#still moon stealth

[retrokid616]

laudna to stealth npc

what the reiloran see's

[fahbev]

Have a younger, 20-something Batman doing the Sailor Moon pose.

Based on a scene in my fic: Damian’s Adventures in Being Nice pt 7

caught between wanting the comic book style, and wanting the fabric to actually be fabric with wrinkles and not paint, so we ended up with the Bat-suit being made of very thin fabric.

Time taken: 2hrs, 48 mins. Ngl this was pretty low effort, I just needed it to exist asap when i had the idea.

[sethvzekiel]

141 + könig x cold! squadmate

gn! reader. lowkey inspired by widowmaker from overwatch, mostly platonic unless you squint. reader is very close to laswell in a platonic way + set backstory.

reader x price, gaz, ghost, soap, and 141! konig bc bias. messed with the timeline a little in post-mwii but they’re still 141 and recruited konig. 3k words.

part 2 here.

warnings: canon-typical violence mention. strong language.

callsign is azrael but only mentioned once or twice.

  price

Azrael. Angel of death. What the hell did you do to get a callsign like that? Price was almost afraid to ask — if it’s anything like Ghost’s callsign, it can’t be a happy story.

Your file was almost entirely blacked out, but the scant few that he could read was impressive, if not bloody. Laswell always called on you for her most delicate tasks, plenty of it related to human trafficking and stealth operations. You’re not tied to a single company, more a solo merc than a soldier among many, but you’ve served alongside enough armies that your lack of a badge doesn’t matter.

And there’s that feeling again in Price. The dulled rush of anticipation, of knowing that he’s got a good one in his hands, bursting with potential. Laswell recognized it the moment she saw him reading your file for the first time.

“Don’t poach all my good men, Price,” she sighed, but gave him your contact details, regardless.

He wasn’t surprised that you turned him down. Your file was rather explicit in telling him that you’re more a lone wolf than a mainstay. But by the fifth rejected call, he had to play the ‘Laswell’s Christmas drinking buddy’ card and get her to convince you.

It was then that he'd seen you in person for the first time, in the cold light of one of Laswell's safehouses, and it'd be a cold day in hell before Price lets himself get intimidated by anyone, but hell was feeling a little chilly that night.

Still, he'd recruited Ghost. He'd recruited König. Surely, he knew how to handle you.

…right.

Your problem, which Laswell already warned him about, was that while you followed his orders in a professional sense, there was a difference between obedience and genuine respect, the second of which you’d only reserved for Laswell.

Price wasn’t particular about demanding respect from anyone and everyone, but he also had the urge to help you open up, to untangle that knot of bitterness and cold that kept you silent. Yet the distance between your ranks was too wide, with a wall of ice damn near impenetrable for Price. Not that he was the type to give up when faced with such challenges.

If you smoked, he’d easily offer a cigar, but if you didn’t, he’d do most of the talking as you silently stood by him during his smoke breaks just by his office window.

You reminded him a little of Ghost that way, ever the silent shadow with haunted eyes and an icy composure. You also insisted on calling him Captain, which wouldn’t have been an issue if not for how robotic you sounded, even in small talk.

When it got around that Gaz managed to get you to warm up, Price felt half relieved, and half like he'd just been upstaged. That was his job as captain, damn it. He watched you grow from the sidelines, slowly defrosting as you spent more time with the others. 

The day after your first leave together out to the pub, he wanted to shut Soap up because of how much he bragged about you taking care of him. Something about you giving him hangover cures and making him food. But he couldn’t have been prouder when he told Laswell the same story.

During your smoke break chats by the window, Price always gave you advice through his stories and musings.

It was only on the last day of your contract that you said anything yourself.

“Kate trusts you.” You spoke suddenly, under the moon of a quiet night.

Price didn’t respond immediately, afraid to break the sudden fragile atmosphere between you two, and silently urged you to continue.

“...she was captured on your watch.” The accusatory sting in your tone was like a knife in the dark.

Price dipped his head low. “And we fought like hell to get her back. We don’t leave our men behind.”

“I know.”

A long silence followed. You were assessing him. Mulling over whether this task force was worth your time or Laswell’s trust. Price could see it in your eyes, and as much as he’d want to convince you to stay right there, that olive branch was already extended a long time ago by Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and even König. As captain, it was his duty to keep you in line. As Price, he wanted to earn your trust. To trust you himself to make that decision.

When his last cigar for the night burned low, the sliver of smoke joining the creeping sunrise, you hummed.

“See you later, Price.”

You retreated back into his office, and from behind him, Price heard the rustle of paper. You left without another word.

He might have rushed to his desk to see what you’d done to his paperwork, and a low, rough chuckle bubbled from within his chest.

You signed his offer.

ghost

‘Laswell’s attack dog.’ That was the cruel summary of your file.

Ghost was the first person Price consulted with on getting you in the team. From how Price and Laswell described you, it slowly dawned on Ghost just how much Laswell trusted you.

If the 141 fails, Laswell will send you.

Naturally, that made Ghost a little wary of you. He trusted Price, he trusted Laswell, but he didn't trust this outlier. You're another sniper, too. Just what he needed after König joined up. Wonderful.

He wasn’t subtle in his caution against you, but it wasn’t supposed to be subtle. It was a warning.

You didn’t cause trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact: you were quiet. Too quiet. Always tending your gear or spending hours at the range, seeming to only have the next battle in mind. He had to check the security feed to make sure that you were going to your room at night and getting food instead of living at the range 24/7.

By that point he’d decided to go to the range and see you for himself.

“Where’d you learn?”

He couldn’t help but ask as you perfected a whole round of targets. You weren’t startled by his presence, already having heard his quiet steps long before he saw you.

“Picked it up as a habit,” was your frosty reply. “Then did it for money.”

“How old were you?”

“Ask Kate.”

There it was. He had his suspicions about how you came to be so attached to Laswell. If you’d served in enough missions, or if there was something deeper than that, with how you would kill for her without question or how Laswell trusted your strength, yet still discreetly asked Price to keep an eye on your well-being.

“Suppose I won’t,” he said, and that was enough for your to pause and turn back to him.

“Thought you were grilling me for info, LT.”

“I know when not to pry. You better not bring old enemies to us.”

“The dead can’t walk.”

Were you cold? Distant? A bit mean? Yes, yes, and yes. But Ghost was patient. So long as you weren’t a threat or nuisance to the team, you could stay. You were even one of the more obedient ones, so he wasn’t complaining.

That changed when he partnered with you on the field for the first time. It was also your first mission with the others, as you were usually the sniper from the far back instead of charging in with them.

Amid the sands and gunpowder, you were a machine. No enemy slipped past your combined strength, and you complemented each other’s combat styles perfectly. He goes in with the heavy fire while you shot down snipers like you already knew exactly where they were.

“Fuckin’ splendid, soldier,” he said on the way back, when everyone else was asleep.

“I try, sir.” 

He looked forward to training with you from then on, silently one-upping each other’s skills from shooting to sparring in an endless chase to the top. The competition grew notorious enough that other soldiers began approaching you for advice on how to improve themselves or to compliment your skills, garnering a reaction from you that only Ghost could tell was embarrassment.

Despite not being as close to you as the rest, your standoffishness and frigid personality were things that Ghost was familiar enough with that he could see right through you. 

“Aw no, another Ghost?” Soap once complained when Price sent them your file. Ghost had only scoffed then at the ridiculous notion.

Now, though, as you silently fussed over your teammates while insisting that you weren’t at all concerned, it made him feel a little warm inside.

Nothing wrong with a second Ghost if it meant more people looking out for his comrades.

And with how you seemed to have König wrapped around your little finger, Ghost could at least trust you with keeping him in line.

  gaz

He can’t explain why, but there’s something about you that reminded him of his old anger; the frustration he had with how much injustice the world let slip between the cracks, the helplessness he’d felt before he met Price.

Your relationship with Laswell… it’s a little like his own with Price, but in the place of brotherhood or mentorship is something quiet and mournful, the kind of loyalty forged out of a dark place. It’s clear that you view Laswell as a kind of savior, the type you’d owe your life to. It’s the only way to explain why you only come back to her.

Gaz kept his distance, unlike Soap. He could tell when you needed space and respected it — unlike Soap. Or Price. Or — he couldn’t believe it — Ghost. It’s just Gaz being respectful, definitely not related to feelings of intimidation or fear. Maybe.

Funnily enough, it’s that wordless consideration of your alone time that made Gaz the first person you warmed up to. It was only a brief chat about when the next resupply for ammo comes in. You’d been running low for a while and your kit is rather specialized, but Gaz was the first you’d spoken to without hostility or work in mind.

With that ice broken, the next conversations were slow-going, but easier. Shared watch duty where Gaz babbled mindlessly about everything he'd been thinking about, just to keep himself awake, while you listened silently, but intently.

Gaz didn't know that you were actually paying attention until you started setting out his favorite tea in the morning without a word or clearing your throat before entering a room because he hated getting startled. Those were things he'd only told you at night, when he thought you were barely tolerating him.

Instead of a terrifying shadow, he started to see the human side of you. The considerate side that you tried to hide with a bitter scowl when he brought it up. Dare he say it, it was a little endearing, like the grumpy stray cat he used to feed as a kid.

When the rest of the 141 noticed, he'd automatically been designated as your unofficial 'translator.' He could decode any of your blank (and sometimes terrifying) expressions to the letter.

"Quit it, Soap, they need a nap."

"Captain, you're bumping into their injured shoulder, sir."

"LT, might want to hide your tea stash, think they saw your cup."

"König, come back! We just wanted to compare gear!... Eh, sorry mate, he's gone."

"What d'you want, black coffee or... latte? Huh. Two lattes, please."

Usually, when you'd be paired up with Gaz, you're the sniper supporting him from far away. Your quiet murmur over the comms, even in a firefight, instantly calmed him down and Gaz swore that he worked better when he knew you were watching him.

Post-mission naps on your shoulder didn’t sound too bad, either. That was a privilege he wasn’t going to give up to anyone. No matter how annoying about it Soap got.

soap

We know Ghost's attitude didn't stop Soap from getting all buddy-buddy with him.

But even then, your demeanor, as sharp as a coldsnap and twice as biting, gave him pause. He's spoiled with reactions from other people to his presence, whether it's reciprocated friendliness or annoyance at his energetic personality. Total apathy, with a tinge of hostility, only came from Ghost and you. And Ghost warmed up to the guy already, so your silence bothered him a little.

Not that he hated you, but it stirred a competitive urge to challenge your coldness and finally get you to crack.

Mercifully, he somehow didn't end up getting killed in the process of fighting for your attention. He's not subtle about it, though: other people on base always referred to him as your 'pet dog' when he's looking for you.

"Hey, your Scottish Terrier came by, was yowling for your attention."

