#Dogs Of War [Pack Tag]

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[irreverent-dobermans]

SINATRA. Hanging out at work really.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omega verse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, double-pen, gangbang kinda, tag-team

fem reader

It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.

You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind. 

The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop. 

He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.

Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him. 

It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up. 

It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.

But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…

The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.

You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.

The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.

The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter. 

He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.

He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.

It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.

But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you… 

But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.

It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.

You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while. 

When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.

He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face. 

He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.

He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward. 

You can only mew as he mounts you next. 

His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.

Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.

He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.

It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.

He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.

The felines are less spastic. 

But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.

But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.

They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you. 

They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.

The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.

It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him. 

The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.

When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.

Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.

You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them. 

They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.

After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.

The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.

He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.

He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you. 

He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.

Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly. 

The size of it makes you pant.

You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.

The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.

There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says. 

It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.

He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.

All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.

He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.

It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild. 

With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.

He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.

Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.

It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.

Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.

part 1

Owner: BNHA - Aizawa, AFO JJK - Nanami, Kenjaku HQ - Ukai

Hyena: BNHA - Shigaraki JJK - Mahito HQ - Tendou

Wolf: BNHA - Bakugou, Dabi JJK - Sukuna, Noaya HQ - Sakusa

Fox: BNHA - Kirishima, Denki, Deku, Amajiki JJK - Yuji, Yuuta, Choso HQ - Hinata, Nishinoya

Leopard & Panther: BNHA - Denki & Shinso, Hawks & Dabi JJK - Gojo & Geto HQ - Miya twins, Oikawa & Kageyama, Kuro & Kenma

Bear: BNHA - Enji, Aizawa, All Might, Mirio JJK - Toji, Nanami, Higuruma HQ - Daichi, Ushijima

[thebestofoneshots]

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | No One But You

45 | Hold The Line

46 | Comfortably Numb

47 | Let Me Take You Home Tonight

48 |

49 |

50 |

51 |

52 |

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BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

[gremlingottoosilly]

"If you need to be mean"

Konig just got his promotion to colonel. It also came with deployment in a terrorist-ridden country, but at least he would get an adorable, civilian you as a prize. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig perspective Word count: 5213 My AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

König hates this fucking country.

Shithole in the middle of nowhere, with literally nothing going on – some border quarrels with some terrorists that are desperately trying to settle into the big war on terror that won’t achieve a thing and would be meaningless anyway. No one wanted to actually station here – this is why they promoted him so quickly, just so they could send him away like a pack of garbage they can’t give two shit about throwing out. 

He never even wanted this promotion. Too much work, too many people, never enough time to relax. Payment is sweet, of course – if he only had time to use any of this. He is too old for new titles, you can’t teach old dog new tricks – and, quite frankly, he does feel terribly old while doing nothing but pushing papers and listening to some useless fucking recruits with their reports. 

Job is simple – stay on the base, make sure that the locals won’t become too villifed to the soldiers that are supposed to protect them, even though he already knows how people would feel about the PMC stationed in their city. Fights with occasional resistance from the outsider force that decided “Hey, let’s just annex our neighbor, what could possibly happen?”. He doesn’t know a lot about this country – but if they have enough money to hire KorTac to help the local forces, he might be quite interested. If he only had energy for that anymore – between relentless paperwork and occasional yelling at his stupid fucking nonsense of rookie – seriously, it feels like they hired a bunch of edgy 12 year olds instead of normal soldiers. 

Job is simple and he finds himself bored to death because this isn’t what he enlisted for. He wanted to fight, to kill, to burden this urge to hurt people who once wronged him with someone who is – probably, maybe, somehow – deserve it. Not really a noble cause, but he stopped playing knight in shining armor once they used him as an infiltration weapon instead of what he actually wanted. All hopes and goals in his life were buried deep with his first sniper rifle – and rude comments about his inability to sit still, even though he is still as good at being a killing machine as a human being possibly can. 

— Sir! We, uh, have a problem to report. 

Gut. 

A problem – this sounds as exciting as it can be. Last time his brigade got a problem, it was about some new recruits falling down with stomach ache because of the forged alcohol they were drinking. Also that one time someone tried to burst their way into the base – not fun, since officers took care of him, but it was at least something to do except for reading and scrolling through various housing options like he actually has a use of buying something with more than one bedroom. Like someone would look at him and love him – enough to pass through some easy fling and start living with him. No one would do that – even his parents couldn’t. 

Still, the problem sounds exciting. Maybe, he could actually go on a mission instead of feeling useless. They promoted him just to pin on the wall like a trophy.

— Repost immediately, soldier. What is it? 

— A civilian, well…a civillina woman…lady, broke the curfew. 

And here it is. Not an unexpected attack from his enemies, not even a drunken fight that someone from his subordinates decided to join and ended up getting their asses kicked. Is this what years of service come to? Watching over some stupid club girls broking the easiest fucking rule to follow, like getting home at midnight is a completely alien experience for them. One of the things he hates about his rank – he is used like a public figure, giving speeches, trying so hard to come up with something other than “Ja, we will kick asses of everyone who tries to infiltrate your country, don’t worry” and then he has to act like he knows what he is doing. Which he obviously doesn’t. If there was a way to just give up his rank and become a shadow again, a monster under a terrorist’s bed, he would do it. Without even a second to think. 

— Send her to the police. We aren’t supposed to deal with…

Then comes the second guy – he doesn’t even remember his name, fuck this, he is supposed to be a father to his troops, or big brother at least, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck to someone weaker – inferior, smaller, someone who will die within a week or so in his first battle because apparently, higher-ups just love recruiting spineless teenagers now. 

Second guy comes to the room, holding someone very firmly by their hand – and König isn’t religious, he isn’t even sure when was the last time he was at any church, the little prayers his grandma used to sing is long forgotten for him, but he sees your face and almost believes in angels. 

König is too old for this shit, again, he hates this country, his team, his rank – then he looks at your face, the way it twists with fear and nervousness because of course, one of his dumb subordinates is holding you too tight and the softness of your flesh – why in the world you are wearing such light clothes, it’s night outside, you will catch a cold and he would give you his jacket, but that would drown you under the weight of it, and he don’t want you to smell the alcohol he has on his clothes, terrible coping mechanism with boredom, and he might just give you something else, maybe, like his shirt or a…

Wait a minute. 

He doesn’t even know your name, even though he is sure this is something gorgeous and would look perfect next to his last name, but he looks at your face and all the years of his military training is suddenly washed away because he can’t even muster a thing out of his mouth. Thank god no one is forcing him to stop wearing his hood – he wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise, not with how hot his face feels right now. You are nervous, this is obvious, since you broke the curfew and went on the streets past 11 pm. He should just bring you to the police, he isn’t even sure why his soldiers would bring some random civilian to the base. He immediately wants to give this private a raise – for bringing him a goddess walking on Earth. Angel, succubus, all of the fancy names and…it feels like he is going crazy. And he should compose himself. Be a good example of a rotten mercenary commander. 

— Why were you breaking the curfew, miss..?

He hates how squeaky his voice sounds, even after all the years in service he can’t get rid of that boyish tone and nervousness every time he is talking to women. All the fear is immediately washed away after you tell him your name – and it’s gorgeous, perfect, feels like something he can devour, something he can moan in the depth of the night while using his hand as a poor substitute for the warmth of your body. 

The pause lingers too much and he already suggests just…taking you. To further investigation. to see if you are really just an innocent person caught up in breaking the rules or an enemy spy – which would give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate you and hold you for a bit longer. He wants you to be a problem, actually – that would give him the authority to hold you here, to think about you in a way that won’t immediately make him a bad person. 

— Went to the pharmacy. Forgot about the time, I’m…I’m sorry. 

You look guilty and weak and nervous obviously – a good girl caught up in the reality of her home country now implementing new rules just so it won’t get annexed by their neighbor. He wants to protect you – or give you the real reason to be scared of him. He wants to be good, but you look too cold in those clothes and he wants to give you something more. Or warm you up in a different way – which makes him feel horrible, his skin crawls and hands are fidgeting again even though he is almost sure he forgot about that habit after a few trigger-happy moments with the enemies. 

— Pharmacies should be closed by this time. Why were you here so late? 

Soldier that brought you here left you with König – colonel, you saw him in the newspapers and on TV, some public speeches while concealing his face in various ways. You don’t trust him, don’t trust the mercenaries – how can you believe that they are going to save you if they don’t even dare to show their faces? He is even scarier in person – big, hulking, too muscular to feel safe, with something like a sack thrown over his head. You want to forget about the medicine you bought and just run away, but that would only mean outright saying that you are guilty. 

You brace yourself and try not to feel too small, but König just wants to wrap his hands around you and throw that weak body of yours on his shoulder. Not letting you go away. Ever.

— I…got lost. Sorry, I know what this looks like, but I just changed the apartment and…look, this is a bog misunderstanding. I have my documents, I’m local! Not some spy or anything, I promise. 

Too bad – you would have the opportunity to escape if you were an enemy. Some evil and wicked femme fattal that is here to seduce him and get the important information out of him – but if you are telling the truth and nothing, but a civilian, he isn’t sure that he could save you from…falling to his hands. It’s stupid, he should really just find someone to fuck, he is getting desperate over the first cute and gentle girl he saw in this place – but really, do he has a chance with a soldier if just a helpless weakling like you can make him kneel? He needs to compose himself. 

— You really shouldn’t be out so late. There is a reason the curfew is upheld. It saves you from the danger. 

— For now the only danger after midnight is your soldiers, apparently. 

Your breath hitches as you understand what you just said – god, who was holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of the fucking commander? You might have had the chance of just escaping before, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you know that some of your friends were breaking the curfew after a party or late visits, but they were never held to the police or martial law – soldiers are understanding of the situation, no one from the young people actually wants to stay in their houses no matter the threats war can bring. You might have the chance of going out with nothing but some harsh words about those stupid younglings ignoring the rules – but now you insulted his men and this will probably bring you to jail for the night at least or something even more…

He laughs. And the sound of it makes your cheeks warm. 

— Ja, I can understand why you would say that. But you shouldn’t break the curfew. 

You feel like winning a lottery, but the prize isn’t money – it’s the chance of getting out of this creepy building and going home to your warm sheets and slight smells of devastation and loneliness. 

— I’m really sorry, sir, I won’t do this again. Promise. 

You look guilty, and König loves this expression. The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with tears when you think he would actually make you goto jail or do something even worse. He relishes in this power over you – even though he doesn’t mingle with civilians, always keeps a safe distance with women around him, never dares to even give them a careful look. He wants to take you away – protect from the world around you, from this fucking place, from all the dangers. The only thing that is dangerous to you seems like him – because he is the only one with power here, the only one who can decide whether he wants to behave like an asshole and lock you away or…

— I can’t just let you go. Let me…I can escort you to your residence so I can make sure you actually went home. And not somewhere else.

He looks at your pharmacy bag – it's a shitty plastic one, transparent and see-through. He understands immediately why you would decide to run to the pharmacy so abruptly even within the vicinity of the curfew – and the fact your bag contains pads and pain medicine only makes him want to scoop you in his arms and get you to his quarters. Government gave them a pretty nice location for the base and he, as the commander, got a bedroom that won’t even make you think about the military. Perks of quartering outside of base, even the barracks are nicer than the ones at home – and he would love to introduce your sore body to the comforts of warm sheets. 

You look at him, surprised and nervous, your adorable lips twists in a pout as you think about your options. You can’t really say no, this can make him angry and resentful – and these aren't emotions you want the local military personnel to feel about you. He is also scary, and stares too much – you don’t want him to look at you like this, both surprised and depraved, but something in his figure still makes you trust him. Maybe it’s that weird propaganda about them protecting your country – he is a public figure, he can’t be evil, right? Maybe it’s just the way his hands fidgets as if he is nervous about your answer – or little cracks in his voice that makes you blush just a little every time you hear it. Or you are simply too tired to not comply. 

— I, um…are you sure? You must have some other things to do. I don’t want to be a bother, really. 

— I want to protect you from harm. Nights are dangerous. 

You want to say that it’s okay, you spend more time in this country than he is – and you know every little corner of the city by this point, no matter the military outposts and destruction. You also want to say that this is creepy as fuck and you don’t want a random guy to just know where you live – but you can’t say that, you are already almost buried yourself with that long tongue of yours, and the only thing you want to do right now is just drink your ibuprofen in peace and get teleported to your bed. 

You want to say no, but it almost feels like something romantic and even though he isn’t showing his face, the view of his muscles, bursting out his clothes and body armor, enough to make you agree. You can regret that decisions later – but with the way his eyes light up like he is a puppy, you probably won’t. 

— Okay. I…I mean, if that’s okay with you, sir. 

— I live to serve. Und ich diene gerne jemanden, dir so bezaubernd ist wie du.

— Sorry?

It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel like it’s something important – but you don’t want to ask for translation, he mutters it under his breath, Maybe some curses about stupid girls getting caught by his soldiers and how he needs to escort them to make sure they are not enemy spies ready to put their knives in his back.

— Just show the way. 

He is awkward, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he looks at you and fights the urge to just squish you with his hands. You are pouting, your hands are trembling, and you are shaking – maybe from the cold or just from fear. König hates himself for not understanding whether he wants you to be scared of him or not. There is something dark, predatory almost, in having someone as adorable as you shaking like a leaf – but he also wants to just scoop you in his hands and make sure you will never be afraid of him. 

He is awkward, silent, he goes on the open side of the sideroad like protecting you from any vehicles that may cross the road at this hour – even though the only ones who are allowed to move at this time of day are hospital workers and his soldiers. His hand looms over your side, like he is not sure whether he wants to just grab you by your shoulder or allow you to lead in a more simple way. You feel protected in a way – you can’t even read his expressions because of that weird mask he is wearing, but his eyes are strangely warm every time he looks at you and thinks you are not looking at him. 

König wants to talk, but he isn’t sure what he even can say to you. The weather is nice? It’s the night, a cold one, and he doesn’t want you to catch some weird illness, but he also doesn’t want to seem like a creep by giving you his jacket. He would do so in a blink of an eye, he would die seeing your smaller body wrapped in his clothes like a nice little gift – but he knows who he is. Monster, giant, always too much and never enough, zero experience with someone who is one his one night stand in some lousy pub when he hates himself a bit less than usual. And you smell clean, civilian, sweet almost, he feels like a dog by just looking at the way your cheeks are blushing from the cold weather. 

He wants to initiate the conversation, know what you like and dislike, maybe learn your opinion about the situation – many locals dislike military presence, he understands this, KorTac isn’t known for being the best guys around here, but they get the job done, however bloody this might be. He would give away anything to just be able to talk – to speak like a normal person, without scaring you or making you think that he is weird. It’s borderline embarrassing, over the many years of his life he was thinking that he would outgrow his anxiety somehow – and here he is, fidgeting with the stupid anti stress toy in his pocket that his therapist gave him, not knowing how to talk to a girl in his grown up years. 

— You’re local.

It doesn’t even sound like a genuine question, it’s more like a threatening statement and he doesn’t like the way it sounds. He can’t gave it back now, it would be even weirder, he just wants to calm down and breathe, but even this is fucking impossible when every time he looks at you, it seems like you are only getting prettier.

— Lived here all my life, sir. 

You’re nervous, and he at least finds some comfort in this – he is not the only one who is scared here, even though he understands that you will surely be more scared than him. But it still comforts him just a little, knowing that you are in roughly the same boat – he can smile under his hood and attempt to at least pretend to be normal. Even if this would be literally impossible for someone like him. 

— Where do you work? 

