Diego."

"Absolutely not," Lila agreed. "He thinks I'm at book club."

He gave her a dirty look, not at all happy with the sentence.

"It's just easier that way," Lila said, her eyes shining with guilt.

"Easier? It's Diego we're talking about, Lila. You know how he can get."

"Yeah. But... you know how he'll get if he gets in on this. He'll jump to conclusions, and make rash decisions and everything. Don't you remember him during the 60s?"

They both shuddered involuntarily as Five nodded. "Alright. well, it's a good thing I never got married. Too much deception involved."

He took a bite of his scone, which got some cream on his mustache. Lila smiled with a sigh as she took a tissue in her hand and wiped it away. "Didn't dear old Reggie teach any of you Hargreeves men how to eat?"

He scoffed with irritation as he said, "Don't coddle me, I'm not a child."

"Yeah, well you surely eat like one," she retorted, balling up the tissue and leaning back.

Suddenly a woman slammed her hands down on the table, making them both jump as she glared at Five.

"Next time I call," she gritted through her teeth. "I expect you to pick up your phone, accept it and put the damn thing to your ear."

Five's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her with confusion. "How'd you find out my location?"

The woman just stood up and stared at him, pulling up a chair to sit. Lila noticed she was pretty in an unconventional way, with a sugarplum balayage on her dark brown hair and stony grey eyes. Wearing brown bellbottom trousers with a tucked-in maroon shirt, sleeves reaching till just below her elbows, a beautiful vintage watch on her left wrist, and maroon kitten heels on her feet, she looked like a boss lady.

"Did you put a fucking tracker in my outfit?" Five asked indignantly.

"Do you think I had a choice?" she deadpanned, drumming her fingers on the table. "You don't accept my calls, half the time you don't even wanna talk to me."

"Because you're annoying, Clementine," Five declared heatedly.

She only sighed with a roll of her eyes, ignoring the comment. "Anyway, look, we need to talk."

Five took an angry bite of his scone, prompting Lila to throw a tissue at him with a disgusted look.

"Alone, Five," Clementine asserted.

"If it's about the Keepers, then I could help, y'know," Lila interjected. "I've been investigating them as well."

Clementine's eyes lit up as she turned towards her, crossing her arms on the table. "Really? What have you found out about them yet?"

"Oh, well, that it started in New Mexico and everyone's just flocking towards it like lemmings. Oh, also, the Cleanse," she said, mimicking Jean when she said the last word.

"The Cleanse? What's that?" she asked.

"No idea. But, Gene, one of the leaders, said that it's either the end, or a great restoration."

Clementine whipped out a small notepad, turning to a page and starting to scribble in as Five took in a breath, almost looking scandalized.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're going to be reporting that to the deputy director."

"I have to give him something, Five," she said, focused on writing in her notebook before lifting her head to look at him. "Why? Are you ashamed that she, a civilian might know more than you, a goddamn CIA agent?"

"Oh, burn!" Lila exclaimed, laughing loudly. "Oh, I like you so much."

"Thanks! You're fun, too!" She exclaimed with bright cheerful grey eyes.

Lila stared at them with a kind of a knowing smile as they continued bickering. Her phone vibrated in her bag, and she took it out to see a text from Diego.

Hey, did book club end? You need a ride? I miss you🥺

She stared at the text with a tender smile before it faded, her eyes turning thoughtful and guilty. She got up, taking her small handbag with her, slinging it onto her shoulder.

"Well, you kids stay safe now," she said playfully, even though they didn't really hear her during their conversation.

Upon reaching home, she found Diego snoring on the couch in front of the TV, making her smile as she went to push some of his hair away from his forehead. She started going to her room to change when a hand caught onto her wrist, pulling her back.

She fell onto Diego's lap with a surprised gasp, her arm automatically going around his shoulders as her legs dangled off his thighs. He smiled sleepily as he gave her a peck on the nose, making her giggle as she gave him one on his lips.

"You should've gone to bed," she said softly, nuzzling her nose against his.

He hummed, his arms hugging her waist tighter, blinking the sleep away. "I can't sleep without you beside me, Lila. You know that."

She chuckled with a shake of her head, her other arm going to rest on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's alright. I know you lose track of time during book club. How was it, by the way?"

She nodded with a shrug and said, "Not very informative. But it was fun."

Diego did feel a sting in his heart at the fact that she still wouldn't come clean to him about what she was doing, but he didn't budge on his trust. She'd earned it and so he was giving her the chance to tell him about her investigation when she wanted to.

He gave out a sudden yawn, making her chuckle again. "You can barely keep your eyes open, love. Go to bed. I'll join you after a shower."

"Hmm, can I join?" he asked with a playful smile, making her slap on his shoulder.

"Yes," she said and sauntered over to their room, making him jump up after her as he took off his shirt excitedly.

Simultaneously, a few blocks away, Luther stood in front of his apartment door with a blank look on his face, wanting to bang his head on it. In the time he knew Sloane, he'd memorized the places she went to. Even if Reginald reset the timeline, that wouldn't change.

He worked part-time in a cafe that Sloane usually visited to note down places that she'd visit if she got a chance to get out. All neat and noted. He still had it and usually carried it around with him.

Every evening after work, he worked in that place. Every fucking evening, he hoped that she'd come in, get in line and ask for a latte. But, it always just ended up killing all the hope inside him.

Suddenly, the door next to his apartment burst open, making him jump with a surprised grunt, as he looked to the side.

A guy exited, immediately looking at him with concern. "Oh, hey, sorry man, are you alright?"

"Yeah," Luther said, batting a dismissive hand. "It's alright, I'm alright."

The guy heaved a relieved sigh before giving him a smile. "I'm Christopher by the way, though, I mostly go by Chris."

Luther's eyebrows furrowed a little bit as the cube from Sparrow Academy, who had the same name, flashed in his mind, but he just ignored it and smiled back, not quite reaching his eyes.

"Who're you yapping with out there?" A very familiar voice said, making Luther perk up a bit.

And out the door, walked none other than Alphonso, Sparrow Number Four. Luther's eyes widened as he gave out a tiny gasp.

"Oh, hey. New neighbour?" Alphonso asked, looking at him.

"I... Uh. No. Not really," he said, composing himself. "I just don't get out much out of work, I guess."

"Well, ya should, man! Tell you what, we're going to a bar this weekend with some friends. Not too crowded either, if you don't like that kinda thing. You wanna come with?"

"Yeah," he said with a bright, hopeful smile. "I'd love to."

"Alright. Lookin' forward to it, man," Alphonso said with a friendly grin, before they both walked away, talking amongst themselves.

When Luther entered his apartment that night, he didn't sink to the floor with a blank despair. He sunk down with hopeful tears, and the sobs that wracked his body were happy ones.

And when he went to sleep that night, he knew it wasn't because he'd see dreams of living in a house with Sloane. He'd see dreams of meeting her in a bar. Of talking to her. Of getting to know what she's like in this timeline.

For the first time in six years, Luther Hargreeves went to bed with joy in his heart.

Another A/N: Ok, ik i'm speedrunning this shit, but I just need to write it all down cause the brellie in me is not letting me write anything else. So, here u go, two parts in one day lol. I'm prolly gonna start writing the next part too, so stay tuned!!

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Tysm for reading!!

#the umbrella academy s4 #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy #fix it fic #fix it fanfiction #tua #tua spoilers #the hargreeves

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howlingday · 1 year

Note

O don't even know if you made this au but

Jaune Armstrong Au (FMA:B)

Combat class gets a unexpected guest to help with the glass and its this very tall man with a blond mustache and a single hair.....wait why is jaune shaking a bit....why is tye guest taking off his coat....OH LORD HE'S AO RIPPED!

I have not, though I had a similar idea for a fic many moons ago...

---------------------------------------------------

Goodwitch: Settle down, students. Today will be a special presentation brought to us by the Atlesian military. He will be arriving shortly to join us. In the meantime, I would like to explain...

Yang: (Whispering) Atlas? You think Weiss knew about this?

Weiss: (Whispering) I'm right here, and no, I had no involvement in this.

Ruby: If they're from Atlas, they're probably pretty strong- EEK!

???: Miss, I must ask that you refrain from speaking during the lecture. It's very rude and disrespectful.

Ruby: U-Um! I'm sorry!

Goodwitch: Ah, Specialist Armstrong! Please, step down from the bleachers and introduce yourself.

Armstrong: As you wish, Headmistress.

Goodwitch: (Blushes, Adjusts her glasses) D-Deputy Headmistress, please. And professor is just fine, too.

