#because surly if they can do it now they could have done it then??

[thisisntreaver]

That quest in fable 2 where sparrow has to go save their child from the same cave where they saw a man simply die of heartbreak because they didn't get to his son before he was turned into a hobbe must fuck with them so bad

[zepskies]

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[austerity-audacity-asceticism]

The atomic habits of St. Therese of Lisieux

I used to be one of those people that were like “oh I love St. Joan of Arc, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Paul, St. Teresa of Avila” because I thought they were Cool and Heroic and they did Big Things

And whenever someone would talk about “The Little Flower of Lisieux” I was like “mehhhhh… okay”

Not in a way that was totally disrespectful, but not totally aware of the enormity of her interior life

Because guys

Wow

You’d have to read The Story of the Soul to really appreciate just WHY she is a doctor of the Church

(She’s the Doctor of Divine Love, btw)

Because St. Therese? She was in the details

They like to say the devil is in the details, but let’s face it— God is in the details, and in his mercy and wisdom, he placed St. Therese there for us to learn from and imitate in our own ways

She had to reconcile her great desire to be a saint with the enormous legacies of the saints that came before her, especially Joan of Arc and St. Teresa of Avila

(She, along with St. Joan, are the patron saints of France. I’m sure that’s something St. Therese never dreamed of)

And she had the realization that God would not have given her a desire that she was incapable of, and that there must be a way for someone “as small as her” to become a great saint

Which lead her to meditate on Mathew 18:4 (Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven)

And she was like “oh, okay. This desire planted into my heart is an invitation to become a little child, because the Lord wants to be the one to carry me to Heaven” 

(I am heavily paraphrasing so that you guys won’t be spoiled for Story of a Soul. Go read it!!!)

All of this is to say that her writings and her life reflect a simple but profound theology 

The Little Way is one of total dependence on the providence of God, of total surrender and self-mortification— the emptying of the cup of one’s self little by little, so that the Lord can fill it with his graces and abundance, and ultimately, with His own divine self 

The Little Way is one of the smallest acts of radical love, because the only person who needs to see it is God 

The Little Way is St. Therese going out of her way to nurse the nuns that she didn’t get along well with 

The Little Way is St. Therese is doing her best to hold cheerful conversations with a particularly surly nun 

The Little Way is St. Therese relishing being splashed with dirty laundry water as a sign of the smallest of suffering that only God would see

I called this particular post her “atomic habits,” because she believed that small acts can lead to holiness when done with great love for our Lord 

Small acts of love and self mortification were the things that she sought for while in the Carmel 

St. Therese elucidated in her signature sincere and effervescent style the enduring idea that there is no suffering too small, no act of love too small, to offer the Lord— because what he wants is souls, what he wants is us

That’s not to say that her interior life was always rich 

She suffered so much from months of aridity that she grew an affection for atheists, even going so far to say, and I quote:

[God] allowed my soul to be overwhelmed with darkness, and the thought of Heaven, which had consoled me from my earliest childhood, now became a subject of conflict and torture. This trial did not last merely for days or weeks; I have been suffering for months, and I still await deliverance. I wish I could express what I feel, but it is beyond me. One must have passed through this dark tunnel to understand its blackness ... When I sing of the happiness of Heaven and the eternal possession of God, I do not feel any joy therein, for I sing only of what I wish to believe. Sometimes, I confess, a little ray of sunshine illumines my dark night, and I enjoy peace for an instant, but later, the remembrance of this ray of light, instead of consoling me, makes the blackness thicker still.

It’s thought that St. Therese experienced this interior anguish up until the end of her battle with tuberculosis, with her final words being: “My God, I love you!” 

To summarize everything, reading St. Therese is a study not only of radical love, but also radical humility 

From a spoiled child to a martyr of the Carmel, St. Therese lived an inner life that very few of her own sisters in the convent were aware of 

Her life is also a testimony to God's perfect timing; St. Therese wanted to be a missionary in Hanoi, but was prevented from doing so when she contracted tuberculosis. She was later named a patron saint to missionaries.

St. Therese's Little Way informed the spirituality of many of the saints and intellectuals that came after her: St. Josemaria, St. John Paul II, Mother Teresa, St. Teresa of the Andes, Blessed Cecilia Eusepi, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Dorothy Day

On her feast day, let’s take the time to reflect on what small things we can do today for the Lord; what small sufferings we can offer him with great love and humility 

God would never inspire me with desires which cannot be realized; so in spite of my littleness, I can hope to be a saint. — St. Thérèse of Lisieux

St. Therese of Lisieux, pray for us.

[i-put-the-hot-in-psychotic]

Target Acquired Part 2 (NSFW)

Pairings: Keegan. P. Russ x Soldier! Reader

Enemies to Lovers Trope MDNI, NSFW

Summary: In a mission trying to find some important intel with Task Force 141, you are pulled into a dimly lit room, the heavy door slamming shut behind you. Sharp words exchanged, trying to assert dominance over the other, yet an unspoken connection that neither wants to admit, turns into something more intimate.

Disclaimer: MDNI!, NSFW, 18+ This story will contain curse words, war themes, and NSFW sexual themes. I know Keegan and the new game do not have anything to do with each other but for the plot and sexiness sake, no hate and enjoy reading! This is purely fictional!

Word Count: 3,888

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, sexual themes, curse words, sexual acts, blowjobs, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, female orgasm, male orgasm, slight m dom.

Part 1

Keeping your rifle close, you slowly make your way through the dark corridors of this middle of nowhere base. Laswell had said they had some intel on Makarov and needed to infiltrate this base, slowly, quietly, and surly enough Task Force 141 was the perfect fit to go.

Pacing slowly through the corridor, illuminated by only blue light, you had to keep an eye out on both sides, from your left, the windows to the inner base, to your right doors leading to IT rooms, security cameras, and most likely would contain enemies.

A sigh leaves your lips, you can’t let Laswell down, the Task Force.

It had been months since you had heard or seen Keegan. In all honestly what happened in that abandoned warehouse still finds a way to creep in your mind, especially in moments you don’t want to. Looking to your left to check if the coast is clear, a hand grabs your mouth applying pressure and pulling you in a nearby room.

You freeze when you feel a big hand over your mouth, not daring to make a sound. You keep absolutely still, not moving a muscle as your heart starts to race. Even though having years of training the initial shock and the increase of heart rate still settles deep down in your stomach. This is going to be fun you think besides yourself. How could you have not heard them creep behind you. You start evaluating what they might ask or worse getting ready for the Russian torture you were about to endure.

No.

Keeping calm and letting your anger stay contained, you elbow your aggressor with the butt of your rifle, turning on him and aiming. Upon looking at your aggressor, seeing him groaning in pain face in his hand he winces “Fuck Y/N”.

You straighten yourself upon hearing your voice you look at his ice-coloured eyes.

"Keegan?"

 No.

What is he doing here? How did he find you? For a moment, he stares at you in shock. He was.... surprised to say the least.

"What the hell are you doing here? This is Task 141’s deal not yours?"

His face remains unmoving but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes. He leans against the wall opposite you, placing his arms behind him. "I came because I wanted to see you." He said in a quiet voice.

"Right" you reply rolling your eyes. "You have seen me now, now let me go back to work before you get us both killed"

He raises an eyebrow. "Price asked me to come." he answers your question. "Why are you so cold?..." he whispers.

If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it already. Something else is at play here. Having enough of his bullshit you make you way out of this tech room you’re in.

"Can I ask you one more question before you go?"

You turn towards him, "What is it with you and your questions?"

"I just want to know one thing..."

There's a strange intensity in his eyes as he stares at you, almost like you are the most fascinating person he's ever seen.

"Do you still think we are enemies?"

With that you remain complete quiet, completely frozen. At this point in time, were we?

Your body wants to respond so desperately. Reason creeps through your skin. He hadn’t killed you, hadn’t hurt you last time nor now, as you would have thought. If he wanted to take advantage of you last time he easily would have. Biologically, he's completely stronger than you.

But enemies.

Your mind flashed to the dreams you had about him, how hot he made you feel. How his shoulders felt underneath your nails. How his mask scratched your cheeks. A shaky breath releases past your lips, still yet to respond.

He watches, seemingly transfixed by your response. He watches you as your mind lingers on those thoughts you tried to suppress.

He could tell what you were thinking...

Finally, he speaks again. There's a strange tenderness in his voice, as if he's afraid to ask what he's about to ask but he needs to know the answer.

"Have you been thinking about me?"

"No" acting childish. "Have you?" You ask wanting to know if he genuinely had.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise. He's not used to people not being honest with him. Especially not people like you.

"Yes. A lot." He replies. "And I've been thinking how much I want to see you again."

Beat...

His gaze is steady and intense, like he knows you can see the honesty in his eyes. You weren't expecting that answer. He had been thinking about you. Wait. What if this was all part of a plan. To get into your head. All the compliments. What if-. He shakes his head slightly like he somehow knows what’s going through your mind.

"I'm not lying."

The intensity in his eyes only grows, but he's trying to conceal it. He's not trying to be intimidating. He wants you to see his vulnerability.

"Is this some sort of sick joke" you reply now getting hurt, angry. Was he playing you?

He takes a small step toward you, his eyes filling with genuine emotion.

"It's not a joke, it's not a trick or game. I'm as serious as I've ever been."

His lips curl into a slight smile. "I can't stop thinking about you." His voice is laced with honesty and genuine feeling. He seems like he can't believe he is saying these words, but he can't stop.

"Why here? Now? During an OP?” you state voice rising letting frustration eat away at your skin. He got closer to you, intruding on your personal space. “Make me believe you" you say close to him, face serious. You felt like he was lying. "Next time you see me it better not be some kind of sick job or a bullet because I won’t hesitate to pull my trigger"

For a moment, he's taken aback by the boldness of your request. But he's not shocked. He steps forward again, this time closing the distance completely between you two. He stares you down, a small grin spreading across his lips.

"I promise you... when I next see you, you won't be holding a gun. Or anything else for that matter." He speaks as if you are a part of his very soul, as if you already know exactly what he means.

You look at his eyes. Captivating. You had only seen his face through the briefing never in real life. Curiosity killing you wanting to know what he looks like. Want to lift his mask up feel his skin. Sensing your eyes trying to take every detail, he can tell right away that you're curious about what he looks like beneath his mask.

He's not used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like you. Normally, you're so bold and confident, yet here you are, studying every aspect of him as if you're drawn to him.

He's not used to this kind of vulnerability coming from someone like you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Mm" you respond with a whisper.

"What if you saw me again but without the mask?" He asks.

His eyes are fixed on yours and you sense the intensity of his gaze even from behind the mask. Its as if he's studying you, trying to see inside of you, hoping you'll let him.

Hesitating to lift your hand towards his face. You were so close. You touch your fingers against his cheek feeling the warmth radiating from the mask. Holding his full cheek in your palm you slowly glide your finger where his lips rest underneath the mask. Eyes getting heavy, breathing non-existent. His eyes bore into yours watching you study him.