"Put your dog on a leash, would you? He won't stop interrupting R&D to ask where you are."

"Feed your pup, sergeant, he looks pitiful from over here."

But you didn’t look down on him the way others do. You didn’t see some kid trying to play hero, who got lucky because Price took a shine to him and had no other skills to speak of. You looked down on him the same way you did at everyone else: a detached gaze from your metaphorical ice castle, nothing more. And in a twisted way, it’s refreshing.

When he found out that you'd gotten close with Gaz before anyone else, he was ready to whine. Ghost certainly got the worse end of his complaints. Since then, he'd butt into yours and Gaz's conversations, especially when you started joining the boys for lunch instead of eating alone.

It was only on your first leave together, your first civilian outing, that Soap realized that you were closer than he'd thought.

While he was drinking at the pub, you carefully watched him, silently looking out for signs of him getting too drunk, at which point you'd begun secretly ordering watered-down versions of his drink until it was practically juice. 

Even with how wasted he was, he saw through your trick, but all was forgiven by the next morning when you'd cared for him through his hangover in your own, grumpy way. You even cooked breakfast for him, but he wouldn’t tell you that it was practically tasteless and mostly hangover cures. The thought counts, right?

And wow, he would not stop rubbing the fact that you took care of him all over 141’s faces.

“Watch your back, Gaz. I’ll be takin’ your spot soon!”

“Johnny, it’s two in the fucking morning.”

“You can’t be their favorite and Price’s at the same time. Pick one!”

“No. Besides, think König is second to me, not you.”

“The fuck?”

könig

You reminded him of the deep winters of his deployments in the north. Cold, cruel, yet beautiful. Sorrowful. Lonely. Silent. Calming.

Make no mistake, the first few months with you around, König was sure he was going to have a breakdown. Your lightless stare bored holes into him, no matter how hard he tried to hide from your field of view. It took enough of his energy to resist the urge to hide behind any of his new 141 teammates. Seriously, how did he get along better with Ghost than with you when you didn't even have a mask?

It didn't matter if you’re built like Ghost or the scrappiest operator around: your chilling aura always left König with his hands clammy and breaths a little short.

If Gaz pre-friendship was giving you space, König was running from you at first sight.

But when König watched you grow close with the rest of the 141, his sharp eyes catching that lightning-fast flicker of tenderness on your face, it was over for him. He had to see it again, like sunlight glancing off fresh ice.

Cue the big guy trailing after you helplessly, like a fidgety shadow, that the other 141 members politely pretended to ignore. Not that he's any good at hiding.

König may have done a good job at absolutely shattering his terrifying image with his actions at base, but when you're on the field, he's an entirely different person.

A beast. A hunter. A king of the battlefield. He's covered in blood from head to toe, glee rushing through his veins as he bludgeoned two men with his bare hands. For a moment, he wondered if you would be impressed with his kill count. You must be. Then he thought for another moment. Then another.

And he remembered that you were his partner for this mission, and that no, this was not a good look for him.

Slowly, horrified, he turned back to you. You looked over the aftermath: a warehouse filled with bodies, not all of them slain with bullets, and broken weapons. König barely heard you convey your victory to Captain Price over the comms, even if you were right in front of him.

It was only when you clapped him on the arm that he snapped to attention: both from your touch and the miniscule smirk on your lips.

"Don't forget to watch your six."

"You... are not... afraid?"

"Just glad I'm not on your bad side. Let's go."

On the next missions, König would restrain his bloodlust a little, if only to see you in action himself. You moved smoothly and quietly, just like a shadow leaving death in your wake. He watched you snuff out an entire enemy safehouse without anyone noticing. 

You truly were the Angel of Death, going from door to door, taking lives like it was divine decree. There was never a more beautiful sight.

König was... stuck to you like glue, to say the least. He'd slowly begun joining you at target practice, or sparring, or running into you around the base and coincidentally offering his help with the reports you meant to file.

Whether you noticed or not, he didn’t care. Actually, he wouldn’t mind if you noticed how helpful he’d been. The more you saw him as reliable, the more you’d be willing to be his buddy on the field, yes? And the more he’d get to see you in action, no?

Now, if only the others would stop hogging you for a second… he could interrupt that conversation you were having with Ghost… if Ghost wasn’t looking… any time now…

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hello gremlin!

I’ve read most of your monster!141 and I absolutely love how you write these stories!

I was wondering if you could do something with a barn owl reader! Barn owl are my favorite animal in general and i would love to see how the monster!141 boys will react to such a cute but deadly hybrid.

I think it will be hilarious how easily you can sneak up on them! After all silence and stealth is a common trait amongst owls. Also it’s not like your a tiny hybrid either you are pretty big and strong but not taller of stronger than the boys

-again i love your work, it’s simply amazing ( i also hope this ask isn’t too weird) 🦉🦉

You weren't even a pet at first. One of the scouts, the flying patrol for the base - the deadly one, really, although the fact that you're only active at night makes you a bit less of an effective soldier than you should be initially. It's fine, you thought, it should be fine - you're flying under the radar, you don't catch attention, you do your job. Then you are accidentally caught in a full moon with Soap and Ghosts. You learned the secret of the most mysterious operator on the base - and you wish you didn't. Stuck on a night patrol with two horny dog and dog-ghost hybrid was...something. Something that got you squished between two of your superiors, your wings petted and stimulated relentlessly and your pussy and ass squeezing their knots. The two of them truly are just dogs at heart - refusing to separate from each other and from you, you could only hoot in pleasure as they were using your body like you were one of pets and not a fellow soldier. You knew what that would mean, obviously - you're strong, yes, but not to the point of their strength. You're not breedable or soft or small, but they are still stronger and you're still cumming around them like a lowly creature you are. Soap marks you with his bites and Ghost pushes his hands around your waist, squeezing you into the shape of a mate. You know your service as a soldier is over. It's not that bad with others - Gaz still respects another flying hybrid in the team, going on patrols whenever you are not being bred, and enjoying flying with you. Even if that means he is only doing this so he could fuck you up on some high mountain or the watching tower, so be it. You want freedom, you crave it, and if spreading your wings also means spreading your legs a bit later than fuck it - Kyle is making you cum, after all. Almost treating you like an equal, this is refreshing after the treatment you're getting from his fellow teammates. He loves to kiss you, to cover you in soft smooches and little pecks, and you never felt so utterly loved. Price is...a bit conflicted. He still treats you as a soldier sometimes. sending you on patrols and when you're all too eager, he is reminded that you're their pet - even though you look and act like a proper recruit. He knows how predator hybrids are, how you need work to do because just laying with your legs spread in your nest won't cut it for someone like you - so he sighs and gives you paperwork, at least, it's something to do whenever you're not filled with their pups. Price is softer with you, he is forcing himself to be. Being strict and acting like your captain is a second nature to him, but you're changing your circumstances really quickly and he just wants you to be good. Just wants you to feel alright even though he understands that the transition was harsh.

[touyasdoll]

Scream 2

this is a follow up to a fic I wrote last year for kinktober, but it’s not necessary to read that one before this one. it can stand alone <3

pairing: ghostface!Dabi x f!reader x ghostface!Hawks

warnings: DARK CONTENT, please be advised. CNC, dubcon, fear play, knife play, home invasion, threesome, double penetration in one hole, eiffel tower for lack of a better term, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), backshots, also Touya is 6'4 idc what the canon says, au where Hawks actually double crosses the HPSC bc a girl can dream, rough sex, not exactly hair pulling but hair grabbing, face sitting, thigh riding, size kink, dirty talk, biting, marking, overstimulation, mild degradation, praise, impact play (barely), nipple play, breeding, let me know if I missed any please <3

word count: 5.3k

notes: Happy Halloween! 👻🔪🖤

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Keigo asks as he narrows his golden irises at the white haired man before him on the rooftop. 

The sky is dark, especially in this part of the city. The few lights from the rundown buildings and buzzing street lamps provide the only meaningful illumination, as the moon is hidden behind a thick blanket of dark, heavy clouds that promise a storm is coming. 

“I’m sure. Don’t sweat it, feathers. Just stick to the plan and everything’ll be fine. Scout’s honor,” Touya replies, flashing a sardonic smile. 

“Your honor isn’t exactly worth much,” the hero scoffs. “But I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

Keigo’s dressed in his civilian clothes; an all black ensemble consisting of jeans, boots, and a well-fitting hoodie. He’d clearly heeded Touya’s instruction to dress for stealth, while the villain is still dressed in his stitched ensemble. 

“That’s a good little bird,” Touya says as he heads for the stairs. “Good luck. You might need it, hero.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, heaving an anxious sigh before he takes off into the cool night air.

You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night. It had been a successful Halloween. You and Touya were able to watch a few spooky movies and take turns passing out candy before he had to leave for whatever PLF business he’s up to tonight. 

He actually seemed to enjoy himself whenever it was his turn to answer the door. Maybe it was because he got a kick out of seeing the kids’ reactions to his Ghostface mask, but you have a feeling it was more about seeing your reaction to the mask. 

He hasn’t pulled it out since last Halloween, much to your disappointment. He just looks so good in it. You could even do without the theatrics. Just being able to ride him or get railed while he has that damn mask on would be enough.

You were hoping that he’d give you an encore tonight. He did use the code the two of you had established. You vividly remember him slowly lifting off the mask after closing the door on another round of trick-or-treaters and sauntering over to the couch with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Hey, doll. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He’d asked, the question so full of promise, just as it had been last year. 

But it was well past midnight now. He’d said that he might be back late tonight, which is usually how it goes when he’s working. Maybe you two could have your fun on another night, you suppose as you retreat to your bedroom. 

You change into one of Touya’s t-shirts before you slip beneath the covers and just before you rest your head, your phone rings. Seeing that it’s your boyfriend, you pick it right up. 

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, sitting up against the headboard. 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear a word that he says. What you do hear is much more terrifying. A loud, sudden thud reverberates throughout the house and you swear it must be coming from your kitchen, but you were just in there hardly a minute ago. Surely, you’d notice someone creeping around your house, right?

Then again, you hadn’t noticed last year. Maybe he was keeping up the tradition after all. Trying to pull the wool over your eyes again to give you a scare. Well, not this year. You know better. 

“Sorry, baby. You were breaking up,” you say calmly as you slip out of bed and creep into the hall. “What did you say?”

You’d play along with his little game, but you know that you have no reason to be truly afraid. He’s probably hiding behind a corner somewhere, watching you as you pad about the house in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear. The thought actually turns you on quite a bit. 

“I said I’m about to head home. Sorry things took so long, but I should be back soon. M’not far,” Touya says as he jingles his keys in his hand. 

“Okay. I was just about to turn in to bed, but I’ll wait up for you,” you say as you head into the kitchen to turn the light on. 