Armstrong: As you wish, Miss. (Walks down, Leaps into the air and lands next to Glynda) OH, WHAT A JOYOUS DAY FOR ME TO BE REUNITED WITH MY DEAR NEPHEW IN HIS OWN CLASS! IT BRINGS TEARS TO MY OWN EYES JUST THINKING ABOUT IT!

Goodwitch: N-Nephew?! Oh, uh, I was unaware you had family here.

Armstrong: Yes, it's true! When I left him last, he was naught more than a child at my shins. (Throws off his uniform) COME HERE, JAUNE ARC, AND GIVE YOUR UNCLE ALEX A HUG!

Nora: WHOA! HE'S HUGE!

Ren: I wasn't aware Jaune had an uncle.

Cardin: How do I get so ripped like him?

Blake: Weiss?

Weiss: Already recording.

Pyrrha: Jaune? Are you okay?

Jaune: (Covering face) Please, god, no...

Armstrong: Now, now, a young man should not be so shy! (Lifts Jaune, Hugs him) OH, HOW I HAVE MISSED HAVING YOU IN MY EMBRACE, MY DEAR NEPHEW!

Jaune: (Hacks, Bones being crushed)

#rwby #rwby au #jaune armstrong au #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #alex louis armstrong #nora valkyrie #lie ren #pyrrha nikos #blake belladonna #cardin winchester #jaune arc

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loganslowdown4 · 9 months

Text

Sanders Sides:

All In The Details!

Remus Disturbing Frame in DWIT + Filming for Incorrect Quotes 3!

Patton Frames Editorial Birthday Shoot (2024)

Janus Is Cold Blooded Confirmed

If Wes Anderson Directed Sanders Sides Details Part 1

If Wes Anderson Directed Sanders Sides Details Part 2

My Quotes (Incorrect Quotes Vol 3)

Logan’s Lip Bite (Crofters The Musical)

Janus Calling Logan Sweetie (Inside Out 2 reaction)

Theatre Adult/Roman’s Spot (10 Misconceptions About Me)

The Sushi Slip Up (DWIT)

Valerie as The Sides (Making Some Changes)

Twinning (Ro & Re Hand On Chest Looking Sad)

C!Thomas laughing reaction image (ROTB)

Rise of The Bloop Pics

Did Roman Regift His Nerd Socks

Thoughts On What Makes The Perfect Gift Part 1

Thoughts On What Makes The Perfect Gift Part 2

Sides Sweatshirt Design Easter Eggs

Orange Side Tease Thumbnail SvS Redux

Real/Fake Food Anime Detail (Delicious in Dungeon)

SvS Redux Lily Padton/He-Man Comparsion

The Bagel Joke Needs A 3rd (AOVD/SVS:R)

Janus Calling Patton ‘Honey’ SvS Redux

LilyPadton/Stardew Inventory SvS Redux Easter Eggs Part 1

LilyPadton/Stardew Inventory SvS Redux Easter Eggs Part 2

Do We Kiss Now Or… SVS Patton

Cartoon Therapy: Steamboat Willie Lego

2020 Livestream: Who’s Your Fave Side To Play

April 2024 Charity Livestream Summary

Patton/Atticus Finch Comparison (SvS)

THOMAS SANDERS/SANDERS SIDES EPISODES/ANNIVERSARIES/NAME REVEAL DATES LISTS!!

5 Shot Split in ATHD

SvS Redux Patton’s Blink-&-U-Miss-It Look at Virgil’s Spot

Virgil’s Shoe Laces (Skirt Look) Tutorial

Logan Detail from Make Assumptions About Me Vid

The Notebook/Logan Keeps Receipts Running Joke

Patton & Logan in FWSA

The ‘that’s what she said’ joke SVS

Janus’ Dramatic Lighting Throughout The Series

Bridgerton Short Janus Coat

That Time Janus Called Logan a Bitch (svs:r)

GRWM Janus Makeup Tutorial Thoughts

Food Pages Running Gag Shorts

Joan And That Activia Computer Gag (Shorts)

Roman Short Where Is The Love/Glam Makeup/Deserves a Proper GRWM

TTH The Box Poses

Logan’s Skirt Reshoot Thoughts

Roman Hates Mustaches (SVS REDUX)

Remus Drops A Hint (HAVE I GROWN)

Remus Sitting Comparison (WES ANDERSON SIDES)

Remus and His Cockroaches (WORKING THRU INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS)

Logan’s Onesie Has Wings?! (INCORRECT QUOTES 4)

Roman’s Editorial Look Makeup Question Answered

Thomas Giggling While Singing Oh Yeah (IQ4)

Patton’s Dad Moment ‘Calm Down Time’ (LNTAO)

Friendship Bracelets For Patton (CAN PLUSHIES IMPROVE OUR HEALTH)

Daddy (LNTAO; RISE OF THE BLOOPS)

The Different Offices Of Emile Picani

Logan Copying Roman’s Mannerisms To Be Dramatic (MOVING ON; DWIT)

Virgil Reacts To Inside Out 2 PART 1

Virgil Reacts To Inside Out 2 PART 2

What Roman Says About Virgil (VIRGIL REACTS)

Sleep Is The Eyelashes Meme (WHY IS SLEEP DIFFICULT?)

Sleep’s First Appearance Easter Egg (WHY IS SLEEP DIFFICULT?)

Remus And Roman Matching/Opposite Editorial Looks

Lego Movie Batman Reference (CARTOON THERAPY 3)

The Bagel Prophecy (CARTOON THERAPY 3)

SANDERS SIDES CHRONOLOGICAL EPISODE/ANNIVERSARY LISTS

ALL SIDES THEMED PHOTOS CHART

I Am The Walrus (SANDERS SIDES QNA)

Belle Love (ROMAN DISNEY TIERS)

Janus!Patton’s Smile (CLBG)

Janus As Scooby Doo (EMBARRASSING PHASES)

Dom Steals Roman’s Rhyming (ROMAN DISNEY TIERS)

Roman’s (and Dom’s) Disney Films Tier Ranking ALL THE DETAILS!

Rom & Dom moment/possible running joke? (MIND MELD OLD VS NEW FRIENDS)

Logan’s Glasses (MY TRUE IDENTITY)

Roman & Remus Twinning Outfits reoccurances

Roman Writing With His Right (MY JOURNEY ON YOUTUBE)

Called Sleep A Bitch (Because He Is) 😂 (MY CHARACTERS READ YOUR TWEETS)

Transcription Of Argument Between Core 4 (the best I could make out) (RETURN OF THE JAM)

The Liar Liar Test Joke Explained (SVS)

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thegeminisage · 1 year

Text

BACK at it w zelda. ive found another well from this mystery chef lady. i wanna meet her...

WAIT HES A MAN? aurie sounded like a girl name

love when people grow shit underground w brightbloom seeds. looks like a weed den

alright, im finally tackling death mountain. this is the last part of this half of the map i need before kakariko............which i'm doing during that fifth sage junk

scuh REAM this guy in the band is like we wanna perform with you but youre short on instruments...you can be our vocalist!! you have such a strong clear voice!! incred.

i think the reason ive been putting death mountain so long is like. 1. mountain big. ia m intimidated by the task. but 2. it's not the SAAAME without the LAAAVA and i MISS IT!!!

GORON WITH GLASSES AND A MUSTACHE???

sorry. i am up here doing these lil bistro quests. what the Fuck

omg. foodie who only wants RIPENED FLINT. i love gorons

here's the thing about death mountain. not only is it huge. but there's a LOT of caves. which means i have to make a lot of bikes bc they despawn when i go in caves. or drag a bike with me while im IN the cave. or just walk. i dislike all of those options. I Am Intimidated By The Task.

you can't even fast travel back TO caves the way u can w/ shrines you gotta go in while you're there

just wandering around in this cave & found an npc dying to get in and thanking me for making the hole. rip buddy i should have spoken to you elsewhere first i think

another ancient blade...amn, it's so depressing for some reason

oh wow ok i DO prefer the lava but this hot spring river is really something. like damn thats beautiful actually. i love 2 frolick

wait. wait wait wait these octoroks can repair weapons right?! my ruby rod.............

oh. it broke

LUCKILY i saved first. now i know not to throw it. i'll just drop it. gently.

MY SAGES KILLED IT...COME ON

AAAAAA IT WORKED...MY RUBY ROD......

weh i'm so happy. i was dreading this thing breaking!!! i know it's silly but i've had it for my entire file........

EMBER SHIRT HELL YES........