His breath catches as your touch meets his skin. He doesn't pull away or try to stop you, on the contrary, it feels like he's allowing you to study every aspect of him.

There is a calmness in his eyes that you've never seen before. He is vulnerable at this moment, exposing his entire being to you.

A small smile spreads across his lips as your finger traces his mouth.

He doesn't blink as he looks into your eyes. He is waiting for you to make the next move.

Your hand fingers his mask underneath his shirt pulling it up slowly. He doesn’t move to stop you, but instead he takes in small inhale of air as you pull the mask up. Finally, edge of the mask in your hand. You stop and think.

Beat...

You pull the mask up until it reaches his nose finally seeing his lips. Plump lips with a sharp jaw. Clean shaven and a few scars adorn his face. In a trance you touch his skin and both of you let out a breath you both have been holding but he doesn't move, even though you can see his entire body tremble. He is breathing hard, and he is enjoying this. He closes his eyes, and he lets out another deep inhale as you touch his skin. You trace your finger down his Adams apple and finally graze your thumb on his bottom lip.

As he had his eyes closed, your hand wrapped around his throat applying just the right pressure, making him release a staggered deep groan. Fuck, your eyes flutter slightly. That sounded...hot.

"Oh god... "

Your touch is electrifying, causing him to tremble all over his body. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can barely catch his breath. The slight pressure around his throat feels good somehow. He opens his eyes and looks back at you. The moment his eyes meet yours, the entire tension is doubled.

His hand wrap around your waist wanting to pull you closer, dick straining against his pants. He wants to ravage you, but he loves the small teasing you’re providing him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. Your body is pressed up against his, and he can feel your heart racing.

He can't help but stare into your eyes, enjoying the moment, enjoying the way you make him feel. His hands move up your sides gradually, moving ever closer to the waist of your uniformed pants.

As his fingers fondle the waist or your cargos, your thumb traces his bottom lip as he opens his mouth and grabs your thumb in between his teeth, slowly closing his lips around it and sucking on it. His lips are soft and warm, and you can't help but let out a small groan of pleasure. His hands are exploring your body, getting ever closer to the bottom of your jeans.

"Fuck Keegan" you whisper.

He pauses for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own now filled with such desire and need.

"Say my name again..." he whispers.

You moan his name "Keegan" small heavy breaths leaving your lips. His own meeting your neck. His body tenses slightly at the sound of your voice.

He is overwhelmed with desire, and you can feel it in every part of his frame. Every move he makes now is calculated, as if he's going slowly on purpose to not lose the feeling.

"Again..." his voice is barely audible, and you can feel his body trembling.

"Keegan" you straight up moan now. Getting lost in his voice, in your desires.

His desires.

"Again..." he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. Your body quivers and he press’ up against you even closer, feeling every inch of your body against his.

Warmth was spreading all throughout your body, as he pushed you even closer towards him, chest plates hitting, making you feel his thickness rub against your thigh. Fuck he was hard. You rubbed your thigh against him as he leaned against a cabinet that was just behind you, on the left side of the room. The heat between your bodies is so intense, it's almost unbearable. The feeling of it is driving you both wild.

His hands travel even higher, inching up your thighs. His touch is incredibly soft and tender at first then becoming more forceful. He's enjoying the teasing, letting the intensity build up slowly and not even trying to hide the fact that he is getting turned on.

Getting the courage your hand travels towards his bulge and you wrap your hand around it. He hisses at the feeling of your small hand. Grabbing your wrist, you stop shocked at what might have been an overstep. Holding your wrist he unbuttons his black cargo pants, unzipping them, eyes intensely on your face, eyes heavy lidded wanting to see how you might react. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He freed himself from his restraint, adjusting himself now to being free. Your mouth instantly watered at the sight of how big he was. He stroked himself before placing your hand, that was still bound by his wrist, around him wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. He released a staggered breath as you begun to stroke him. His eyes closed head dropping towards his chest.

Upon stroking your thumb felt his wetness on his tip, which you took as a sign to spread it around his head, lip between your teeth. Moaning under your ministrations you couldn’t help but look at him.

Still with his helmet on, eyes closed, panting, dick in your hand stroking him and shamelessly mask atop his face not concealing his identity well, at least the lower part of his face, as the deep soft groans leave his lips.

"That’s it baby" he whispers. "Just like that" he encourages, making you want to please him more. You couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes now full of lust, mouth thick to the brim with salvia you made you way down on your knees and kissed his head. He opened his eyes at the soft feeling of your lips against his cock.

He couldn’t believe it; his mind was playing tricks on him. He saw you kissing his cock making your way down to his base than licking your way up to this shaft. “Fuck” he whispered. If you kept teasing him like that he was about to -

"Ah" he groans eyes tightly closing upon feeling your wet, warm mouth sucking him off. "Jesus Y/N". Eyes closed you take him in deeper in your mouth wanting to feel him at the back of your throat, but he was so thick it was seeming to be difficult.

Your mouth parts, pussy clenching into nothing, clit screaming for just the right of amount of pressure. Slick now dripping down your thighs.

You continue wetting his cock with your tongue, going up and down, his hand now wrapped in your hair bun, although with how tight he’s holding it, it won’t remain a bun much longer. He angles his hips to go in deeper, but you hold him in your fist as you start to feel consumed by him, air refusing to enter your lungs.

"Take it baby. That's it. Good girl." he pushes his hips toward your face. You felt him hit your gag reflex holding your head with his hands until finally pulling away, a line of spit still hanging from your lips to his cock, eyes watery.

He pulls you up standing on your feet and quickly goes to unbutton your pants. Pushing them of your legs you hesitate, as you were both still on a mission. He reassures you that no one is going to enter, and if so, those who do see would leave as they would see what you were doing. They would think that a guard on duty just got lucky.

Turning sides, now you’re the one leaning against the metal cabinet. His lips meet the underside of your ear. "Y/N" he moans as he slightly nips your skin. "Can I touch you?" He asks hand resting on your hip, tracing your navel wanting to go down, and feel how wet you have gotten and gather it on his fingers. "Please" you whisper. "Please Keegan. I need you"

Your pleading drove him crazy, pushing himself towards you. Bare cock rubbing against your stomach. As he couldn’t tease himself enough, he asked "Where do you need me?" lips just inches away from your lips. You hesitate. Is he really going to make you tell him.

"Y/N" he whispers using his other hand to lift your face, meeting your heavy-lidded watery eyes. He looks serious. "I asked you a question. Where do you need me?".

He rubs your folds not wanting to waste anymore time away from you. He slowly pushes his finger inside you, wet and ready for him your pussy takes his finger with ease. You both moan at the intrusion. Keeping his finger there, he breathes hard against you, feeling your warmth wrapping around him.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, feeling like you’re going crazy. Never in your years have you ever felt like this. Felt warm like this or gotten wet like this. It was driving you insane.

"I need you in me. I need to feel you stretch me. I need to feel how thick you are inside of me" you confess. Upon your confession he pushes himself harder against you, your ass hitting deeper against the cabinet his fingers finally pushing on the bundle of nerves between your legs earning a moan from your lips. He feels how wet you are and nearly looses himself, his cock twitching.

Finally, his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, both mouths slightly agape, his eyebrows furrowed at your heat as he starts to move his fingers back out, then pushing them back in. He increases his pace, fingers now dripping wet and inserts another.

His fingers are thick, long, and strong not compared to your small ones, filling you up in all the right places. You grab his arm feeling the bulging muscle of his biceps. "Keegan" you moan. "You like that Y/N?" he asks as his pace continues to increase. "You like my fingers stretching you out, fingering you huh?"

"Yes" you exclaim "Good girl" he kisses you. "Getting ready to take me inside you."

You nod at that wanting to take his cock. He lifts you up on the cabinet and aligns himself to your entrance. Fuck he was thick, the sight alone with his head stroking your pussy nearly made you cum right than and there. "Ready princess?" he asks, and he moves you closer to him if that was even possible. "Yes" you say as you wrap your hands around his neck.

The initial push was electrifying. He was thick and it made you feel like you were on fire. Hot moans coming from you meet his ear, not until he grabs your face in his hand and kisses you again. He continues to push into you as his lips are against yours breathing deeply. The stretch was nothing compared to his fingers. You couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Shh, its ok" he replies. "You’re doing so good for me. You’re taking it so well." He says as he finally pushes all the way into you. You felt like you couldn’t move. He begun to pull out and push back in. Looking at you he saw his world. He wanted to savor the moment deep in his memory. How your eyebrows creased, how your lips were parted how he wanted to make you feel like this. Him. Only him.

His thrusts continued, wet sounds all over the room driving the both of you wild. "Keegan" you call to him. "Yes" he replies worried that he might have hurt you. "I’m close" you reveal to him. It was music to his ears. His thrusts continued with depth and rhythm edging you. "Cum for me. Cum for me princess. Let me feel you. That’s it" he continued to whisper for you.

A static sound was heard from the left side of your chest plate startling the both of you. It hit a second time.

"Y/N" now you hear your own name not your call sign.

" Bravo 8, you ok. Over?" You want to stop body going rigid. Fuck, it was Simon. Keegan continues to push into you. "Keegan wait".

"Bravo 8, Are you with us? Over" you hear again less patient from the radio com. Fuck it’s been a while since you replied or radioed your team. Keegan looks at you with a smirk, "Don’t worry it hasn’t even been 15 minuets. They worry for you too much".

At that Keegan thrust deep into you making your head roll back, making you forget your worries. "You’re going to make me cum, princess" he whispers in your ear. His thrusts increase in motion build up wanting finally to release.

Its Price. "Are you ok? Over."

You’re a whimpering mess around Keegan as he continues to thrust into you. He pulls slightly back, finger against his lips showing you to stay quiet. Confused your brows furrow, until you see the devilish look cast over his eyes as he grabs the button of your radio com, and he pushes into you, deep, feeling his cock hit your cervix keeping you in place. He smirks as he waits for you to reply to your captain.

You bite your lip trying to regain some composure for your voice not to give away of your activities.

This was your captain, your team. "All good Captain. Over" you say as Keegan smirks and releases the button sending your message.

Fuck that was hot. You couldn’t hold on much longer and you clench around Keegan. You moaned as he whispers in your ear "You want me to fill you up?"

Your radio com responds "Fuck, where are you?" The captain states leaving the honorifics behind.

"Fuck" this can’t be happening, not now. Not when you’re so close to cumming. Keegan's statement makes you go feral, imaging his thick cum painting your walls, dripping out of you. Keegan presses the com button,

"You’re way over than ok." He pushes deeper. "You will meet them at the south wing nearing the backdoor of the grounds”.  You repeat breathless what he says to you.

"West Wing" you reply breathlessly.

"You’re going to cum for me huh, going to get filled up with my cum in the west wing" he taunts in your ear.