There’s a large duffel bag in the center of the floor and you can’t help but wonder what might be inside. Seems like he’s really trying to up the ante this time. Your insides start twisting with a heady mixture of both excitement and desire, but then you see a figure who seems too short to be your boyfriend step into the other entrance to the kitchen and your heart stops. 

“You don’t gotta wait up if you’re tired, doll,” Touya says on the other end of the phone, confirming that it’s definitely not him staring you down in that familiar Ghostface costume. 

“Babe,” you whisper, your voice trembling in fear as you take a step back and the masked intruder takes one with you. “S-someone’s in the house.”

“What?” Touya asks and you can hear the fear in his voice as well, which sends your blood pressure through the roof. “Doll, just stay hidden. I will be there as soon as I can. I’m on my way, okay? Where are you?”

“O-okay,” you respond meekly, your voice cracking as you continue to walk backwards. 

The intruder keeps at your pace, tilting his head to one side as he studies you. Your eyes are drawn to something glinting in the light as he reveals a blade from behind his robe. 

“Doll, where are you? Do they know you’re there?” Touya asks frantically as he fires up the car and takes off. 

You only faintly hear his voice and the tires skidding in the background of the call as you freeze up. Everything slows down for just a moment and then the adrenaline kicks in. 

You bolt for the front door, only to find that it’s locked from the outside somehow. You try again in vain to jiggle the handle, praying that maybe it’s just stuck, but it’s definitely fucking locked and that causes you to panic all over again. 

“Doll? Doll, answer me,” Touya yells loud enough for you to hear it even though you’ve since dropped your phone to your side. 

You don’t hear the stranger coming up behind you, but when you look over your shoulder, he’s right there. Close enough to kill you if he wanted. 

You scream in fright and drop the phone in your haste to bolt for the back door, but he jumps in your way. He’s on the smaller side, but he seems especially nimble. You aren’t sure you stand much of a chance getting away from him, but you have to try. 

You just have to last until Touya gets home. That’s what you keep telling yourself. A mantra that you repeat over and over in your mind as you scramble down the hall and into the first open door. 

The slam of the door knocks some sense back into you. You keep your hands pressed against it and take a look around the guest bedroom, eyeing the dresser nearby. It’s mostly empty and it’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing. 

A loud bang that sounds like a heavy fist thudding against the wood startles you and you let out a scream before you lurch towards the dresser to start sliding it across the floor. 

“Doll? Doll, where are you?” You hear Touya’s voice call out from down the hall. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Do you come out? Touya’s more than capable, but you don’t know what this intruder is capable of. What’s his quirk? What if it’s deadly?

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you listen for sounds of a struggle, but your fear of something happening to your boyfriend wins out over your fear of something happening to you. 

“Babe?” You call as you burst out of the door, frantically scanning the dimly lit house as you creep down the hall once more. 

The kitchen lights have been turned off and it’s quiet. It’s silent. Eerily so. Just when you feel like you might have made a mistake, the stranger turns the corner from the kitchen and holds a voice changer up to his mouth. 

“Yes, doll?” He says, tilting his head in a mocking fashion as he slowly stalks closer to you. 

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you’d definitely fucked up and you attempt to retreat back to the relative safety of the guest room, but you hear footsteps right behind you. He’s moving too fast. He covers twice the distance that you’re able to and throws himself across the doorway before lifting the device to his concealed mouth again. 

“Fooled ya,” he says in the familiar, raspy distorted voice of Ghostface. 

Tears well in your eyes as you turn tail and run straight for the backdoor. You aren’t thinking, just moving. Hurtling towards freedom, which you are hoping against hope you are able to find, but all hope is lost when you suddenly collide with another figure in the kitchen. 

You slam into their firm chest and tilt your head back to look up at the imposing new intruder, who is also dressed as the masked fictional killer.

“Fuck,” you mutter, gaping up at the taller of the two in horror as you turn on your heel, only to find the other one right behind you. 

Both of them begin closing in, sauntering towards you silently. All that you can hear is the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears as you back yourself up to the island. The shorter stranger looks between you and his companion in crime, who nods in response as your heart sinks into your stomach. 

“Please. Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper, shrinking against the cool marble countertop. 

The shorter of the two lifts the voice changer to his lips and uses his other hand to brandish the knife once more, using the blade to lift the hem of your shirt and press the flat of the cold steel blade to your stomach.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, gorgeous. We just wanna play,” he says as he leans in closer. 

“I thought you liked playin’ like this, doll?” The taller one asks as he tilts his head to one side. 

You whip your head towards him, because you could swear that’s your boyfriend’s voice, but you’ve already been tricked once tonight. He flashes his palms, revealing no voice changer in his hand. No knife either. He snaps his fingers together and a brilliant blue flame burns away the glove concealing his hand to reveal familiar scars and staples. 

“T-Touya?” You ask shakily, blinking in surprise. “Then who the fuck is..?”

Your heart rate finally starts to slow as you trail off and shake your head, looking at the other Ghostface in confusion. You reach out to rip the mask off and are stunned to find Keigo’s wilder than usual blonde hair and disarming golden gaze beneath the disguise. 

“Happy Halloween, doll,” Touya purrs as you stare at Keigo’s handsome smirk. 

“I-I don’t understand,” you say quietly, not wanting to assume that what you sincerely hope might happen is actually about to happen. 

“Sure ya do,” Touya continues, his large hands finding your hips to draw you closer and bring your back flush against his chest, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as Keigo sets the knife down on the counter without taking his hungry eyes off of you. “You remember us having this conversation, don’t you?”

Your brow furrows and you look away from the hero as you try to remember just what in the fuck Touya is on about when you recall him prompting you with an unusual question a few months ago.

You were sitting on the couch, curled up watching a movie. Sleep was beginning to tug at you, trying to beckon you to bed, but you were stubborn and insisted on staying up to see the end of the film, even though Touya was making it that much more difficult by rubbing his unnaturally warm hands along your back. 

“Say, if we were ever to have a threesome with one of our friends, who would you want it to be with?” He’d asked you seemingly out of the blue, but unknown to you, he’d been ruminating on how to top his Halloween escapade for some time already. 

“Hmm?” You ask as you tilt your head back to look at him and shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t exactly have a whole lot of friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I’d consider that a compliment,” he says, shrugging. “But seriously. Well, hypothetically, I guess. If ya had to pick one, who would it be? There’s plenty of hot people in the PLF.”

You hum curiously, taking a moment to think it over as you tuck your face back into his chest and nuzzle into him. 

“Keigo. He’s hot and I’d trust him,” you reply bluntly, a yawn escaping you a moment later. 

“Good choice. You’re right on both counts,” he murmurs, a plan already coming together in his mind. “That could be fun.”

“I didn’t think.. I mean–I–,” you balk, looking between them in disbelief. 

“I wasn’t bein’ hypothetical, gorgeous,” Touya says as he spins you around to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head back so that his blue eyes can bore into you while Keigo switches on the kitchen light. “So whaddya say?”

“We’re gonna need a clear answer before the real fun can begin,” Keigo says sensually as he steps close enough that you can feel his body heat behind you. 

“Yes,” you eek out, nodding your head as you try to wrap your brain around this unexpected turn of events. 

The bastard had gotten one over on you again after all, but it’s not like you can even stay mad about it, considering what’s in store for you.

“I hope you’re hydrated, doll,” Touya chuckles, fisting a hand into your hair to carefully tug your hair back and kiss you like his life depends on it. 

He sighs through his nose, groaning against your lips as his hand drops to your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze as he shifts his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is already. 

Keigo steps closer to press his toned chest against your back and tilts his head to start kissing along your neck as he grabs your waist and grinds against you from behind, revealing that he’s also sporting a raging hard on. 

You moan, working your tongue and your mouth against Touya as your hands explore his chest, searching for an opening in the black robe he’s wearing. 

“You wanna just cut to the chase already, doll?” The villain smirks, lighting his palm for just a second to reduce your scant clothing to ash. “I think we’ve been through enough foreplay and I’ve been waiting too damn long for this.”

He does the same to his clothing, pressing a hand to his chest and the other to Keigo’s. You feel another brief flash of tolerable heat before you’re hyper aware of the feeling of both of their bare bodies writhing against your own. 

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, tilting your head to one side as Keigo begins nipping at your sensitive pulse point, laving his tongue over it to soothe the subtle ache. 

You reach a hand back to work it into his hair and tug gently as you arch your back, grinding your ass against his stiff cock, which coaxes a gorgeous moan from him. You slip a hand between you and Touya as he captures your mouth again. Your fingers wrap around his length to guide the bead of precum along his shaft, drawing out a beautiful noise from him as well. 

Both of them suddenly pull away and you’re afraid that you’ve done something wrong until Keigo steps in front of you to grab your hips and effortlessly lift you up onto the kitchen island. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long, long time,” he says, smirking as he leans in to kiss you and parts your legs. 

Touya stands back, stroking himself as he watches Keigo crouch down between your thighs. The blonde keeps his eyes on yours as he trails kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, slowly and steadily working his way up to your glistening pussy. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he sets his sights between your legs as dives in, his tongue parting your folds before it spears inde of you. 

He certainly knows what he’s doing and it immediately drives you crazy. You keep yourself supported and sitting upright with one hand, so that you can watch him feast on your pussy while you keep a hand in his hair. He alternates between bathing you with his tongue and sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure, drawing moans and whimpers from you with ease. 

You look up to seek validation from Touya, almost feeling guilty for enjoying yourself so much, but he seems to be just as into it as you are. He nods, grinning wickedly as he comes closer. 

“You enjoyin’ yourself, doll?” He asks as he stops stroking himself to instead reach beneath Hawks’ chin and slip two fingers inside of you. 

“Y-yes!” You gasp, your eyes crossing as your head tips back. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“I know, gorgeous,” he purrs and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Go ahead and cum all over my friend’s face. He’s dying to taste it.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, sending your release gushing into Keigo’s mouth as your hips gyrate on top of the counter. The hero wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you still as he continues ravaging you with his tongue. He noisily cleans up your arousal, sending you into overdrive as you whine and beg for him to show you mercy when it just gets to be too much. 

He eventually lets you catch your breath, but when he stands up to wipe his chin, the look on Touya’s face tells you that you in for much worse if you thought that was too much. 

“S’my turn to taste that sweet pussy, gorgeous. C’mere,” he says, nodding towards the hall as he scoops you up off the counter. At least he doesnt expect you to walk after that. 

He carries you into the bedroom and switches the light on before he lays you down on the bed and lumbers over you. 

“First things first, clean up the mess you made,” Touya practically coos as he offers his slick fingers to you. 

You hold his gaze as you slowly take the digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and moaning quietly when you taste yourself on his skin. 

“Good girl,” Hawks praises you as he crawls onto the bed and Touya repositions, laying flat on his back. 

“You know my favorite number, doll,” he says as he delivers a swift smack to your behind, just enough to make you jump a little. “Assume the position.”