THEY GLOW IN THE HEAT......the shirt and pants. oh my godddd

omggggg i found the three goron brothers!! bayge kabetta and heehl.......i'll have t do this later when my mind is more alert, i'm falling asleep. im so happy 2 see them tho

#personal #loz blogging #totk lb #totk spoilers

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sl33pyperson · 6 months

Text

finally we have reached moon knight in 2000s! alas i have so many screenshots to go thru until we start

moon knight was made to live in watercolour

i have no idea where i started or ended with the previous mk post oh fuck

its been a while so ive also forgotten my thoughts

just, ouhghhhhh look at that man

TRUNCHEON TRUNCHEON TRUNCHEON also like. ok yeah hes saying it outloud for the audiences sake, but having mk be SIMPLE with his weapons is just. so nice after “random bullshit go”

GENAAAAAAA CROWLEEEYYYYYYYYY THE MOUSTASSSSHHHEEEEEEEE

sobbing

almost feels like im dead - that one eaaaarrrlyyyyyy panel of him being like “i just feel like a ghost in a body” monech no one is doing it like you. love this ghost

of course ud bring back the people who already know ur deal hiiii samuels, steven i hope u are paying both of them very well

i am not smart enough to understand like. the deep complexities behind these two relationship, but gods i love em

SCREAMING SHOUTING OMG HI FLIINTTTT i didnt realise how much i missed the cast…… like what the fuck were they doing in marc spector moon knight. saw someone be like “that series just show how much steven actually does” and like yeah marc has no idea how to run a business and no idea how to stay connected to ppl

bushman SCARED of someone. fucking AMAZING. put in the villain mk is most scared? horrified? traumatised? by and show him weak <3333 yeahahhhhh

i hate jake getting the kids involved every time like i want them to be safe :( but also jack saying hi is sooooooooooo sweet

hes just so cute

just fun

“haunted by the deeds of a dead man” thanks marc!

something about this panel is just, mwah

UR AN IDIOT I STILL HATE THIS UVE GOTTEN GENA IN TROUBLE ONCE PLEAAASSSEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“wheres my fucking money dracula”

if people are going to keep saying mk is batman, at the very least give him a joker. none of his main villains r just funny little guys. it doesnt match mk tone at ALL but it would be funny

i have forgotten what “the company” is, is that the ppl who hired mk to kill mr. jack werewolf?? fuck if i know

“jakes mustache” lol cute

marlene is CONSTANTLY scared of loosing steven to ANYTHING and as much as i hate jealousy arcs i wish her fears were…. more developed? but i think that always ends up with her leaving him bc being a part of mk just wrecks her when she thinks about it. alas

this kinda tulpa is more of a physical one but just imagine if they had a marlene in their head too. crowded

i love comics for stupid shit like this. welp aliens and moth man and nessie MIGHTbe real but we can draw mk with lil alien guys and call it canon

holy shit i need to get ready for school hold up its speed run time. anyway i love this ship design

“maybe we should get into email” is just a great line

mk came into this comic to stand of wolfies head the. get the shot beaten outta him. kinda hot

speedrun

FUCK IMAGE LIMIT

#speaking time

0 notes

rjalker · 9 months

Text

might be too many words for tumblr let's see...

Looksl ike it's working. Out of the Dreadful Depths by Charles Willard Diffin.

Epic sea monster. May be a few typos from the original magazine's format

Robert Thorpe reached languidly for a cigarette and, with lazy fingers, extracted a lighter from his pocket.

"Be a sport," he repeated to the gray haired man across the table. "Be a sport, Admiral, and send me across on a destroyer. Never been on a destroyer except in port. It ... would be a new experience ... enjoy it a lot...."

In the palm-shaded veranda of this club-house in Manila, Admiral Struthers, U. S. N., regarded with undisguised disfavor the young man in the wicker chair. He looked at the deep chest and the broad shoulders which even a loose white coat could not conceal, at the short, wavy brown hair and the slow, friendly smile on the face below.

A likable chap, this Thorpe, but lazy—just an idler—he had concluded. Been playing around Manila for the last two months—resting up, he had said. And from what? the Admiral had questioned disdainfully. Admiral Struthers did not like indolent young men, but it would have saved him money if he had really got an answer to his question and had learned just why and how Robert Thorpe had earned a vacation.

"You on a destroyer!" he said, and the lips beneath the close-cut gray mustache twisted into a smile. "That would be too rough an experience for you, I am afraid, Thorpe. Destroyers pitch about quite a bit, you know."

He included in his smile the destroyer captain and the young lady who completed their party. The young lady had a charming and saucy smile and knew it; she used it in reply to the Admiral's remark.

"I have asked Mr. Thorpe to go on the Adelaide," she said. "We shall be leaving in another month—but Robert tells me he has other plans."

"Worse and worse," was the Admiral's comment. "Your father's yacht is not even as steady as a destroyer. Now I would suggest a nice comfortable liner...."

Robert Thorpe did not miss the official glances of amusement, but his calm complacence was unruffled. "No," he said, "I don't just fancy liners. Fact is, I have been thinking of sailing across to the States alone."

The Admiral's smile increased to a short laugh. "I would make a bet you wouldn't get fifty miles from Manila harbor."

The younger man crushed his cigarette slowly into the tray. "How much of a bet?" he asked. "What will you bet that I don't sail alone from here to—where are you stationed?—San Diego?—from here to San Diego?"

"Humph!" was the snorted reply. "I would bet a thousand dollars on that and take your money for Miss Allaire's pet charity."

"Now that's an idea," said Thorpe. He reached for a check book in his inner pocket and began to write.

"In case I lose," he explained, "I might be hard to find, so I will just ask Miss Allaire to hold this check for me. You can do the same." He handed the check to the girl.

"Winner gets his thousand back, Ruth; loser's money goes to any little orphans you happen to fancy."

"You're not serious," protested the Admiral.

"Sure! The bank will take that check seriously, I promise you. And I saw just the sloop I want for the trip ... had my eye on her for the past month."

"But, Robert," began Ruth Allaire, "you don't mean to risk your life on a foolish bet?"

Thorpe reached over to pat tenderly the hand that held his check. "I'm glad if you care," he said, and there was an undertone of seriousness beneath his raillery, "but save your sympathy for the Admiral. The U. S. Navy can't bluff me." He rose more briskly from his chair.

"Thorpe...." said Admiral Struthers. He was thinking deeply, trying to recollect. "Robert Thorpe.... I have a book by someone of that name—travel and adventure and knocking about the world. Young man, are you the Robert Thorpe?"

"Why, yes, if you wish to put it that way," agreed the other. He waved lightly to the girl as he moved away.

"I must be running along," he said, "and get that boat. See you all in San Diego!"

* * *

The first rays of the sun touched with golden fingers the tops of the lazy swells of the Pacific. Here and there a wave broke to spray under the steady wind and became a shower of molten metal. And in the boat, whose sails caught now and then the touch of morning, Robert Thorpe stirred himself and rose sleepily to his feet.

Out of the snug cabin at this first hint of day, he looked first at the compass and checked his course, then made sure of the lashing about the helm. The steady trade-winds had borne him on through the night, and he nodded with satisfaction as he prepared to lower his lights. He was reaching for a line as the little craft hung for an instant on the top of a wave. And in that instant his eyes caught a marking of white on the dim waters ahead.

"Breakers!" he shouted aloud and leaped for the lashed wheel. He swung off to leeward and eased a bit on the main-sheet, then lashed the wheel again to hold on the new course.

Again from a wave-crest he stared from under a sheltering hand. The breakers were there—the smooth swells were foaming—breaking in mid-ocean where his chart, he knew, showed water a mile deep. Beyond the white line was a three-master, her sails shivering in the breeze.

The big sailing ship swung off on a new tack as he watched. Was she dodging those breakers? he wondered. Then he stared in amazement through the growing light at the unbroken swells where the white line had been.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes with a savage hand and stared again. There were no breakers—the sea was an even expanse of heaving water.

"I could swear I saw them!" he told himself, but forgot this perplexing occurrence in the still more perplexing maneuvers of the sailing ship.

This steady wind—for smooth handling—was all that such a craft could ask, yet here was this old-timer of the sea with a full spread of canvas booming and cracking as the ship jibed. She rolled far over as he watched, recovered, and tore off on a long, sweeping circle.

The one man crew of the little sloop should have been preparing breakfast, as he had for many mornings past, but, instead he swung his little craft into the wind and watched for near an hour the erratic rushes and shivering haltings of the larger ship. But long before this time had passed Thorpe knew he was observing the aimless maneuvers of an unmanned vessel.

And he watched his chance for a closer inspection.

The three-master Minnie R., from the dingy painting of the stern, hung quivering in the wind when he boarded her. There was a broken log-line that swept down from the stern, and he caught this and made his own boat fast. Then, watching his chance, he drew close and went overboard, the line in his hand.