It sounds like an interrogation and you are not sure if you want to answer truthfully – he isn't trying to force you right now, he isn’t even touching you no matter how closely you are walking, but you are smart enough to understand why telling a random man you just met where you live and work is a bad idea. Even if the man itself is a prominent figure in protecting – or not – your country and literally walks you home because you got lucky to not be sent to the police for breaking the curfew. You would just lie to him about where you work and, hopefully, never see him again – but it’s not just a random guy you met on Tinder. He probably has the resources to check if you really work in said place and if you didn’t and just lied to him then, well…he isn’t threatening you, but your overthinking is enough to make you scared. 

— Just a waitress. Cafe I work at isn’t very far from my apartment. 

You even tell him the address, all while praying he won’t visit you at work. He has the right, of course, especially if he would leave a good tip, but military personnel staying at your cafe probably won’t be good for business. Clients may go away, and that would mean leaving you without tips – and then you can kiss your shitty apartment goodbye. He probably won’t visit you, he is just asking this to fill the awkward silence and check whether you are a spy or not – how confident your answers are, if your story checks out or not. He is a colonel, he must have a lot of other stuff to do instead of chasing over some rule breakers. 

— Hm. 

König already knows where he will be eating every day from now on. But…hell, can he do this, really? It would probably be very awkward for both of you, and you may think that is stalking you, which he definitely is, but doesn’t want to show it yet. He can give you a nice tip every time, he sure as hell has money for it, but then you would think that he is trying to buy you, which he would of course try to if you would be fine with it because honestly, girl as adorable as you should get all the nicest thing she wants to, and he can provide for it, but his damned awkwardness would never let him outright say this, which would lead to a very uncomfortable situation and…

— We might need someone local to help with operations. 

Nailed it. Right? 

— Wh…what do you mean, sir? 

You look scared, nervous, he doesn’t want you to be scared, you’re supposed to feel safe around him! He might hate higher ups for giving him this rank and sending him to this fucking country, but he will protect you no matter what. He wants to be useful, for people to stop being scared of him – to start liking him instead, even if some cold, dismissive way of just stopping bothering him with stupid stuff. He would allow you to bother him all the time, he would protect you and make sure you are alright – you just have to let him, that would be really easy and…

— We’re strangers here. Lots of operations crossed because locals refuse to cooperate. We might need a guide out here. 

He sounds nonchalant, like he doesn’t really care about your answer, but the grip of his hands is stating otherwise. He throws you nervous looks, cold eyes flickering with anxiety as you take your time to answer, secretly hoping that you would get home before you’d had to state this. It doesn’t feel like a genuine question, more like a statement again. More like you don’t really have an option to say no, since he still has the power over you. Since he still looks and sounds like someone who can and will throw you over his shoulder and use it as a cannon folder. 

— I…I’m not sure, sir. I have to work at my actual job. 

Can he blow up your cafe? That would greatly diminish the chances of bumping into you on a romantic Sunday morning, ordering coffee just the way you secretly like it, and then leaving you a very generous tip that would immediately show you what a sophisticated and loaded gentleman he is. He can say that enemies did it, and then he would execute those poor people for ever messing with civilians. He can also get some people from the government to close it, so you wouldn’t have any place to work and then you would be simply forced to work with him – and help him get out of this country as soon as possible. He would pay you well, of course, and being your boss would be a very…interesting experience for him. 

— Are you sure?

You bite your lips and it's proven to be a horrible idea in such terrible weather – your skin breaks easily and you feel the blood in your mouth. Nice – now you would have to invest in lip balms again even though you are sure as hell that even yesterday the weather was nice. Colonel – König, you remember his callsign, no names of course, some twisted secret identity over protecting people who can literally kill you and won’t have consequences – look at you and you can swear to god that his eyes are narrowed, studying your features a bit more. Is he going to kill you for refusing the…job offer? Demand of working with mercenaries to protect your country? 

— Sorry, I…I really need to think about this. And get at least two weeks notice from my job. 

He is too focused on the way blood is glistening on your lips. He wants to lift the lower half of his hood and lick every little drop lingering in your mouth. Kiss this little wound until you would turn into a moaning, crying mess under him. Hold you so tight, he would leave bruises in places his fingers were – all while you are allowing him to. He isn’t delusional enough to think you like him the way he adores you already, but he is delusional enough to imagine you would comply with him mostly – he is a great person. Except for almost everything, of course. 

The road to your home is lonely, no one around, obviously. People aren’t breaking the curfew on the main streets – except for you, apparently, they are tending to do stuff in the shadows if they need something to go out at night. He looks at every street light with suspicion, almost wanting for someone to try and attack you – that would allow him to be your hero, protector, to put out all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while being praised for it. He wants someone to try and kill him just to feel a bit more alive – but then you stop in front of the house, and it only takes one look for him to decide that no, he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He may not be a good or even decent person, but he is not allowing an adorable little thing like you to live in that fucking rathole. 

— You live here? 

— Yes. Thank you for, well, looking after me. I know that I broke rules, I won’t…won’t do that again. Sorry. 

— No. 

— What do you mean “No”?

Is he going to inspect your apartment? You are pretty sure that you left your bed in a very chaotic state and there is more than one pair of panties lying on the couch. Not even speaking about how horrible your living conditions are – tiny apartments, barely enough space for one person fitting in 20 square feet with all of their stuff inside, and an overwhelming desire to blow something up each morning when one of your neighbors is fighting again. 

You don’t have anything to hide, but you are getting pretty tired of people who just think that because they sold their bodies to the military, they can do what they want. 

— It’s a horrible place for a girl to live. 

Hey! You might hate your place, but even that rathole of an apartment doesn't deserve something like this. 

— Well, it’s not a castle, but…I manage. 

— Don’t you have another place to sleep? 

He is fighting with the urge to invite you to the base instead. Far greater place for a little goddess like you, much nicer than…this. He has to physically restrain himself from throwing a hand on your shoulder. He just stared, hoping that you would pull a prank on him and actually has some better living conditions – he can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of life instead. 

— It’s a nice one, really! At least I don’t have to live with roommates. 

He can be your roommate. No, not even like this. He can buy you a freaking house if you would want, just pick a place, preferably in Austria, and that would be easy. He would love to just provide for you, to get to live with someone as adorable – as in need of protection as you. He understands that being this delusional is off brand even to him and his wild fantasies, but he spends too much time hating his work lately, and he needs some outlets, breathing room to just drown himself in fantasies about a nice girl who can actually like him. Who can be his everything, a cure to fix him even though his therapist says such expectations from your partner are toxic and codependent. 

He knows that he can’t say anything to you right now. If anything, you would dismiss any of his worries and just call him a psycho – would be right, probably, he doesn’t even know why he is so obsessed with your safety all of a sudden. He is only self-reflective enough to understand that he can’t act right now, no matter how much he would want to. He can only sigh and let the situation go, for now. He can always just show up at the place you work at. Totally not creepy at all, definitely, completely. 

— Be safe, hase. This time is very dangerous for a girl like you. 

— It’s…okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me, sir. 

Oh, but he wants to. 

Oh, but you want to run up the stairs and close the door behind you as fast as you possibly can. And maybe, just maybe, give him your number – definitely for consultation about the safety and how you can forfeit from breaking the curfew later in life. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, large fingers tracing over your thin shirt, and goosebumps that are running on your skin aren’t from just the cold weather. You feel ashamed for kinda liking the situation – you are creeped out by him, you are curious about him, and you kinda want him to do something else. But he squeezes the soft flesh of your shoulders, rolling a bit lower, to your back – and then lets go. You breath hitches as he takes a step back, clenching his hand as if fighting the urge to do something else. 

— We’ll meet again. 

You just nod, not sure if you want it or not. König makes a point to determine which apartment is yours based on the window placement and pay you a visit in his leave time. 

[inbrightshadows]

*sticks one arm out from under my rock, slips this into the tag, and retreats back under my rock* Inspired by the cass apocalyptic series by somerandomdudelmao It's a very very cool rottmnt fancomic and you should give it a read 👉👈🥺 (Not canon but you might recognize some parts/dialogue from the comic) [warning for implied/referenced past infant death but no actual infant death (the boy is fine dw), infected wounds, amputation, and a dog like creature biting someone]

The first time Casey Jr almost dies he's about three months old, by their best guess, and he's only been Casey Jr for a week.

Cassandra and Raph go out on a supply run, which is normal. They come back with a baby in a box, which is not.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there's no such thing as government or paperwork in the apocalypse. So there's nothing stopping Cassandra from saying “I found him in an alley so he's my son now, his name is Cassandra Jr.” And that's that.

Thankfully, this isn't the resistance's first baby so there's plenty of formula and hand me downs to supply Cassandra in her sudden status as a Mom. And everything else the family quickly supplies.

Donnie is very uninterested in babysitting the oozy crotch goblin but Casey Jr's crib still has the genius built logo and built in laser security system to prove he cares in his own way.

Mikey breaks into his carefully rationed paint supply to paint a small mural above the crib and takes every chance to babysit he can.

And Raph? Well Raph dives headfirst into the roll of co-parent slash halway blockade.

Then there's Leo.

In his own words, he has a whole resistance to babysit. And besides that there’s not much he can really do other than what he’s already doing.

Fight the krang, stop the war, give little Casey Jr a better world to grow up in. And also avoid everyone’s efforts to get him to hold the baby.

He is not cut out for tasks that require a delicate touch but it seems like he’s the only one who understands that. He’s a gigantic mutant ninja turtle who, unlike his brothers, has never had any kind of hobby that requires any kind of delicacy. So he hangs back, he keeps an eye out for things that will be useful to the Caseys while he’s out on the surface, and he waves away attempts to hand Jr to him.

And then Casey Jr gets sick.

It should be fine. Should be normal. Babies are delicate little things, getting sick is a thing they do. Except there’s not much the way of medicine in the apocalypse. And babies are delicate.

It starts as a low grade fever. By the end of the day it’s a raging bonfire. They have a lot of things but medicine is in short supply. Nothing they have is working. It’s just Casey Jr, sobbing his heart out on Raph’s shoulder while Cassandra hovers and Raph tries to soothe all three of them.

There’s nothing Leo can do to help. They don’t have the medicine they need to treat the fever. At least not something safe to use on a baby. Raph is the one who remembers how Dad used to use lukewarm baths to break their fevers when they were little and he was still too scared to try human medicine on them. It helps enough that they can get some formula into the kid. But it’s not fixing things.

Two days pass and the fever refuses to break. The baths are becoming less and less helpful. After the third refused feeding attempt that afternoon Donnie slams down a map of ‘areas most likely to contain useful information or materials for treating a sick baby.’

Leo and Mikey gear up and head out leaving Donnie to monitor things back at base while April takes charge of running everything else so that Raph is free to help Cassandra take care of Jr.

It’s bad luck, really, that a pack of krang dogs find their camp on the first night. It should be fine. They should be able to handle it.

But bad luck is bad luck.

Leo sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He moves to dodge and the ground underneath him decides now is a perfect time to give way.

“LEO!” Mikey yells as Leo tumbles away into the dark.

Leo grunts, biting back a scream as the Krang dog’s teeth sink into his arm. They tumble into the dark together, bouncing down the stacks of rubble. It’s dead by the time he lands but the damage is done.  

The good news is that the fall kept the dog from getting a good grip on him.  

The bad news is that even if the bite won’t infect him with Krang regular infections are different story. Krang zombies have foul mouths.

Mikey can’t find out it managed to bite Leo. If he does he’ll want to go back and get Leo treatment before they look for the medicine.

And right now every second could mean the difference between getting medicine to Casey Jr in time or adding to their graveyard.

So Leo makes sure that by the time Mikey makes it down to him his first aid kit is a good bit lighter and any sign of the bite is hidden beneath his normal arm wraps.

When Mikey finds him Leo smiles and doesn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around his little brother.

“Are you okay- did it bite you?” Mikey asks, darting around him to hunt down every last scrape.

“Nah, just a couple of scratches,” Leo lies. “Let me heal them-” “No, we’ve got a ways to go, I won't risk you wearing yourself out too soon.” “Leo!” “I already used my first aid supplies on them! It’d be a waste if you healed me now!” Mikey glares at him but huffs and nods. “Fine! But if they start to feel bad-” “I’ll tell you, don’t worry,” Leo lies again.

Day two is a bust. There's useful supplies in the area Donnie marked out for them to search, sure, but nothing that will help  Casey Jr. Or the sensation of a burn throbbing its way up Leo's hidden bite wound.

Leo and Mikey mark out where the useful things are and keep going. Someone can go back for them when they're less pressed for time.

That night Leo waits for Mikey to fall asleep before he checks the bite. It's bad.

The moment the bandages come off he's gagging at the putrid stink of infection. It's hard to see it in the dark but then again he's not sure he really wants a better look. It wouldn't change his mind anyway.

He can make out the dark veins of infection spreading. If he wasn't green it'd certainly be a violent red.

He cleans it, spreads a thin layer of disinfectant cream that will do about as much good as throwing a cup of water at a bonfire, and re-bandages it.

His usual arm wraps go up over top of it, hopefully Mikey won't notice he's done them a bit higher than normal.

All the evidence goes into the fire. By the time Mikey's turn to take watch comes all that's left is ash.

On day three Leo wakes up feeling like someone dropped a building on him. He makes the mistake of groaning about it.

“Leo? Are you okay?” Mikey asks. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just, uh, I think I’m inheriting Dad’s back problems! That or the Krang made the ground harder.” Mikey snickers. “I mean, they would, but I’m also pretty sure you just called yourself old.” “I did not!” Leo drags himself upright and makes a show of cracking his back. It obliges with a satisfyingly loud pop that makes Mikey giggle harder. “I think your spine disagrees with you too.” “Shut up!” “Awwww are you feeling cranky, old man?” 

Leo is too exhausted to feel properly offended or even think of forming a comeback but he plays it up for his little brother anyway.

Anything to keep him from worrying. Or forcing them to turn back. It’s fine. This shouldn’t take too much longer anyway.

It’s midday by the time they reach the second site. Just from a glance it’s obvious this is a more promising site. There are actual chunks of buildings scattered around and there’s enough of a shattered sign left lying around to tell them that whatever kind of care this place used to give it was geared specifically towards children.

There’s plenty to find digging through the rubble. Well. Plenty for Mikey to find. Leo is mostly trying not to let on how dizzy he is.

To both of their frustration, they run out of daylight before they find anything. Leo can feel his body screaming at him to lay down and rest. Just a little longer, he tells his body. They’re going to find the medicine. He can feel it. Leo just needs to make it at least that long.

The fourth day dawns. Mikey shakes him awake as soon as there’s enough light ot see by. Leo bites back a moan as he claws his way upright. Leo thought his arm hurt before but now it feels like someone is pouring lava down it.

He notes with a calmness that boarders on absurdity that he can’t feel his fingers.

Something must show on his face- or maybe he just looks at least halfway as awful as he feels- because Mikey frowns at him when he wakes up.

“I’m worried,” Leo blurts out. “If this takes much longer then- I don’t think- he’s already been sick for so long.” “We’ll find it. Today, I’m sure. I’ve got a good feeling.” Leo tries to smile for him and hopes the shaky thing he offers up is enough. Well. At least one of them is feeling good.

Leo is lucky. He’s always been lucky. Luck runs out eventually, it always does. But not today. Maybe it helps that Leo isn’t hoping for something for nothing. Because on day four they strike gold.

Mikey is a short bit away, digging through the rubble with his power, hunting for anything with even the chance of helping. Leo is doubled over just out of his site, trying to stifle his stomach’s efforts to rebel against him.

Don’t hurl, he tells himself, if you hurl there’s no way Mikey won’t realize something is wrong.

He forces his eyes open, hoping that focusing on something will help. And then Leo’s eyes fall on a shattered glass cabinet, several packs of some something promisingly adorned in cartoon human children. He reaches in, flips it, and feels a wash of relief when he realizes it’s exactly what they’re looking for.

“Mikey- Mikey look-” everything fuzzes, tumbles. There’s something under him. He blinks back blurs of color, tries to resolve them into something coherent. Mikey’s face hovers over him, mouth moving. He looks upset. “What's the matter?” he tries to ask. “Leo! Leo, are you sick? What hurts?” “Arm,” Leo answers without thinking.