You look between him and Keigo curiously and do as you're told, straddling Touya’s face to wrap your hand around his cock and begin stroking, but before you can take a seat, he tuts his tongue. 

“I want your mouth on him, baby,” Touya says before he hooks his arms around you and forces you to sit. 

His mouth starts working wonders between your legs and you think you might just cum in record time after what Hawks had done to you, but then you remember that your mouth is needed elsewhere than just filling up the sticky air with filthy noises. 

You shift forward as Keigo comes closer, his swollen cock bobbing in front of your face. You lift your eyes to his and take great pleasure in watching the watch his head dips back and his Adam’s apple bobs when you take him into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep still as he lets you slowly bob along his length until you’re comfortably taking him in and out of his mouth while working your hand along his shaft. 

You keep your other hand wrapped around Touya’s cock, focusing on trying to please both of them while feeling like your brain is going to break thanks to what Touya’s doing beneath you. The moans that you drive from him send vibrations straight into your pussy that only drive you closer to the edge. 

You hold on for as long as you can, but it soon becomes to much again and you pull your mouth and hands away from both of them to sit up and support yourself with your hands on Touya’s thighs, gripping them tight. 

“C-can’t,” you practically sob, squeezing your eyes tight as you hang your head. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, you can,” Keigo coos as he reaches out to cup your breasts, massaging them with care before he starts tweaking your nipples, which sends you cascading into oblivion for the second time tonight. 

You nearly collapse, slumping forward as you’re overcome with pleasure, but Keigo catches you, loosely holding you in his arms as he rubs his hand along your back, which only heightens the sensations you’re feeling. 

You whimper in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he and Touya gently ease you off of the latter, so that Touya can sit up. 

“You’re doin’ so well, beautiful,” Hawks croons, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your lips. 

“Mm,” is the only response you can muster at the moment as you slowly come down from your high. 

“So well,” Touya praises, moving behind you to rest his hands on your hips as he kisses along your shoulder. “Such a good girl. Can you keep bein’ a good girl for us, gorgeous? If we give you what you really want? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, nodding your head as your eyes fall closed. “I’ll keep bein’ good. I’ll be so good.”

“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck before he places a chaste kiss to it. 

Keigo moves aside and then Touya presses a hand to your back, keeping the other firmly planted on your hip as he forces you onto all fours. He groans as he grinds himself against you, his cock gliding through your folds, nearly penetrating where you need him the most. 

“Please,” you whine softly, shaking your ass as you drop your hips back against him. 

“Since you asked so nice,” he purrs, smirking as he slips inside of you, letting you feel him enter you inch by glorious inch, his piercings sliding against your walls and making your eyes roll back. 

Keigo starts stroking himself as he watches Touya set a steady rhythm, fucking you just hard enough to make you gasp now and then as you fist your hands into the sheets and meet him thrust for thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the euphoric noises pouting from each and every one of you.

“Just gotta stretch you out a bit, gorgeous,” Touya pants, draping himself over you as he slows his pace. He reaches a hand around ti gently guide your face towards Keigo, who’s abs are drawn taut as he continues stroking himself, his eyes now fixed on your face. “You think you can take both of us? He’s not exactly small either, but I believe in you, doll.”

Your eyes widen, but you find yourself nodding. You aren’t sure if you can do it, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. 

“I want to,” you breathe out, nodding as you reach out towards Keigo to take over stroking his cock, tugging very gently to guide him closer as you smirk up at him. “We should get you nice and lubed up though, yeah?”

His eyebrows raise and he looks extremely pleased as he nods and cradles your head in the back of your hand as Touya straightens up. 

“So fucking good,” Touya marvels through grit teeth as he picks up the pace again. 

He lets you adjust to having Keigo in your mouth, but he starts pushing your further, driving into your hard enough to make you deep throat the hero, which makes both of them groan sinfully as they watch you swallow their cocks at either end. 

“Fuck,” Keigo sighs as he suddenly backs away. “Anymore of that and I’m gonna be done way too soon.”

“Let’s see if you’re ready then, doll,” Touya says, smirking as he pulls out and kneads the fat of your ass before giving it a light smack. “Lay down, Kei. You should her pussy for yourself first.”

Hawks lays on his back and Touya cups your cheek to guide your face towards his one, giving you a passionate kiss before he lets you go and nods towards the blonde. 

“Give him the ride of his life,” he says as he wraps his hand around his own cock. 

You climb on top of Keigo, leaning in to give him a kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, teasingly tracing it around the entrance of his mouth as you wrap your hand around his length. You suddenly sink down and he lets out a choked groan as he seizes your hips. 

You rest your hands on his chest, smirking with satisfaction as you start riding him, moving your hips slowly at first as your walls clench around him, hugging his cock tight. 

“You feel so good, Kei,” you say breathily. 

His eyes widen and for a moment, he feels like he might just cum and pass out right there. He lets you set the pace, watching you intently as you bounce up and down on his length. His hands glide over your body, exploring every inch of you that he can reach before they settle on your breasts. He massages them as gently as he had earlier before tweaking your nipples. 

He seems to get a better idea as he sits up and wraps his arms around you, grabbing your ass to start guiding your hips more forcefully while he takes your nipple into his mouth to suck. He expertly moves his tongue across the sensitive bud, flicking and swirling it around as he applies more pressure to your hips and encourages you to quicken your pace. 

“Just like that, doll,” Touya pants, struggling to stave of his own end as he senses yours coming. 

“Keigo,” you whimper, grasping onto his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back, your hips bucking as you come undone again. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans loudly, panting for breath as he continues fucking you through your end while fighting off his own. 

Touya pulls his hand away from his cock to take a few deep breaths, watching you contort with pleasure until you’re through the worst of it. He moves behind you and kisses along your shoulder again, sending delicious shivers down your spine. 

“You sure you wanna do this, doll?” He asks quietly, his tone sincere. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, nodding weakly nodding your head. 

“You don’t have to do any of the work this time, baby,” Keigo says as he runs his hands along yours arms and lays flat on his back. “Just let us make you feel good.”

You nod again and Touya rests a hand on your back to gently guide your forward so that you’re laying on top of Keigo before he situates himself behind you. 

“I’ll go slow,” he assures you as he first works one finger inside of you. Then another. 

You and Keigo both moan quietly, your shallow breaths mingling with one another’s as he drags his fingertips along your back. Touya starts slowly thrusting his fingers and Keigo slowly shifts his hips, working you open further as you rest your head on the blonde’s chest and submit to it. Once he’s confident that you’re able to take both of them, Touya slowly guides the head of his cock inside of you. 

“Shit,” he groans, continuing to gently bully himself inside. “It’s so fucking tight. So fucking good. You feel that, Kei?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Hawks sighs, holding perfectly still as his face twists with pleasure. “It’s so fucking good.”

You press your nails into Keigo’s biceps as you feel the two of them stretching you open and filling you up in a way that you never thought possible. They’re right. It is so. Fucking. Good. 

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly once Touya’s seated inside of you. “Please fuck me. Wanna feel both of you.”

“You’re gonna, baby,” Touya croons as he slowly draws his hips back and pushes inside of you again. 

The sensation is glorious. It’s mind numbing. It’s like the best drug you’ve ever felt and you know that you need more of it. 

He holds onto your hips and Keigo seizes your waist as they both begin to move in tandem, slowly at first, but working their way to a pace that has you at a loss for words. You couldn’t find any if you tried. None of you can apparently. 

The only noises to be heard are your bodies all grinding against each other. The lewd squelching of fluids between your forms as you trade sinful noises and panting breaths back and forth. Eventually, you do find one phrase, but just one. 

“Cum inside me, please. Please,” you whine, your voice pitching higher as you feel another orgasm building, this one threatening to tear you apart in the best way. “Cum i-inside.”

“We’re gonna breed you so fuckin’ good, doll,” Touya promises without missing a beat. “I promise.”

They seem to have mastered their movements. Together, the two of them drive you steadily towards your end whilst chasing their own. You snap first, of course, howling with pleasure as your writhe on top of them, your walls contracting impossibly tight around both of their cocks. 

Keigo cradles your head and kisses the top of it, whispering praises and Touya hunches forward to do the same, speaking them right into your ear as both of them keep driving themselves inside of you with unparalleled need. 

Keigo finishes next, his eyes snapping shut as he lets out a long, loud moan, his rhythm stuttering just as Touya finds his end. His head snaps up as he leans back and grips your hips with bruising force, delivering a few more good thrusts while letting out a primal groan before his thrusts become sloppy and begin to taper off as he lays himself across your back again. 

The three of you are left a sweaty, blissful mess on the bed. You’re so wonderfully full. So much so that you’re leaking all over both of them, but neither of them seem to care and neither do you. It’s as if the world has stopped for a minute and you’re all floating outside of time and space, suspended in this moment.

“So good for us,” Touya finally murmurs after who knows how long. He gently grabs your chin to guide your face towards his once more, a lazy smile on his lips as he captures yours in a decidedly sweet kiss. “Happy Halloween, doll.”

thank you for reading! I hope you have/had a safe & happy halloween!

[minami-ff]

I’ll Keep You Warm.

Captain Levi x Reader

fluff, sfw, what would comrades do when it’s bedtime but it’s freeeezing cold?

The winter moon hung low in the ink-black sky, casting an ethereal glow over the desolate landscape. Levi and you, seasoned comrades in his squad, found yourselves alone together on a mission that demanded stealth.

As dusk settled in, the two of you found a place to lay a mat and prepare for a much needed slumber. The dark atmosphere was punctuated only by the crackling flames of a small fire that fought valiantly, against the numbing cold which caused you involuntary shivers.

Though a blanket wrapped your entire body, Levi’s sharp eyes noticed your discomfort underneath. The furrow in his brow deepened as he observed your attempts to fight off the cold. Without a word, he sat up and draped his only blanket over you. You looked up at him, with surprise and gratitude, but also with worry flickering in your eyes.

“Thank you, Captain. But no, you’ll freeze.” manoeuvring his blanket towards him.

"I won't. I never feel cold." Levi said in his usual gruff tone. You appreciated the sentiment but sensed the deception in his words, conveyed for the sake of your comfort.

"As if. Please, take it back." Straining against his overpowering strength, you tussled with him, each trying to ensure the other would be shielded from the biting surroundings.

Levi's gaze held yours, "I've been through worse. Keep it." Yet you were still unwavering in your refusal. The dispute went back and forth, and back and forth, till he moved even closer.

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.

"I won’t let you freeze on my account," you replied softly, eyes melting into his, teeth chattering slightly.

In a move that surprised you, but with a gentle gesture, Levi guided your shoulders to lie down. He then reclined beside you, arm brushing against yours, close enough that the warmth of his body became a soothing presence. He then reached for the edges of both blankets, doubling them up and wrapping them around the both of you. The sudden proximity had a flush creeping up your cheeks.