"Like a blooming native after cocoanuts," he told himself as he went up the side. But he made it and pulled himself over the rail as the ship drew off on another tack.

Thorpe looked quickly about the deserted deck. "Ahoy, there!" he shouted, but the straining of rope and spars was his only answer. Canvas was whipping to ribbons, sheets cracked their frayed ends like lashes as the booms swung wildly, but a few sails still held and caught the air.

He was on the after deck, and he leaped first for the wheel that was kicking and whirling with the swing of the rudder. A glance at the canvas that still drew, and he set her on a course with a few steadying pulls. There was rope lying about, and he lashed the wheel with a quick turn or two and watched the ship steady down to a smooth slicing of the waves from the west.

And only then did the man take time to quiet his panting breath and look about him in the unnatural quiet of this strangely deserted deck. He shouted again and walked to a companionway to repeat the hail. Only an echo, sounding hollowly from below, replied to break the vast silence.

It was puzzling—inconceivable. Thorpe looked about him to note the lifeboats snug and undisturbed in their places. No sign there of an abandonment of the boat, but abandoned she was, as the silence told only too plainly. And Thorpe, as he went below, had an uncanny feeling of the crew's presence—as if they had been there, walked where he walked, shouted and laughed a matter of a brief hour or two before.

The door of the captain's cabin was burst in, hanging drunkenly from one hinge. The log-book was open; there were papers on a rude desk. The bunk was empty where the blankets had been thrown hurriedly aside. Thorpe could almost see the skipper of this mystery ship leaping frantically from his bed at some sudden call or commotion. A chair was smashed and broken, and the man who examined it curiously wiped from his hands a disgusting slime that was smeared stickily on the splintered fragments. There was a fetid stench within his nostrils, and he passed up further examination of this room.

Forward in the fo'c'sle he felt again irresistibly the recent presence of the crew. And again he found silence and emptiness and a disorder that told of a fear-stricken flight. The odor that sickened and nauseated the exploring man was everywhere. He was glad to gain the freedom of the wind-swept deck and rid his lungs of the vile breath within the vessel.

He stood silent and bewildered. There was not a living soul aboard the ship—no sign of life. He started suddenly. A moaning, whimpering cry came from forward on the deck!

Thorpe leaped across a disorder of tangled rope to race toward the bow. He stopped short at sight of a battered cage. Again the moaning came to him—there was something that still lived on board the ill-fated ship.

He drew closer to see a great, huddled, furry mass that crouched and cowered in a corner of the cage. A huge ape, Thorpe concluded, and it moaned and whimpered absurdly like a human in abject fear.

Had this been the terror that drove the men into the sea? Had this ape escaped and menaced the officers and crew? Thorpe dismissed the thought he well knew was absurd. The stout wood bars of the cage were broken. It had been partially crushed, and the chain that held it to the deck was extended to its full length.

"Too much for me," the man said slowly, aloud; "entirely too much for me! But I can't sail this old hooker alone; I'll have to get out and let her drift."

He removed completely one of the splintered bars from the broken cage. "I've got to leave you, old fellow," he told the cowering animal, "but I'll give you the run of the ship."

He went below once more and came quickly back with the log-book and papers from the captain's room. He tied these in a tight wrapping of oilcloth from the galley and hung them at his belt. He took the wheel again and brought the cumbersome craft slowly into the wind. The bare mast of his own sloop was bobbing alongside as he went down the line and swam over to her.

Fending off from the wallowing hulk, he cut the line, and his small craft slipped slowly astern as the big vessel fell off in the wind and drew lumberingly away on its unguided course.

She vanished into the clear-cut horizon before the watching man ceased his staring and pricked a point upon his chart that he estimated was his position.

And he watched vainly for some sign of life on the heaving waters as he set his sloop back on her easterly course.

* * *

It was a sun-tanned young man who walked with brisk strides into the office of Admiral Struthers. The gold-striped arm of the uniformed man was extended in quick greeting.

"Made it, did you?" he exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"All O.K.," Thorpe agreed. "Ship and log are ready for your verification."

"Talk sense," said the officer. "Have any trouble or excitement? Or perhaps you are more interested in collecting a certain bet than you are in discussing the trip."

"Damn the bet!" said the young man fervently. "And that's just what I am here for—to talk about the trip. There were some little incidents that may interest you."

He painted for the Admiral in brief, terse sentences the picture of that day break on the Pacific, the line of breakers, white in the vanishing night, the abandoned ship beyond, cracking her canvas to tatters in the freshening breeze. And he told of his boarding her and of what he had found.

"Where was this?" asked the officer, and Thorpe gave his position as he had checked it.

"I reported the derelict to a passing steamer that same day," he added, but the Admiral was calling for a chart. He spread it on the desk before him and placed the tip of a pencil in the center of an unbroken expanse.

"Breakers, you said?" he questioned. "Why, there are hundreds of fathoms here, Mr. Thorpe."

I know it," Thorpe agreed, "but I saw them—a stretch of white water for an eighth of a mile. I know it's impossible, but true. But forget that item for a time, Admiral. Look at this." He opened a brief case and took out a log-book and some other papers.

"The log of the Minnie R.," he explained briefly. "Nothing in it but routine entries up to that morning and then nothing at all."

"Abandoned," mused the Admiral, "and they did not take to the boats. There have been other instances—never explained."

"See if this helps any," suggested Thorpe and handed the other two sheets of paper. "They were in the captain's cabin," he added.

Admiral Struthers glanced at them, then settled back in his chair.

"Dated September fourth," he said. "That would have been the day previous to the time you found her." The writing was plain, in a careful, well-formed hand. He cleared his throat and read aloud:

"Written by Jeremiah Wilkens of Salem, Mass., master of the Minnie R., bound from Shanghai to San Pedro. I have sailed the seas for forty years, and for the first time I am afraid. I hope I may destroy this paper when the lights of San Pedro are safe in sight, but I am writing here what it would shame me to set down in the ship's log, though I know there are stranger happenings on the face of the waters than man has ever seen—or has lived to tell.

All this day I have been filled with fear. I have been watched—I have felt it as surely as if a devil out of hell stood beside me with his eyes fastened on mine. The men have felt it, too. They have been frightened at nothing and have tried to conceal it as I have done.—And the animals....

"A shark has followed us for days—it is gone to-day. The cats—we have three on board—have howled horribly and have hidden themselves in the cargo down below. The mate is bringing a big monkey to be sold in Los Angeles. An orang-outang, he calls it. It has been an ugly brute, shaking at the bars of its cage and showing its ugly teeth ever since we left port. But to-day it is crouched in a corner of its cage and will not stir even for food. The poor beast is in mortal terror.

"All this is more like the wandering talk of an old woman muttering in a corner by the fireside of witches and the like than it is like a truthful account set down by Jeremiah Wilkins. And now that I have written it I see there is nothing to tell. Nothing but the shameful account of my fear of some horror beyond my knowing. And now that it is written I am tempted to destroy—No, I will wait—"

"And now what is this?" Admiral Struthers interrupted his reading to ask. He turned the paper to read a coarse, slanting scrawl at the bottom of the page.

"The eyes—the eyes—they are everywhere above us—God help—" The writing trailed off in a straggling line.

The lips beneath the trim gray mustache drew themselves into a hard line. It was a moment before Admiral Struthers raised his eyes to meet those of Robert Thorpe.

"You found this in the captain's cabin?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And the captain was—"

"Gone."

"Blood stains?"

"No, but the door had been burst off its hinges. There had been a struggle without a doubt."

The officer mused for a minute or two.

"Did they go aboard another vessel?" he pondered. "Abandon ship—open the sea-cocks—sink it for the insurance?" He was trying vainly to find some answer to the problem, some explanation that would not impose too great a strain upon his own reason.

"I have reported to the owners," said Thorpe. "The Minnie R. was not heavily insured."

The Admiral ruffled some papers on his desk to find a report.

"There has been another," he told Thorpe. "A tramp freighter is listed as missing. She was last reported due east of the position you give. She was coming this way—must have come through about the same water—" He caught himself up abruptly. Thorpe sensed that an Admiral of the Navy must not lend too credulous an ear to impossible stories.

"You've had an interesting experience, Mr. Thorpe," he said. "Most interesting. Probably a derelict is the answer, some hull just afloat. We will send out a general warning."

He handed the loose papers and the log book to the younger man. "This stuff is rubbish," he stated with emphasis. "Captain Wilkins held his command a year or so too long."

"You will do nothing about it?" Thorpe asked in astonishment.

"I said I would warn all shipping; there is nothing more to be done."