Oh shit. Oh shit he’s not supposed to let Mikey know. But it’s a little late for that. At least the panic clears his head a little. Mikey makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat as he uncovers the bite.

“Leo.” “Yeah, I know. Sorry… sorry for lying.” He watches Mikey’s lip wobble until Mikey catches it in his teeth. “Leo this is bad! We- I don’t know if we have the supplies to treat this!” Leo hums. Now that the panic is fading it’s getting so much harder to think. He lifts his good hand before he can forget and flops it over towards Mikey. “S’okay. We can go back now.” Mikey takes the box of medicine with shaky fingers. “Leo,” he croaks.

Mikey is talking. Something… probably important? He looks scared but they’re not under attack. He’s pretty sure they’re not. Leo tries to focus on him anyway but it’s so hard. He’s so tired.

He’s been tired but there was no resting, not properly, not until they got what they needed. They do now so it’s fine, he can rest his eyes a bit.

Good. Seeing is hard too. Just blurs and colors.

He feels Mikey’s hand on his face, his voice in his ears. He tries to pay attention but he’s slipping, sliding away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s out before he can think of what, specifically, he’s sorry for.

Leo doesn’t remember the trip back, just the thud of Mikey landing. Someone screaming. A hand squeezing his. Small. Thin fingers. Lots of them.

“April?” he might mumble. He thinks. “Shhh, rest big guy,” Probably-April says. “Donnie has it. He’s gonna fix it.” Oh. That’s good. He lets himself sink, lets her hold him together while he waits for Donnie to do what Donnie does best.

A light in his face. “Am I dying?” he says. Thinks? Someone hisses. Angry sound. Who does that again? “Not if I have anything to say about it. And I have a lot to say about it.” Oh. Donnie is here. That’s good. Didn’t someone say he was coming? “Now go to sleep, you don’t want to be awake for this part.” Leo doesn’t get a chance to answer, he’s already sinking again.

Leo blinks up at the ceiling of Donnie’s lab. He spends a good while just staring at it, trying to get his brain to work. His arm throbs. “Ow.”

Some several things crash and shatter and then Donnie''s face hovers into view. “How do you feel- nauseous? any pain, aches, fever? Chills?” “Uh, my arm hurts a little?”

“Which one? The one that got bit by one of the most disease ridden things in the apocalypse and then went four days without medical care or the other one?” “Hey I did some medical care!” “You did FIRST AID. You know, the thing you do to help someone before you get them ACTUAL MEDICAL CARE.”

Leo winces. There’s no arguing about that one. “Ok well, I was hoping we’d find the medicine and get back before it got too bad.” “Well. You didn’t.” “Yeah, I guess. How long was I out?” he asks. He tries to lift his arm but he can’t feel it move. He frowns. “It… barely hurts anymore. Uh. Donnie? I can’t- Um. Donnie. I can’t feel my arm.”

Donnie’s face twitches. Leo tries to turn his head to look at his arm. Donnie’s hand darts out out to stop him. Leo looks at Donnie again. Donnie looks away, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact.

“Donnie-” “Don’t look yet.” Leo tries to move his arm again but there’s still no response. No it’s not just that there isn’t a response. He can't even feel the weight of it.

He can feel his shoulder. He can feel a ring of throbbing pain a few inches above his elbow. And then it’s just… light? Like there’s nothing but air- oh. Oh. Okay then. There’s where his luck ran out. “...Huh. That’s. Hm. Let me see?” “Leo-” “Donnie. Let me see.” Reluctantly, Donnie eases back.

For a second Leo doesn’t do anything. He closes his eyes and breathes. He turns his head. He opens his eyes.

It’s gone.

Everything past his first crescent marking is gone.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, measured, breath. Okay, he thinks. Okay. He’s a medic. He knew this was a possibility.  Donnie starts eyeing him nervously.

“Did he make it?” Leo asks at last. “...Yeah he made it,” Donnie says quietly. Leo feels like he's fully breathing out for the first time since Cassandra burst into the infirmary with a sick baby in her arms. "Good. That's good." Donnie puts his hand over the end of Leo's nub, covering the scar. He stares at the floor and says nothing. Silence reigns. Leo stares up at the ceiling, letting it settle around them.

Until the door slams open and the rest of his family tumble through the door, both Caseys included.

The last knot of tension loosens from him at the sight of Casey Jr, happily wiggling in his mom’s arms as he flails his arms at Raph.

He tears his eyes away as his family gathers around him, worried and loud, and Leo only knows one way to calm them down.

“So. I’m guessing I'm the opposite of... All Right now, huh?” Cassandra covers Casey Jr's ears. Donnie leans away, inhaling sharply. “Why are you like this?“ he asks. “Because it's all I've got... Left” Raph groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Already?” “Put him back under,” April says, deadpan. “Boooo,” Mikey says, and Leo pretends he doesn’t sound two steps away from tears.   “I hate you so much,” Donnie lies, a few screens manifesting around him. He taps away with the hand that isn't still covering the scar on what remains of Leo's arm while Leo laughs at his own terrible jokes.

“You no longer have a choice about getting a prosthetic. Mikey tried to say I had to ask before implanting experimental technology in your body but you know what? I’m making an executive decision. I can’t live with the puns.”

Leo starts laughing harder, so hard that it circles right back around to sobbing. He’s buried in a pile before the first sob can even fully leave him. Donnie’s eyes stay on the screen even as he shifts his hand to Leo’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

Leo spends a lot of time sleeping but he’s never alone when he wakes up.

There’s Raph, showing off the balls he’s threading onto his mask tails so Casey Jr can climb them while Cassandra sits nearby, once more restitching her perpetually tearing sleeves on her shirts.

He wakes to Mikey making little fish or birds dance in the air while Casey Jr sits in his lap and reaches for them.

Or there’s April pouring over battle plans with a mug in one hand and the other wrapped around Casey Jr.

Point is there’s a lot of Casey Jr. So Leo really should be prepared to wake up with a tiny weight on his chest, healthy and safe and sound. And still so very tiny. His breath hitches, he doesn’t dare move.

“Bemused scoff.”

Leo carefully turns his head toward where Donnie is busily typing away at something.

“You know you can’t avoid holding him forever. Even I've held him." Leo gives Donnie the flattest look he can manage. Sure. Donnie has held Casey Jr. Once in a blue moon when there was literally no one else to do it (and Leo's hands were firmly tucked under his arms.) For about sixty seconds total. "...I've held him more than you have.”

Leo grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t cut out for holding delicate stuff when I had two arms. It’s an even worse idea now that I’m twice as likely to drop him.”

“Invalid excuse. I’m already working on a solution to your arm situation.” Donnie waves his hands and his ninpo sparks, building a blue print of an arm and some other thing hovering in the air between them.

“These are the schematics for a bio-mechanical arm and a socket implant to allow it to safely interface with your nero-” Leo’s brain glazes over the rest of Donnie’s explanation.

“...So you want to turn me into a kick ass cyborg?” he asks as soon as Donnie is done. “Did you listen to none of what I just said?” “C’mon, Don, I’ve got you for all the nerd stuff.” “Exasperated sigh, yes I’m turning you into a kick ass cyborg.” “Sweet,” Leo says, yawning. Donnie huffs. “Go back to sleep, Nardo.” “Can’t, baby could fall,” Leo mumbles. “I won’t let him fall. Just rest.” And Leo trusts his brother. So he does.

It takes a frustratingly long time for Leo to recover enough for the surgery to implant the port for the arm in his stump. It’s more low profile than he expected, hardly noticeable at all unless you’re looking head on at it.

Then there’s a whole other saga of learning how to use the arm Donnie has built him. It’s clunkier than Donnie’s preferred standards but it works almost as seamless as his real one. He gets good with it and he gets good with it fast because with the Krang you either do it fast or you don’t do it all.

The unintended and unwanted side effect of this is that now his family are no longer accepting “I’m not good enough with my arm I might drop him” as a valid excuse to not hold Casey Jr.

And they are very, very, intent on getting him to hold Casey Jr.

Look. Leo is thanking sweet pizza supreme in the sky and every one of the Hamato ancestors, Casey Jr bounces back from being sick like it never happened.

He bounces and wiggles, he babbles and giggles, as though less than a week or so ago he wasn’t so sick that Leo and his family (literally) risked life and limb to get him medicine. And Leo is thrilled. Really.

It’s just that he wishes his family would stop encouraging Casey Jr’s newest favorite game- trying to grab Leo. Because apparently one of any baby’s favorite thing is whatever they can’t have.

“Here! Hold him!” Mikey holds Casey out so that he faces Leo. Casey Jr, who seems to have a sixth sense for when someone is playing the 'try to get Casey close enough to touch Leo' game,  is thrilled. His tiny arms wave at Leo, itty-bitty fingers clenching like they’re ready to latch on the second they’re close enough to touch him.

“W-wait, I can’t!” Leo protests for the thousandth time. But Mikey isn’t taking no for an answer this time. A nudge of mystic power keeps Leo from fleeing. All Leo can do is tuck his dangerous un-baby proofed metal arm away from tender baby skin and wave his flesh hand pleadingly.

“C’mon Leo… you have to hold him eventually.”  Mikey cajoles, gently waggling Casey Jr.

“Not happening, no way.” Leo leans back as far as Mikey’s powers will let him.

“Yes way,” Mikey says, holding Casey closer and closer. Casey is giggling furiously, tiny arms flying at top speed.

“Do you even see how tiny he is?” Leo points at the baby, just in case Mikey needs a reminder. “I could break him with one finger!” There’s a tiny nudge to said finger. Leo looks down. Casey Jr is copying him, nudging Leo’s much larger finger with his own.

Mikey gets a look on his face. A terrible, evil, look.

“One finger? Like thiiiiis one?” Mikey grins as he lifts his middle fingers away from Casey Jr’s body. Leo freezes. “Mikey. Mikey no.”

“Whats that? Oh nooooo.... I can’t hear you over the sound of my grip slipping!” Mikey sing-songs. “Don’t you dare!” Leo stares at him, horrified and frozen. He won’t. Surely he won’t. Cassandra would murder him. Raph would double murder him. He wouldn't. Right? Right??? “Oh no! I hope someone catches the poor delicate baby!” And then Mikey drops Casey Jr.

Leo shrieks. He forgets that Mikey is literally magic and does not need his hands to hold a building, much less a baby.

“Mikey what the fuck!” Leo squawks, hands flying forward and closing around the tiny delicate bundle that is- … not falling towards the ground at all actually.

The gears turn, the realization that he's been tricked sets in. Leo glares at Mikey. Mikey grins, unrepentant, and waves his faintly glowing hands, a glow also present around a perfectly safe Casey Jr. The glow vanishes and Leo feels the surprisingly greater weight of the baby properly in his hands for the first time.

“Ahhhh Mikey- Mikey take him back!” Mikey stubbornly keeps his hands in the air and backs away, still grinning. “You’re fine, you’ve got this.” “I don’t have this!” in spite of saying this Leo is already tucking Casey closer to him. “It’s fiiinnne, you're doing fine! Look, he’s having a great time!”

Tiny clumsy fingers hit his jaw, drawing his eyes down. Casey Jr has one hand buried in Leo’s scarf. The other is pressed to the highest part of Leo’s face it can reach. As he looks down they stretch up, reaching for the vibrant red markings on his face.

“Ah- what- what does he want?” “Awww he likes your stripes, hold him higher!”

Hesitantly, Leo shifts the baby a little higher in his arms and Casey’s little fingers smack against his markings, clenching against them as best the pudgy little things can. Leo chuckles. “What? You want those? Hate to break it to you bud but they’re kind of attached to me.” Big dark eyes lock onto his. Casey Jr babbles. His little fingers flex against Leo’s face again.

Someone makes a noise like a slowly deflating balloon. Leo looks up to find Raph has found them. He’s standing in the doorway, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Please tell me Donnie has a good angle on this,” he says, voice wobbling. Raph’s com clicks on and switches itself to speaker mode. “Sending you the best shots as I speak,” says Donnie’s voice. “I hate all of you,” Leo lies. Mikey snickers at him, Raph is too busy cooing to reply. And then Casey Jr realizes Raph is there and decides he’s done being held by Leo. He leans his entire body toward Raph and puts all of his tiny baby might into wiggling free of Leo's grip.

“Oh fuck-” “Don’t cuss in front of the baby!” “Raph. Raph.” “You’re doing fine, relax-”  “He’s gonna fall! I’m gonna drop him- Raph!” Raph easily scoops Casey Jr up, saving Leo from the terrifying force of a wiggly baby.

Casey Jr giggles and grabs for Raph’s mask tails while Leo dramatically flops to the floor. Mikey continues to snicker at Leo’s expense, floating over to pat his head.

“I can’t believe you pretended to drop him just to trick me into holding him,” Leo groans. “You what?” Raph’s head snaps over to them. Mikey freezes. “I had mystic hands on him the whole time!” “Baby holding is a two hand activity!” “You literally hold him with one hand!” “Raph’s hand is big enough to count as two!” “Oh that is so not fair!” “... Leo watch the little man for a minute.” Raph sets Casey Jr down by Leo’s head. Leo makes an inarticulate sound of horror but before he can protest Raph is already bolting for Mikey.

Mikey flees with a yelp.    Leo looks at Casey Jr. Casey Jr looks at him. “So, you come here often?” Casey Jr stuffs his fist in his mouth and makes a garbled noise around it, almost recognizable as a very turtle like chirp. Leo checks that his brothers are out of ear shot and then chirps back. Casey Jr’s eyes widen and sparkle. He takes his damp hand out of his mouth and smacks Leo in the face with it. Leo grimaces. “Thanks.” In the distance, Mikey screams as Raph catches him but it's just as quickly followed by laughter.

Casey Junior grows up in between loss and stolen joy and forgotten childhood memories. He gets old enough to ask questions. Inevitably, the day comes when he asks “Sensei, how did you lose your arm?”

And Leo lies.

Or, well… He doesn’t lie so much as he just… leaves out some details. Details Casey Jr does not and will not ever know if Leo gets his way.

“Ah, you know… Krang dog got a lucky bite in. By the time I got back to base it was the arm or me and Donnie chose me.” He says it with a light little shrug, like it’s no big deal.  

Because for Leo, it’s not a big deal. Between losing an arm and losing family he’d chose the arm over and over again.

[exculpateinteractivefiction]

"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allan Poe

Exculpate: The Fall from Grace is an upcoming 18+ action packed and fantastical interactive fiction novel. Loosely inspired by media like “My Hero Academia”, “Bungou Stray Dogs”, “Jujutsu Kaisen”, “The X-Men” and “Titans”.

Tags: [Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Romance, Drama, LGBTQIA+, Textbased]

The Astra. In the years after the war it was a name that had grown familiar. A select group of individuals who had gained special abilities after the…incident. They are powerful. They are talented. They are gifted.

And you’re one of them.

Or at least you were around a decade ago. Before you made the mistake.  The type of colossal fuck up that blows up your apparently  flimsy life in a matter of minutes. The kind that has you running away and starting completely over. That kind.

Now instead of using your worthless ability to save people, you are stuck using it for much more…aggressive work. More effective work. Or at the very least work that pays better. The only cost seems to be your sorry excuse for morals. Trading your soul and sense of justice for a paycheck. What could go wrong?

It was manageable. Meaningful even. Something that gave purpose to the now shattered pieces of your life.

Everything was great.

...until you got a hit for the strongest hero in existence. Wonderful.

Play a former hero turned assassin turned…“hero” but not really .

Customize your character’s name, appearance, personality, and gender identity.

Develop a better understanding of your dreadful ability.

Explore and navigate complex relationships with six unique romantic options.

Kill your former best friend and betray old allies and new ones alike!