"Sharing body heat is the most efficient way to stay warm," Levi stated matter-of-factly, “and I see this as the only resolution to your…disobedience.” A subtle smile turned up on your face, while you hoped Levi wouldn’t stop babbling or he might hear your heart pounding to leap out.

There had always been a bond between the both of you that surpassed mere friendship, though your jobs kept any romantic inclinations at bay. The quiet intimacy of this night conspired to blur the lines between comrades and something more.

You succumbed to the lull of weariness, closing your eyes against the darkness. Exhaustion had taken such a toll on you that you were unaware of your cheek nestling against his shoulder. The last thing you heard before slipping into the realm of dreams was Levi's whisper, “goodnight, y/n”

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Royal Guard!AU

Moon

third ref sheet complete!

When Moon comes out, his plating, cape and trousers change color to help him blend in easier with the night. His left eye is normally white, but will turn red when aggressive. Needless to say, he's a lot more intimidating at times.

~comes out at dusk/night or where there's no light

~"street smarts"

~still a skilled pickpocket

~will kill out of necessity, but doesn't necessarily like to

~stealth expert

He loves to tease you.

[bleepity-blooper]

Does anyone ever think about how the clans used to actually have differences in culture and lifestyle and how all of that got erased in the newer books?

Imagine how cool it would have been if the Erins had explored these cultural differences between the clans even FURTHER because that would have given the series so much potential.

Here are some examples of just how cool cultural differences can be:

RiverClan

I want to see RiverClan using their skills in swimming way more than they do currently, let them swim to the gathering island every full moon, let them attack other clans from the depths of the lake and drag cats down into the water to drown them. Let them still have their easygoing and relaxed attitude but show how formidable they can be in a fight and make it clear that they are not to be messed with.

Give them their own traditions too, let them celebrate the coming of spring each year because of ice melting and the river thawing so that they can fish again. Let them collect pretty flower petals on this day to decorate their dens and have them celebrate it by all going down to the river to fish.

Show their clan’s love for pretty trinkets and have them gather pretty shells and pebbles from the river. Let the apprentices play games this way by seeing who can find the prettiest shell for their den and boasting about it later. I imagine the other clans would view them as relaxed and easygoing, always having a ready source of food thanks to the river but at the same time they know to fear them for their almost unnatural fighting skills in the water.

WindClan

Imagine WindClan still keeping their old tradition of tunnelling even at the lake territory, imagine WindClan tunnellers accidentally discovering the old forgotten tunnels that run under the forest and finding out pieces of their history this way, possibly even before Jayfeather does. I wish they had kept the tunnelling tradition alive because that was what made WindClan so unique.

Show just how fast WindClan can be, let them use the tunnels to invade other territories and let them be almost impossible for the others to catch up to. They might be considered scrawny but show that they have an advantage in battle because of their uncanny speed.

In general let them have a closed off and cold approach to the other clans. Show that they think they are closer to StarClan than the others because they live and sleep under open skies. They might seem almost mysterious to the other clans and deeply rooted in their traditions. Let them have oral storytelling nights and let them chart constellations in the night sky, keeping alive the tales of their ancestors.

The could even believe that the wind which blows over the moors is holy, the echo of the voices of their ancestors. I picture them as a religious clan, even more than the others. Perhaps they pray by listening to the wind and leaving offerings to be blown away in the breeze (usually the feathers of birds of prey)

ShadowClan

Next up is ShadowClan, the stereotypical bad guys. I would have loved if ShadowClan had been shown to follow a more nocturnal lifestyle, being active mostly at night. They would be masters of stealth, blending into the shadows and coating themselves with mud and leaves for camouflage due to their territories limited undergrowth. This might be what gives them their stereotypical bad smell, that ThunderClan always complains about.

Their territory is very marshy and due to little undergrowth it would be harder for them to stalk prey. This has caused them to be the stealthiest out of all the clans and the best hunters. But they are also able to use this stealth to their advantage in a fight. They attack without warning from the shadows and rely on surprise, always striking at night when it’s hardest to see them.

Their tradition could be the celebration of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year.

ThunderClan

And finally we have the main protagonists ThunderClan. This clan has always felt bland to me in terms of tradition because they don’t seem to have anything that really makes them stand out. I imagine they are probably the best trackers due to having to hunt and track prey in thick bushy undergrowth.

But honestly I would have loved if they had been given something to make them special and unique. Any ideas?

[malachiteclouds]

🌟natal astrology observations part 2 🌟

thank you guys for being patient! if y'all wanna follow me on insta @eudaimonia.o i don't post astro stuff but i'd love to make some friends :)

jupiter conjunct mars people can have extremely inflated egos. they are very argumentative and can't stand being wrong

moon opposite pluto have such intense feelings but they feel so far removed from them. they have a really difficult time processing their own emotions. they can repress feelings, then revisit the topic and not even realize they felt so strongly about it

1H pluto/conjunct asc love masks. they're spectacular at hiding and going unseen. they are masters at stealth and reservation which is why they intrigue people because they have complete control over who gets to see what and how much

aries rising/moon x being called "hot headed" all the time. they can physically get red in the face a lot/while mad or have really bad headaches/migraines

pisces placements have a specific look and are easy to spot. it's in their teeth , i can't explain it

7H saturn most loyal placement ever. they are devoted to understanding you and themselves through you. they can see their partners blind spots really well and they tend to be very genuine in their attempts to better themselves as an individual and the relationship as a whole. when they decide to commit, they will stick by your side through whatever it is you're going through

mercury chiron aspects, you guys NEED to write and/or speak. i know you feel its your weakness but really it is your superpower

women with lilith conjunct/opposite/square venus can have a habit of competing with other women. they can also put blame on women and think women are constantly jealous of them. they can have an itch for male validation that they really need to do some inner work to dismantle, as a lot of it comes from a past where THEY felt/feel insecure in their femininity or they felt/feel othered by women

moon north node aspects can be known for their mom or for being a mom. disharmonious aspects(squares/oppositions) can be notorious or infamous for being a "bad mom". can be extremely ridiculed for parenting style

12H stelliums live in quiet. in basements. in small apartments with lots of books and messy papers everywhere. they live in silence. they live in solitude. they live in stillness. they live in seclusion. they live in isolation. they were put on this earth in this lifetime for deep introspection and exploration of singularity.

5H moons are amazing in early childhood education. talk about thinking on your feet. it's basically like "hmm it would be fun to dip some yarn in some paint and drag it on the paper... oh and these 3 year olds happen to be here"

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!traveller!reader, male masturbation, a little bit of dub con ( him ) at first, handjob, semi public, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day five [ xiao + handjob ]

the night air in Liyue was always so enticing.

a gentle breeze, the smell of incense lingering in the air, and the full moon hanging low. you’d stood out on the balcony of Wangshu Inn many nights, just like tonight, and swore that if you reached up, you could caress it with your fingertips. everything about Liyue nights seemed tangible. the smell of almond tofu wafting up the steps from the kitchen below, tickling your nose with a delightfully sweet aroma so thick you could already taste the dish melting on your tongue. the lamps that flickered along the coastline, like stars low enough to be stolen. all so real. all here.

you lean against the balcony, allowing your thoughts to melt for a moment of empty bliss. a miniature vacation amongst the chaos. for the night, at least, you didn’t have to think about the Fatui. or demons. or bandits. those things would wait until morning, and flood your brain all over again.

a faint sigh, barely audible, carried on the Liyue wind brings you out of your thoughtless daydream, and you blink a few times, registering the sound. still and quiet, you struggle to listen, and amongst the bustling Liyue nightlife below, you catch it again.

this time, it was a moan. one that set your cheeks on fire.

it was close.

and you knew that voice.

you’d never heard it quite so needy before, though, strangled and breathy. and so, uncertainly, you follow the sounds as he makes them with the stealth of a stalking feline, pressing yourself against the wall of the Inn as you slink around the balcony.

when you finally reach the source, you peek out from around your hiding place as another long, low moan bubbles in his throat. you had to cover your mouth to keep from making a sound, your eyes wide and glued on the display.

his back was to you, but there was no denying what his hands did at his front, one arm moving in a slow, full pumping motion, while the other gripped the bunched-up hem of his shirt and held it up towards his chest. your eyes couldn’t help themselves, they flicker downwards. his pants, though not entirely lowered, were loosened to the point of the waistband sagging, and your stomach does a cartwheel as you realize what you’re watching. and just how intimate it was.

Xiao was pleasuring himself.

the stoic, unapproachable adeptus that you’d only seemed to annoy, was stroking himself mere feet away from you.

another, soft moan, and you feel your knees turn inwards, clamping your thighs together. you couldn’t deny it was an erotic display. and you were getting wet witnessing it.

“Do you really think you’re hidden?” his voice is a bit steadier now, head tilted slightly, and your heart pounds in its chamber as you realize he knew you were there. “That I wouldn’t know you’re there?”

your mind races for an excuse. “Well, I wasn’t trying to—“

“Clearly.” he cuts you off, and you bite down harshly on your lower lip. his movements had stopped, but you realized he hadn’t tucked himself away, or turned to look at you.

you wished he wouldn’t.

with a soft, little plea, you voice that desire. “Please don’t stop…”

Xiao seems taken aback by that, albeit only temporarily. and you take a cautious step towards him. “I don’t care for audiences.”

you chew on your lip harder, taking another step. “I don’t have to be just an audience, Xiao. I could…” you take another, then another, until you’re close enough to his back to reach out and touch him. you do so, gently tracing the outline of his shoulders, and realize how tense they are. regardless of his stone cold act, his shoulders were pulled taut. “I could help you.” your svelte caresses careen around his shoulders, dipping over the expanse of his chest, and you nuzzle close to his ear, letting a breathy moan escape your parted lips. “If you’ll let me—“ your hands delve downwards, impatient and eager to wrap around the cock that you haven’t yet seen, but in a swift motion, his fist wraps around your wrist, squeezing tight enough to halt your movements. “Xiao…”

“I usually tend to myself.” he mutters, and you could practically hear the reluctance in his low tone. “Alone.”

nodding slowly, you allow your wrist to go limp in his grasp, needy fingers dangling mid hair, and you let out a soft sigh. “You don’t wonder what it might be like to let someone else tend to you for once?” your lips form each syllable against the shell of his ear, his tendrils tickling your face as you tease and entice him. pressing a sneaky kiss against his earlobe, you wonder if the heat you’re feeling is from his face or yours.