"I think there is." Thorpe's gray eye were steady as he regarded the man at the desk. "I intend to run it down. There have been other such instances, as you said—never explained. I mean to find the answer."

Admiral Struthers smiled indulgently. "Always after excitement," he said. "You'll be writing another book, I expect. I shall look forward to reading it ... but just what are you going to do?"

"I am going to the Islands," said Thorpe quietly. "I am going to charter a small ship of some sort, and I am going out there and camp on that spot in the hope of seeing those eyes and what is behind them. I am leaving to-night."

Admiral Struthers leaned back to indulge in a hearty laugh. "I refused you a passage on a destroyer once," he said, "and it was an expensive mistake. I don't make the same mistake twice. Now I am going to offer you a trip....

"The Bennington is leaving to-day on a cruise to Manila. I'll hold her an extra hour or two if you would like to go. She can drop you at Honolulu or wherever you say. Lieutenant Commander Brent is in command—you remember him in Manila, of course."

"Fine," Thorpe responded. "I'll be there."

"And," he added, as he took the Admiral's hand, "if I didn't object to betting on a sure thing I would make you a little proposition. I would bet any money that you would give your shirt to go along."

"I never bet, either," said Admiral Struthers, "on a sure loss. Now get out of here, you young trouble-shooter, and let the Navy get to work." His eyes were twinkling as he waved the young man out.

* * *

Thorpe found himself comfortably fixed on the Bennington. Brent, her commander, was a fine example of the aggressive young chaps that the destroyer fleet breeds. And he liked to play cribbage, Thorpe found. They were pegging away industriously the sixth night out when the first S.O.S. reached them. A message was placed before the commander. He read it and tossed it to Thorpe as he rose from his chair.

"S.O.S.," said the radio sheet, "Nagasaki Maru, twenty-four thirty-five N., one five eight West. Struck something unknown. Down at the bow. May need help. Please stand by."

Captain Brent had left the room. A moment later, and the quiver and tremble of the Bennington told Thorpe they were running full speed for the position of the stricken ship.

But: "Twenty-four thirty-five North," he mused, "and less than two degrees west of where the poor old Minnie R. got hers. I wonder ... I wonder...."

"We will be there in four hours," said Captain Brent on his return. "Hope she lasts. But what have they struck out there? Derelict probably, though she should have had Admiral Struthers' warning."

Robert Thorpe made no reply other than: "Wait here a minute, Brent. I have something to show you."

He had not told the officer of his mission nor of his experience, but he did so now. And he placed before him the wildly improbable statement of the late Captain Wilkins.

"Something is there," surmised Captain Brent, "just awash, probably—no superstructure visible. Your Minnie R. hit the same thing."

"Something is there," Thorpe agreed. "I wish I knew what."

"This stuff has got to you, has it?" asked Brent as he returned the papers of Captain Wilkins. He was quite evidently amused at the thought.

"You weren't on the ship," said Thorpe, simply. "There was nothing to see—nothing to tell. But I know...."

He followed Brent to the wireless room.

"Can you get the Nagasaki?" Brent asked.

"They know we are coming, sir," said the operator. "We seem to be the only one anywhere near."

He handed the captain another message. "Something odd about that," he said.

"U. S. S. Bennington," the captain read aloud. "We are still afloat. On even keel now, but low in water. No water coming in. Engines full speed ahead, but we make no headway. Apparently aground. Nagasaki Maru."

"Why, that's impossible," Brent exclaimed impatiently. "What kind of foolishness—" He left the question uncompleted. The radio man was writing rapidly. Some message was coming at top speed. Both Brent and Thorpe leaned over the man's shoulder to read as he wrote.

"Bennington help," the pencil was writing, "sinking fast—decks almost awash—we are being—"

In breathless silence they watched the pencil, poised above the paper while the operator listened tensely to the silent night.

Again his ear received the wild jumble of dots and dashes sent by a frenzied hand in that far-off room. His pencil automatically set down the words. "Help—help—" it wrote before Thorpe's spellbound gaze, "the eyes—the eyes—it is attack—"

And again the black night held only the rush and roar of torn waters where the destroyer raced quivering through the darkness. The message, as the waiting men well knew, would never be completed.

"A derelict!" Robert Thorpe exclaimed with unconscious scorn. But Captain Brent was already at a communication tube.

"Chief? Captain Brent. Give her everything you've got. Drive the Bennington faster than she ever went before."

The slim ship was a quivering lance of steel that threw itself through foaming waters, that shot with an endless, roaring surge of speed toward that distant point in the heaving waste of the Pacific, and that seemed, to the two silent men on the bridge, to put the dragging miles behind them so slowly—so slowly.

"Let me see those papers," said Captain Brent, finally.

He read them in silence.

Then: "The eyes!" he said. "The eyes! That is what this other poor devil said. My God, Thorpe, what is it? What can it be? We're not all insane."

"I don't know what I expected to find," said Thorpe slowly. "I had thought of many things, each wilder than the next. This Captain Wilkins said the eyes were above him. I had visions of some sky monster ... I had even thought of some strange aircraft from out in space, perhaps, with round lights like eyes. I have pictured impossibilities! But now—"

"Yes," the other questioned, "now?"

"There were tales in olden times of the Kraken," suggested Thorpe.

"The Kraken!" the captain scoffed. "A mythical monster of the sea. Why, that was just a fable."

"True," was the quiet reply, "that was just a fable. And one of the things I have learned is how frequently there is a basis of fact underlying a fable. And, for that matter, how can we know there is no such monster, some relic of a Mesozoic species supposed to be extinct?"

He stood motionless, staring far out ahead into the dark. And Brent, too, was silent. They seemed to try with unaided eyes to penetrate the dark miles ahead and see what their sane minds refused to accept.

* * *

It was still dark when the search-light's sweeping beam picked up the black hull and broad, red-striped funnels of the Nagasaki Maru. She was riding high in the water, and her big bulk rolled and wallowed in the trough of the great swells.

The Bennington swept in a swift circle about the helpless hulk while the lights played incessantly upon her decks. And the watching eyes strained vainly for some signal to betoken life, for some sign that their mad race had not been quite vain. Her engines had been shut down; there was no steerage-way for the Nagasaki Maru, and, from all they could see, there were no human hands to drag at the levers of her waiting engines nor to twirl with sure touch the deserted helm. The Nagasaki Maru was abandoned.

The lights held steadily upon her as the Bennington came alongside and a boat was swung out smartly in its davits. But Thorpe knew he was not alone in his wild surmise as to the cause of the catastrophe.

"Throw your lights around the water occasionally," Brent ordered. "Let me know if you see anything."

"Yes sir," said the man at the search-light. "I will report if I spot any survivors or boats."

"Report anything you see," said Commander Brent curtly.

"You go aboard if you want to," he suggested to Thorpe. "I will stay here and be ready if you need help."

Thorpe nodded with approval as the small boat pulled away in the dark, for there was activity apparent on the destroyer not warranted by a mere rescue at sea. Gun-crews rushed to their stations; the tarpaulin covers were off of the guns, and their slender lengths gleamed where they covered the course of the boat.

"Brent is ready," Thorpe admitted, "for anything."

They found the iron ladder against the ship's side, and a sailor sprang for it and made his way aboard. Thorpe was not the last to set foot on deck, and he shuddered involuntarily at the eery silence he knew awaited them.

It was the Minnie R. over again, as he expected, but with a difference. The sailing vessel, before he boarded it, had been for some time exposed to the sun, while the Nagasaki Maru had not. And here there were slimy trails still wet on the decks.[301]

He went first to the wireless room. He must know the final answer to that interrupted message, and he found it in emptiness. No radio man was waiting him there, nor even a body to show the loser of an unequal battle. But there was blood on the door-jamb where a body—the man's body, Thorpe was sure—had been smashed against the wood. A wisp of black hair in the blood gave its mute evidence of the hopeless fight. And the slime, like the trails on the deck, smeared with odorous vileness the whole room.

Thorpe went again to the deck, and, as on the other ship, he breathed deeply to rid his lungs and nostrils of the abhorrent stench. The ensign in charge of the boarding party approached.

"What kind of a rotten mess is this?" he demanded. "The ship is filthy and not a soul on board. Not a man of them, officers or crew, and the boats are all here. It's absolutely amazing, isn't it?"

"No," Thorpe told him, "about what we expected. What do you make of this?" He touched with his foot a broad trail that shone wet in the Bennington's lights.

"The Lord knows," said the ensign in wonder. "It's all over and it smells like a rotten dead fish. Well, we will be going back, sir." He called to a petty officer to round up the men, and the boat was brought alongside.

Their return to the Bennington again through a pathway of light that Thorpe knew was safe under the black muzzles of the destroyer's guns.