Come face to face with your past (both the choices you’ve made and the people in it).

Repent for your mistakes…or continue making them.

The Hero (Your Target): Maverick “Mav” Kingston (He/Him)

Maverick Kingston, your current target and the strongest member of Astra. The strongest, period. He is unstoppable - unreachable - unattainable. You would know as his (former) best friend.

Appearance: Maverick is the embodiment of “perfection” and that crosses over into his looks. He is roughly 6’1” and is quite lean. He has vibrant light blue eyes and a head of messy blonde hair that seems to always fall perfectly into place.

Personality: Maverick’s greatest flaw is undeniably his personality. To put it bluntly, he’s the best and he knows it. He manages to come across as nonchalant and egotistical on a good day - often just messing around or teasing both his enemies and coworkers alike, and while he can be quite charismatic, his laidback and annoying disposition tends to steer most people away. Although, you get the feeling that there seems to be something deeper lying beneath the surface even after all these years…

The Strategist: Carmen Reyes (She/Her)

Carmen Reyes, lead strategist of the Astra and to put it bluntly the only one with any common sense. She is an intimidating presence - although that might just be due to her title of the best hand to hand combatant of the Astra. You used to be co-workers and classmates but that was a long time ago.

Appearance: Carmen’s beauty is just another thing that adds to her imposing nature. She is roughly 5’11” and has spent years building up her muscular physique. She has curly dark brown hair that rests just below her chin and surprisingly sharp hazel eyes that seem to track your every move…

Personality: Carmen can be considered reserved and wise at best and completely distant at worst. She has a professional air to her that most officials and authority respect, but it can come across as aloof or boring especially when comparing her to the loud personalities that the rest of the Astra has. That’s not to say she is uncaring though - in fact she is arguably the most moral of the group - or at least she was back when you were a member…

The Heart: Silas Jones (He/Him)

Silas Jones, arguably the kindest member of the Astra. He’s excitable and naive - if not a bit endearing. He tends to act as the mediator between the public and the other members of the Astra when necessary. You don’t remember being particularly close with him back when you were in the Astra so it’s surprising how desperately he seems to want your attention now…

Appearance: Silas is roughly 5’8” and has dark brown skin with glowing silver marks scattered across his body. He has black locs that have been dyed red at the tips and dark brown eyes that seem to pull you in wherever you go…

Personality: Silas is easily the nicest of the group and can be quite soothing especially compared to the harsher personalities of the other members and higher ups of the Astra. He is incredibly open and energetic, if not a bit naive. He cares very deeply for the people around him and that clearly extends to you even after all these years. It does make you wonder why he is so interested though…

The Healer: Juno Aceso (She/Her)

Juno Aceso, head of the healing and medical department at Astra. She isn’t what most people expect when they hear the words “doctor” but she is a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the group. You were close with her back when you were in the Astra…or at least as close as you can be with someone like her.

Appearance: Juno is roughly 5’5”. She has deathly pale skin and dark eyebags that frame her murky green eyes. Her straight chestnut colored hair lands right at her chest, though she usually keeps it up in a bun.

Personality: If Carmen is distant and Maverick is nonchalant then Juno is on a whole other level. She is practically apathetic with her laidback nature and tends to be quite removed from everyone else. That’s not to say she has no personality though. She can be incredibly snarky and sarcastic when she wants to be. Unsurprisingly, she seems the least invested in your return. Although you get an odd feeling whenever she glances your way…

The Star: Payton Monroe (They/Them)

Payton Monroe is nothing if not a star. They embrace the celebrity status that comes with being a member of the Astra with open arms. You weren’t particularly close with them back when you were in the Astra but you heard the rumors of their exploits…

Appearance: Payton is roughly 5’7” and seems to make it their life’s goal to make themself as appealing as possible. They have ivory colored skin and dazzling lavender eyes. Their hair is shoulder length and white with streaks of pink going through it.

Personality: Payton is someone who has no issue embracing the finer things in life. They are far more interested in the public image aspect of being a member of the Astra and that comes across in nearly every interaction. While they are quite flirtatious, they seem to hold no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. Maybe you’ll be the one to change that…

The Newbie: Amari Gray (Gender Selectable)

Amari Gray, the newest member of the Astra. Not much is known about them - they joined after you left and they don’t seem exactly interested in getting to know you. They tend to be annoyed with you more often than not but you get the feeling that they are that way with most people. Although, their constant avoidance towards you specifically is quite odd…

Appearance: Amari is roughly 5’3”. They have tan skin and sharp gray eyes that seem to be set in a perpetual glare. They have thick white hair that is currently styled as a short undercut. They have a few piercings and tattoos.

Personality: You don’t know much about Amari but one thing you do know is that they don’t like you. They are either actively avoiding you or are going out of their way to pick fights with you. They seem incredibly familiar which makes their determination on making your life miserable even weirder…

DEMO TBA

[lizzieisright]

Moon peppers (1)

were!Abby x witch!reader

Summary: Abby runs away from her (former) pack and into your forest. You're not happy with your new (woods?)mate.

Tags: fantasy au, sloppy worldbuilding (fuck it we ball), fem!reader, alpha!abby, witch!reader (so not an omega), sentient forest, stubborn idiots in love who annoy each other.

A/N: This is basically God of War 2 x Witcher fics (i didn't watch it) x Tolkien x some of my original worldbuilding for my own stories x kinda omeraverse. I have no idea where this is going, but I'm having fun.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Abby runs. Her speed is fueled by adrenaline and fear. She is hurt and her fur is so red from blood that it's impossible to see her sandy coat at all. Abby is not sure she will survive even if she somehow escapes Isaac and his dogs: she is getting dizzy and tired. 

The Moon shines on her and Abby tries to see any path she can follow and shake Isaac off, but Abby knows the smell of her blood is so prominent nothing will hide her. 

If Abby was in human form she'd have probably given up by now, but she is a wolf now and her instincts push her forward, push her into survival, no matter what it will take. So Abby keeps running through the fields, hearing Isaac’s wolves from every direction as if they're circling her. Abby speeds up, not feeling her wounds, and follows the Moon. 

The Moon shines on the dark tall forest: it looks intimidating. Any other time Abby would avoid this forest because she is not insane, she can feel this forest is not just woods. This forest is alive and will swallow her if she goes inside, but between her former pack trying to tear her apart and slowly getting killed by the forest, Abby chooses the forest. 

She can't be sure it will kill her anyway: nature is odd and has a mind of its own. But her packmates will kill her, there's no doubt.

And all for what? For her standing up for her friends who refused to kill innocent people so their pack would have more resources? Isaac really didn't like hearing his killings and raids are nothing more than cruelty and despotism than any kind of holy war on humans who hate werewolves and want them dead. 

(Humans rarely care as long as you stay human around them and don't go on a rampage.)

So Isaac wanted to make an example out of them. Abby held off while others escaped - she is the strongest in the pack and can take a few wolves at once in the fight - but then she had to escape as well. 

And now she is getting closer to the edge of the woods and her heart is trembling from anxiety. She has no idea what will happen when she crosses the line, but if her pack follows her, the forest won't be kind to them either. 

So Abby takes a deep breath and runs into the forest. 

Inside the forest Abby hears nothing. Well, she hears rustling and can feel the wind, but there is no sign of the outside world. Her ears can't pick up on the footsteps of her pack that were deafening when she ran. No smell of them either, no heartbeats, nothing. As if they just disappeared. It's uncanny and Abby is scared, but nothing comes at her. 

Abby cautiously goes on a trail in front of her - she is not questioning this, this forest is weird - and her tiredness catches up with her. Her paws are barely moving but she pushes herself forward anyway, trusting this place to guide her since it didn't go hostile immediately. Abby looks back just to be sure and yes, the trail is still there, the forest isn't tricking her. 

Her heart is still beating crazy, but she feels safe from the chase and doesn't try to run anymore. The trail leads her to the river which shines strangely - or that what Abby thinks until she sees this is just the Moon reflecting in the water. Abby lies on the shore and laps at the water until her thirst goes away - she doesn't turn into a human, too weak and too scared: the wolf is stronger and heals faster. She feels so tired, she lost so much blood it scares her, she feels like she is very close to death now, but somehow Abby finds some strength to quickly bathe in the river and clean her injuries. 

She is also hungry, but she just can't. Abby sniffs around and catches some damp smell that feels like the inside of the cave and she follows it. There's indeed a den, probably used by a bear before, but the scent of it is so weak it's not coming back. So Abby curls around herself and falls asleep, trying not to think about not waking up ever again. 

The woodpecker starts knocking on the trees and you try to ignore it, but then the sun shines through your window and this is it, no sleep for you. You huff half-heartedly, but you don't mind forest's games. Sometimes they're grumpy and you wake up in a damp hot fog that clots your lungs, so the annoying woodpecker is not bad at all. 

The morning is beautiful: it's quiet, sunny and warm, even though the summer is ending. Probably this is why the woods are in a sweet mood - they're already mourning, which means they're celebrating the beginning of something new. 

This is the last day of the full moon and you plan on collecting some of the flowers that bloom only under the moonlight. It's not your favourite activity, since it's so dark and this forest is living its own life - they don't really care if there is a witch or not and if this witch is alive or not, you're just a passing in their lifetime. 

Useful passing though - you know the woods like you because you keep them clean and healthy when they can't; you keep the passing people from hurting them and the villagers from exploiting them. 

You've lived in the village for a few years before moving here - the call of the forest was too strong, and the times when you'd come to harvest some of the ingredients they wouldn't let you out. At first you thought they were mad at you - but then they saved your ass multiple times from animals (or, in one particular case, a werebear who really wanted to rip your throat out). So you went there for a few nights one time and lied in the bog, trying to connect with them - and they did, and told you they want you to be here. So you stayed, knowing better than arguing with a sentient forest.

The villagers were not super happy about losing their witch to the forest, but you visit them almost every other day, healing people and getting food in return, or clothes or anything which is available to your patients. They rarely come to you - they're wary of the woods, since some people got lost there and some only returned after a week, almost driven mad. The forest is not some kind of god or deity, their mood changes with wind, and by the end of the day, they really don’t care who gets hurt, unless they’re in the mood to save you. Or if they’re in the mood to kill you, then there’s no escape.

You get ready for the day, putting your salves and tinctures in your basket to head out to the village - there's always someone who is hurt and who needs some kind of help. Plus, sometimes it's nice to just be around people - and around your people, since this village is not entirely human. There's a dwarf and an elf who live close by - you have no idea why they're here, especially since the elf comes from an important old family, she is not just a peasant. But you don't ask questions, and they don't ask you questions about your past. 

You leave the forest at noon and walk to the village, enjoying the weather and the sun that warms you. Children see you and run towards you, putting their curious noses into your basket, so you spare some flower milk for them, since this is what they're looking for. They ramble about anyone who needs help and lead you to the houses. It's not a busy day, but you get stuck with an old lady whose back is hurting her. 

“Wow.” You sigh when you feel the knots in her muscles. “What were you doing yesterday? Carrying rocks?”

“My grandson came to play. We ran around a bit, he jumped everywhere, such a naughty darling!” Mari laughs. “I felt like I was a young lass again.”

You chuckle at this and press at her muscles, releasing tension. Mari squeals and twitches in pain, but she is a tough lady, so you keep massaging her with a bit of magic to make her feel better. 

You like lazy days - lazy days mean everyone is okay and you won't have to stand at another funeral: your magic is not some kind of miraculous cure, not for humans, anyway. It doesn't connect with them the way it connects with non-humans, so your help is still limited. 

You go around, giving people some tinctures for the upcoming cold season - children are especially vulnerable during autumn, so you want to prevent their illnesses as best as you can. 

The sun is slowly starting to set when you make it to Vi and Caitlyn’s house: it's on the edge of the village and it's odd. You don't know why, but looking at the clash of elven grace and dwarven coarseness makes you feel funny. It doesn't belong together, but then it does, and you always giggle when you visit them. 

They're an odd pair as well: Caitlyn opens the door, elegant and tall, and hugs you.

“Oh, darling, I hope your day was easy on your heart.” Caitlyn speaks as if she only knows poetry, while...

“Well she doesn't look like shit today.” The short, buff Vi comes into your view and you laugh. 

They don't belong together, but they do, and you can't help the flutter of your heart when you see Caitlyn caress Vi’s head gently, tracing her tattoos with her pretty fingers while Vi flexes her big biceps.  

Caitlyn makes tea for you while Vi takes her special tincture (read: magic booze) from your basket. 

“Best one yet, witch.” Vi smirks and sits next to you and Caitlyn. “Make me a few of them and I'll make you something nice.”

“Deal.” You do need a new dagger, and Vi is an amazing smith. 

It's been a while since you visited them, so you spend the whole evening in their house, catching up, listening to Caitlyn's complaints - which they never sound like, because she is the most graceful person you know - and sharing your own struggles. Vi for the most part works in her workshop, but now and then she'd come and give you her thoughts as well. 

You leave their house when the Moon is full and bright in the sky, and you make your way back to the forest. 

They don't greet you this time, but you don't mind - the mood of the woods is not your business. You cast a spell that will lead you to the moon peppers and follow it carefully: you can see pretty well in the dark, but you don't want to fall with a full basket of elven treats and dwarven booze, and your new tunic from Mari. 

Moon peppers - and they're not, in fact, peppers, they're flowers that look like peppers - are on the other end of the forest, and it takes you some time to finally get there, but you can't help your pleased gasp when you see them. The flowers shine in the moonlight, fully fluorescent - they're beautiful. You look up to the Moon and nod to her for her wonderful work.

You crunch in front of the bush and take your knife out, cutting the beautiful blooms - not only do they look nice, but moon peppers save the moon magic in them forever, and you can use them in truly powerful potions that can help with serious illnesses. 

You cut almost all of the blooms when you hear rustling behind the bush, and you look curiously: usually it would be a hedgehog going on his way. 

Then the bush gets separated in half and you freeze in terror. 

You blink at the wolf. 

The wolf blinks back. 

You scramble to your feet, take your basket and start moving away slowly, not sure of the wolf's intentions. The eyes of the wolf are golden - it's a were - and it snarls at you, baring the sharp teeth. 

Oh fuck no, you think as you swallow. Not fucking again.

The wolf growls and you don't need another cue, you run for your life - you don't know how lucid this werewolf is and you don't want to wait to find out; you have scars from the last encounter with a were and you're not eager to repeat it. 

The wolf chases you, low growling is loud in your ears, but you know these woods and you pray they won't play you now as you run to your hut. Your lungs are on fire, but you only need to make it to the protective circle that the wolf won't be able to cross. The basket is clinking and you somehow make a spell to save the contents when you hear the wolf getting closer.

“Fuck off!” You yell, annoyed and terrified. “Leave me alone, wolf!”

The wolf just growls again and you hear it right behind you, so you send a pulse of magic to trip the wolf. It hurts, why the fuck does it hurt? You don't know and don't care right now, just running as fast as you can. You won't be able to take a werewolf in a fight - haven't been able for quite some time now - but you can slow it down. You hop over the branches like a trained horse, looking ahead and making shortcuts whenever you can, because your home is a long way from the moon peppers and your stamina is nothing compared to the stamina of a werewolf. The wolf however struggles to catch up, and you’re grateful - is it forest helping you or the wolf being stupid doesn’t matter.

You see the hut and speed up, crossing the line of your circle and immediately falling down on the ground, coughing out your own lungs. It takes a few seconds for the wolf to get to you, and it pounces - and even if you know it won't cross the circle, it's terrifying. You close your face instinctively and shriek in fear, but of course, nothing happens: the wolf smacks into the invisible wall and falls down. You use this moment to get up and run to your house, closing the door and casting a few spells just to be sure there's no weak spot in your shields. You walk to the window on your shaking legs, all covered in mud, and you look out. The wolf is circling your shields, growling and scraping the walls with its gigantic paws. It sees you and gets more aggressive, so you move away from the window and sit on the floor. 