"I’m coming for you. Over" Keegan laughs at your captain’s message.

"Captains’ join’ in on the fun huh." he smirks, before feeling you clench against him. "Fuck Y/N." His thrust continues, panting heavily as he grabs your hips and presses your com. "Tell him you’re doing just fine." He whispers in your ear as he fucks deeper into you, jealousy laced through his teeth.

"Cause at the moment, you are about to come around my cock" Keegan taunts as he gives one last big push, cock pulsating in you. You feel his hot warm cum hit deep inside you and he releases his load into you. You can’t help but moan with pleasure as you clench around him, your own orgasm hitting you, releasing. His hips still deep in you his heavy breathing meets yours.

"Meet you there" is heard over the comms.

"You sure you’re ok?" captains voice asks again

"Never better" you reply breathlessly.

[howsdeanshole]

cas and dean vs. clothes shopping small fic

after they get cas out of the empty there’s a lot of mundane shit to do. he’s human again, and it’s permanent this time, or as permanent as things ever are for a winchester, but that’s a terrifying thought so it gets locked up in the for later box in deans head. but cas needs food and toiletries and clothes and he’s decided he hates the bedding in the bunker so he has to get new sheets too.

most of this is easy enough. last time cas was human he learned the basics—digestion, hygiene, money—and when he was sick on stolen grace he learned a bit more about preferences. they get him set up with 3-in-1 shampoo and a tooth brush and when dean makes the trip out to the city to do their monthly bulk shopping, he drags cas with him to get some sheets he won’t bitch about. on the way back, dean stops at a secondhand store run by a local church.

cas doesn’t seem to like shopping. he was pleasant on the ride to the city and effusive about the cheap hotdogs they ate for lunch, but about 20 minutes into hauling cases of water and table salt into their cart he got surly. he got even surlier when dean suggested he could go wait with baby. by the time they checked out, dean had written him off and decided to wait out his silence.

the thrift store smells like every thrift store he’s ever been in, dusty and a little bit like cats. the clothes selection isn’t huge, but it’ll do for getting cas started. thats deans hope, anyway, but when he told cas to grab whatever catches his eye and wanders off to a rack of casettes, he hoped cas would get a few days worth of shirts, maybe even find some serviceable jeans. instead, cas dumps an XL shirt with “FALLSTON COUNTY MIDDLE SCHOOL TURKEY TROT 2013” across the front in orange bubble text and a faded grey bucket hat into deans basket.

“that’s all?”

cas shrugs. apparently still not talking. dean knows from experience that forcing the issue right now will, at best, start a fistfight, and at worst, cause cas to fuck off for who knows how long. maybe if he was still an angel dean would go for it, press his luck, but with cas freshly back and freshly human and apparently here to stay, dean swallows the impulse. he buys the admittedly very soft turkey trot shirt and the hat.

after two weeks, it becomes apparent that cas is uninterested in obtaining possessions. he’s content to wear his wholesale underwear and deans shirts and a pair of shorts abandoned by one of the apocalypse world hunters. there are infinite good things about cas coming back, and there are infinite terrifying things about him being human now, and there are infinite things about his return that dean has been trying to stuff in the For Later box, and unfortunately that leaves him kind of pissed off about how he can never find the shirt he wants to wear when he wants to wear it, and also the way his own wardrobe is dwindling due to cas never fucking returning anything. not that he minds sharing! but that would require cas to bring anything back.

not that dean plans to confront him about it. which is maybe cas’s play here? damn. well. deans done great at not bringing up anything heavier than meal planning for over a month already. no need to ruin his streak now.

there’s still hunts. sam and eileen have been out on a few since cas got back. now that dean is better, sam hasn’t been hovering so much. but cas brings the job to dean in the dean cave, pulled up on his phone to show him. it ends up being easy to wrap up, just a matter of destroying a cursed 35mm camera properly and getting the formerly cursed women to the nearest hospital. they don’t even need to put on the fed suits for it, which is good, because dean forgot that cas’s old suit got ruined in his rescue. in deans defense, he wasn’t really thinking that hard about clothes that day, or about anything besides cas heaving himself upright on the other side of that rift, alive and back.

when dean brings up the need for a new fed suit, cas just hums like it’s inconsequential. and because dean is still practicing non confrontation, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

the suit is easy. he goes with the same cut jimmy novaks suit was, in black, and a few dress shirts. ties seem to be one of the few things cas likes to shop for, so dean only grabs one—boring, professional blue and white stripes. it comes in handy days after he hangs it up in cas’s closet, when they have to haul ass out to tennessee to deal with a werewolf pack and have to play fed to get access to the bodies.

after that, it’s a blue fleece-lined hoodie he picks up while he’s canvassing for witnesses hunting what turns out to be a shifter. cas wears it the whole time they’re in the motel looking over the facts of the case, and he wears it in the car on the way back, his strong squared fingers catching deans eye in the rear view mirror whenever he fidgets with the hoods drawstring. there’s a stack of weird novelty tee shirts he picks up in the city the next time he does the bulk restock, this time alone. cas wears them all in a rotation, mostly under his hoodie or one of deans flannels.

when cas asks him to grab a jacket for him, dean cracks on his non confrontational policy. “you should choose it yourself,” he says. cas just hums.

“i like wearing what you’ve chosen,” he says after a minute. “i trust your judgement.”

which, leave it to cas to turn this into—something.

dean buys him a jacket.

he buys him socks, and pajama pants, and new boots and some henleys and a few thrifted flannels, soft from wear. he buys a scarf. house shoes. and cas wears them all, and never returns deans clothes before dean asks for them.

[creepycranberry]

Great big stars

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, not proofread

Pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

<3<3<3<3<3

Some years earlier

You hadn’t meant to get as drunk as you did, and you knew getting this drunk could only lead to bad things but you didn’t care. The only thing you could focus on, drink or not, was that he was over there with her.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He says in your ear but you don’t care. You had half forgotten he was there at all.

“I’m fine, Edward.”

“Are you though?” Eddie asks, attempting to swipe the beer from you but you moved it away.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t stopped staring at that jerk since our set was over.” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. You had been like this for weeks. Combative, surly and somewhat hostile. All over some douche who didn’t treat you right in the first place.

“Whatever.” You grumble, dropping a few bills on the counter and walking away from the bar, Eddie following closely behind.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I wanna go to bed.” You whine and Eddie shakes his head.

“You Can’t drive right now sweetheart.”

“Like hell I can.” You mumble, grabbing your keys and fumbling with your car door.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car.” You pout, tears springing to your eyes and eddies heart squeezes.

“Gareth can drive it over to yours and you can come stay the night with me. We’ll have a sleepover and watch those terrible movies you love and listen to the Smiths.” He offers, trying his best to soothe you.

“You said the Smiths are too sad.” You sniffle.

“But I didn’t say I didn’t like them. Come on, sweetie.” He helps you into the van and goes to give gareth your keys.

When he gets back you’re crying, it’s only then that he notices that Jason and Chrissy have made their way outside of the bar.

Eddie had no idea why they were here. This wasn’t exactly their scene.

“Hey, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Why-why does he like her? She didn’t used to be his type, why is she his type now? Why is it- why was she better than me? Why’d he-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, she’s not better than you, I promise. He just changed, people just change.” He pulls out of the parking lot in a hurry, trying to get you away from them.

He hears your faint sniffling and he has to do his best not to turn around and kill that jackass.

He knew why Jason had left you. He didn’t hate Jason before all this but he wasn’t his biggest fan. Freshman year had been Jason pulling back from you slowly, going from a well intentioned gangly boy to a hierarchy obsessed jackass.

You weren’t on his level anymore. Chrissy was. It was that simple. It was shitty.

By the time Eddie got you home you had calmed down, staring out the window and watching the trees run away from you.

When the two of you walked in, Wayne was packing his break time meal. And when he saw the state you were in, he stopped.

“What happened?”

“Nothing Wayne, she’s just tired.” Eddie responds and Wayne shakes his head.

“She can speak fine for herself. What’s going on, dear? Was it that boy?” He asks and you halfheartedly nod.

“Before you do anything- don’t. She won’t even let me handle it.” Eddie warns him and Wayne deflates slightly, turning his attention back to you.

“Okay. But if you change your mind, just say the word, pumpkin.” He kisses your forehead and goes back to his lunch, letting Eddie lead you to his room.

He puts an old movie that you love in the vhs player as you curl up on the bed, closing your eyes. Eddie waits for the sound of Wayne closing the front door before he goes and gets you a water bottle and makes you a sandwich.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble and Eddie shakes his head.

“Eat.”

“I don’t want to.”

He gives you a playful pout, dramatizing it until you start smiling.

“Please eat? Please?” He playfully pleads until you concede. The both of you get quiet as you eat and Eddie watches the movie. Once you’re done you set you plate on his nightstand and lay down. He plays with your hair to sooth you, the world going quiet for a minute, “he never deserved you.” Eddie whispers, “not once. You were everything. You were great to him and if he can’t appreciate that then I think that’s his problem.”

“I loved him.” You shrug.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Eddie mutters, glancing at you.

“Me too.” You yawn, turning over to face him and closing your eyes.

“Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t scare me like that, sweetheart.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just really sad. And kind of fucking angry.” You sniffle.

“I know. Next time you wanna get drunk we can do it here. Not at a crowded bar, here and we can watch movies and be fun drunk.”

He waits for you to respond but when a response doesn’t come he looks at you and you’re asleep, curled up in a ball, your head nuzzled against his side.

[lauralot89]

In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me.

Renfield is currently the only member of the cast who's not an idiot. Mina sort of gets a pass because vampire influence, but apparently the whole Crew of Light shared one brain cell and Lucy took it to the grave

I hope I have not done wrong

you have, sweetie

She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well.

Jonathan. Jonathan please. You are the only living member left of the conspiracy who was up close and personal with a vampire. SEE THE SIGNS.

Everyone noticing that something's wrong with Mina and brushing it off is giving major Revenge of the Sith vibes when Mace Windu is all "I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi" and then does nothing about it

An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm

I know that Dracula is a novel about the power of friendship and research, but it's also about the power of bribery

"There was the old party what engaged me a-waitin' in the 'ouse at Purfleet. He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn't throw a shadder."

why does the thought of Dracula engaged in menial labor still amuse me so when he's been doing it through the whole book

something about mundane vampires just gets me

You know

Dracula could have just eaten the deliverymen like the day after they finished their jobs for him and then he wouldn't have left this obvious trail. Or transported the boxes himself. Or gone into the offices of the men he hired and compelled them to destroy the records. But Dracula doesn't have any brain cells either.

"Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a special reason for wishing to know who purchased it."

Jonathan you are a solicitor, you have to know better than to think they'll just tell you outright

This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing with him.