Or was it, he asked himself. Safe! Was anything safe from this devilish mystery that could pluck each cowering human from the lowest depths of this steel freighter, that could drag her down in the water till the radio man sent his cry: "We are sinking!..."

He told Brent quietly, after the ensign had reported, of the struggles in the wireless room and its few remaining traces. And he watched with the commander through the hour of darkness while the Bennington steamed in slow circles about the abandoned hulk, while her search-lights played endlessly over the empty waters and the men at the guns cast wondering glances at their skipper who ordered such strange procedure when no danger was there.

With daylight the scene lost its sense of mysterious threat, and Thorpe was eager to return to the abandoned ship.

"I might find something," he said, "some trace or indication of what we have to fight."

"I must leave," said Commander Brent. "Oh, I'm coming back, never fear," he added, at the look of dismay on Thorpe's face. The thought of leaving this mystery unsolved was more than that young seeker after adventure could accept.

"I'm coming back," Brent repeated. "I've been in communication with the Admiral—Honolulu has relayed the messages through. All code, of course; we mustn't alarm the whole Pacific with our nightmares. The old man says to stick around and get the low-down on this damn thing."

"Then why leave?" objected Thorpe.

Because I am coming around to your way of thinking, Thorpe. Because I am as certain as can be that we have a monster of some sort to deal with ... and because I haven't any depth charges. I want to run up to the supply station at Honolulu and get a couple of ash-cans of TNT to lay on top of the brute if we sight him."

"Glory be!" said Thorpe fervently. "That sounds like business. Go and get your eggs and perhaps we can feed them to this devil—raw.... And I think I'll stay here, if you will be back by dark."

"Better not," the other objected; but Thorpe overruled him.

"This thing attacks in the dark," he said. "I will lay a little bet on that. It left the orang-outang on the Minnie R.—quit at the first sign of daylight. I will be safe through the day, and besides, the beast has gutted this ship. It won't return, I imagine. And if I stay there for the day—live as they lived, the men who manned that ship—I may have some information that will be of help when you get back. But for Heaven's sake, Brent, don't stop to pick any flowers on the way."

"It's your funeral," said Brent not too cheerfully. "The old man said to give you every assistance, and perhaps that includes helping you commit suicide."

But Robert Thorpe only laughed as Commander Brent gave his orders for a small boat to be lowered. A ship's lantern and rockets for night signals were taken at the officer's orders. "We'll be back before dark," he said, "but take these as a precaution."

One favor Thorpe asked—that the ship's carpenter go over with him and help him to make a strong-barred retreat of the wireless cabin.

"And I'll talk to you occasionally," he told Brent. "I tried the key while I was aboard; the wireless is working on its batteries."

He waved a cheery good-by as the small boat pulled away. "And hurry back," he called. The destroyer commander nodded an emphatic assent.

On board the Nagasaki Maru, Thorpe directed the carpenter and his helpers in the work he wanted done. The man seemed to know instinctively where to put his hands on needed supplies, and the result was a virtual cage of strong oak bars enclosing the wireless room, and braces of oak to bar the single door. Thorpe was not assuming any bravado in his feeling of safety, but he was doing what he had done in many other tight corners, and he prepared his defences in advance.

These included weapons of offense as well. As the boat with the destroyer's men pulled back to the Bennington, he placed in easy reach in a corner of the room a heavy calibered rifle he had taken from his belongings.

And, still, with all his feeling of security, there was a strange depression fell upon him when the Bennington's narrow hull was small upon the horizon, and then that, too, was gone and only the heaving swells and the wallowing hulk were his companions.

Only these? He shivered slightly as he thought of that unseen watcher with the devil-eyes whose presence Captain Wilkins had felt—and his men, and the poor terrified ape! He deliberately put from his mind the thought of this; no use to start the day with morbid fears. He went below to examine the cabins. But he carried the heavy elephant gun with him wherever he went.

Below decks the signs of the marauder were everywhere, yet there was little to be learned. The slimy trails dried quickly and vanished, but not before Thorpe had traced them to the uttermost depths of the ship.

There was not a nook or corner that had gone unsearched in the horrible quest for human food. And one thing impressed itself forcibly upon the man's mind. He found a lantern, and he used it of necessity in his explorations, but this thing had gone through the dark and with unerring certainty had found its way to every victim.

"Can it see in the dark?" Thorpe questioned. "Or...." He visioned dimly some denizen of the vast depths, living beyond the limits of the sun's penetration, far in the abysmal darkness where its only light must be self-made. But his mind failed in the attempt to picture what manner of horror this thing might be.

Even in the hold its evil traces were found. There were tiers of metal drums that still shone wet in his lantern's light. Calcium carbide—for making acetylene, he supposed—marked "Made in U.S.A." The Nagasaki must have been westward bound.

He went, after an hour or so, to the wireless room, and only when he relaxed in the safety of his improvised fortress did he realize how tense had been every nerve and muscle through his long search. He tried the wireless and got an instant response from the destroyer.

"Don't shoot it too fast," he spelled out slowly to the distant operator: "I am only a dub. Just wanted to say hello and report all O.K."

"Fine," was the steady, careful response. "We have had a little trouble with our condensers—" There was a short pause, then the message continued, this portion dictated by the commander. "Delay not important. We will be back as agreed. Have picked up S. S. Adelaide bound east in your latitude. Warned her to take northerly course account derelict. See you later. Signed, Brent, commanding U. S. S. Bennington."

The man in the barred room tapped off his acknowledgement and closed the key. He suddenly realized he had had no breakfast, and the hours had been slipping past. He took his gun again and went down to the galley to prepare some coffee. It was not the time or place for an enjoyable meal, but he would have relished it more had he not pictured the Adelaide and her lovely owner steaming across these threatening seas.

He knew the captain of the Adelaide. "Obstinate pigheaded old Scotchman!" "Hope he takes Brent's advice. Of course Brent couldn't tell him the truth. We can't blat this wild yarn all over the air or the passenger lines would have our scalps. But I wish the Adelaide was safe in Manila."

His explorations in the afternoon were half-hearted and perfunctory. There was nothing more to be learned. But he had seen in his mind some vague outline of what they must meet. He saw a something, mammoth, huge, that could grasp and hold an ocean freighter—against whose great body he had seen the waves dash in a line of white spray. Yet a something that could force its way down narrow passages, could press with terrific strength on bolted doors and crush them inward, wrecked and splintered. Some serpentine thing that felt and saw its way and crawled so surely through the dark—found its prey—seized it—and carried off a man as easily as it might a mouse.

No octopus, no matter what proportions, filled the description. He gave up trying to see too clearly the awful thing. And he kept away from the ship's rail when once he had ventured near. For there had come to him a feeling of fear that had sent the waves of cold trickling and prickling up his spine. Was there something really there?... A waiting lurking horror in the depths?

"The eyes," he thought, "the eyes!..." And he went more quickly than he knew to his barred retreat where again he might breathe quietly.

* * *

The position of the deserted ship was south of the regular steamer lanes on the TransPacific run. Only a trace of smoke on the northern horizon marked through the afternoon the passage of other craft. It was a long and lonely vigil for the waiting man. But the Bennington would return, and he listened in at intervals hoping to hear her friendly signal.

The batteries operating the Nagasaki's wireless were none too strong; Thorpe saved their strength, though he tried at times to raise the Bennington somewhere beyond his reach.

The sun was touching the horizon when he got his first response. "Keep up the old nerve," admonished the slow, careful sending of the Bennington's operator. "We have been delayed but we are on our way. Signed, Brent."

The man in the wireless room placed the oak bars across the door, and tried to believe he was nonchalant and unafraid as he laid out extra clips of cartridges. But his eyes persisted in following the sinking sun, and he watched from within his cage the coming of the quick dark.

The protecting glare of day must be unbearable to this monster from the lightless depths, and daylight was vanishing. Thorpe's mind was searching for additional means of defense. He found it in the cargo he had seen. The drums of carbide! He could scatter it on the deck—it reacted with water, and those slimy arms, if they came and touched it, could find the contact hot. He took his lantern and went hastily below to stagger back with a drum upon his shoulder.

In the half-light that was left him he forced the cover and then rolled the drum about the swaying deck. The gray, earthly lumps of carbide formed erratic lines. Useless perhaps, he admitted, but the threatening dark forced the man to use every means at his command.

He was scattering the contents of a second drum when he stiffened abruptly to rigid attention.

The ship, thrown broadside to the wide-spaced swells, had rolled endlessly with a monotonous motion. But now the deck beneath him was steadying. It assumed an abnormal levelness. The boat rose and fell with the waves, but it no longer rolled. There was something beneath holding, drawing on it.