You're still panting, and even your shields don't make you feel better - last time the werebear broke them and maimed you until the forest actually intervened and dragged the bear away from you. It was nasty and took so long to heal, but the scarring was minimum - most of the injuries healed without a trace. 

You calm down, your breathing is getting normal again, and you look at your basket with a bunch of moon peppers in it. 

The wolf will not get away with it, you decide. You'll show it who is the boss here.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of war and rationing, sexual inexperience, oral sex (f receiving), smut. Word count: ~3.1k

Summary: When Billy gifts her an orange, almost impossible to come by due to lack of exportation and rationing, he decides he wants to taste something sweeter than fruit. Based on this request.

Author's note: For @notasockpuppetaccount. No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She sits down heavily on a chair in the staff quarters, sighing in relief at the rest she is finally able to give her aching feet and back.

It’s her first day at The Halcyon, one of London’s most prestigious hotels. Money has been tight at home since her father was drafted, and she’d enquired about work just about everywhere she could think of, in order to help her mother make ends meet.

She’d been surprised when The Halcyon had offered her a job as a maid, she had no prior experience and was certain they’d reject her. However, she supposes that in the midst of a war, beggars can’t be choosers, and they are likely as desperate as she is.

Her morning has been spent helping out Kate, a firm but friendly Irish girl, who has taught her how to turn down a bed and scrub a toilet until it gleams white and shiny again. It’s tiring work, the maze of rooms on every floor feels endless, and between being scolded for wrinkled sheets and improperly folded towels she is exhausted, grateful to retreat to the back room once she’s told she can take her lunch break.

Unwrapping the wax paper on the sandwich she’d packed earlier that morning, she wrinkles her nose in disgust. It no longer seems as appetising now that it’s been left to sit in her bag for hours.

She looks up as the door creaks open, a tall, young lad in a bell boy’s uniform walks in. He offers her a tight lipped smile by way of greeting, cheeks turning slightly pink as he moves to retrieve his own sandwich.

“You on your lunch as well?” She asks warmly. Having only spoken properly to Kate so far, she is eager to make friends.

“Yeah,” he says, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite hers at the table, “you mind if I, er…?”

“No, sit down,” she tells him, watching intently as he takes a seat and starts to unwrap his own food.

“Not seen you before,” he comments, looking up at her.

“First day,” she fiddles with the wax paper of her lunch, “I’m knackered.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says, loosening his cap and placing it upon the table. “Lost a guest’s dog this morning. Bloody thing slipped the lead when I tried to walk it.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she is unable to stifle the giggle that escapes her. At least someone is having a worse day than she is. “And I thought I had it bad scrubbing toilets.”

“You not eating that then?” He says, nodding towards her sandwich before taking a bite of his own.

She grimaces. “Fish paste. Not sure I can stomach it.”

He nods, talking around a mouthful of food, a habit she would ordinarily find disgusting, but she finds it doesn’t offend her when he does it. “Spam in mine. Mum makes ‘em. Same thing every day.” He swallows before he speaks again, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “Tell you what, give me half of yours, I’ll give you half of mine. Less boring that way.”

“Yeah, alright,” she grins, sliding hers across to him. She watches as he takes half and then places the remaining part of his in the empty space.

“I’m Billy, by the way,” he tells her, the tips of his ears reddening, suddenly shy again.

“Thanks for the sandwich, Billy,” she says softly, before telling him her name.

They eat their lunch in comfortable silence, until finally it’s time to get back to work.

In the week that follows, her and Billy have lunch together every day, swapping sandwich halves and chatting about their days. The work is hard, but knowing she has a friend gives her something to look forward to, and she finds herself excited to go to work each day.

They talk about anything and everything, their hour-long break always feeling like it evaporates all too quickly. She tells him all about her dad fighting overseas against the Germans, and how she took her job at the Halcyon to bring home extra money for her mum, who’s currently doing factory work for the same reason. Billy tells her that he’ll be eighteen soon, and can’t wait to be drafted. His mum, Peggy, operates the switchboard at the hotel, his dad isn’t around anymore, so she relies on his help to look after his little sister, who he affectionately refers to as “the squirt”.

Shared lunch breaks evolve into after hours games of poker with the rest of the Halcyon staff. They crowd into the back room, sitting around the same table that her and Billy share lunch at, and play for cigarettes. 

She feels her skin grow hot as their knees brush together, unable to help the smile that tugs at her lips as she watches Billy’s brow furrow in confusion as he looks over his cards, a lit cigarette perched between his lips.

“You’re smoking your stake, Billy,” she says with a soft chuckle.

He looks sheepishly at her, plucking the cigarette from between his lips, before throwing his cards down onto the table with a sigh. “Doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve got all Jacks.”

“Billy!” Everyone groans around the table in frustration, chucking their own cards down.

She laughs heartily. He might have ruined the game, but it’s impossible to be angry at him when his big blue eyes go wide and his lips part in shock. 

Billy looks adorable when he’s worried, and it’s an expression he wears often; when he accidentally drops guests’ luggage down the stairs, the time he shuts a lady’s skirt in the lift doors, and especially when she leads him to the scullery, telling him there’s a surprise for him.

His concern quickly morphs into one of his trademark, tight smiles that indicate he’s feeling bashful, as head chef, George, flanked by the rest of the kitchen staff, carries out an enormous birthday cake lit with candles.

“You didn’t think you could hide it from us, did you, Billy?” George jokes, once the obligatory “happy birthday” song has been sung. “Eighteen today!”

She has her first taste of Champagne that day, each member of staff is given a class to toast to Billy. The bubbles tickle her nose, the taste is dry but not unpleasant upon her palate, yet it does nothing to dilute the bitterness that blooms heavy in her chest. 

Billy’s turned eighteen, he’ll be drafted any day now and she’ll lose her best friend. No more shared sandwiches, no more ruined games of poker, no more stolen moments in the housekeeping closet where they laugh uncontrollably over stupid jokes. She’s going to lose Billy, just as she’s lost her dad to this stupid war.

Her heartache is given a brief moment of respite when she looks over at him, also indulging in his first taste of Champagne, and sees the way his face contorts in disgust at the taste. He’s always able to make her smile, even when she doesn’t want to.

It’s only a week later that Billy’s letter arrives. Due to Peggy’s meddling, he won’t be going overseas, he’ll be stationed at the nearby army barracks helping to man the anti aircraft guns. She is secretly pleased that he won’t be too far away, despite his annoyance at his mum’s interference. She feels she could kiss Peggy, such is the depth of her gratitude for what she’s done, but she does her best to hide how pleased she is, comforting Billy, saying how sorry she is for him.

“Cheer up, it might never happen,” he says with a soft smile, as they stand in the hotel foyer. Billy wears his day clothes, having handed his uniform in at the end of his final shift at The Halcyon.

“Already has,” she replies sadly, her heart twinging as she looks up into the big, blue eyes she’s grown to adore.

“How d’you mean?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“You, going off to war,” she sighs, “I won’t see you again.”

“Don’t be daft,” he chuckles, “I’ll only be down the road.”

“You won’t have time for me, Billy.”

He swallows, averting his gaze briefly before meeting her eye once more. “I don’t like fish paste.”

“What?” She asks, squinting slightly, confused.

“I’ve spent the last six months eating fish paste sarnies, just so I’d have an excuse to spend my lunch break with you. Fish paste is disgusting, if I can stomach that then it’ll take more than a stupid war to keep me away from you.”

Her heart flutters, her vision turning misty as a wide smile spreads its way across her features. “Oh, Billy…” she whispers.

Her fingers flex uselessly at her sides, desperate to reach out to him, and she sees his do the same. An opposing, invisible force hangs heavy between them, filled with unspoken declarations, drawing them together and yet pushing them apart simultaneously, until finally they collide in a tight, all encompassing hug.

He smells of Brylcreem and tobacco, and she inhales deeply, committing his scent to memory. She doesn’t want to let go, yet she does, she has to.

Adjusting to life at The Halcyon without Billy around is difficult. Lunch breaks feel empty and lifeless, the poker nights are not the same.

Billy still visits, though his presence is not as frequent as it was before. He’s usually accompanied by his little sister, carrying her into the hotel on piggyback before going to see Peggy in the switchboard room.

To her delight, he makes a point of seeking her out each time. He looks handsome in his uniform, filled with a confidence he didn’t have before. Animatedly, he tells her all about the anti aircraft guns, enthusiastically mimicking the sounds they make, causing her to laugh.

On her eighteenth birthday, Billy turns up at the hotel, looking dapper as ever in his khaki green trousers and jacket. He pulls her into the housekeeping cupboard, shifting the bag he has on his shoulder awkwardly.

“Happy birthday,” he says to her, almost nervous sounding, “got you something.”

She gasps, as he produces a large orange from his bag, handing it to her. The skin is firm in her hands. It’s been a long time since she’s had any fruit that isn’t mock banana; rationing and the lack of imports due to the war mean that it’s produce that’s hard to come by. The hotel’s chief concierge routinely has to decline the requests of high profile guests that request fresh fruit as part of their room service. She turns the orange around in her hands looking at it reverently. 

“Where did you get this?” She stares up at him, wide-eyed. “Not even Feldman can get oranges!”

Billy shrugs, blushing slightly. “Oh, y’know, I’ve got my ways.”

“Thank you, Billy,” she says, voice filled with soft sincerity. An idea strikes her, excitement swirling in her stomach. “We should share it!”

“Really?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah, unless…” she deflates as realisation of how busy he is now hits her, “you probably can’t get away, it’s a silly idea.” She shakes her head, embarrassment warming her flesh.

He steps forward, eager to reassure her. “No, I’ve got time, I can make time. I’ll come back tomorrow?”

She looks up at him, smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He nods, half turning towards the door. “Well, I should probably–”

“Billy?” She calls to him and he turns back, a look of question on his face, eyebrows raised slightly.

She surges forward, pressing her lips firmly against his cheek, kissing it, before she quickly pulls away again.

For a moment it looks as though Billy has stopped breathing as she watches him, her heart pounding in her chest. Finally, he exhales deeply, his face blushing bright red. He grins and she smiles back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Billy.”

“Yeah…yeah, tomorrow,” he says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder again, before slipping out of the closet door.

He stays true to his promise and the following day they go to the back room, the same place where they have shared so many lunches. This time they sit beside each other, instead of on opposite sides of the table.

Carefully, she slices the orange into segments, giving half to Billy.

The fruit is fleshy and sweet as she bites into it, the tartness of the citrus causing her to emit a satisfied hum as she chews and swallows it.

She looks over at Billy, huffing a laugh as she watches the way the juice drips down his chin.

He looks back, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Come here, you’ve got…” she leans over, wiping the orange residue away with her thumb. Her movements slow, her hand lingering against his face as her eyes settle upon his.

It feels like time stops as their gaze locks, her breath catches in her throat. She is unsure of who moves first, but their lips are against each other, moving slowly at first, filled with uncertainty and inexperience.

He tastes sweet, and their mouths move with more enthusiasm, both able to taste orange upon each other.

They keep their foreheads pressed together once they part for air, both smiling softly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you,” he whispers.

Their relationship shifts from that moment. Billy is unable to take her on dates, can’t bring her flowers, his time at the barracks doesn’t allow for that. They have only a series of stolen moments in the hotel to share, sneaking into rooms which have yet to be made up to spend time together. 

It is all sweet kisses and warm cuddles, neither one of them ready to take the steps that go beyond that yet.

She lays against Billy’s chest on the unmade bed, his arm wrapped around her as the other moves his hand through her hair, stroking it. “Hate that I can’t take you out anywhere fancy,” he murmurs.

“I don’t need any of that,” she reassures him, “just you coming back to me alive is enough.”

“You deserve that though,” he insists, hugging her tighter to him, “when this war is over, I’m gonna take you out for dinner. We’ll get married, and we’ll have a house and fill it full of kids.”

Her chest fills with warmth as she grins up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes soft and filled with fondness as he looks at her, “because…well, because I love you.”

Her grin grows wider and she kisses him deeply, feeling the way the skin of his face flushes beneath her fingertips.

“I love you too,” she whispers as she pulls away.

Their dynamic shifts again after that, their cosy stolen mornings become more heated, their kisses more impassioned, every touch is charged with intent.

Where she felt uncertain and scared of what lies beyond innocent kissing before, she now feels only desire for Billy, but isn’t sure of how to communicate this with him.

He pulls away from her as they share a passionate embrace, trailing kisses over her neck. “Can I try something with you?” He whispers.

“What is it?” She asks, whining softly as he pulls away from her.

“Something that one of the lads at the barracks told me about,” he says, not meeting her eye, “it’s how he pleases his missus, thought you might like it.”

She laughs softly, nervously. “Okay, but what is it?”

He swallows thickly, turning scarlet. “Can I just show you? I’m embarrassed to say.”

She nods, eager to see what he’ll do.

“Lay back for me,” he instructs, and she does, watching him through hooded eyes.

Tentatively, he moves down the messy hotel bed, pushing the skirt of her maid’s uniform above her hips, revealing her knickers and stockings. He bites his lip at the sight, never having seen her in such a state of undress before.

She gasps, her eyes going wide, sudden fear filling her. “Billy, we can’t–”

“No, not that,” he’s quick to reassure her, “not until we’re…you’re ready.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing slightly.

“But…” his eyes flit up to hers, filled with uncertainty, “I do need to take your underwear off. Is that alright?”

She gulps. She’s scared, but also curious and excited, she wants to experience whatever it is that Billy has asked to try. “Yeah,” she says quietly, “yeah, that’s alright.”

Gently and slowly, his nimble fingers drag her knickers away from her body and down her legs, discarding them at the end of the bed.

She has the sudden urge to hide her face as he takes in the sight of her, pupils wide with lust. She is torn between wanting to look away and the desire to watch exactly what he’s doing as he carefully coaxes her legs apart.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, “I-I’ve never done this before.”

She gasps as she feels his tongue move against her, hesitantly exploring her folds. The motion of his mouth between her legs is unsure at first, but as his tongue flicks over her pearl and she lets out a surprised moan of pleasure, Billy grows more confident.

He repeats the motion, causing her to squirm and mewl. It feels so intimate, she wants to pull away, filled with shame, to tell him it’s dirty and they shouldn’t be doing this, but at the same time, every time his tongue moves against that particular spot she never wants him to stop.

“God, you taste good,” he mumbles against her.

The movement of his tongue becomes more certain, determined and he laves at her, flicking against the spot that causes her to whimper and grip the bed sheets tightly.

She can feel a pressure building within her, intensifying with every sweep of Billy’s tongue, until finally as he groans against her, circling her bud once more, it reaches its apex and she shudders against him with a surprised cry, feeling boneless as warmth washes over her like the lapping waves of the sea.

“Oh, my god, Billy…'' She breathes heavily.

He lifts his face from between her thighs, a smile on his face, his chin coated in her juices just as it was when they’d shared the orange. She can’t resist the urge to tug him up towards her, kissing him hungrily.

They giggle against each other's lips, both of them breathless.

“I…er…need to clean myself up before I head back,” he tells her, his mouth forming a tight smile, the telltale sign of his shyness that she’s grown to love.

She follows his line of sight to the wet patch on the crotch of his uniform trousers and they both erupt into uncontrollable laughs.

Oh, Billy.

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: I Don't Wanna Do This

When you woke up the next morning, you expected to feel the warm press of Jake against you. But you didn't. You kept your eyes closed, praying that he was just in the bathroom or downstairs.

But when you rolled over and felt the cold sheets and sat up to see that your room was empty, your worst fears had been confirmed.

Jake had left in the middle of the night.

He had told you he was going to stay and he didn't. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't will the tears away. You flopped back on your bed and buried your head in your pillow, and sobbed.

Jake had broken your heart.