Jonathan honey, I love you, and I support you, but why would this person tell a complete stranger who they sold a house to

I got a cup of tea at the Aërated Bread Company

what in the hell is aerated bread

Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.

so I read yesterday's update to my mom last night and she kept yelling "SO STUPID" at the characters and that is how I feel right now.

agency duck

this is how I'm going to refer to real estate agents from now on

The old physicians took account of things which their followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for witch and demon cures which may be useful to us later.

can you imagine if instead of killing Dracula to save Mina, they had to cure him? like what even happens at that point? would his human soul regain its power and be thankful, or was he just the worst even before he went vamp and now they have to deal with him using his vast fortune to bury them all in petty legal disputes for the rest of his life as revenge

I sometimes think we must be all mad

no, dear, you're just very very stupid

The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell; and when he went to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once….

GREAT WORK DOCTOR

also I forgot but yesterday's update mentioned Renfield singing gaily so to keep my word I must do it again

Pour one out for Renfield, the only character who still has a brain

[aurevell]

WIP Whenever

Thanks for the tag, @rosieposiepuddingnpie! I just wrote a little more yesterday for my Steter marriage pact fic:

~

“It’s not just me, right?” Stiles mutters skeptically. He keeps his voice low, assuming no one will hear him in the cacophony of voices. After exchanging polite pleasantries, he has worked his way back to Erica, who sits on a tree stump at the edge of the clearing. She, at least, can always be trusted to feel reasonably surly about the intrusion of anyone new in their territory, so he’s sure of commiseration. “No. You’re right,” Erica mutters back. Her hands are tucked into her jacket, blonde hair coiled inside the turned-up collar. “Never seen another werewolf seem so weirdly into Peter.” At the other end of the clearing, a tall woman in a floral dress sits in the chair beside Peter’s, simpering at him over her beer. Peter’s actually been paying her some modicum of attention, though you wouldn’t know without the hint of a lazy smirk. He’s not looking in her direction, just reclined in his own chair, eyes half-lidded—he’s barely moved all afternoon, like his only goal in life is to absorb what he can of the sparse autumn sun. (Sometimes, Stiles thinks he resembles nothing so much as a cat.) “I guess they don’t know all the shit he’s done,” Erica muses. “All of us still see the caution tape. 'Do Not Cross.' The Daughertys just see him as some hot dude.” Stiles grunts. Because yeah, strip away all the antagonism and general assholery, and that's what you have: a really hot dude. A hot dude who looks like he could make you see god if he got you into his bed. Erica snorts. “He is objectively attractive,” she admits, though she sounds almost offended about it. “God, I’ve never witnessed anyone being actively into him. It’s kind of unbelievable, when you think about it. Like falling in love with a snake.” “Hey. It’s not that unbelievable.” She fixes him with a stare. “He gaslit Lydia into thinking she was going crazy so she’d bring him back to life.” Well, it's hard to argue with that. Even if it was a pretty desperate situation. “Fair enough.” The woman’s hand comes to rest on Peter’s arm. She lowers her voice to speak. Peter still hasn’t moved, just listening to her babble on, but he’s smirking in full now. Here and there, he says something back, almost out of the corner of his mouth.  Stiles would cut off his own arm to know what they’re talking about. 

No-pressure tags for @mirrorthoughts @kordyceps @meggie-stardust @yogi-bogey-box @raisesomehale and anyone else who wants to! No idea who's writing right now.

Also @nogitzune and @beaconfeels just in case you have more to share after yesterday :)

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt40

First: Link Prev: Link Next: TBA

----------

Marvin grunted as he had himself and Jackie appear back into the infirmary. He rubbed his forehead with his hand and no longer worried about being unable to sleep that night. It was beginning to feel like he was running on empty at this point, able to cast that one spell out of pure spite. 

“So, you decided to disregard my warning?” 

“Can we save this for tomorrow?” Marvin didn’t bother looking at who had apparently been waiting for them. 

“Did your fingers go black?” Mare asked from the chair he was lounging in. 

“Tomorrow.” Marvin waved a hand at him, still refusing to even turn toward Mare’s direction. 

“Did they go black?” Mare repeated as he stood up. “Because if they did, you need help to ensure no distorted chaos magic is still inside you. If left untreated, you will lose an aspect of your emotions.” 

“Lose an aspect of his emotions?” Jackie asked. “Like, he’ll stop feeling something?”

“Yes. It could be one thing, it could be several, or it could be all of them.” Mare rolled up his sleeves. “If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I’m only doing this because Mad asked me to. For some reason, he enjoys your company and would like you to stay the same.” 

“It’s adorable that you’re willing to put up with me for Mad.” Marvin huffed, finally facing Mare. “There’s probably a lot of things you’re willing to do for him.” 

“How about you focus on your own shit before trying to dig into mine?” Mare glared while flexing his hand. It slowly began to glow purple as he started preparing a spell. 

“I’m figuring out my shit, so I have all the time in the word to get a shovel for yours. I bet it’s a pretty deep pile.” Marvin grinned. 

“Maybe we should-uh-” Jackie tried to come up with something to say to change the mood. 

“Now I really don’t feel bad that this is going to hurt,” Mare stated, and before what he said could be processed by the other two, he slapped his hand to the center of Marvin’s chest. There was a pause, the purple on Mare’s hand becoming darker and-

“Fuck!” Marvin cursed, hand instinctually grabbing Mare’s wrist but didn’t try to move him. His other hand went out to stop Jackie from helping him. “Don’t.” Jackie bit his tongue and felt his nails digging into the palm of his hand as he held a tight fist, hating that he had to stand and watch. He wanted to help and make the pain stop, but from what it sounded like, it was a necessary evil. 

Marvin gasped when Mare suddenly yanked his hand back. A ball of what looked like black glass was now in his palm. Jackie scrambled over to hold Marvin up when he noticed him slumping over. Marvin wasn’t going to fall, but Jackie also wasn’t going to risk that. They watched as Mare shattered the ball with his hand, the shards falling to the ground and fading into nothing as soon as they hit the ground. Mare shook his hand, the dark purple glowing gone, and his own body showed signs of exhaustion. 

“All done.” Mare turned to leave. 

“Talk to Mad.” Marvin’s comment got Mare to stop. “Or at least pay a little more attention to his eyes. Surly, you’ve learned what the colors mean by now if I know most of them already.” There was an awkward pause.

“Go to bed.” Was Mare’s only response before stepping out and closing the door much harder than needed. 

“You know Mad’s eye colors?” Jackie asked.

“I’m pretty sure I know a few of them, but I might have exaggerated to give Mare a kick to the ass,” Marvin confessed with a casual shrug. 

“A kick in the ass? For what?” Jackie asked, noticing he was still holding the other man, and went to take his hands off, but Marvin caught them.

“To do what we’re going to.” Marvin glanced over Jackie’s shoulder.

“What are we-” Jackie’s question turned into a little yelp when Marvin pushed him and made him fall back on one of the beds. “What-What are we doing?” He stammered as Marvin crawled on the bed and sat on his hips. 

“Making out,” Marvin stated matter-of-factly. 

“But we-we just did.” 

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” 

“I do!” Jackie felt his face flush when he sounded a little too eager with his response. "I-I mean that-we could-if you-if you want-” His rambles slowly died off when Marvin placed a hand on his cheek.

“You dork.” Marvin chuckled and leaned over into a kiss.

Jackie was very thankful for the kiss because he had no idea where he was going with his words. Although, he was now unsure what to do with his hands again. Back on the roof, he was able to get away with just holding his hips, but they had been standing. Would that work like this? He could try. Jackie got distracted for a moment when his lower lip got nipped at, causing his hands to miss their target and land on a different part of Marvin’s body. 

“Sorry!” Jackie quickly pulled his hands away. 

“You’re allowed to touch my ass.” Marvin softly laughed. 

“I wasn’t-I wasn’t trying to.” Jackie was now holding his arms above his head. 

“You’ve earned ass-touching privileges.” Marvin held Jackie’s hands. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to use those privileges.” Jackie blurted out, and that caused Marvin to laugh even more. 

“I’m assuming you two are-” Anti walked into the room and froze. “Really? Again with this shit? You’re going to make people believe you’re actually making out at this rate.” He rolled his eyes. “I want my phone.” 

“Uh…yeah,” Marvin said as he shared a look with Jackie. After his call with Chase, he assumed everyone in the House would know by now. He let Jackie’s hands go and pulled the extra phone out of his pocket. 

“Thank you.” Anti clicked his tongue as he took his phone back. “And you-” He pointed at Jackie. “-are not to do anything that fucking stupid, understood?”

“I think?” Jackie said.

“I will ram my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the dirt on the bottom of my shoe if you pull that shit again,” Anti warned. “Now, if you need me, I still have an annoyed Dark to put up with. I walked away from him mid-sentence, so he’s going to be extra pissy.” He started playing with his phone as he made his way out of the room. “Oh, and Chase said you’re grounded,” Anti added his last point before closing the door. 

“Oh, man!” Jackie groaned. 

“Chase didn’t tell him?” Marvin asked out loud. “Maybe he just didn’t have time with what’s going on out there.” 

“We can ask him in the morning,” Jackie said.

“Why in the morning?”

“I don’t think I can get out of this bed. Like, literally, I think my body’s giving up.” 

“Does that mean we’re not making out anymore?” Marvin teasingly asked.

“I-uh-well-my-my mouth’s not fully dead.” Jackie weakly chuckled. 

“Have I called you a dork yet?”

“Just a few times.” 

“Get ready to hear it plenty more.” Marvin hummed before going back down into a new kiss. 

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Response to this poll

So, because I have been bored at home... I decided to treat this as a prompt. So... here it is:

Forced to watch someone else being tortured.  

Beatrice had been smacked around herself and was in bad shape, but it stopped. 

Ava... not for Ava though. Ava has the halo. The halo heals her. 

But. 

That just means they can drag it out. Over and over they can keep hurting Ava as Beatrice watches. 

Ava’s crying. 

Screaming in pain. 

She told Beatrice once, her body's healing was sometimes worse than the injury itself. 

So Ava was being worked over big time. 

But in between bouts of torture, she would make eye contact with Beatrice. Pleading for Beatrice to be strong. And Beatrice, ever the good soldier, didn’t say a word. 

God she wanted to so badly. 

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

It was a conversation her and Ava had long ago. About this specific situation, because it had always been a posibility, and the decision had been made already. 

No one would talk. 

No matter what. 

No matter how much it hurt or what was happening. No one would compromise the OCS or the mission. 

It was so much easier said than actually done, but Beatrice stood there watching. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched them torture Ava only for minutes to pass and the only sign of it to be the blood staining her torn clothing. 

That was the hard part after they got out of the situation. 

Dealing with it. With no actual proof it happened. 

There weren't any wounds for Beatrice to tend to. 

There wasn’t a need for Ava to spend any time resting in a bed as she healed. 