Thorpe knew in that frozen second what it meant. The drum clattered to the rail as he dashed for his room. Gun in hand, he watched with staring eyes where the deserted deck showed dim and vague in the light of the stars and the bow of the ship was lost in the uncertain dark of night.

Wide-eyed he watched into the blackness, and he listened with desperate attention for some slightest sound beyond the splashing of waves and the creaking of spars.

Far in the west a light appeared, to glow and vanish and glow again in the tumbling waters. The Bennington! His heart leaped at the thought, then sank as he knew the destroyer's lights would not appear from that direction.

Through a slow hour that seemed an eternity the oncoming ship drew near, and he knew with a sudden, startling certainty that it was the Adelaide—and Ruth Allaire—coming on, through into the horror awaiting.

He leaned forward tensely as a sound reached his ears. A ghostly echo of a sound, like the softest of smooth, slipping fabric upon hard steel. And as he listened, before his staring eyes, a something came between him and the lighted yacht.

It wavered and swung in the darkness. It was formless, uncertain of outline, and it swung in the night out beyond the ship's rail till it suddenly neared, waved high overhead, and the cold light of the stars shone in pale reflection from an enormous, staring eye.

It surmounted a serpentine form that took shape in the dim radiance without and came lower in undulating folds to crash heavily upon the deck.

Thorpe's hand was upon the wireless key. He had wanted to warn off the yacht, but not till the thud of the creature on the bare deck proved its reality could he force his cold fingers to press the key.

Then, fast as his inexperience allowed, he called frantically for the Adelaide. He spelled her name, over and over.... Would the sleepy operator never answer?

The Bennington broke in one. "Is that you, Thorpe? What is up?" they demanded.

But Thorpe kept up his slow spelling of the yacht's name. He must get a warning to them! Then he realized that the Bennington could do it better.

"Bennington," he called, "Adelaide approaching. I am attacked. Warn them off. Warn them—" His frantic, hissing dots and dashes died immediately. Beneath his feet the Nagasaki Maru was rolling again, swinging free to the lift and thrust of the swells beneath.

"Good God!" he shouted aloud in his lonely cabin. "It's gone for the yacht. Adelaide—turn north—full speed—" he clicked off on a slow, stuttering key. "Head north. You are being attacked!" He groaned again as he saw the Adelaide's shining ports swing away from the safety of the north; the ship broached broadside to the waves and came slowly to a stop.

"Bennington," he radioed. "Brent—it has got the Adelaide. Help—hurry! I am going over."

He tore wildly at the barred door, and he made a dash across the deck to slip sprawling in a heap against the rail where the slimy traces of the recent visitor stretched glistening on the deck.

How he lowered the boat Thorpe never knew. But he knew there was one that the men from the Bennington had swung over the side, and tore madly at the tackle to let the boat crash miraculously upright into the sea. He slung the rifle about his neck with a rope end—there were cartridges in his pocket—and he went down the dangling lines and cast off in a frenzy of haste.

What could he do? He hardly dared form the question. Only this stood clear and unanswerable in his mind: The yacht was in the monster's grip, and Ruth Allaire was there on board. Ruth Allaire, so smiling, so friendly, so lovable! Food for that horror from the depths.... He rowed with super-human strength to drive the heavy boat across the wave-swept distance that separated them.

Between gasping breaths he turned at times to glance over his shoulder and correct his course. And now, as he drew near, he saw though indistinct the unmistakable, snakelike weaving of horrible tenuous fingers, rolling and groping about the yacht.

They were plain as he drew alongside. The trim ship rose and fell with the water, while over her side where Thorpe approached swung a long, white monstrous rope of flesh. It retreated like the lash of a whip, and the horrified watcher saw as it went the struggling figure of a man in the grasp of flabby lips. And above them a single eye glared wickedly.

Another vile, twisting arm rose from the afterdeck with a screaming figure in its grasp and vanished into the water beyond the yacht. There were others writhing about the decks. Thorpe saw them as he made his boat fast and clambered aboard.

A wave of reeking air enveloped him as he reached the deck; the nauseous stench from the monster's tentacles was horrible beyond endurance. He gagged and choked as the stifling breath entered his lungs.

A huge rope of slippery, throbbing flesh stretched its twisted length toward the stern. It contracted as he watched into bulging muscular rings and withdrew from the afterdeck. The deadly end of it stopped in mid-air not twenty feet from where he stood. The jawlike pincers on it held the limp form of an officer in its sucking grip, while above, in a protuberance like a gnarled horn, a great eye glared into Thorpe's with devilish hatred.

The beak opened sharply to drop its unconscious burden upon the deck, and the watching man, petrified with horror, saw within the gaping maw great sucking discs and beyond them a brilliant glow. The whole cavernous pit was aflame with phosphorescent light. Dimly he knew that this light explained the ability of the beastly arms to grope so surely in the dark.

The eye narrowed as the gaping, fleshy jaws distended, and Robert Thorpe, in a flash that galvanized him to action, was aware that his fight for life was on. He fired blindly from the hip, and the recoil of the heavy gun almost tore it from his hands. But he knew he had aimed true, and the toothless, seeking jaws whipped in agony back into the sea.

There were other arms whose eyes were searching the stern of the yacht. Thorpe plunged frenziedly down a companionway for the cabin he knew was Ruth Allaire's. Was he in time? Could he save her if he found her? His mind was in a turmoil of half-formed plans as he rushed madly down the corridor to find the body of the girl a limp huddle across the threshold of her cabin.

She was alive; he knew it as he swung her soft body across one shoulder and staggered with his burden up the stairs. If he could only breathe! His throat was tight and strangling with the reeking putrescence in the air. And before his eyes was a picture of the strong oak bars of his own retreat. Somehow, some way, he must get back to the abandoned ship.

An eye detected him as he came on deck, and he dropped the limp body of the girl at his feet as he swung his rifle toward the glowing light within the opening jaws. The sucking discs cupped and wrinkled in dread readiness in the fleshy, toothless opening. He emptied the magazine into the head, though he knew this was only a feeler and a feeder for a still more horrible mouth in the monstrous body that rose and fell tremendously in the dark waters beyond. But it was typical of Robert Thorpe that even in the horror and frenzy of the moment he rammed another clip of cartridges into his rifle before he stooped to again raise the prostrate figure of Ruth Allaire.

The forward deck for the moment was clear; it rose high with the weight of the writhing, twisting arms that weighed down the stern of the yacht where the crew had taken refuge.

To think of helping them was worse than folly—he dismissed the thought as another great eye came over the rail. Once more he used the gun, then lowered the girl to the waiting boat, and cast off and rowed with the stealthiest of strokes into the dark.

Behind him were whipping points of light above the white brilliance of the yacht Adelaide. The boat was tossing in great waves that came from beyond, where a body, incredibly huge, was tearing the waters to foam. There were ghostly arms that shone in slimy wetness, that lashed searchingly in all directions, as the monster gave vent to its fury at Thorpe's attack. There were screaming human figures grasped in many of the jaws, and the man was glad with a great thankfulness that the girl's stupor could save her from the frightful sight.

He dared to row now, and his breath was coming in great choking sobs of sheer exhaustion when at last he pulled the senseless form of Ruth Allaire to the deck of the Nagasaki and drew her within the frail shelter of the wireless room.

Stout had the oaken bars appeared, and safe his refuge in the barricaded room, but that was before he had seen in horrible reality the fearful fury of this monster from the deep. He placed the braces against the door and turned with hopeless haste to seize the wireless key.

"Bennington," he called, and the answer came strong and clear. "Where are you.... Help—" His fingers froze upon the key and the answering message in his ears was unheeded as he watched across the water the destruction of the yacht.

This craft that had dared to resist the onset of the brute, to fight against it, to wound it, was feeling the full fury of the monster's rage. The gleaming lights of the doomed ship were waving lines that swept to and fro in the grip of those monstrous arms. The boat beneath Thorpe's feet was tossing in the waves that told of the titanic struggle. He had meant to look south for some sign of the oncoming destroyer, but in fearful fascination he stared spellbound where the masts of the trim yacht swept downward into the waves, where the green of her star-board lantern glowed faintly for an instant, then vanished, to leave only the darkness and the starlit sea.

Avoice aroused him from his stupefaction. "Where am I ... where am I?" Ruth Allaire was asking in a frightened whisper. "That terrible thing—" She shuddered violently as memory returned to show again the horror she had witnessed. "Where are we, Robert? And the Adelaide—where is it?"

Thorpe turned slowly. The insane turmoil of the past hour had numbed his brain, stunned him.