He'd been splintering pieces off it off for over a year, but this time—this time was the final swing of the axe.

Really, you should have known this was coming. You should have known you were going to get hurt, but it still didn't make the heartbreak hurt any less.

You wanted to spend the day buried in your sheets and feeling sorry for yourself, but the longer you laid there, the more you realized Jake's scent surrounded you.

So, you stripped your bed and shoved your bedding into your washing machine and covered them with more soap and fabric softener than necessary. If that didn't get his scent off of them, you might just burn your sheets and get some new ones. You'd been looking for a reason to go to Target anyway.

Speaking of burning, when you flopped down on your naked bed and tried to relax, you realized that Jake's scent had permeated you pillows, too.

"Fuck!" You screamed as you threw each one of then off your bed and they hit the wall with a soft thud. As you flung the final pillow, you missed the wall and knocked the picture frame on your dresser off. It clattered to the floor and shattered.

You sighed and begrudgingly got up. You didn't want to step on broken glass later.

You knelt down and picked up the pieces of glass and grabbed the frame. More tears came to your eyes as you looked at the image.

Looking back at you was a picture of a slightly younger you and Jake, with big bright smiles. It was taken right after the two of you got your first confirmed air to air kill. You can still remember the anxiety you felt as you helped guide him in taking down that Cold War museum piece.

You can also remember the pride that you felt when everyone cheered for you when the two of you landed on the carrier.

That day and that night would change the relationship you and Jake had in more ways than one.

...................

Facing death together is a connection that can only be understood by a few.

But what changed even more was that you and Jake crossed the line that the two of you had been tip-toeing around for months.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Jake came to your bunk. You had been fortunate enough to not have a roommate.

When you heard the knock on your door, you weren't sure who it could be. You certainly weren't expecting to find Jake, shirtless, grey sweatpants slung low on his hip, still wet from his shower, standing there.

He stood there silently with wide eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Jake. Wha—" You weren't sure what to say.

"Glow— Y/N," He breathed out as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Tell me to go. Tell me you don't feel what I feel. Tell me we shouldn't do this." He had whispered to you.

You'd stood there, taking him in. You knew that the two of you could never come back from this. That this was the point of no return.

If you'd known, then what you know now, you would have sent him packing. Instead, you'd reached out, looped your fingers around the chain of his dog tags, and pulled him against you.

The first time your lips met, you knew you were a goner. You knew that your relationship with him would never be the same.

That was the first night you had gotten a taste of him. It was the night that he ruined all other men for you. And, it was the first of many nights that he had loved you and then left your bed.

................

After cleaning, you threw on some clothes and went to Target to get new pillows and some, "I feel sorry for myself because I'm facing the consequences of my own actions," snacks and wine.

Around Saturday afternoon, Jake realized that he had fucked up. He had really fucked up. He realized that he should have stayed and that this morning he should have made you french toast and told you that he cared about you, that he loved you.

He should have brought his midnight confession into the light of day, but he didn't. Jake didn't because he was a coward, and because he could stand the thought of you not loving him back.

He got out his phone and tried to call you. You sent him to voice-mail after one ring. He deserved that. Jake tried over and over again and sent you text after text, begging for you to talk to him.

He was half tempted to drive to your house and bang on your door until you let him in, or he could just use the extra key you'd gifted him. But, he thought better of it.

Instead, he went to the Hard Deck with the rest of the squad.

When they asked about you, Jake lied and said that you weren't feeling well. Maybe it wasn't a whole lie. You probably did feel like shit right now, and it was his fault. He was the one that burned the two of you down.

He went through the night wearing a mask. He put on his million dollar grin and Texas sized ego and went through motions. Some blonde by the bar had tried to hit on him, but he turned her down.

She'd laughed at his jokes, twirled her hair, been a little too touchy feeling and gave him her best fuck me eyes, but it didn't matter. She wasn't you.

Jake ended up calling it an early night after that.

By Sunday night, Jake still hadn't heard from you, and he was worried. He threw logic out the window and drove to your house. He wanted to make sure you were alive at least.

When he turned onto your street, he parked across from your cottage. The lights in your bedroom were on. He so badly wanted to walk up and knock on your door, but before he could get the courage too, he saw the light turn off, casting your room into darkness.

Jake quietly drove back home to prepare himself to face you tomorrow.

On Monday morning, both you and Jake drug out your morning routine as long as possible.

When you entered the briefing room on base, you noticed Jake in his normal seat at the front of the room like the kiss-ass he'd always been that you had always teased him for.

You also noticed what appeared to be your favorite iced latte sitting on the table next to him. You deliberately sat in the very back of the classroom and blatantly ignored him when he turned to find you before Maverick got started. He'd silently gestured to the coffee and nodded his head for you to come sit next to him. You flipped him off.

As you approach the Super Hornet, you ignored Jake and his stupid perfect smile and his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect hand outstretched to help you up.

"I don't need your help." You said to him coldly.

"Glow. Can I— can we please talk?" Jake asked you as he climbed into his set.

"No, I don't want to hear your stupid, half-assed excuse of an apology." You sneered at him.

"Glow—can you just let me explain." Jake tried to defend himself.

"There is literally no explanation that you can give me that would be good enough. Now, can we please just get through this exercise. The sooner we complete it, the sooner I can get away from you and can stop staring at the back of your big-ass head." You spat.

Jake took a deep breath.

He deserved that.

That day, the two of you flew the worst you had ever flown together. Once you were back on the ground, you quickly made a beeline for the locker room.

You slamed your things in, showered, and left.

For the rest of the week, you refused to talk to Jake, unless it was to give him directions, that he didn't follow, in the sky.

Jake could take you yelling and screaming at him. He could take you beating his chest while you cried angry tears and told him he was a son of a bitch. He could take any kind of verbal or physical spar you could dish out.

But what he couldn't take was the silent treatment. He hated that you were icing him out.

Everyone had noticed the tension.

Jake had gone back to his old ways of thinking he was God's gift to the Navy.

"Hey Hangman? Mind if I ask you a personal question? What's up with you and Glow? Trouble in paradise?" Rooster had asked him Friday in the locker room.

Jake slamed his locker. "It's none of your fucking business, Chicken Shit!" Jake yelled before storming out.

"Well, he hasn't changed a bit." Bob muttered under his breath. "Nope." Rooster replied.

Friday afternoon, you waited until everyone was gone before knocking on the door of Maverick's office.

"Lieutenant Briller? Is there something I can help you with?" Maverick asked when you walked in.

"Captain Mitchell, do you have a minute? I need to speak with you about something important." You said as you came in.

"Sure, come in, close the door. We can talk." Maverick said. You took a deep breath and closed the door behind you.

................

The weekend came, and went in a blur. It was the first weekend in a long time that you hadn't found yourself tangled up with Jake.

On Monday morning, you were nervous to walk into work, but Maverick had assured you that everything would be okay.

You took your seat at the back of the classroom and waited. Jake was still at the front, eyes forward and twirling a pen in his hand.

"Good morning, aviators." Maverick said as he greeted the group.

There were calls of good mornings around the room. A few moments later, Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates entered the room. Everyone stood at attention until told to sit.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sure you're wondering why Warlock and I are here today." Cyclone stared.

"Well, we've come to give some of you some new team assignments." He continued. Everyone sat up, eyes wide and filled with questions.

"These changes will not affect our single seat pilots, but due to extenuating circumstances, we are changing some of the pilot and weapons systems officer pairs." Cyclone stated.

"Lieutenant Bassett, you will no longer be flying with Omaha. You'll now be the WSO for Lieutenant Seresin." Simpson explained.

"Furthermore, Lieutenant Vikander, your new WSO will be Lieutenant Briller. These changes are effective immediately. That is all." Cyclone said before he and Warlock left the room.

Everyone was silent. You looked down at your boots. You could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you.

Even though Cyclone didn't say that you were the one who had said something, they all knew.

"This is bullshit." Jake spat before getting up and slamming his hands on the table in front of you.

"This is fucking bullshit, Glow! You give me the silent treatment and then go running to the superiors because you got your feelings hurt? What do you have to say for yourself?!" Jake screams in your face.

"I can't fly with someone I can't trust." You tell him.

"Can't trust? You can't trust me? What the fuck! That's the lamest fucking excuse I've ever heard. If anything, you're the one we can trust!" Jake yells at you.

"Hey! That's enough!" Maverick tells him.

"I can't believe you. You went behind my back!" Jake screams. "You've got be fucking kidding me. Please tell me this is a mistake!"

"Lieutenant Seresin!" Maverick warns him.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Hangman. But no, this isn't a mistake. I will not longer be your backseater." You tell him, trying to stay calm.

"No, you're right. It isn't a mistake. The only mistake was me begging Simpson and Bates to get you transferred here." Jake shouts at you as he crowds your space.

"What?" You say, taken aback.

"I said that the only mistake was me asking Bates and Simpson to have you transferred here from Lemoore. What? You think that you were good enough to get them to do that on your own? Because newsflash, you weren't. I begged them to have you placed here. The only reason that you are here is because of me. And you think that you can just go and run to the Admirals on me because I hurt your feelings? Who do you think you are?" Jake sneers.

"Hangman!" Rooster yells as he pulls him back.

"I never asked you to get me transferred here, Jake. You did that for you, not for me." You tell him as you try to hold your composure.

"You know what, I'm glad I won't be flying with you anymore, Glow. Maybe Halo won't slow me down." He spits, driving the knife deeper into your chest.

That's the last straw for you. You leap over the table, ready to claw his eyes out. Coyote catches you around the waist while Bob and Phoenix hold both of your shoulders back. Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy hang onto Jake, pulling him away from you.

"I'm cool, I'm cool he says as he brushes them off.

"Fuck you, Bagman!" You shout.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Jake begins, "You already have."

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Wrestling Contest (Frat!Rhett x Reader)

Summary: It's the height of mating season in the Delta Tau Epsilon house and the boys are holding a little contest in the basement to win the hands of their s.os

Warnings: Frat parties, wrestling contests in the basement references to smut 18+ only

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @sebsxphia

The basement was louder than a friggin concert stadium on a summer's eve, the bluetooth speakers blasting the music on high volume. The ding of a bell and the raucous shouts of a bunch of drunken frat boys and sorority sisters filled the basement which was already packed full of people from across the campus spectrum.

You were watching from the homemade bleachers on the other side of the room, you and several of your girlfriends from the Phi Gamma sorority and a few others, were all sitting close together each in a different colored toga that you had all made from shitty repurposed bedsheets, cheering on the boys who were down in "the pits".

"C'mon Kyle!"

"Beat the shit out of him Kyle!"

"Go for his balls Kyle!!"

Kyle Shanahan slipped in and football tackled the Alpha Beta rival by the waist, dragging him down into the inflatable pool full of strawberry scented k-y jelly.

The bell dinged again and everyone stood up, cheering and barking as Kyle victoriously threw his hands up, howling with all his long-haired, bearded glory. His girlfriend, Karen McCann, practically jumped from the bleachers and into his arms, riling up the crowd in the basement.

"Oh God I don't think I can do this," Kayce groaned.

"Ya'll know what happens to us if we don't right?" Rhett asked him.

Kayce's nostrils flared at the thought. Every Delta Tau in the past had to fight for their mating rights every year around this time, those slimy little Alpha Betas daring to encroach into their territory. Kayce looked up at the bleachers and saw Monica cheering everyone on. Under no circumstances would he allow Stan Winthorp to put his grubby, pervy hands all over Monica Long. Kayce could feel his eyes burning when he saw Stan making his way into the pits, ready for action and eyeing Monica who rolled her eyes.

"Over my dead fuckin body!" Kayce blurted out.

"Down homeboy!" Rhett ordered. "Look at me, look at me......are ya'll gonna allow Stan to get with your girl?"

"FUCK NO!"

"Are ya'll gonna allow him to get with her?"

"FUCK NO!" Kayce shouted furiously.

"Then ya'll get in there and show him who the top dog is!" Rhett told him. "Ya'll are a LEAN, MEAN FIGHTING MACHINE!!"

Kayce let out the most frightening war yell anyone had ever heard when the bell dinged again, signaling for him to get in the pits.

"Oh my God I don't think I can watch this," Monica laughed.

"Brace yourself Monnie, it's about to get crazier," you chuckled.

"In that case I'd better do a shot," said Cairo, Foster's boyfriend.

You handed Cairo the little nip of McGuillicuddy's mint flavored liqueur which he swigged back as though it were water. It was eight seconds.......eight painful seconds before Kayce leapt up off his feet, grabbed Stan and landed him in a triangle choke right on the ground. You, Monica and the others cheered from the bleachers as Kayce riled everyone up, the crowd chanting his name as Stan sulked off to clean himself up and lick his wounds.

"Holy shit!" Kayce gasped, wiping his face with a fresh towel. "That was fuckin great!"

"Alright Foster ya'll are up! Go get'em!" Rhett told him.

Oh man did Foster look pissed. It wasn't even a split second before he had the Alpha Beta prick on the ground, the very same one who had been pestering Cairo the week before at one of the bars. It had taken both Kayce and the vice president of the Sigma Sigma Kappa house to get Foster off him and drag the prick away.

Rhett eyed Smitty from across the room with a fury, his eyes burning like a pair of cobalt flames, nearly black with the intense desire to fight. The other frat leaders kept encouraging him, tapping him on the shoulder and hurling obscenities and insults at the Alpha Betas.

The bell dinged and it was time for him to go in. The bluetooth speaker started to play Eminem's "Till I Collapse", full blast as the two frat leaders entered the pits, staring each other down as they assumed the position.

Rhett nearly blacked out as the bell signaled for them to fight. It was a slippery mess as they tried to keep their feet balanced, holding onto each other as he fought to wrestle Smitty to the ground.

"Think you're too good huh Abbott?" Smitty sneered. "Just you wait until (y/n)'s in my bed and I can......."

A loud war yell fell from Rhett's mouth as he flipped Smitty right over onto his back, the slick of the k-y jelly splattering everywhere upon impact. Rhett rose, beating his chest with one hand in the ecstasy of his sudden victory.

You ran from the bleachers and threw yourself right into his arms, kissing him heatedly, neverminding that he was coated in strawberry scented lube. Smitty angrily slunked away into the corner with the rest of the Alpha Betas while you and Rhett basked in the afterglow of his triumph.

"Wanna meet me upstairs later?" Rhett asked wiggling his eyebrows a little. "Meet Caesar at the midnight orgy?"

"As long as your truck doesn't turn back into a pumpkin I'm down," you chuckled before kissing him again, much to the delight of the basement crowd.

[zombiee-reviews]

Keirr character discussion / breakdown

• The egotistical prick • The Aira hater • The deciever

- Quick author note: I’m going to be doing something slightly different, where I basically read the scenes that involved Keirr and leave a tag afterwords of pages I am going over. This will at least give you opportunity to read along with me and understand my breakdowns a little better.

- Another note: I am always using the Tumblr mobile app, so I apologize if my documents look rather funky on the computer version. I am trying to spruce them up and make them look at least somewhat good lol.

- Final note: I will be going over “Asmundr” Keirr, only a little bit though, mainly for his background. Other than that, I am focusing on “Home” Keirr. Now let’s get into it!

-

What I will be going over:

- What we know of Keirr’s history

- How he suddenly went from sweet and family oriented. Then turned into an egotistical jerk off, who stopped prioritizing family.

- A little on his personality

-

- Early History

In Keirrs early history, we know that he was born around the middle of Kiques 1st comic, Asmundr. And let me tell you, this fool has changed designs like.. 5 different times.

Ahem, anyway. Keirr is shown as the more “mature” one, compared to Rhov. In Asmundr, it is shown that he is a “decent” hunter, while him and his brother work on deer hides. He is even more reasonably suspicious than Rhov, when Jahla enters the scene and tackles Rhovanion.