There was only them, Beatrice’s injuries that only equated to several bruised ribs, a black eye, and a split lip. And somehow it was Ava left comforting her as Beatrice struggled with all the guilt which somehow only made Beatrice feel worse.

2. Forced to participate in someone else’s torture. 

It was a “do this or we will kill this innocent person” situation. 

Ava and Beatrice had found themselves in quite the pickle that way. 

A gun at a child’s head. 

Beatrice instructed to beat Ava with her bare fists. 

Ava begged her to comply with the demand because– ultimately– she would be fine. She had every faith they would be found in time before everything escalated. 

Bea just had to buy them some… unfortunately, by hitting her. 

It wasn't like Beatrice hadn't hit her before- Ava tried to joke, but it fell woefully short.

Beatrice didn’t hit hard the first time after Ava gave her permission. Then there was was a shot fired. 

A warning. 

Beatrice did it again feeling Ava’s cheek hard against her knuckles. It hurt her too, honestly probably more than it hurt Ava. She pushed back, hesitated as much as she could each time she was prompted to strike but it was a child. There wasn’t an option. And Ava was there. Whispering “it’s okay Bea” “I’m okay” the whole time and it broke Beatrice. 

Well and truly.

3. Being tortured in front of others. (Not captives) 

The FBC was all about putting on a show. And the main event just so happened to be Beatrice. 

She was getting the ever living shit beat out of her.

But… she’s been trained for this. And really it wasn’t so hard. 

She’d been doing it for her entire adult life, before that even. All she had to do was stick to the training. Stick to making the torture counter productive. Stick to the techniques. 

It hurt. It was painful. Beatrice knew her right hand was never going to be the same and she likely wouldn’t ever fully heal from the way they had surly demolished every ligament in her left knee. But she could do this. 

Except now. 

Now they had started cutting her. 

The end was almost near. The second that started happening, when the possibility for infection, and other biological complications, was opened they weren’t planning on keeping you around long enough to really need to worry about any of that. 

So Beatrice took it. Like the good soldier, she was praying that Ava wasn’t the first one to find her when this was over.

4. Being tortured in front of others captives. 

It started with Beatrce being dragged into a room. 

Her toes dragging against concrete behind her, she could see out of the bottom of the hood but only just barely. Her weight was held between two men by her shoulders that ached from being in a stress position for the last several hours. 

There was a muffled yelling. 

The loud, horrible, sound of a metal chair scraping against concrete as whoever was sitting in it tried to move. 

The rattling of a chain. As her hands were suspended over her head.

The sharp cold of metal on her wrists as the handcuffs were tightened. 

Beatrice had wits about her enough to squeeze her fists and push her arms into the opening as much as she could, trying to keep the cuffs as loose as she could to maybe give her a chance to get out of them later. 

She wasn’t having much success with it but she had to try. 

She was hooked up. Tension held her arms over her head. Her weight was hardly able to be supported by the balls of her feet. 

Thrashing and trying to kick and fight was no use. It wasn’t making her situation any easier. The protests of the mufflered yells and the chair on the concrete were only getting louder as her situation got worse. 

Cold air hit her face as the hood was rapidly removed. It was rather disorienting. To suddenly be in a very bright room. Very clean and industrial. A drain under her feet didn’t exactly bode well for her. 

Her hair was pulled annoyingly out with the hood, falling into her face though that was the least of her worries. 

Beatrice found the strength to lift her head from where it was hanging. 

She found Ava’s wild eyes. Her hair was a mess too. There was a piece of cloth tied into her mouth. She was strapped down with glowing blue handcuffs to a chair that looked like divinium was placed at stretegic points to prevent Ava from phasing through it. 

Beatrice’s back arched away from freezing water– she hadn’t even heard sputter to life– from a hose hit her back. It soaked over her clothes. Her hair.

She was shivering so hard the chain supporting the majority of her weight was rattling. 

She felt a slight static mere milliseconds before electricity arched through her body. Rattling her teeth and lighting every last one of her nerves on fire from the place the baton came into contact with her side. 

Beatrice never considered herself to be particularly vocal. But she couldn't help but scream at the surprise. 

When it stopped she panted, looking up at Ava to hold eye contact. 

They hadn’t asked her for anything yet. And she was still gagged though that didn’t stop her struggle to get to Beatrice. Tears were streaming down her face as she fought to get free. 

They hit Beatrice again and again. The more Ava struggled the harder they hit beatrice. And each time Beatrice, wasn’t so much capable of speech - her jaw far too swollen for that even if she had the energy to try - but she tried to look at Ava. 

Comfort her as much as she could. 

Yell at her with something in her eyes that she was okay. 

That whatever they wanted Ava couldn’t give into it. 

And each time Beatrice saw Ava’s apology. 

Saw Ava trying to comfort her back. 

But more than that she saw Ava breaking. She saw her furry building. 

The desperation there. 

The pain. 

When the gag was slipped over her chin, a string of drool going with it. Ava was yelling. “You mother fucker. I will kill you for this.” 

Beatrice knew it was coming. She didn’t have to see to know. But a fist collided heavy against her soaked torso with a sickening sound that left Beatrice sputtering, struggling to breathe but at least she was somewhat used to how it felt to be hit. 

It was better then the electricity though not much. “Stop.” Ava pleaded. “What do you want.” 

“Ava you can’t —“ Beatrice breathed, shaking her head knowing she’d also just earned herself the baseball bat they just took to her femur just above her knee. She’d be needing surgery for that one most likely… assuming they got out of this. 

And so it continued. Ava being somewhat antagonistic, it was just in her nature, unfortunately enough for Beatrice. 

They went to town on Beatrice not really asking for anything specific. Locations of safe houses. Bases. Divinium stores. They were fishing with no real goal it seemed. 

They left them. Ava straining against the chair to get to Beatrice. “Bea… Bea talk to me” her voice broke over the nickname Beatrice shook her head sagging against the chains.

Her arms were numb and burning at the same time. The lack of blood flow to her hands had rendered them asleep long ago. But still the cuffs bit into her wrists. “Don’t”… “give”… “them” … “anything” 

“Bea.” 

“No.” She panted “noth-ing. Pro—mice.” 

Ava was shaking her head rapidly as tears streamed down her face but Beatrice was right. The only way this stopped, Beatrice’s only chance was for them to decide that this wasn’t productive.

And the only way that happened is if Ava didn’t break. 

Beatrice would suffer it. As fucked up as it was, Ava wasn’t going to insult Beatrice by thinking she couldn’t. She trusted her. And she knew that Beatrice would sooner die than be used to hurt her order, and she also knew that Beatrice would never forgive her if Ava broke for her. 

The dishonor she’d feel because of something not her choice. 

So Ava would let her choose, as much as it was breaking her, she wouldn’t remove that agency from Beatrice. 

Beatrice, bless her, visibly relaxed when Ava reassured her that she would go with what Beatrice wanted. But she also made sure Beatrice knew how much she hated what was happening.

They heard people in the hall approaching for round two and Beatrice looked at Ava forcing eye contact “Look at me Bea” Ava found her resolve for them both. “Just look right at me. I’m here.” 

Beatrice wanted to laugh. If she had the lungs to say anything that was exactly what she would have said to her love. 

At least they were on the same page… And she held Ava’s eye contact with each new pain they brought to her until she lost consciousness.

[siremasterlawrence]

Christmas Night Fight

This is a Christmas Boxing Match For A Very Special World Title for once in every twelve years a major box goes toe to toe with major other fighters going through the roof in hell like defeat.

I place my bet at the door on Jack L Monroe before sitting in my seat as the light pops on over the shadows of the boxing ring the spit light is giant. A fist pump into the air as a crowd goes wild in the boxer, steady with punches in the air.

Jack Mickelson the titan is a legend in the field, but he does not know that I am both the one betting against him and my almost ensuring my victory over this floor and his constant need for that overbearing and toxic desires, needs and wants above all else.

I can see that smug look cross his face in a cheesy stretch his fist in the other and starts jumping up like an idiot, howling, screaming, and shouting as crowd goes wild and the odd cheering only motivates me more and I could not tell if he was mocking me or not but I was about to win.

The announcer steps onto the ring with an awful condescending smile, foul stench and crooked teeth. The left hand picks up the mic as he squares off with the crowd who are losing all of the their minds, and great anticipation for their great hero, to win yeah, another victory, and prove his might.

He starts to hop on both feet coming at me with such intensity as I take a hop back my fist forms throwing a punch which he evade to hit me up and I avoid that as well but I go for it one curl punching hard fist hitting him in the chest.

The spot I hit on his chest glows hard as he hold on to it backing up he falls to his knees much to my delight I gleefully jump kicking him on both of his sensitive nipples areas as he cries the technique travels causing a electrical current down his spine.

He falls face forward when the alarms goes off ringing loudly in a resounding style the crowd is in a loss booing me as they throw cans at me I laugh shouting out loud to freeze which they do without being aware

of anything.

Tom struggles to rise to his feet barely able to stand up I punch him in his face the spit goes flying in to a air the man is done for as I watch it take effect he stops on his knees he is a mere puppet now. I unzip my pants exposing my cock as I stroll towards him and force his mouth on to it.

“There he is your number three seed in this World Championship.” He shouts lifting my hand in the air.

“Who wants to see the next match?” He is shouting.

“Let me hear you guys scream for it.”

“Wwwwoooohhhhooooo…let the games roll”

“Everyone! Please welcome Mathew James Howl”

“Gentleman! 1…2…3”

“FREEZE”

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t I move?”

“Because I am the master of the ring “

“I rule the roost”

“Nnnnnoooo”

“I’ll have to educate you then”

“On what?”

“The proper behavior ”

“Unfortunately! I don’t obey anyone least of all.”

“One punch and you will fall into my submission “

“Never gonna happen…you….uuuugggghh…fffuuccckkk…yes Master Lawrence.”

“ I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do understand it’s something wicked because you two are up to something very evil and let me have a bad attitude problem, but I surly will not tolerate anyone getting in my way or causing more undue damage to my title.”

”Oh! is that what you were thinking? You have no idea what I am capable of doing you overgrown ape if you mind your own business. Getting angry, I see you throw a punch and failing because you are no good McGregor just another tough guy with pussy heart.”

“ What did you just say to me? I am to break to break you open, spit your ass open, fuck you raw, make you come and worship my skinny tone black ass.” I state to him as he races at me his speed up with every step I take but I launch my hand in the air throwing a one punch as I send him flying into the rings gate.

Meet all of my bodyguards.

The end

[triplesilverstar]

Morning workouts

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina sex, sweaty, post work out, oral, doggy style.

Word count: Roughly 1.7K words

A/N: Part 18 of the series. AN early morning workout for you and Vash that escalated into something more intimate. This came from a yoga idea lol

Your forearms are starting to burn, sweat dripping down your face and coming to a point before falling from your nose to the floor below you. Trying to keep your breathing steady in through your nose and out through your mouth. Vash is panting alongside you. Both of you for very different reasons. You’ve been in a headstand now for almost half an hour, arms forming a triangle with your head as the point, while Vash has been doing one arm push ups. One arm push ups with his feet pointed to the ceiling. Without his shirt on. 