"The Adelaide—" he mumbled, and groped fumblingly for coherent thoughts. He stared at the girl. She was half-risen from the floor where he had laid her, and the sight of her quivering face brought reason again to his mind. He knelt tenderly beside her and raised her in his arms.

"Where is the yacht?" she repeated. "The Adelaide?"

"Gone," Thorpe told her. "Lost!" A thought struck him.

"Was your father on board, Ruth?"

Ruth was dazed.

"Lost," she repeated. "The Adelaide—lost!... No," she added in belated response to Thorpe's question. "Daddy was not there. But the men—Captain MacPherson ... that horrible monster...." She buried her face in her hands as she realized what Thorpe's silence meant.

He held the trembling figure close as the girl whispered: "Where are we, Robert? Are we safe?"

"We may win through yet," he told her through grim, set lips. He realized abruptly that he was seeing the face of Ruth Allaire in the light. He had left a lantern burning! He withdrew his arms from about her and sprang quickly to his feet to put out the tell-tale light. In darkness and quiet was their only safety. And he knew as he sprang that he had waited too long. A soft body crashed heavily on the deck outside.

The girl's voice was shrill with terror as she began a question. Thorpe's hand pressed upon her lips in the dark where he stood waiting—waiting.

A luminous something was glowing outside the cabin. It searched and prodded about the deserted deck to whip upward at the audible hiss of wet carbide. Another appeared; the rifle came slowly to the man's shoulder as a pair of jaws gaped glowingly beyond the windows and an eye stared unblinkingly from its hornlike sheath. It crashed madly against the walls of the wireless room to shatter the glass and make kindling of the woodwork of the sash. Thorpe fired once and again before the specter vanished, and he knew with sickening certainty that the wounds were only messages to some central brain that would send other ravening tentacles against them. But the oak bars had held.

He reached in the brief interval for the key, and he sent out one final call for help. He strained his ears against the head-set for some friendly human word of hope.

"—rocket," the wireless man was saying. "Fire rockets. We can't find—" A swift, writhing arm wrapped crushingly about the cabin as the message ceased.

Thorpe seized his rifle and fired into the gray mass that bulged with terrible muscular contractions through the window. He fired again to aim lengthways of the arm and inflict as damaging a wound as his weapon would permit.

The arm relaxed, but a score of others took up the attack. Again the sickening stench was about them as gaping jaws gleamed fiery beneath the hateful eyes and tore at the flimsy structure. Thorpe jammed more cartridges into the gun and fired again and again, then dropped the weapon to fumble for the rockets that Brent had given him.

He lighted one with trembling fingers; the first ball shot straight into a waiting mouth. Another ignited a searing flame of acetlylene gas where a wet arm writhed in the hot carbide trail. The man leaned far out through the broken window.

No time to look around. He let the red flares stream upward high into the air, then dropped the rocket hissing on the deck to seize once more the rifle.

A mass of muscle crashed against the door; it went to splinters under the impact, and only the two oak bars remained to hold in check the horrible tentacles and the darting heads. One mouth closed to a pointed end that forced its way between the bars. The oak gave under the strain as Robert Thorpe pulled vainly at an empty gun. Beside him rose shrieks of terror as the monstrous thing came on, and Thorpe beat with frantic fury with his clubbed rifle at the fleshy snout.

He knew as he swung the weapon that the shrieks had ceased, then smiled grimly in the numbing horror as he realized that Ruth Allaire was beside him. A piece of oak was in her hands, and she was striking with desperate and silent fury at the slimy flesh.

It was the end, Thorpe knew, and suddenly he was glad. The nightmare was over, and the end was coming with this girl beside him. But Robert Thorpe was fighting on to the last, and he tried to make his blows reach outward to the hateful devilish eye.

He saw it plainly now, for the deck was a glare of white light. He saw the eye and the thick arm behind it and the score of others that made a heaving, knotted mass were brilliant and wetly shining. He could see now how best to strike, and he turned his gun to thrust with the barrel at the eye.

It withdrew before his stroke—the jaws slid backward to the deck. There were sounds that hammered at his ears. "The guns! The guns!" a girl was screaming. Across the deck, where a search-light played, huge arms were lashing backward toward the sea. The waves beyond had vanished where a monstrous body shone wetly black in a blinding glare.

And the man hung panting, helpless, on the one remaining bar across the doorway to look where, beyond, her forward guns a spitting stream of staccato flashes, the Bennington tore the waves to high-thrown spray. Her four clean funnels swung far over as the slim ship, with her stabbing, crashing guns, swung in a sweeping circle to bear down upon the black bulk slowly sinking in the search-light's glare.

The vast body had vanished as the destroyer shot like one of her own projectiles over the spot where the beast had lain. And then, where she had passed, the sea arose in a heaving mound. The big ship beneath the watching man shuddered again as another depth charge grumbled its challenge to the master of the deeps.

The warship went careening on an arc to return and throw the full glare of her search-lights on the scene. They lighted a vast sea, strangely stilled. An oily smoothness leveled waves and ironed them out to show more clearly the convulsions of a torn mass that rose slowly into sight.

Thorpe in some way found himself outside the cabin. And he knew that the girl was again beside him as he stared and stared at what the waters held. A bloated serpent form beyond believing was struggling in the greasy swell. Its waving tentacles again were flung aloft in impotent fury, and, beneath them, where their thick ends jointed the body, a head with one horrible eye rose into the air. A thick-lipped mouth gaped open, and the gleam of molars shone white in the blinding glare.

The twisting body shuddered throughout its vast bulk, and the waving arms and futile staring eyes dropped helpless into the splashing sea. Again the revolting head was raised as the destroyer sent a rain of shells into its fearful mass. Once more the oily seas were calm. They closed over the whirling vortex where a denizen of the lightless depths was returning to those distant, subterranean caverns—returning as food for what other voracious monsters might still exist.

The man's arm was about the figure of the girl, trembling anew in a fresh reaction from the horror they had escaped, when a small boat drew alongside.

"They're safe," a hoarse voice bellowed back to the destroyer, and a man came monkeywise up a rope where Thorpe had launched his boat.

And now, as one in a dream, Thorpe allowed the girl to be taken from him, to be lowered to the waiting boat. He clambered down himself and in silence was rowed across to the destroyer.

"Thank God!" said Brent, as he met them at the rail. "You're safe, old man ... and Miss Allaire ... both of you! You let off that rocket just in time; we couldn't pick you up with our light—

"And now," he added, "we're going back; back to San Diego. The Admiral wants a word of mouth report."

Thorpe stilled him with a heavy gesture. "Give Ruth an opiate," he said dully. "Let her forget ... forget!... Good God, can we ever forget—" He stumbled forward, heedless of Brent's arm across his shoulders as the surgeon took the girl in charge.

* * *

Admiral Struthers, U.S.N., leaned back from his desk and blew a cloud of smoke thoughtfully toward the ceiling. He looked silently from Thorpe to Commander Brent.

"If either one of you had come to me with such a report," he said finally, "I would have found it incredible; I would have thought you were entirely insane, or trying some wild hoax."

"I wish it were a damn lie," said Thorpe quietly. "I wish I didn't have to believe it." There were new lines about the young-old eyes, lines that spoke what the lips would not confess of sleepless nights and the impress of a picture he could not erase.

"Well, we have kept it out of the papers," said the Admiral. "Said it was a derelict, and the wild messages floating about were from an inexperienced man, frightened and irresponsible. Bad advertising—very—for the passenger lines."

"Quite," Commander Brent agreed, "but of course Mr. Thorpe may want to use this in his next book of travel. He has earned the right without doubt."

"No," said Thorpe emphatically. "No! I told you, Brent, there was often a factual basis for fables—remember? Well, we have proved that. But sometimes it is best to leave the fables just fables. I think you will agree." A light step sounded in the corridor beyond. "Nothing of this to Miss Allaire," he said sharply.

The men rose as Ruth Allaire entered the room. "We were just speaking," said the Admiral with an engaging smile beneath his close-cut mustache, "of the matter of a bet. Mr. Thorpe has won handily, and he has taught me a lesson."

He took a check book from his desk. "What charity would you like to name, Miss Allaire? That was left to you, you remember."

"Some seamen's home," said Ruth Allaire gravely. "You will know best, if you two are really serious about that silly bet."

"That bet, my dear," said Robert Thorpe with smiling eyes, "was very serious ... and it has had most serious consequences." He turned to the waiting men and extended a hand in farewell.

"We are going to Europe, Ruth and I," he told them. "Just rambling around a bit. Our honeymoon, you know. Look us up if you're cruising out that way."

#public domain #short stories #sea monsters

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