When the war between Ranulfr and the Asmundr pack hit, Keirr was pretty useful and followed instructions well. Near the end of the war, you could tell he was tired of having to kill the Shield wolves, but he continued to kill. And really, that about sums up Keirrs story in Asmundr. Obviously, the first comic wasn’t about the offspring, like Home is. So I can’t really follow up with much, in “Asmundr” Keirr.

-

- Read along breakdown:

Now, we’ll be going over “Home” Keirr.

Two years had passed since “Asmundr”, so I feel the rest of this information does not qualify for Keirrs early history section.

Too begin.. Keirr and his family are dropped off on Aedra, they are not given a time limit of how long this lasts. All they know is, father will return at some point. Until then, they all make do and continue with their lives.

Keirr is still shown to be the more mature / family oriented guy. As everyone else decides to explore Aedra and see what they can find, Keirr decides to stay back with the Asmundr pack. Keirr at least retains his personality, for now, from Asmundr.( Page 8. Can also be seen on page 104. )

Then came the time when Zilas died, Keirr was the one to discover him first. Of course, he took it pretty hard considering that he grew up with Zilas and saw him as a brother. Of course, a lot of those crucial bonding moments us readers need are shown “off-screen”. It was never truly shown how close Keirr and Zilas were. ( Page 127 - 128 )

Fast forward to the time he discovered Aira, this is when things get juicy. For a while, Keirr was not Kiques priority and he did not make a real, solid appearance for a few chapters, up until page 138. This is when Kique decides Keirr needs a fucked up “Home” style arc next.

Keirr is seen carrying a torch, probably out mourning his loss I’d imagine.. Otherwise, idk why tf he is out late, or seen / helping anyone bury Zilas? This was the time when night beasts were a thing. Anyway! He is caught off guard by a voice, who comes from Aira, hiding. Keirr still retains his suspicious behavior, like in Asmundr and asks her to come closer, for the fire he is carrying. To his surprise, he is greeted with a badly wounded dog. Reasonably, he asks Aira if she was attacked by a feline, probably trying to see if she is the reason Zilas is dead. Quickly, his suspicions are cleared and he offers her help. ( Page 138 - 139 )

Suddenly, in video game reloading fashion, Keirr spawns at camp with Rhov and Jahla. Where the hell did Aira go? Anyway, I like that Keirr called out Rhov and Jahla for trying to throw blame around on anyone they could, for Zilas’s death. And then looking down at them, like a disappointed father. Thankfully, he is still retaining his personality at this point. I have to say though, it is interesting that Keirr decides to care for Aira alone and not bring her back to the Asmundr pack. Knowing his suspicious behavior, this might have been the better option for him. ( Page 140 - 141 )

We are then shown Keirr and Aira at her den. Keirr is definitely shown as more able bodied than Aira and attempts to help her up, when he realizes she can’t make it up on her own. His so far suspicious behavior remains intact, when he realizes her den has an odd amount of space for one dog; especially one of her size. He even tries to wiggle in some questions for her, but to no avail. He leaves Aira with supplies and is even kind enough to give her a knife and hide a hare nearby for her. ( Page 151 - 152 )

A few hours had passed, seemingly it looks like Aira tracked Keirr down and sat down with him. Keirr then opens up a little bit about Zilas and his family. The odd part for me is that, he is shown to be a family oriented guy, you’d imagine he’d want to mourn with his family? But I suppose he would rather want to mourn alone, for some odd reason. Kique tends to do a lot of important things “off-screen.” Anyway, instead of going back to his family, he chooses to mourn with a stranger. Which to me is slightly out of character of him. ( Page 160 - 161 )

A day or so later passes and suddenly Keirr is an expert in physical therapy. This scene from him looks promising, until he joins up with Whispervale. More on that later. Keirr helps Aira jump over a log and help regain her mobility. Then he decides it’s time to go back to his family, in the middle of such a primary moment? Aira then runs up and kisses him to stop him from leaving. Then he subtly gloats at her about how he is her “only chance of survival”, I mean what a nice thing to say lol. I feel this is when Keirr starts acting out of character, but it isn’t super noticeable yet. I’m also not quite sure why he said she couldn’t join the pack, Kainan would have saw no problem with it? Then he contradicts himself by saying he’ll continue taking care of her, but can’t leave his family to care for a stranger, all in the same breath? What? lol. ( Page 197 - 199 )

Keirr then finally discovers that the Asmundr pack is no longer there. Also, it’s kind of funny how it foreshadows the reindeer being dead in the fourth panel, but magically they’re still alive when Ronja gives them to the Deer humpers. Not only this, but it’s way too soon for the Reindeer to leave behind bones? Or why didn’t Keirr notice them while he visited the territory? Another plot hole lol. ( Page 226 )

Then Keirr suddenly decides he wants to go back to Aira, even after being a subtle dick to her. He notices that she is no longer in the vicinity and begins looking for her instead. Contradicting himself again, because he just told her he wouldn’t leave his family for a stranger. So why does he choose to go after Aira instead and not start looking for his family? Hm. ( Page 235 )

At least Keirr was nice enough to go searching for her.. But he comes across her re-possessing herself with the monster she was previously. Aira explains that she can’t survive without it. Keirr added salt to that wound by saying previously, he was her only chance of survival and then dipping out on her. Reasonably though, Keirr stops her from completing the ritual. Once he is able to pull her away from the spirit, he comforts her and makes sure to tell her that he is here for her. Boy what a damn 180 that happens in the future! Keirr then discovers Aira’s background and what she use to be, they share a tender moment together and then apologize for their previous actions. ( Probably the one and only time you’ll see that in this comic. ) Then Keirr suddenly decides she can join the pack, because it was always an option, Keirr was just being a dick. And with that, Keirr invites her to look for his family with him. Aira is able to offer some advice, as she has previously traveled the entire island in her beast form. ( Page 267 - 276 )

Here comes the total 180 of Keirr, when Aira shows him the way to Whispervale. Suddenly Keirr spouts out “We should ask them to join their pack!” Wtf?? Even Aira asks him why, just ask them if they have seen his family. Then for some reason Keirr wants to use Whispervale for their resources before continuing, but in the same breath wants to join their Tribe? None of what he just said to Aira made sense to me. Obviously Aira is uncomfortable, but Keirr doesn’t give a shit lol. Once Whispervale approaches them, Keirr asks if they can join their Tribe. Keirr then attempts to gain sympathy from Fraujar, but rightfully he gets none. Fraujar makes a statement to Keirr that the health of his tribe is everything to him, and he needs more from them than what they have shown Fraujar. Fraujar then assigns Felidae to get them acquainted with everything. Not sure what Keirr or Kique are thinking in this moment, as this is a total 180 from Keirr and his plans.( Page 311 - 314 )

Time passes for the pair and of course Aira asks Keirr when they are leaving Whispervale. Seems she’s the one that adopted Keirrs old personality, cause she’s the only one eager enough to go find them. Of course Keirr shuts her down with a bullshit excuse. “We need stability!” Not sure why he suddenly is against his own idea of searching for his family and staying with Whispervale. I mean what else did he expect trying to find them? Aira is obviously uncomfortable joining a Tribe she did not want, but again, Keirr doesn’t care. Finally their right of passage comes and Aira is the first one to participate. Aira is once again expressing she is UNCOMFORTABLE, before her trial begins. Keirr tries to reassure her, but beyond face value, Aira is stuck there because of his dumbass, unwilling at that. Of course Aira doesn’t do very well in her trial, Fraujar then says her character can be improved, but her structure is… Not up to parr. Then Keirr is all like “Oh she just needs to be trained!” Homie, did you not listen to anything Aira has said previously? She was BORN like this, she can’t just magically work out and get better. That’s not how disabilities work, idiot. ( And would you imagine it, Kique is actually an ableist and no wonder Airas character was handled like this! Go on! Read Stazz / Zirvasitys documents on her relationship with the kind hearted author! ) ( Page 326 - 331 )

Tch, anyway. Aira is obviously disappointed, she told Keirr and even expressed to Keirr that she did not want to join this tribe. I would imagine being in her shoes, she feels unheard, but tried to please Keirr anyway, only to fail. Then of course came Keirrs time and suddenly we’re shown a flashback between Keirr and his father. Of course, this was never shown in Asmundr, or Home. Suddenly Kainan and Keirr found time to actually give a shit about reindeer behavior. ANYWAY. Keirr is oddly confident in larping, how did the confident, son of Kainan, shield wolf killer end up in this situation lmfao. Of course, to nobodies surprise, Keirr nails the trial, he still loses the fight against Raun and everyone is buddy - buddy. ( Page 332 - 336 )

The next scene that follows, we have Raun shouting out at Keirr, saying he looks good and can pass as a guard if he keeps it up. Tbh, this seemed friendly at first, but watching the way Raun interacts with Keirr in the future, makes me feel like Raun is the neighborhood creep lol. Aira then comes out of the hut, her scars completely healed. Keirr is at least somewhat more supportive in this page, but future Keirr is nothing but a prick. ( Page 345 )

Fast forward to chapter 10, we finally see Keirr again, because all of chapter nine was about dumbass Rogio. Ahem. We actually see some progress from Keirr, at least keeping his word to himself. But the odd part is, he brought Raun and not Aira? First of all, Keirr hardly knows Raun and Aira understood the whole situation a lot better than Raun. Soooo.. Odd choice in bringing Raun. ( Would like to add really quick, I know Fraujar assigned Raun to follow Keirr, but why tf would Aira not come either? ) Raun is more dead weight anyway, because he’s being a giant wussy about being in that area anyway. Not even allowing Keirr to scope out the area, completely. And Keirr is just laughing about it, like cmon man, I would imagine you would want to potentially comb through the area, not cater to some giant wuss like Raun. ( Page 458 - 460 )

And to nobodies surprise, the next scene that involves Keirr is a flirty Raun. He tries to encourage Keirr to let loose and have some fun, which would have been cool if it had stayed as a friendship kind of thing. But yet again, Kique force feeds us another MxM ship. At one point, if Kique had kept up with the Rhovanion x Rogio arc that he was hinting at, at some point. All of his main male characters would have been gay. Which is obviously unrealistic, not impossible! But unrealistic. Honestly, I take Raun as a fucking creep. You hardly know anything about Keirr and yet, here he is trying to make flirty gestures and tell Keirr he’s avoiding him. As a woman, to my fellow women, any time a man points out that you’ve been avoiding him, a very creepy vibe showers over us. ( Page 478 - 479 )

Then to nobodies surprise again, Keirr is suddenly able to pin Raun, even though Raun was seen to be a lot stronger than Keirr in his trial. Aaaaand of course, Keirr reciprocates Rauns flirting by responding to him in a sexual manner, “I’m the lead sarv now.” However, in the future Keirr becomes more of an asshole at Raun from this point. ( Page 480 )

Ah now this scene just pisses me off and makes me want to throw Keirr off a cliff. Aira is seen laying around, presumably missing Keirr, I’m sure. Or, just wondering where he went. When she catches sight of him returning, she is understandably excited to see him. The one guy that helped her out with everything, in her worst times. The one guy that made her stop from becoming a beast again.. Shits on her entirely. Eyup, you heard it right. Apparently, getting people totally dependent on you and then being a giant asshole, is something Kique favors doing. Aira of course asks Keirr where he went, Keirr is suddenly acting like the biggest ass to Aira. Which tbh, he has no right doing. HE is the REASON she is there, in the first place. She has EXPRESSED to him NUMEROUS times she is uncomfortable with the tribe, but yet, he took her cries for help and rolled them up and tossed them like newspaper. What a god damn jerk Keirr is. And of course, Aira is understandably upset. Keirr basically told her to fuck off and go make her own friends. Even tho a few chapters ago, he was seen cuddling and holding her, telling her he was there for her. FUCK you Keirr. ( Page 481 - 482 )

In the next scene, Keirr then wants to play a pity party for himself, sitting in the rain, all sad looking. Like he didn’t cause this whole situation for himself. Nothing told this jackass to join Whispervale and stop searching for his family, he did it all himself! So really, why tf is he sitting there acting all depressed? Get off your ass and go look for them! Nobody told you that you couldn’t? Honestly, he’s lucky that Aira still gives a damn about him, even after he treated her like utter dog shit. Then, while Keirr is acting like a baby, Zilas makes an appearance and Keirrs dumbass thinks it’s a grand idea to talk to the ghoul. It’s kind of interesting to me how Zilas is still mostly recognizable.. You would think by now he’d peel his skin off, you know, like what Fjordor said that ghouls do. Zilas has been dead for quite a while. Aira then witnesses all of this and comes to his aid, banishing the ghoul. Keirr then suddenly gets all butt hurt about it and snarls at Aira. Okay, I get it, you’re mourning dude, but I would have figured you’d have some logic / sense to know that Zilas.. IS NOT ZILAS! Keirr even asked the ghoul what he could do, like the damn thing can talk back to him. Honestly, Aira should have just let the ghoul tear Keirr up to shreds and save us all the drama lmfao. And one last thing, when Keirr says he saw that ghoul before, but didn’t recognize it. GIRL WHERE? ( Page 515 - 517 )

Suddenly, Keirr is the master of establishing the differences in the ghouls sounds and can still hear Zilas. Also, when Aira mentions that she lived with the Meteor Tribe, really that opened up way too many questions about her that I’d like to ask. But anyway. Aira gives some speech to Keirr about how MT basically fucked around and found out with the spirits. Then a conversation falls into place about burning Zilas’s body on MT land, which ew, his body im sure would be pretty rotted away by now. But this also brings me to another question, what are the ghouls made of? Are they a manifestation of the soul? They quite obviously can’t be their former bodies, because if that were the case, they wouldn’t even find Zilas’s body, as he would have risen and been a ghoul. Another fat question for this comic and I’m not even sure if this was talked about? ( I’ll be honest with you, I forget if this part was talked about. ) ( Page 518 - 519 )

And here we go with the sexual tension between these two idiots, Keirr and Raun. Raun is a full on creep already, but really Keirr is the big asshole here. Previously, Raun asked him out, as he mentioned before the trip, to Felidae and Aira. So instead of.. Idk, not leading Raun on, what does Keirr do? Hugs him and shares a tender moment with him. Oh trust me guys, it gets fucking worse from this point. And I will continue to say that Raun is a creep, but even he doesn’t deserve to be led on. I also don’t remember Raun asking Keirr out, but I’ll just assume that was yet another important off screen moment. This is also yet another rushed, no chemistry ship crammed down our throats by Kique. ( Page 526 )

So finally we get to the part where they eventually burn Zilas’s body, Aira asks Keirr if he wants to say something and of course! Nothing. It’s almost like any time someone dies in this comic, proper funerals don’t exist. Granted, Keirr just said “I love you, brother.” But when given the opportunity before hand, he was like eh, I don’t have shit to say lmao. ( Page 528 )

Fast forward to a year, I mean 3 months later ( in Keirrs arc ). Of course, in another off screen moment, supposedly Keirr and the others returned to Whispervale and told Fraujar what happened. In my opinion, I feel like some punishment should have been bestowed upon them, or at least show Fraujar being upset with them for doing this behind his back. It would have shown more character from Fraujar and also shown Keirr getting his ass chewed out, by bringing all this unnecessary drama and bullshit into Whispervale. Keirr is also being another nosy ass, listening in on his Jarls discussion. Within the midst of this, Ferah makes her appearance. Keirr miraculously still remembers her and asks what the hell happened. I almost forgot that Keirr and Ferah met previously, because they literally didn’t say anything to each other lol. ( Page 566 - 567 )