“You know” you start trying to keep your voice even and body still while speaking “you are” another long inhale before exhaling “very distracting right now.” Because the truth is from here you can see the fine little rivers of sweat running down his skin and damn. It’s making your focus on keeping your core tight difficult, because a part of you wants to push him to the floor and taste his skin. 

Instead of answering you, Vash just flicks his eyes towards you not stopping his movements as he extends his arm again, a small smirk on his lips. Eyes smiling, telling you he knows beyond a doubt how much he affects you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was making some of his movements with deliberate slowness. You close your eyes instead of looking at him. Taking a deeper breath slowly lowering your body back down to the ground, or trying to before you fumble and land on your side with a squeak of discomfort. 

Rolling over you press your fingers into your lower back, that was not a fun landing. “You ok Mayfly?” Having righted himself and unlike you not falling on his side, fingers running over your back and pressing against the skin “looks like it’s all alright.” 

“Yea, if anything I feel more like an idiot than in pain” you glance at his face, concern painted there “finish your workout Sunshine. I think I’m done for the day.” 

“I can’t do that.” Keeping his hand on your back he helps you sit up, a hiss of pain passing your lips. “I was a little worried about that” your back feels like it’s on fire, but the pain will just suck for a few hours while it heals. Sending him a look with your eyes narrowed, annoyed by how cheerful he is. “I have an idea if you’re up for it?” 

Snorting you do give him your full attention “what’s the idea” for some reason you aren’t sure how great his idea will be, but his fingers against your skin are very distracting. And the sheen still on his skin from his workout. 

“Stretching your back out” you could slap him for how stupid it sounds, and your face must reflect that based on the fall of his smile. Why are you so surly when your pride hurts? You reach out for one of his hands, running your fingers over his. 

“Alright Sunshine, it’s not like it’ll do anymore damage. What do you want me to do?” With that his smile is back in place, and he’s helping you to get on your hands and knees. Knees spread out in line with your hips and hands beneath your shoulders. 

“Slide your hands forward” doing as he asks and feeling strange like your body is in the oddest position. “Trust me Mayfly” you feel his hand slide down the center of your back and once at your shoulder blades putting pressure, the other hand keeping your hips in place resulting in your chest flush against the floor and ass essentially up in the air. “Now stay there” a part of you shivers a little at his words but you have to admit your lower back is already feeling better at the stretch. You hum, the burn in your muscles is just enough to feel it but not be painful. “Just like that” his voice has gone husky, and before you can question it you hear him taking a deep breath.

“What are you doing Sunshine?” voice curious trying to turn your head, body jerking forward when you feel him grab your hips, hooking his fingers into your pants, dragging them and your underwear down causing you to yelp from the temperature difference. Trying to pull your hips away from his grip, one hand pressing against the space above your tailbone. 

“Stay like this Mayfly” is his answer, both hands on your hips once more, a hint of a command to his voice. You feel a breath against your lower lips and then a long drag of his tongue against your slit. You moan wanting to move but feel his fingers freezing you in place. “Keep your hips steady. I want a taste.” 

“Vash, baby, I'm sweaty and gross.” You hear the whine in your voice, trying to pull away but his grip is a little too intense. Sure you might have wanted to lick the sweat from his skin, and wanting to suck him off is always at the back of your mind these days. Him going down on your though? You're still getting used to the idea of someone wanting to eat you out. 

“Don’t care” his lips are close enough to you that the movement from his words leaves you shivering and twitching before his tongue is licking at your wetness. A moan slips from your throat, his tongue delving around your folds. Not able to see anything except the floor, hearing his harsh breathing and the sounds he’s making against your slick folds. You know he hasn’t done a proper cooldown yet, explaining his chopped breathing. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you close your eyes when he switches to running the tip along your outer labia tracing patterns you can’t follow. It leaves you swallowing hard and feeling the inner muscles of your core clenching. Gasping when the wet muscles suddenly plunges into you. 

“Vash, please!”  He ignores your plea, the wet muscle wiggling inside you forcing the sensitive nerves to fire, torn between wanting to fall apart from his ministrations and being mortified at the fact you’re covered in sweat down there. He’s humming against your skin while he works, and you feel his tongue twist as if to scoop some of your wetness. A loud moan ringing in your ears as you feel him pull away from your sensitive folds. 

“That’s a good girl. So tasty. So wet.” You’re burning up at his words, body still in your stretched out position while his voice is deep. A brief press of his lips to your clit before he’s sucking on it, nose against your opening. The fire in your belly is starting to feel like an inferno against your misgivings, humming while he sucks at your clit pushing you over the edge. While the pleasure dances along your skin, body relaxing you feel him licking at you like a parched man that just found an oasis. Having had his fill and pulling away with a wet pop, one hand leaving your hip you think that’s the end of it. 

“That wasn’t how I was expecting this workout to finish.” The sound of rustling fabric reaching your ears again before you feel the head of his dick pressing against your folds and smearing the remains from your first orgasm around his hot flesh. 

“I wasn’t finished yet.” There’s an edge to his voice that’s making you twitch against him but he hasn’t pressed into you yet “want me to make us both feel good Mayfly?” Trying to answer him you press your hips back against his, to have his dick actually enter you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” A quick adjustment and he slams into you, balls deep making you both moan, the grip on your hips relaxing, one hand sliding along your skin to grip your waist the other giving your ass a quick slap before gripping your waist. Then he starts.

The first few thrusts are slow and measured, like he’s testing the water and once he’s content with the amount of wetness and how easily he’s glidings into you he picks up the pace slamming into you with enough force that you feel like you might go through the floor. “Vash” your panting trying to match his pace but his hands are keeping you partially immobile while he plows into you, grunting and groaning all the while about how tight you are. How good you feel wrapped around him. The angle of your hips means he’s thrusting deep every time, his dick causing you to make noises you didn’t know you were capable of as he keeps brushing your cervix. Clenching harder and harder around him, feeling how hard he is inside you, every pulse and twitch pulling another reaction from your body. “So deep” it’s all you can manage before you’re seeing stars, the roll of his hips having made you orgasm for a second time.

“Such a good girl Mayfly. Like you were made for me” his grip is getting tighter on your waist, bruises forming that in a few hours will be gone again. The only thing you regret about your accelerated healing, his marks on your skin are always gone by the next day. “Fuck” he’s hissing now, hips struttering as he bucks into your pilant body and you can tell he’s close. “I wanna come in you. With you.” One of his hands are at your clit, rough fingers pressing hard against you rubbing harshly and pulling you over that edge again, hovering between pleasure and pain at how quickly it followed your last one. Vash stilling, and you feel him empty himself as far inside you as he can go, slumping over your form and whispering your name and how much he loves you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, feeling him begin to soften inside your body, senses still humming. “How does your back feel now?” Words mumbled against the skin of your shoulders where he placed his head while you both came down from your respective highs. To be honest with everything else he’s done, you kind of forgot about it, laughing as you tell him so. Laughing along with you, he starts to lean back before wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you up with him so your back is to his chest. “Let’s get cleaned up for the day” you agree laughing all the while, even if your hips and waist are hurting more than your back was now. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

[zenchives]

In Your Memory ❄ Jin Kamurai

Tags: Angst (probably) Warnings: de*th, su*cide, might be extremely ooc, it's not the same timeline/not related to the current ongoing story.

Disclaimer—Headcanon: Y/N is different from MC in the game. Y/N is someone from the prequel before the game story even begun. MC is the sequel that appears during the game story.

Therefore, Y/N in the story does not equal to MC in game.

Italicized text is monologue or thoughts of the character. It can also be a flashback if indicated before the story.

words: 2,837

She couldn't afford to falter; she needed to be a role model. After all, she was an honor student—an honor student? What did that even mean? When did she become one? She shook her head to dispel these distracting thoughts. She would rely on her feelings rather than her mind. It wasn’t easy—following your emotions was far more perilous than anything else. Letting her feelings dictate her actions could lead to the worst possible outcome. As her mind raced, she faced the door, which could very well be the source of her downfall.

She knocked lightly, as if she feared waking a slumbering beast, but the silence that followed felt deliberate, as if she was being intentionally ignored. "Is Jin Kamurai here?" she asked more firmly, knocking a bit louder. Before she could call out again, the door creaked open.

She was met by the man she used to love—used to love? The thought echoed with confusion. He lay sprawled on the couch, cigarette smoke curling through the air and mingling with the muted atmosphere of the room. Once, she had craved his attention and would have done anything to capture his gaze because she liked him—loved him.

Now, the very presence of him was both weakening and overwhelming, instilling a fear she couldn’t quite understand. What made her shiver in dread? What made her waver? Was it the man standing before her? The longing for his touch and the allure of his loving gaze felt forbidden—almost like an illicit desire. “I’ll put the documents here. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of a silence that seemed to fill the space between them. The sound of the documents being set down was the only break in the muted tension between the two, both choosing to ignore the unspoken words.

Jin was known for his harsh demeanor—surly and arrogant—but his position as the heir to the Kamurai family spoke to his capabilities. So why did he look at her like that? Why did it seem as if he had been waiting for her? How could his eyes mirror the same sadness she felt, a sadness her mind couldn’t quite grasp? The way he looked at her was both perplexing and unsettling.

He rose from his position and moved swiftly in her direction, grabbing her wrist to halt her escape. His tone was almost threatening, but beneath it lay a haunting, unsettling melody. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, his voice carrying a mixture of control and unease.

She sighed and turned to face him. “Do you need anything else? I can ask the chancellor—” Her words were cut off as Jin pulled her close and kissed her forcefully. It wasn’t a tender or passionate kiss, but rather rough and aggressive, as if he had been suppressing his desire for years. Yet, despite the harshness, his hand held her gently, conveying a sense of both security and longing.

She was supposed to hate it—everything about this moment felt wrong. But why did it seem so right to be in his arms, even if they were tainted with danger and ruin? Struggling against her own desires, she resolved to push him away, resisting the pull that could lead her to destruction.

“Jin, let go of me!” she demanded, shoving him with the last of her strength. Her head hung low as she tried to steady her breath. “T-This is wrong. Let’s forget this ever happened.” Without waiting for a response, she quickly fled the room, slamming the door behind her with a force that echoed her turbulent emotions.

She was determined to let her legs carry her anywhere—anywhere far from this place, far from him. Her steps quickened, driven by a mix of fear and urgency, as if she were fleeing from something—or someone. Suddenly, she came to an abrupt halt, overtaken by the familiar, unwelcome pain that had plagued her.

This time, the pain persisted even after minutes had passed. She staggered, using the wall for support as her legs weakened beneath her. Her mind was inundated with a rush of visions and thoughts—memories long buried suddenly surging back to the forefront.