“Someone else. You?”

you nod, slow, but you know he can feel the rustling against his shoulder, and you hum, desperate to convince him. your cunt was already wet and aching from the show, and now you were eager to continue where he’d left off. if only he’d let you. “My hands are soft, Xiao…” you coo into his ear.

and, to your surprise, he moans. it’s a quiet, muffled moan. you knew he must’ve pursed his lips when he did so, but the sound still struck your core deep. “Palms up,” he whispers, and you obey, allowing your hands to be taken with his and guided to his manhood. you can’t help the swoon that leaks out of your mouth when he wraps them both around his cock. it was already hard and slick with spit, and he curled each of your dainty fingers around the girth, one by one; as if instructing you to play an instrument and teaching you the keys. “Like this…” his voice was not so steady now, as he leads your hands up and down, mentoring you in the rhythm that could bring him the most pleasure. it wasn’t fast, nor did his hips buck to meet your movements. Xiao moans, snorting through his nose, and his hands leave yours when he realizes you’ve mastered pumping him the way he likes it. “Yes.”

you don’t think he meant to grunt the affirmation, because it sounded more like a subconscious plea for more, but you didn’t mind. keeping your hands tight around his cock, you stroke in opposite directions, your fists meeting in the middle, before separating again. one glides down to kiss his base, swatting against sparse, coarse pubic hair, whilst the other flees upwards to polish the swollen tip.

“You feel nice,” you try to breathe, but the action feels impossible. he’s left you in a state of breathlessness, just by allowing you to touch him. “This is what it’s like to pleasure a god…” you feel a bit silly when you hear him grunt, and you realize that you’d moaned the sentiment out loud, and you drop your head to rest your forehead against his shoulder, hiding from his scrutiny if he were to offer any. “That… was supposed to stay in my head.” you admit, sheepishly.

but Xiao doesn’t scold you. “You are foolishly honest.” he murmurs, working his jaw. his hand, now free to do as they please, reach and cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing against your crown as he urges you closer. “It’s so bothersome.” as you press your body into his back, soaking in his warmth, your hands work him over, and you raise your eyes, about to speak, only to find his head turned towards you. as if glancing over his shoulder, his parted lips ready to embrace yours. “Just kiss me.” he demands, in a husky whisper, and his tiers tease yours by grazing them gently, as he adds, “Before you embarrass yourself further.”

[violettduchess]

A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.

This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.

Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert

WC: 2.2 k

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Leon

He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.

“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed. 

“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.” 

Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest. 

“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?” 

How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Sariel

He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.

His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp. 

“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”

Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”

Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”

Jin

He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.

“Yes, Princess? What is it?”

“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.

Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.

“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”

“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.

Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”

A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!” 

Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”

She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”

Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”

Keith

Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”

His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.

“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 

She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”

He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”

She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light. 

“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.

Gilbert

He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.

“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”

He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.

He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.

“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.” 

She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381

For Leon content: @leonscape

For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss

For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy

[retrokid616]

f.c.g realizing they might go to moon jail if the bells fuck up this stealth

[starrspice]

The Paper Stars AU won the poll so here it is!!!

So this is basically a Secret Agent AU

Sun and Moon, two of the top agents in their field are tasked with stopping Y/N, an ex-agent turned international super thief. Sun and Moon are the only people to have captured them (even though they escaped during transport) and the only ones so far to fully figure out their clues and secrets left behind.

Meanwhile Y/N enjoys the challenge of a good heist, even more so with a couple of agents on their heels. They always leave behind a paper star at each heist location as a calling card, and Sun and Moon were the first to realize they leave hints for what their next target is going to be.

Sun is a bit of a tinkerer in this AU, often testing and creating new gadgets for him and Moon to use in the field! He's better at hacking ane coding than he is at inventing and mechanics, but a few of his inventions have proven quite useful

Moon is far better at putting Sun's gadgets to use than Sun is, but he's also known for being resourceful and quick on his feet. He's still got an old injury that was never properly repaired right but that doesn't stop him.

Y/N was once the agency's top operative, specializing in disguise and covert missions. After a huge mission gone awry Y/N took a year off duty before suddenly abandoning the agency and become a world renowned thief. Nobody is quite sure how or why and Y/N refuses to explain.

As much as Y/N adores the two they aren't the type to pull their punches. Often tying the agents up to make a get away or roughing them up in a fist fight. They're the very definition of a wild card. Nobody can ever be sure if they'll slip in and out of a heist through stealth or make a big show out of pulling off a caper, and that uncertainty makes the entire organization jumpy which is just how Y/N likes it

[echoalyssa]

Counterparts | Brian O’Conner

The night air is warm, almost comforting. The city of Los Angeles seemed to have decided to go to sleep tonight. The city, normally bustling with life, was quiet, peaceful. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks up at the moon.

I’m standing in front of Mercy Park’s garage checking the oil level of my bike. My brother Logan is lingering by the bay doors, rearranging a stack of Husky jacks that really did not need to be rearranged. He was skeptical about me going riding with someone outside of our crew, but I had known Brian for years.

He drove with Dominic Toretto. Toretto’s crew were technically our rivals as we worked out of the same part of LA. Though Dom and Kaneko, the leader of the Mercy Park Crew, had come to an agreement to coexist.

We’d decided to leave the JDM’s at home tonight. It was perfect weather to take the bikes out and we’d both been neglecting the machines.

         The loud thrum of Brian’s bike alerts me that he is around the corner. I glance at Logan and narrow my eyes at him, begging him to go back inside and talk to Toby or Ximena. He was ridiculously worried about Brian considering his girlfriend’s dad was the cop who had almost brought us all in. 

Brian comes around the corner and pulls into the garage’s parking lot. He nudges the kickstand out with his right booted foot and then turns the key in the ignition to shut the machine off. He tugs his helmet off, revealing his blonde curls and striking blue eyes. The smile that he aims at me is intoxicating.

He dismounts his bike and crosses the distance towards me. I open my arms for him immediately. His arms go around my waist, and I loop mine around his neck. He smells like oil mixed with an earthy undertone. Brian holds me for a good minute before he steps back and flashes me with that grin again. 

“It’s been too long.” He glances over your shoulder and raises his hand in a wave, “Hey Logan!”

I hear the garage door close and know that my brother has finally left us alone.

“You look good.” I murmur back to him. And he does, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. He has his steel toes on and a thin gold chair dangles around his neck. He’s showered recently, his hair bearing the signs of water. Though somehow there is a dirt smudge just under his jaw, as if he just can’t quite seem to stay away from the grime of working on cars.

Brian pokes the tip of my nose with his index finger and then glances at the garage behind me. He tilts his head in the direction of the street. Even though both crews were on good terms did not mean that we should be hanging out together in broad view.

I pull my hair into a loose braid before sliding my helmet on. Brian starts his bike again, throwing a leg over. He maneuvers it backwards so that he can pull back out onto the road. It’s currently wrapped in white with the signature Toretto decals on the gas tank.

My own bike, a Kawasaki Ninja is blacked out. I went for stealth. The machine roars to life underneath me. Brian nods in my direction and together we rev the engines before taking off down the road.

I let Brian lead; I didn’t mind where we went as long as I would get an adrenaline rush. He takes us through a few side streets before we hit the ramp to the highway. He turns his head, checking to make sure that I am still behind him.

The second he confirms that I am still following behind him like his little shadow, he tucks and takes off down the empty highway. My heart soars as I accelerate after him. The red needle on my speedometer quickly craws into the triple digits.

We’re absolutely soaring, breaking felony speeds, but neither of us have plates. The wind whips his t-shirt around, making the fabric crawl upward so it bunches around his chest and exposes the hard planes of muscle. 

There aren’t many people out on the highway, but we weave through the ones that are. We’re perfectly in sync, reading each other’s movements without needing to communicate. I give the throttle a little more and go surging past him, but only for a moment. He overtakes me. It continues like this for miles, each of us going for the lead. The city is a blur around us.

I outstretch a hand to the wind, feeling the way it pushes my arm back in because of the speed. Anyone who saw us together must have been in awe, we give off an almost ethereal aura. Yin and Yang. Light and dark. One and the same.

We were brothers. But bound by more than blood. We were twins as well. Counterparts. Gangster princes of the city we met.

No amount of words could describe the perfection of the moment between the two of us. A picture would do no justice.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, one mistake and we would be dead, but there was no fear. Only the urge to go faster, to push the limits. That was the thing about Brian, he understood. That if speed was to lead to our demise, we would go out smiling.

Almost too soon, Brian drops a hand to his side, signaling that he is going to take the next exit ramp. He leans into the turn and checks once more, that I’m behind him. We maneuver down a few side roads and then come to a stop atop a hill. The stars are bright tonight, almost defying nature. 

Brian dismounts his bike first, and then he’s in front of me. I haven’t even finished setting up my kickstand before his hands are pulling my helmet off and his lips are brushing against mine. I sigh into him, trusting that I can tip toe the bike and kiss him back. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my chest

He pulls away but rests his forehead against mine, his fingers brush the strands of hair that had escaped my braid back behind my ears. “I missed you.”

The only response I can find is to pull him back towards me. There wasn’t much time to spare for either of us, both crews were constantly traveling for boosts, but the time that we did have together… we savored it. Loyalties to the crews aside, the two of us would always come back to one another.

[theanoninyourinbox]

NEW LONGSTAR AU - THE NOT-SO-LONG BALLAD OF FIRE AND FLAME

Before Fire Prophecy

Talltail seeks to kill the Loner that he believes killed his father.  With the help of a kittypet named Jake, he finds the strength to forgive, and instead saves Sparrow from the Monster, and returns to Windclan with new determination in his heart and a dear…friend…that he leaves behind.  It is with this new spirit that he protests the renaming of Hopkit, and he stays Hoppaw.  The two remain close friends throughout their lives.

In Riverclan, Stormkit is renamed Crookedkit, but Rainflower is also renamed – Rottenflower.  Crookedkit’s name is given as a sign of survival, and Rottenflower’s as a sign of her true heart.  Crookedkit still leaves for a time, still is haunted by the Geist Mapleshade, but with his head a little higher and heart a little clearer.

Tiny is playing on an old stump when the Thunderclan Patrol finds him, and Thistleclaw orders Tigerpaw to attack.  Bluefur intercedes, and the heavily injured kitten is brought back to camp to be treated.  Sunstar decides to keep the poor little thing, and Frostkit is semi-adopted by Bluefur. 

Yellowfang is about to bury Hopekit and Wishkit when the sounds and smells of Twolegs alert her.  She knows they will try to take her and her remaining kit, so she grabs Brokenkit and runs.  The twoleg, stretching their legs after a long car ride, finds the two kittens and sees signs of life in the little tortie.  They rush the cold kitten to a vet, and with time and effort, little Nutmeg thrives. 

As Frostkit heals, a moons-long process, he makes friends with Spottedpaw and Whitepaw.  Eventually he notices that Thistleclaw keeps trying to get Spottedpaw alone, and with the help of Thrushpelt, discovers the horrible truth.  Thistleclaw is dragged before the clan, and with Spottedpaw’s testimony, the Traitor is banished from the clans permanently.  Spottedpaw becomes a Healer apprentice, and Thrushpelt begins to mentor Frostpaw.