Oh boy, here comes the cringiest scene that involves Keirr. Keirr steps away for a moment, after watching Ferah, once Felidae walks in. Ferah wakes up and of course is spooked, cause she doesn’t know wtf is going on. Somehow they both remember each others names, though I don’t remember them ever sharing their names to each other previously. Anyway, Keirr asks Ferah questions about Roamer and Ferah tells him that Ronja and Roamer are at MT. Of course, Keirr gets excited and quite frankly I’m surprised he didn’t smell them before, because Keirr was literally in their territory a few months back, but whatever! Ferah then tells Keirr they’ve both been strong and bla bla. Keirr of course tries to take off, being this annoying problem child as usual. If I were Fraujar I would be so annoyed with Keirr lmfao. Of course you can’t just take off like that, from your tribe, which YOU wanted to join. Raun stops Keirr from running off and what follows after is a recipe for fucking disaster lol. Keirr ends up kissing Raun, further leading the king of creeps on. Keirr KNOWS that Raun likes him, so apparently kissing him out of emotional excitement is a totally normal thing to do. Especially when you know that person has a CRUSH on you and yet you don’t reciprocate it! No, no, it’s totally okay to lead on someone who has feelings for you! ( Page 572 - 576 )

Damn near 100 pages later and we finally see Keirr again. Course, nothing has changed with him. Raun and Keirr are seen in a hut together, Raun is basically asking Keirr what they are, because I mean.. They touched tongues, lmfao. But that was because of Keirr throwing himself at Raun, so really I don’t blame Raun for asking. Now in Keirrs defense, I don’t know why tf Raun is grabbing Keirr like that, when asking him a question, so I mean Keirrs response is a little valid, when he yells at Raun. But the blame still lies with Keirr, because this whole time he has led Raun on, but at the same time Raun has been a giant freaking creep bag as well. They are then interrupted when Keirr walks out and runs into Fraujar, standing there, needing to talk to Keirr. ( Page 640 - 641 )

A few pages later, we see a non emotional reunion between Keirr, Ronja and Roamer. I mean god, all of their expressions are so god damn bland. Y’all haven’t seen each other in months, but let’s just 1,000 yard stare at each other, BEAUTIFUL. ( Page 645 - 646 )

Fast waaaay forwards, to more important scenes involving Keirr. After Rhov and Keirr’s reunion, we are graced with a scene where Rhov and Feaf are telling Keirr that MT might get attacked… This fucking idiot. So instead of putting this whole thing on top priority, Keirr just brushes it off and is like.. I’Ll TeLl FrAuJaR iN tHe MoRnInG. Dumbass, how do you know if they are attacking MT? Feaf literally said they might come to Whispervale? How does Keirr know they aren’t literally waiting in ambush, that very moment? HE DOESNT. So instead of putting his family top priority, like he probably should’ve, he decides to talk about his relationship status. What a great fucking family member / tribe member he is. On top of this, “figuring himself out.” I think you know where you stand, buddy. This whole scene though, Keirr was an idiot. He doesn’t even show the slightest BIT of concern for his family / MT. Let’s act depressed af, because he didn’t know where everyone was, but as soon as he finds them and they could potentially be in danger, ah, let’s wait to warn others till morning! ( Page 788 - 791 )

Finally Keirr and Whispervale show up, but yall are too damn late already. ( Page 808 )

And that about sums up my read along breakdown!

-

- Personality Breakdown

So looking over Keirrs personality traits really gives me some mixed feelings. To be honest, I can’t say that he is independent. Not anymore at least, he was the one that decided he wanted to join Whispervale, he even went against his own independent idea of searching for his family. So for me, he is neither logical, independent OR family - oriented.

A few of these other positive personality traits really haven’t been tested thru the fire, so I can’t really say what he is or isn’t. Mainly because Kique does not focus much on Keirr, like he does with the jackasses of MT and former MT members.

To put it all in perspective though, Keirr was a pretty solid character in Asmundr and in the beginning of Home. Unfortunately, he too fell victim of Kiques weird kinks / fans and became a whole contradiction to himself and his own personality traits.

-

And that is the end ladies and gentlemen! Hope you enjoy :)

- Zombiee

[irreverent-dobermans]

[thirteen-jades]

Finally got around to playing Armored Core 6 (thanks @self-loving-vampire!) and I’m loving it so far. The movement is a hell of a lot of fun, which is a good sign as movement is usually the first thing I start complaining about in a game (this is mostly a me thing, I just like being fast and zippy and it’s very easy for games to start feeling sluggish if they have fairly normal movement). The weapons feel nice, I’m getting a feel for how it plays, and I quite like the aesthetics. Mechs are cool!

I had some vague knowledge of the game before playing but even so I wasn’t really prepared for just how blunt and on the nose it is about the fact that you’re the bad guy here. In one of the early missions, you come upon a pack of trash mobs and a radio line plays of some guy talking to his comrades. He says something to the effect of "there's just one of them, we can do this!" in the wavering voice of a man who has never fired a gun before trying to find any amount of confidence before he puts his life on the line for his home. And then you unceremoniously blow him and all his friends straight to hell and move on. It doesn’t even tell you which enemy was talking, he’s just another faceless mook for you to brush aside on your way to destroying the objective.

Every now and then one of them will ask why you're doing this, and there's literally no answer to give them even if you could. The game doesn't even pretend that you're fighting a ~just war~ or something, they're just like "yeah, these guys are the Rubicon Liberation Front. They're getting in the way of our corporation exploiting their world, go destroy them" and then you do. And it's not even very difficult. They've got terrible equipment and no training whatsoever and just don't stand a chance. But you keep getting to hear their comms, and those comms keep painting an ever clearer picture that you’re not a soldier fighting a war so much as a grown adult beating a bunch of children to death. Nobody tries to justify what you're doing in any way whatsoever, your handler in the intro makes a comment like "y’know, if we make this job work then we'll strike it rich and you can buy your life back" and that's it. Regardless of what “buy your life back” is referring to here, it’s plain that you’re in this purely for selfish motives.

And that’s to the extent that 621 is even deciding to do this at all. So far it’s also done a great job of dehumanizing the main character completely, and you never really make any decisions beyond which of two missions to do first and how to build your AC. People keep referring to them as their handler’s dog, nobody expects them to have anything to say or any opinion whatsoever, and that’s great because as a matter of fact they don’t have any opinion about any of this. They’re just here to blow up whatever they’re told to.

The most memorable instance of this so far, and what really made it clear that this isn’t just the game not wanting to voice the MC or something, was one of the early mission briefings. You’re tagging along with some ACs from one of the corps, and the guy in charge of their in-house fighters at the end of the briefing says something to the effect of “now sound off!”, followed by a beat of dead silence. Then he says “eh, good enough” and ends the call. This makes it clear this isn’t just a pre-recorded message; it’s someone talking to 621, expecting a response, and not getting anything. It’s a little detail that I laughed about in the moment, but I really like how telling it is about your character as a person.

[wexhappyxfew]

WOMEN OF SILVER BULLETS

the OCs of B-17, Silver Bullets (featured in MOTA-verse writings) and various masters of the air adjacent writings

all these OCs will be featured in various one-shots and prompts in the coming months. can be found under tags with all their names or #mota writings or #silver bullets. please enjoy!

ANNIE BRADSHAW

-> replacement 1st lieutenant and pilot for Silver Bullets, fresh in from Fort Des Moines, trying to patch up the holes in a crew suffering from the loss of their beloved captain birdie faulkner. hailing from mankato, minnesota, she is a wonderfully receptive listener and stoic presence - but don't go overstepping it with her crew. makes it her very mission that the women of Silver Bullets and captain birdie faulkner are remembered. can play a tune on a trumpet (if warranted).

FRANCIS MONTEZ

-> copilot of Silver Bullets grieving a loss she is taking harder than she thought, wrapped in sorrow and guilt that she tries her best to hide. a good-hearted californian, she wrangles with this new era of her life with the help of replacement pilot, annie bradshaw, and steps up in more ways than one. carries a cigarette pack around like it's strapped to her very being. will give you a nickname that she'll call you any chance she gets.

BESSIE CARLISLE

-> navigator for Silver Bullets, with the brightest smile the sun's ever seen from the skies (says her boyfriend). hailed all the way from queens, new york with the intention to get her hands working on the mechanic floor of a factory and got a gig flying planes instead. got placed in navigation one day and ever since then, has made it her duty to make sure every mission goes right down to the degree.

CARRIE ACHTERBERG

-> german-american bombardier on Silver Bullets making sure the enemy pays in any way they can for the costly damage of a horrid war (enter: norden bombsight). grew up in brooklyn, new york, had some run-ins with bessie carlisle and the two became thick as thieves when working on planes. blowing the enemy to shreds seemed to be the cherry on top.

MARJORIE ‘MARGIE’ HARLOWE

-> flight engineer on Silver Bullets who grew up in a large family with at least four dogs all named after flowers, on the shores of lake michigan, wanting to go to school for physics ever since she felt herself get the knack for mathematics. only up until then, did she find herself on a plane with her cousin (who nearly crashed it) that she then got herself in line for flying in B-17s and looking to the skies above (and calculating vectors from the ground).

PAULINA STAGLIANO

-> italian-american radio operator for Silver Bullets, who came in from philadelphia, pennsylvania with radio operator experience in the WAC before getting the call for a job with captain birdie faulkner, and finding herself up in B-17s on the regular. she's passionate, a loyal friend and if you talk bad about the phillies -it's on sight (usually has sports arguments with kennedy farley - they keep bickering to a minimum).

VIVIAN RATCLIFF

-> hailing from fort collins, colorado, viv ratcliff comes with a wealth of knowledge and experience as a gunner on Silver Bullets, with a father who was in the army and her boyfriend in the navy. 'calm, cool, collected' are the best words to take her in as, usually found collecting flowers after missions for the boys who didn't get a chance to make it home. keeps a tally of german fighters that go down on the wooden pole beside her cot.

KENNEDY FARLEY

-> irish-american gunner on Silver Bullets, opposite viv ratcliff, coming in from boston, massachusetts, raging red sox fan with a family of brothers going on to military or sports (much of the same). close friends with margie harlowe because she 'softens her up a bit', and always willing to stick around for a drinking game or two. passionate friend (margie told you so).

JUDY RYBINSKI

-> polish-american farm girl and turret ball gunner for Silver Bullets from hot springs, north carolina, growing up near the french broad creek, summers spent on the river, catching fish and milking goats for her families business. went hunting with dad a few times, and grew up with her older brothers going off to the military or college and wanted a hand at it all. captain faulkner was her opening (and the person she needs most now).

MARIANNE SALINGER

-> french-american aspiring painter from rochester, new york, now a tail gunner for Silver Bullets. thought she was signing up to paint planes, but ended up finding a knack for guns on turrets and credits captain faulkner for her 'in' on flying. has a pet cat that roams the base as he wishes (he's named frank, after her one true love, frank sinatra), usually getting into trouble by pissing off a husky named meatball.

[shadowkoo]

Chasing Clouds - Prologue

→ Summary: Namjoon made the decision early on in his training that he would abstain from dating or entering any form of relationship while in active duty. He’s determined not to burden anyone with the likelihood of being to be notified of his death or causing pain to someone he loves by his long absence. Ironically, he found himself drawn to you, a doctor who challenges his beliefs and contradicts everything he upholds.

↠ knj x f.reader | 1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: military au, angst (future chapters include: doctor au, s2l, slow burn, smut, fluff, romance

→ Warnings: Read at your own risk! war, ptsd, bombs, guns, violence, injury, death, blood, (future warnings include: murder, use of other weapons, smut warnings)

→ Author Note: my favorite kdrama of all time is descendants of the sun and in honor of my fifth rewatch, I wanted to write this series! it takes place about a year after the show ends, just so you know the timeline :) i would recommend that you watch it first, but it’s not a requirement - it just gives insight to some of the character's personalities (plus i’ll take any opportunity to tell people to watch it lol)

Prologue

MAY 02 - 0340 - USTANA

The darkness of the night feels heavy; its weight is unsettling as the soldiers start their most recent assignment. Namjoon has an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s twisting and turning like never before. He isn’t usually nervous before missions; he hasn’t had a reason to be. He's always followed through and completed his tasks without issue; which is one of the main reasons everyone has such high hopes for him.

Tonight is different though, and he knows the others have the same odd feeling as they all take off their dog tags and set them aside. If captured, they need to remain anonymous.

"You guys know the drill. Once we locate the hostage, everyone will need to be attentive because it'll only be a matter of time until the whole building knows it's been breached. This isn't another exercise boys, lives are at stake here,” Big Boss, Captain Yoo Shijin, says to his team of special force soldiers.

"As this is the last mission of your training term, I expect nothing but excellence in your delivery of the hostage. We've orchestrated the specifics of this mission in such a way that will prove whether or not you are cut for these types of diplomatic high-profile assignments," Wolf, Big Bosses best friend Seo Daeyoung, adds.

"Whatever you do, don't compromise the mission. Don’t use your birth name to communicate, use the nicknames you were given, as well as ours," Big Boss hollers, finishing off their short speech as the back door of the aircraft opened.

Ustana, the country they’re secretly entering, is known for its drug and weapons problem due to its corrupt government. If things end badly, it will reflect on Korea. That’s why the team’s identities and nationalities can’t be known.

The plane jolts, narrowly missing the projectile that was aimed at the steel bird in the sky, solidifying the seriousness of the current situation below.

Namjoon repeats his orders to keep some level of sanity and peace of mind as he descended from the sky with the rest of the Puppy Pack, the soldiers in training to join the Alpha Team.

‘Find the hostage. Mislead the enemy. Return home. Stay alive.’

Once on the ground, he waits for the signal to ambush the guards watching the doors and proceeds to lead the group. Shijin and Daeyoung follow behind with the rest of the soldiers at their feet.

Daeyoung nods, giving Namjoon the go-ahead to align his gun on the enemy. This is the part he often tunes out. You need to be able to turn the switch, as he calls it, on and off with this kind of job.

He aligns his scope with the target and quickly pulls the trigger before moving to the others nearby before they even realize what’s happening. He watches as their bodies drop, waiting to see if anyone else runs into the room, but it’s quiet. Almost too quiet…

"Wildcat, All clear,” he says into his mic, letting the others know their access point is now safe for entry.

‘Find the hostage. Mislead the enemy. Return home. Stay alive.’

It takes less than two minutes for the group of highly trained soldiers to find the hostage. He’s badly beaten and unconscious, his body hunched over in the chair he’s tied to.

Wolf keeps watch by the side door while the team works on releasing the man. Jihoon, another one of the Puppy Pack trainees, helps Namjoon carry the man back to where the transport aircraft is waiting.

“I don’t want to jinx anything, but that was almost too easy…” Jihoon says, looking at Namjoon.

He agrees. Something’s not adding up…

He peers through the open door of the transport helicopter, gazing outside. They’re waiting for the last of the group to make their way onto the craft, and he just wants to ensure that everyone is safe. His shoulders relax when he can see their dark forms exiting the building.

Namjoon turns to look back at Jihoon, “I see them, they’re-” his sentence ends unfinished.

“What is that?” he says, taking a step closer to the unconscious hostage that Jihoon and a combat medic are helping. He points out the red blinking light on the man’s neck. It’s not a laser from a gun. It’s coming from inside his skin. ‘It’s almost as if…’ His thought trails off. “Run!” he screams, though it’s too late.

The bomb’s detonation rips through the helicopter, unleashing an intense burst of energy. In an instant, the searing shockwave propels fragments of debris outward. The air vibrates with a deafening roar, drowning out all other sounds.

The chaotic energy tears apart surroundings and scatters the remnants in all directions. A plume of smoke and fire billows upward, consuming everything in its path. The impact leaves a scene of devastation, marked by shattered glass, twisted metal, and a sense of raw destruction.

Namjoon feels the force of the explosion in his chest and is thrown far from his comrade, and debris crashes around him. His head bounces against the ground, and the ringing in his ears is so intense, he believes he will never hear again.

Jihoon is several feet away. His eyes are frozen open, and blood trails down his face from the head injury he suffers from. Namjoon reaches for his lifeless friend but it’s all too much.

Then, everything fades to black.

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