Time. Death. Regression. Reincarnation. 3142. Sacrificed. Jin Kamurai.

Jin Kamurai? Jin?

As if overwhelmed by a torrent of memories, she gasped for air, struggling to regain her senses. “What was that? Memories? Whose?” she wondered aloud. Her gaze snapped forward, and with a sudden clarity, she remembered her original goal. The light returned to her eyes, a brilliant shine rekindled—the same glow that always appeared when Jin crossed her mind.

In the 3,143rd timeline, the cycle of her existence continued, building upon the 3,142 timelines that came before. It was always ambiguous whether she was regressing or reincarnating, but what remained constant through all those iterations was her unwavering goal to save Jin. That mission, while feeling like a binding leash keeping her from living her own life, never once wavered in her mind. She remained resolute, never allowing herself to consider her own needs over the task at hand.

The shock was so intense that her vision blurred, her nose began to bleed, and she could almost hear Jin’s anxious voice calling out to her. Blinking through her tears, she caught a fleeting glimpse of him running towards her in her weakened state. Despite the danger, a part of her felt a strange sense of happiness. His concern for her made her feel as though she was being pulled back from the edge of a precarious cliff, finding solace in his care.

❅ flashback❅

5th timeline,

Why does Jin keep dying? This already my 5th life but he keeps dying no matter how many times I try to save him from an impending doom.

28th timeline,

I’ve been researching about the Soul Crystal, I didn’t even notice that it shrinks whenever I try to heal someone. Could there more to it than meets the eye?

1,005th timeline,

Nothing ever works, he’s still in danger everytime I save him. After passing danger, there’s always a new one. Seems like this fate wants him to truly die.

1,793rd timeline,

Seems like I’m getting closer to the solution, whaever it is, I’m ready to sacrifice my whole life just to save him.

2,492nd timeline,

̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶d̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶. ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶̶o̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶. ̶T̶̶h̶̶i̶̶s̶ ̶i̶̶s̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶p̶̶e̶̶l̶̶e̶̶s̶̶s̶. ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶k̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶m̶̶y̶̶s̶̶e̶̶l̶̶f̶.

2,493rd timeline,

Way to waste life like that, I can’t believe it even crossed my mind to end myself without finishing what I started.

3,140 timeline,

I found something. I might be closer than I thought.

3,141 timeline,

Throughout the timelines I’ve lived, half of it was sacrificing myself for Jin and half of it was devoting to research about the abilities of my stigma.

I can’t believe that the tree finally bore fruits. I finally found the answer to end all this suffering once and for all.

Soul Crystal or in Latin “Anima Crystallum”, it has the ability to heal the target by breaking a small piece from the Soul Crystal and feeding it to the target of the heal. The only drawback is, it will shrink over time the more pieces that are broken but even a small piece of the Soul Crystal can heal effectively.

In this timeline, I’ve decided to give Jin half of the Soul Crystal. I never thought it would be this easy.

3,142 timeline,

What went wrong? Why is it still not enough? I need more information, I have a feeling I’m missing something to complete it.

I found it but.. I think I’ll be alright. Although, this timeline may end up killing me because of overworking. It’s pathetic but I’ll believe in you 3,143rd timeline. I created a trigger where you’ll remember all the memories in one single action.

Good luck, you’ll probably need it. Let that timeline be the last of our very own suffering.

To 3,143 me, please continue to love him even if you remember everything. It may be taxing but this was our purpose—the very reason we continue to live over and over again.

❅ end of flashback ❅

It seems that was the final entry she made in timeline 3,142 before succumbing to overexertion. The thought of her pushing herself to the brink for the love of her life is both poignant and tragic. Yet, there’s a profound sense of fulfillment in her sacrifice; she would willingly endure countless timelines once more if it meant saving Jin Kamurai.

"You’re awake," he said, his voice cutting through the haze of her consciousness. It was a voice she recognized, but it stung to hear it now. "You collapsed in the hallway, looking like a fool." She managed a faint smile in response, her mind still reeling from the flood of memories that had overwhelmed her.

“...so, did you bring me here just to lecture me?” She asked with a playful tone, fully expecting Jin’s defensive retort. “You think I brought you here because I actually care?” He retorted with a scoff. “I couldn’t just leave a potential corpse lying in the hallway. It would ruin my reputation, especially with you working for me.”

Seeing Jin and finally having a proper conversation with him, now that all her memories had returned, overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, yet amidst the flood of emotions, she could only manage a bittersweet smile. Jin, though trying to hide his concern behind a veneer of arrogance, couldn’t quite mask the flicker of worry in his eyes, even as he insisted that he was indifferent to her feelings.

“Stop being so dramatic; you’re overreacting,” he chided, but her tears didn’t relent. She clung tightly to the blankets, unable to stem the tide of her emotions, which continued to spill over uncontrollably.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” he murmured quietly, but the words were clear enough for her to catch. “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice trembling as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I never realized I was so exhausted that I slept almost until nightfall.”

He let out a sharp sigh and stood up. “Since you’ve woken up, I’ll be going.” She flinched, her hands clutching her clothing over her heart. “Jin…” she whispered, her voice quivering. “Jin, wait!” she called, desperation edging her tone. His steps faltered, and he turned with an annoyed expression. She quickly rose to her feet and moved towards him, her eyes pleading.

“What else do you need—?” he began, but she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his clothes. “What—!” he exclaimed, completely taken aback. He stood frozen, unsure of how to react to her unexpected embrace. Once he gathered himself, he quickly pushed her away, trying to regain his composure.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She stumbled back but held her ground, lifting her gaze to meet his. Even from a distance, he recognized those eyes—filled with determination to end it all, to save him and find her peace.

From behind her, she revealed a sword that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. But upon closer observation, it was clear—it was Jin's sword. "When did you get that? Hand it over," he demanded. Yet her eyes remained steady, fearless; this was her moment, her opportunity.

She raised the sword, but instead of aiming it at Jin, she turned the blade toward herself. The tip hovered over her chest, directly above her heart and the Soul Crystal embedded within it. This, she believed, would be enough to complete the Soul Crystal’s other half.

“Please, give it back to me.” She had never wavered, but in that instant, when she saw the desperation in his eyes, she felt an overwhelming urge to abandon everything she had planned.

They say, "Don't let your emotions control you," but in that moment, it was her emotions that propelled her toward her goal. As she faced her final chance, there was only one thing she wanted to say to him.

“Jin, I love you.”

In a swift, decisive moment, she drove the sword into her heart, piercing the Soul Crystal to complete the final step of the transfer. This was what the 3,142nd timeline had hinted at—the missing piece now falling into place.

According to the memories from the 3,142nd timeline, the requirement for transferring the other half of the Soul Crystal to a new host is as follows: ‘You cannot give the remaining half willingly or voluntarily. Only upon your demise will the remaining Soul Crystal be passed to your significant other.’

The sword pierced her chest, forcing more blood to spill from her lips. Her leg buckled as a chilling numbness spread through her body, but just as she was about to collapse, Jin caught her before she could hit the ground. “Y/N!!” Her vision grows hazy, either clouded by tears or the approach of her final breath.

All Jin could do was call out her name, his voice filled with desperation as he sought help to save her fading consciousness. A wet sensation fell on her face—blurry but unmistakably Jin's tears. With her remaining strength, she reached out to gently caress his face, and with her last bit of energy, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips before surrendering completely to the darkness.

He was jolted awake by her voice. "Jin? Are you okay? You're crying..." she asked, her concern evident. "Were you dreaming of something bad?"

Her voice pulled him out of his daze. He sat up in the chair, blinking away the tears and struggling to regain control of his breathing.

"I... I'm fine..." he murmured, though his words belied the turmoil within. The image of holding her lifeless body in his arms lingered painfully in his mind, her voice echoing in his ears.

She looked at him with worry as he avoided her gaze. "I can’t believe you fell asleep in the middle of class."

Was it all just a dream? Or perhaps a portent of something to come? It felt like an oracle’s warning. He blinked slowly, still trying to convince himself he was fully awake. His breathing remained uneven, and he grappled with calming himself after the nightmare—no, the haunting vision—that had disturbed his sleep.

“...Yeah.”

He replied, his gaze fixed on her. Seeing her alive and well was a profound relief, and he felt on the verge of tears once more. She continued to talk animatedly about the class discussion, her various expressions—laughing, smiling, giggling, and even showing sadness—offering him a comforting contrast to the distressing vision he had experienced.

Most surprisingly, she was displaying an affection he had previously taken for granted. As he watched her, he found himself captivated by every nuance of her expressions. Her smiles, giggles, laughter, sadness, and especially her affection, which he felt he didn’t deserve, were all deeply moving.

Her presence made him acutely aware of how much he had taken her for granted in the past—and how much he still did now. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her or say anything, feeling that any words from him might spoil this precious moment.

"Jin..? Why are you looking at me that way?" She smiled, tilting her head slightly, her gaze framed by the setting sun that cast a warm glow over his face.

"...because if I look away, you'll disappear," he replied, his voice low and melancholic, as though he was struggling to hold back his tears.

The girl he loved gave him one final, bittersweet smile—it truly was the last. "Jin... I love you. I'm sorry." Her last words were accompanied by tears streaming down her face as she faded with the setting sun.

Left alone in the encroaching darkness, Jin felt an abrupt and harsh void. The cold air from the slightly open window brushed against his face, bringing him back to reality.

He spoke to himself, "Why am I crying?" It felt as though a crucial memory was missing, leaving behind an empty space. What was he yearning for so desperately? Something—someone was missing.

That night, the darkness bore silent witness to the pain he had forgotten. Though he would never remember, his heart would never forget.

.

.

.

3,142rd timeline, the last note:

The Soul Crystal harbors a hidden ability, which is the reason behind the stringent requirement.

Once you transfer half of your Soul Crystal to someone, you will begin to gradually lose your memories over time. The recipient of the Soul Crystal becomes your significant other, gaining strength twofold. You cannot give the remaining half willingly or voluntarily. Upon your demise, the remaining Soul Crystal will be passed to your significant other.

However, once they fully absorb the remaining half of the Soul Crystal, all memories of the former host will be erased, gradually erasing their existence forever.

.

.

.

end.

——————————————————————————————

:P enjoy ig

trivia: 3,143 is equavalent to y/n last words, "jin, i love you." :PP

[secretlythepits]

Angry, Sick, Overwhelmed, and Exhausted

So, I’m sick.

My husband has treatment on Friday. His doctor said I could be his caregiver if I’m Covid negative. I am. This doesn’t feel like Covid, just a cold with a really bad cough. But that makes no sense. I shouldn’t be around cancer patients getting chemotherapy at all if I’m sick. Who cares which virus or bacteria it is?

I do not understand doctors.

I’m going to trust my common sense. If I make a miraculous recovery, I’ll go. If I’m still sick, no way. My husband feels like he’s been fighting something too, so we’ll see….