Nutmeg eventually is introduced to a handsome orange tabby named Jake, and falls in love.  He breaks her heart by leaving when she’s due to give birth, and swears to take care of her beloved bundles of joy by herself.

Raggedstar lies dying, with his daughter Brokentail laughing as she cleans the blood from her paws, and realizes the enormous mistake he made with the way he raised her.  He dies, and watches as Brokentail receives her lives from the Dark Forest. Watches her kill kits.  Watches her banish her own mother.  What has he done?

Longpaw is mentored by Frostfoot, making an unusual pair.  Longpaw is eventually named Longtail, and wonders what his future holds for him.  He does not see the starry crown behind his head, ethereal and light as a dream.

Bluestar and Spottedleaf sit together on a hillside, Leader and Oracle Healer, and a pair of stars fall burning from the sky.  Fire Will Save The Clans.

The Long Ballad of Fire and Flames

Rusty the kittypet has yet another strange dream, of a red-tailed bird falling from a rainy sky.  He and his friend Smudge discuss the happenings around the neighborhood.  Princess, Rusty’s sister, forbids Rusty from going to the forest by himself.  Later that night, Rusty tries to catch a mouse on the border and gets tackled by a gray tabby, who is impressed when Rusty flings him off.  After meeting his mentor Lionheart, Rusty agrees to meet them the next morning, to see the Clan.  Rusty tells Princess about this.

The next morning, Rusty sneaks past a still sleeping Princess and a worried Smudge, and meets Bluestar, Graypaw, and Lionheart. The Thunderclanners refuse to wait for his sister. They head off to camp, with Rusty leaving a subtle scent trail so Princess can find him.  Princess wakes up, and follows the trail with stealth and careful steps.

At camp, Bluestar introduces Rusty as a potential clanmate, and some cats take offense to that.  Darkstripe demands he be tested, but Frostfoot tells him to calm down, what, are you threatened by him? Really?  Lionheart gets inbetween them to break it up, but cocky Longtail challenges the kittypet before anyone can stop him.  Frostfoot is mortified.  Rusty accepts, and the two square off.  Longtail gets the upper paw almost immediately, and gets a hold of Rusty’s collar.  As he pulls, he hears a yowl of outrage.  And suddenly he is FLUNG bodily, his ear burning, the collar still in his mouth.

He gets up, and there is an ENORMOUS molly standing over the fallen kittypet, the warriors and camp guards at the ready to fight.  As Spottedleaf helps him to his feet, Longtail hears the Tortie scolding Rusty for leaving without her, I TOLD you there would be trouble but noooOOOooo you don’t listen to your sister!  You just listen to your silly dreams!! Bluestar interrupts, impressed with the boldness of the kittypet and interested with the dreams comment.  Princess introduces herself, and after Rusty says he agreed to the fight, apologizes to a still stunned Longtail.  Rusty explains he has dreams that come true sometimes, and tells Bluestar and Spottedleaf about the red-tailed hawk dream.  Spottedleaf asks to mentor Rusty in the arts of healing and Starseeing, and Bluestar agrees, asking is Princess would like to join as well. Frostfoot mildly scolds Longtail for leaping without looking, and Princess and Rusty become Flamepaw and Firepaw, with Bluestar herself mentoring Flamepaw.

And then Ravenpaw rushes into camp.  Redtail is dead, he screams, and collapses.  And pandemonium rises.

After Tigerclaw brings Redtail’s lifeless body back to camp, and the apprentices and kits are shielded from the sight by Whitestorm and Lionheart, the pair of siblings settle in.  Firepaw makes fast friends with Ravenpaw and Graypaw, and Flamepaw befriends Dustpaw and Sandpaw.  The pair drag Longtail into being their friend as well, which brings Frostfoot and eventually Swiftpaw into the equation as well.

Longtail begins to mentor Swiftpaw, and finds that he loves teaching.  With the help of Frostfoot and the other Mentor cats, he begins to become more humble and less cocky.  Longtail begins to appreciate his friendship with Firepaw and Flamepaw, and takes more time to live, not just be a Hunter and Mentor.

One day, while gathering herbs for the Healer’s Den, Firepaw is knocked off his feet by an old gray and yellow molly.  He springs to his feet, ready to fight, but the attacker is just…staring at him.  Like she’s seen a Geist.  He cautiously asks if she’s alright, do you need help ma’am?  And she moans something unintelligible, falling to the ground in a dead faint.  Firepaw panics, and drags her back to camp.  There, she is identified as Yellowfang by Spottedleaf, who tells Firepaw of her alleged crimes, and how she believes that Yellowfang was framed.  Said Healer wakes up, takes one look at Flamepaw coming in to drop off a mouse, and promptly wails in grief and pain.  The three of the get her to calm down, and she quietly apologizes, the siblings look like…patients she lost long ago.  Bluestar listens to her tale of Brokenstar being a False Star, and while still weighing the information, relegates Yellowfang to being a War-Bound for the time being.

Bluestar does not hear the story Yellowfang tells to the Healers and the Apprentice Brawler.  She does not see the siblings take the old molly to meet their mother.  She does not know a family has been made as whole as it will ever be.

At the Gathering, Brokenstar tells everyone how she ran out Windclan, and Bluestar realizes that Yellowfang was probably telling the truth.  As she had just revealed Thunderclan had Yellowfang as a War Bound, she begins to prepare for an attack, and she is correct – Shadowclan tries to kill Yellowfang, and succeeds at killing Lionheart and her dear friend Rosetail. Her heart grows a crack. She names the brave Tigerclaw, names Yellowfang part of Thunderclan, and tries to go on.

Then Ravenpaw leaves, begging shelter at The Barn with Bluestar’s old friend Barley, for reasons the apprentice refuses to communicate.  All his friends Graypaw, Firepaw, and Flamepaw will say is that he needed to be something that the Clans couldn’t let him be.  And the crack grows.

And then Shadowclan steals Frostfur’s kits, Lionheart’s kits. They kill Spottedleaf, Firepaw wailing over her body. She goes with her Warriors, Brawlers, and their apprentices to rescue the innocent.  They are met by Senior Warriors and other banished cats from Shadowclan, aided by Yellowfang in secret. Brokenstar is run out of the clans. Yellowfang takes over Firepaw’s training, and Flamepaw and Graypaw are named Flamewish (per her request) and Graystripe. Why is the crack still growing?

Flamewish, Graystripe, Longtail, and Swiftpaw are sent to retrieve Windclan.  It goes well, until a Riverclan patrol tries to fight them, and Whiteclaw falls off a cliff while fighting Graystripe.

When the group returns, Flamewish and Graystripe receive their first apprentices – Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw.  Flamewish finds Mentoring difficult, and asks Longtail for advice.  The pair become close friends.  Firepaw and Sandstorm make bets as to when they’ll become mates.  Unfortunately, Cinderpaw is lured away from camp and gets hit by a Monster. (It’s a car, just – just call it a car!! -Firepaw) Firepaw saves her life, and Yellowfang bestows the name Fireheart upon him at the next half-moon.

Also unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), at seeing her apprentice so badly injured, Flamewish has an unusual reaction.  She goes into labor.  Seeing as Flamewish had no idea she was even a little pregnant (as she put it), things get a little crazy.  Longtail is flabbergasted, Bluestar is confused, Yellowfang is baffled, and Fireheart is delighted but also flabbergasted.  Flamewish does some calculating, then privately asks Fireheart to go bite Smudge in the face for her.

(This means Flamewish misses Graystripe meeting the gorgeously muscled Riverclan molly)

But it DOES mean she spends time in the Nursery with Brindleface, her kits Fernkit and Ashkit and Frostfoot and his kits Flykit and Coldkit.  Frostfoot who had just gone out one day and brought back the pair, claiming them as his.  Bluestar was frustrated and elated at the same time. 

The three become even closer when Brokenstar attacks, as they defend the Nursery together.  Longtail and Swiftpaw help drive off the Rogues together, and after Yellowfang blinds Brokenstar and leaves her Brokentail the War Bound, Swiftpaw is rewarded with his Adult Name – Swiftspirit. (Later, Longtail will see this as an omen, unknowingly given by Starclan through Bluestar…) Graystripe is later caught giving prey to Riverclan, and punished by having his apprentice taken away – Longtail is suddenly a Mentor again!  And Brackenpaw has so many things to learn!

Cinderpaw makes a nearly full recovery, but her time in the Healer’s Den had made her rethink her life – she wants to heal others.  Flamewish cracks a joke about her brother poaching her apprentice, but wishes her well.

And then Brokentail’s War Bound status becomes known.  And Thunderclan is attacked.  And Tigerclaw is at her throat, keen claws at her throat.  But as her heart shatters, a yowl of outrage rings through the air, and Longtail and Flamewish HAUL the Traitor off of her.  Bluestar banishes Him, and she holds the pieces of her heart and weeps – there are no stars in her tonight.  She waits too long, then names the astonished Longtail as Deputy.

Then Graystripe begs for the Healers to help him – they find the laboring Silverstream and do what they can, but Featherkit and Stormkit outlive their mother.  Graystripe leaves for Riverclan, refusing to abandon his kits.  Fireheart and Flamewish can’t blame him, but it still hurts.  And Brokentail is dead.  Yellowfang tells her leader that he dies of natural causes, but Bluestar does not see the look on Fireheart’s face.  (She will eventually learn that he just watched his grandmother kill his uncle) Then the fire. Oh the fire.  Patchpelt and Halftail, coughing and then forever breathless.  Fireheart and Flamewish race to find Yellowfang – to find their family.  She lies in a hollow tree, and blesses the Stars that she has enough time to say goodbye.  To say how proud she is of them – both her life paths.  I’ll always watch over you. (and Yellowfang keeps this promise)

Bluestar feels her mind failing, rain through the treetops instead of thoughts. So when she sees the Traitor leading Shadowclan as a False Star, she just…lets go. She watches Leopardstar rise and her clan move around her like a fever dream.  She watches the hawk impassively as it goes for Snowkit, and barely reacts when it takes Speckletail instead.  She doesn’t react when Longtail promotes Snowpaw to train under Brackenfur, or when Flamewish brings the elderly deaf kittypet Brahm to teach Snowpaw and Mistlepaw and others Pawspeak. She doesn’t react to the death of Swiftspirit or the maiming of Brightpaw, save to curse the Stars that left her broken by naming the poor thing Lostface.