My kids are frustrating me.

I hate that when I say that everyone gets concerned about them and not me. I saw a reel today about how motherhood should get to be about mothers. It rarely is. If mom is angry, sick, overwhelmed, or exhausted: what about the kids? Are they ok? It must be so hard to have a mom who is angry, sick, overwhelmed, or exhausted. What makes it worse is everybody knows that mom is angry, sick, overwhelmed, and exhausted because of the kids! (And the husband!) But never can we just be concerned about a woman, particularly a mother, specifically a middle-aged one, because it is so hard for kids/men to live with a woman who is angry, sick, overwhelmed, and exhausted.

Those are the people who are really suffering!

The ones who have to live with her! The ones who have to eat the food she cooks for them! The ones who have to be passengers in the car service she provides. They are the truly downtrodden!

My kids aren’t awful. It’s the usual teen self-centeredness and annual transition tantrums. They make me argue pointlessly and end up mostly doing what is expected of them but not before they spread misery around. I’m just so frustrated because life is hard right now and they are taking every opportunity to make it harder. Even the smallest thing. Ugh x 1,000,000,000,000.

Both of my kids are taking some online public school classes so we have to have parent/student calls with each teacher for each class. It is so painful to listen to teachers trying hard to form a connection with a somewhat surly teen they will never know. God bless them, because I do appreciate their thankless efforts. I’m also thoroughly annoyed by these calls because I feel like I’m getting a taste of the pandemic with a million zooms The whole point of enrolling in these classes was for me to have less to do. I know that will end up being the case, but the first two weeks seem to require a lot from parents.

I want to get away. I’ve googled travel all day. I’m pondering the idea of going solo for my 50th birthday. It just feels easier (and definitely a 75% discount!). I really need to get a break from my beloveds. I feel that in my marrow. But then I was surprised to find myself wondering if I would feel lonely or miss them if I went away. I just might. Do most women feel this way? I know I would feel sad that they missed a beautiful moment of life. Then again, they have a tendency to make those beautiful moments less beautiful with the baggage they bring.

I am longing for an escape. Not necessarily from my location, but from my life. I’d like to stop being mom/wife. I am really done with those roles. I still love my people.

I would just like to be myself again.

With them.

But more critically,

with me.

💕 Thanks for listening. I know it’s a lot of complaining, but this is my outlet.

[strangedreamings]

S2E2 (spoilers abound)

They found Blood but not Cheese, just like the book.

Otto is being completely callous about using Jaehaerys as propaganda, Aegon II looks ready to chop his damn head off, and Alicent just fucking stands there, doing nothing. Shut your father up! Comfort your son!

At least Aegon II called out Criston for not doing his duty. Worst kingsguard commander ever.

Oh God. Not only are they going through with this heartless funeral procession, Otto wants Alicent and Helaena to follow the body. Fuck you, Otto. I hope you have the most painful GoT franchise death since Oberyn Martell.

Hug your daughter, Alicent! Fuck, she truly is a shit mother.

Oh dear fucking God, someone had Jaehaerys' head sewn back onto his body and they're making Helaena look at it this whole procession. Where's the silver shroud we've seen at every other Targ funeral?

Oh God, the carriage with the body is stuck and they're having to rock it back and forth to free it. Jaehaerys' head is going to roll a second time, I just know it.

Thank God that didn't happen, Helaena would've fainted, I'm sure.

Now Rhaenyra's getting blamed, Daemon's denying the "son for a son" thing, and there goes their marriage.

Hi, Baela! The writers are finally giving you something to do, yay!!! Now if they could just do the same for your sister.

There goes Daemon and Caraxes. All hail Ramin, the music this episode has been top-notch.

At least fucking say something to your wife, Aegon.

Servants are taking Jaehaerys' bed apart as Criston looks on all sad. Fuck you, Cole. This is on you. (And Daemon, mostly Daemon, but Criston is definitely not completely innocent in this, fuck any TG fans who say otherwise.)

Rhaenyra playing with her two youngest. The boys are so cute!

"There is none for what I've done." Ah, so you do have a brain, Criston. I was beginning to wonder. I saw a bingo card in the show tags that included "Catholic guilt" as a square. That person called it beautifully.

Criston, go fuck Alicent again because you obviously need a fix if you're being this surly. Let the man eat. Again, treating people badly is how you turn them into turncloaks.

"The white cloak is a symbol of our purity, our fidelity." Then your cloak should be fucking black, Criston. "Where were you when Jaehaerys was murdered?" WHERE WERE YOU, COLE? Oh yeah -- FUCKING THE KID'S GRANDMOTHER.

"Where were you, Lord Commander?' I want to capture Criston's "deer in the headlights" expression and make it my lockscreen until the end of time.

"and then the young prince is murdered on your watch." You are so full of shit, Cole, that I'm surprised people aren't complaining about the smell.

"You are mad." He truly does look fucking unhinged. Cole, you've lost your damn mind. (Fabien is fucking KILLING IT this season.)

(God, the Butcher's Ball cannot come soon enough. I believe this is still 129 AC, so next season, then.)

"Or to triumph. And glory." Arryk, don't listen to him, he's clearly insane, you can see it in his eyes.

Jace and Baela. At least he doesn't get offended when she brings up Harwin.

Great, Aemond's ego has gotten bigger, just what we needed. Lord, he's skinny. Just muscle and bone, no fat on him.

Can I just be shallow for a moment? The Hull Brothers are HOT.

Why is Daemon's title "king consort" and not "prince consort"? (Matt Smith is making a career out of playing the husbands of queens.)

I do love Corlys and Rhaenys flirting in the middle of this serious talk. They're so good together. (I just have a suspicion Rook's Rest is at this season's halfway point.)

Emma is also killing it this season. I hope that their next role is something other than a grieving mother, they're a little too good at it, it's heartbreaking.

SEASMOKE?!

"... and curse your name." I fucking hate it when Otto has a point. Aegon II doesn't consider any consequences at all. But then, look who's guiding him -- Cole.

"And what has Ser Criston Cole done?" Nothing good, that's for sure.

Why do the highborn men's and women's costumes look like they're from different centuries?

"Fuck dignity!" That's it, that's the show.

(Tom's killing it too. Can someone please put him in a rom-com? I want to see him play a sweet guy in love.)

"Give it to Cole." Criston looks at him like, "The fuck you say?" Don't do it, Otto.

"My new Hand will be a steel fist." We all know what he can do with those steel fists.

Criston has been in over his head from the moment he met Rhaenyra, this is nothing new.

Good on you, Mysaria, for being able to tell the Cargyll twins apart. Hey, if she can keep them from killing each other, more power to her.

Oh great, we've got the Cargyll twins' fight in the middle of Rhaenyra's bedchamber with Rhaenyra and Elinda Massey caught in the middle. I'm pretty sure this isn't how this scene goes in the book.

Oh good, nobody dies but the twins, that's in the book. (Elinda's ultimate fate isn't happy but that's still coming.)

It's about FUCKING TIME that somebody mentioned Daeron. This child has literally not existed until this moment, I swear.

"I have sinned." Alicent, Otto a self-righteous ass but he is nowhere near a priest.

"I do not wish to hear of it." Otto says, "Leave me out of your drama, girl, I've got enough messes to deal with."

COMFORT YOUR SON, ALICENT! You are an absolute shit mother, especially compared to Rhaenyra.

Must we waste screentime on Alicole? They deserve each other, sure, but only because they are both UTTER FAILURES!

The preview makes it look like Rook's Rest is next week, I was expect the week after. Interesting.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hey so u just shared this post:

"When the characters in the fanfiction you’re reading are both hopelessly in love with eachother but they think the other doesn’t like them back and they are just communicating horribly and getting interupted at al the wrong times and you just freaking"

aaaand I wanted to know if you have any recommendations or know any sterek fics like that?

Yeah! I love oblivious!bbs.

Erasing Him by scarlettletterr

(1/1 I 2,058 I Mature)

When Derek was 15, he thought he met his soulmate. But then, she burned his family. When Stiles was 8, he met his soulmate. But he wanted nothing to do with him.

--------

Soulmate AU where even if you get your soulmark removed, it shows up under UV light.

a study on cat's behavior by peachicicle

(2/2 I 3,408 I Explicit)

“Hey Derek,” He snapped out of his trance, “Do you like cats?”

“What?” It seemed like Stiles kept catching him by surprise most of the time these days.

“Do you like cats?” Stiles said while slowly raising his hand up to the bookshelf, picked one out and inched the book out of its place, then dropped it on the floor.

Derek gawked at him, mouth dropped in silence.

Stiles kept staring at him and dropped another book, and another, and another, getting closer to the much rarer book section of the bookshelf.

-----

Stiles goes out of his way to tell Derek that he like him.

as the skyline splits in two by dumpac

(1/1 I 6,142 I Teen)

The whole school, Stiles included, is just waiting for Scott and Derek Hale to act on their unresolved sexual tension, because of course the sweetest omega and the most handsome alpha of Beacon Hills would get together. And Stiles swears he wants to support his best friend the best he can. So what if he has a crush as big as Jupiter on Derek Hale?

Navigating This Space Between Us by Omni

(1/1 I 9,641 I Explicit)

Derek gets forced to watch some sci-fi show about a surly, secret prince and the sarcastic young spaceship captain hired to aid him on his quest. Strangely enough, he finds himself hooked on it. So much so that he's even drawn into the fandom. There he meets a popular fanfic author with an oddly endearing attitude, and he gets rather smitten. Maybe this mystery guy could actually help get him to stop pining for Stiles...

The One with the Stolen Hat by nerdfightingwhovian

(14/? I 50,964 I Explicit)

In high school, Stiles stole Derek's hat and everyone who hears the story of Stiles stealing Derek's favorite (and only) hat begins to ship it. Luckily, Stiles never found out about the ridiculous number of people who ship it. Except, one day he does and he confronts Derek about it.

That is where the story begins, the cat is out of the bag and Stiles, the curious person he is, wants to know how it started. So now, Derek has to tell him.

Except, what starts out as Derek and Stiles laughing over ridiculous stories about stolen hats and glittery campaign cards becomes something more.

Season of the Witch by gryffindor17

(22/22 I 95,013 I Explicit)

“I just want to feel whole again.” Stiles said weakly, turning his head to look searchingly to Derek. “I’ve got all this…guilt…this pain…and it feels like it’s a part of who I am now. This…constant ache. I just wish there was a way to get rid of it.”

Stiles watched as something flickered to life in Derek’s eyes, and suddenly he was off like a rocket.

*

After the Nogitsune's been killed, Stiles still finds himself haunted by what it had done with his body. Try as they might, The Pack can't seem to console their friend... That is until Stiles mentions something that jogs Derek's memory and he takes off to find a friend from the past who he thinks can salvage Stiles's mind. After all, she'd done it for him.

And if she happens to become a part of the pack while she's at it, well, no one's really complaining.