(Longtail MOURNS.  He refuses to eat, has to be pried from his nest, and it takes a teary Flamewish admitting she misses the tom she loves for him to snap out of it.  The pair find solace in each other.  Fireheart and Sandstorm are too busy and too worried to exchange the mouse that they bet.  Neither ever says who won that bet)

Rabbits lead a bloody trail to poor Brindleface, and Longtail makes a plan to lead the dogs away from their den and over the river-cliffs.  Bluestar nods absently, but there’s a shining spark in her eyes that hasn’t been there in ages.  The runners lead the killer hounds up to the cliffs and away, but one grabs Longtail, pinning him and scratching his face.  But a blur of blue streaks onto the dog’s back, and overbalances them both into the river.  A pair of Riverclan warriors leap into action, and Bluestar says goodbye to her family, Frostfoot and Whitestorm having raced to the scene.

Longtail is escorted to the Moonstone by Fireheart, and finds himself in Starclan.  He receives his lives from Nightstar, Runningwind, Speckletail, Lionheart, Redtail, Silverstream, Yellowfang, Bluestar, and finally Swiftspirit.  Longstar vows to stop Tigerstar and his cronies.  He names Whitestorm as Deputy, and begins planning.

Tigerstar goes after Windclan, pinning and seemingly killing Gorsepaw, but as soon as the Shadowclan Battle Patrol leaves, he brings his head up and smiles weakly at his frantic mother. He will be scarred for life, but he will have his chance to live.

At Riverclan, Stonefur defends the apprentices to his last breath, and Graystripe rescues his kits from Tigerstar and Leopardstar.  Some Riverclan cats escape in the chaos, unwilling to follow their leader on this path.

Finally, with Windclan and Thunderclan united against the forces of Riverclan and Shadowclan, Tigerstar plays his deadliest card yet, as hordes of strange city Rogues appear.  Led by a figure some Thunderclanners recognize.  Thistleclaw.  But the rogues, no, the Bloodclanners, call him Tyrant.  Tigerstar boasts to the assembled clans how he killed Bluestar using the dogs and

Tyrant kills Tigerstar with a slash to the underbelly

Nine lives gone, in a single blow

The battle comes the next day, all four clans together – Longstar and Tallstar, Leopardstar and Blackstar.

Bone holds down Whitestorm, and is ripped of by a squad of apprentices, including his own, Brightheart.

Darkstripe goes after the Healers, and Graystripe strikes him down. His body is never found, and a gray tabby wanders desolate, his mistakes weighing on his soul.

Longstar strikes the final blow against Tyrant

And life goes on

[sprout-fics]

Ruin

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Part 7 of Little Mouse)

Word Count: 4.8k Rating: Teen and up Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Hints of yandere König, Stand-offs, Hostage Scenarios, Ambushes, Price Whump, Injury mention, Kidnapping, Capture, Angst, Violence Warnings: Violence

You don't like this.

The truck rumbles over the back country roads as you, Soap and Price pick your way through the rolling hills of the Serbian countryside. The wheels grind over the dirt road, and with every bump you feel your joints creaking, groaning with a barely contained, taut energy. Price and Soap are quiet in the front of the car, seeming to mirror your unsteady, fidgeting silence. You can barely see their faces in the twilight darkness, strange shadows cast only by the headlights against their stiff expressions. There's an air of taut apprehension none of you seem to address, a mysticism that leaves the two men ahead of you quiet, hesitant to speak. In the silence you find yourself untethered, shifting listlessly, trying your best to contain your tumbling thoughts and focus on the mission at hand.

Your destination was a warehouse at the edge of a remote town in the southeastern part of the country. No helicopters this time, no armored vehicles. Laswell was specific that some of the Serbian military had a hand in the weapons trade she sent you to investigate. Stealth, subtlety was the emphasis of this mission. No backup, no overwatch. If any of you were injured, you were walking out with the same wounds, one way or the other. Price's brief had been quick, relayed as you three gathered your gear and immediately started making preparations to leave.

"It could be scuttled at any moment." He barked at you both as you piled into the car, gear and supplies packed neatly and efficiently into the back. "It's our only lead after the death of our contact in Mozambique."

Mozambique.

Maybe that's why you were so unsettled, by the memory of a huge, hulking shadow with a red, dripping knife in one hand, and Gaz's throat in the other. Gaz's scream, choked as he was hoisted further up the wall, seems to ring ceaselessly in your thoughts, urging you to run, flee-

Yet when König's eyes had turned to you it wasn't malice that painted his gaze, it was surprise, a pleased interest that briefly had him forgetting about the man in his hold. Compulsive, keen, fixated on you, like a cat with a small, tiny bird fluttering in the trees. Just out of reach, tantalizing, mouth-watering. You can still remember his eyes, glinting like waxing crescent moons under the dark of his mask, a forbidden penumbra that has you falling into the eclipse of your thoughts.

"If I run, will you chase me?"

"If you run, I will catch you."

It shudders a sinister prophecy in you, feeling for all the world like this is the game you're destined to play with him, of running and fleeing from your thoughts, from the truth of your attraction, to the ends of the earth- only for him to find you, corner you, engulf you in his fastened hold.

Why then, did you want to run? For him to chase you?

"Everything ok?" Soap asks from the front, having noticed the shiver of your shoulders as you sink further into the depths of your rumination.

"Fine, why?" You ask, and your deflection is anything but convincing, throat a little tight, eyes not meeting his.

You cast a glance at him from where you sit, see the taut line of Soap's mouth as he purses his lips, doesn't answer. It seems...vaguely displeased, which is odd coming from the Scot, usually cheery and teasing. Now he doesn't bother to fill the car with any type of conversation, leaving you reeling in his absence.

It's the mission, you tell yourself. He's just nervous. Price too, is quiet, and you think it's because he's just focusing on the road ahead, navigating the pits and bumps of the remote hillside.

It's not because of you, you try to reason. It's not because you came back from Mozambique different, quieter. The team was used to your cheery smile and teasing, friendly banter. Yet instead, you had hidden yourself away at base, secluded yourself to your room, refused to talk except for briefings. Lost in your thoughts just as you are now, trying to find excuses within yourself, trying to find the person you were before all of this began.

You continue to lie to yourself, like you have been doing for some time now. Creating a false raft of hypocrisies on which to save yourself, to keep yourself from drowning in the truth.

They're concerned for you, that much is clear. No doubt they heard from Gaz about your most recent encounter with the man who is supposed to be your enemy. From what Gaz has said before, your actions are all the more reason for them to be convinced there's things you didn't say about when you disappeared, when König captured you. Your refusal to tell them what really happened that night seems to only be further, damning proof of their suspicions. You can't correct them, can't confess to them the truth. How are you supposed to say you might have feelings for the enemy?

Caught, in a web of falsehoods of your own design, the silvery threads ensnare you further as you continue to struggle, to free yourself.

"Do you want me to take you, Maus?"

You rub a hand over your face, trying to smear away the lingering sound of his voice, like dark oily clouds that blot out the moon in the night sky.

"Rookie."

You snap up instantly at the sound of Price's voice, at attention, back straight. His eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror- stern, steely.

"Don't get distracted, soldier. We have a job to do."

"Yes, Sir." You answer immediately, voice clipped in your reply.

"Good, because we're here."

You blink, looking out the window. If by 'here' Price means a dark, pitch-black set of woods with what could hardly constitute a road, then...yes. You suppose you were. Before you can ask, however, Price is shutting off the car, the headlights blinking dim and plunging the three of you into the dark.

"Warehouse is two kilometers east. We're walking there. Get your gear." He issues, voice measured, rough from years of tobacco that grows thick against the back of his throat. "Stay close, stay quiet, understood?"

He pauses then, and even in the dark you can sense his eyes have turned to you.

"There may be enemy operators inbound to our position." He goes on, voice dipping now. Stern, a warning. There's a murmur of something there that's unfamiliar to you. It's quiet, restrained, but paces at the corner of his thoughts like a caged animal, eyes glinting with a feral, untamed anger.

"Rookie."

"Captain." You reply, voice quieter now, easing into the resolve of a soldier, one who's mission stands before them.

"If you see König, I want you to exfil, do you understand?" He states, and that animal inside him growls with a distant, ominous thunder.

"But Sir-" You try, for once trying to argue against him, brow furrowing. It doesn't make sense. There's only three of you. You need every person you can get. To bench you doesn't suit the needs of the-

"Understood, corporal?" He asks again, voice harsher now.

A pause. Anxiety roils in your stomach. That same trepidation from earlier, the unease that clogs your throat like black smoke rises once more. It's as if you can see the murky, shadowy shapes of something imminent, gliding smooth underneath the surface of the reality before you before vanishing into obscurity. Something isn't right. Yet there's nothing you can do except walk forward willingly, into the night, waiting for fate to inexorably descend upon you all.

"Understood."

---

It takes less than an hour for the three of you to get fully geared and make your way up the hill towards the warehouse. The forest around you is cloaked in darkness, misty at the edges, entirely silent except for the distant, troglodytic calls of owls within the canopy. It feels much too like your dreams, the ones where König rises from the darkness like he did once upon a memory. When you had gotten separated from the team in the hills and he had risen from the darkness like a primordial phantom, looking down at you from the cliffs, his eyes reflecting the scant moonlight in the trees.

You shake the thought, once more earning a stern look from the captain ahead of you.

Keep it together, Rookie. You remind yourself. No room for error on this job.

The three of you pick your way through the trees like hunters of old- silent, still, fatalistic with every breath, every step and sweep of your scopes. It does nothing to assuage the asphyxiating paranoia in your chest, winding it tight and tighter until you hear your heart flutter against your ribs like a frantic, trapped bird. You’ve always been able to discern smoke on the wind, a shift in the breeze before anyone else. Now, however, you push it down deep into your chest, certain it’s only the remnants of your thoughts that pull your mind taut like a bowstring, ready to snap and send shockwaves cataclysmic through your form.

Price clears the path ahead, his form lit green by night vision goggles. Soap stays tight to your flank, more so than usual, and seems to match your every step, to watch your six more than his own. He doesn't speak. None of you do, radio silent as you approach the dim lights of the warehouse. It's only once you're there that Price holds his hand up in a silent gesture for you and Soap to pause.

He withdraws his scopes, and the air feels too cold, thick around you as he catalogs the exterior of the building, noting the scant few sentries that pace the perimeter.

Three guards. He signals to you both. Armed.

You hold your breath, looking through your own scope to confirm the captain’s observations, noting as well the freight truck in the asphalt lot of the warehouse. Several more figures walk between the vehicle and the loading dock doors. It’s at the entrance of the truck that you see a figure vanish behind the edge of the doors, and you blink, feeling a pull of recognition at the woman before Price taps your shoulder.

There's a pause before he puts away his goggles. You prepare to set up your rifle from this vantage point, provide sniper fire so the captain and Soap can infiltrate, but instead Price signals for you to follow him.

You and Soap exchange a silent look.

Soap is a sniper too, of course. You two have had more than one go at it to see who's the better shot and come up close every time. Still, it's Soap who's the demolitions and arms expert, not you. If anyone should be in there to examine the weapon's cache, it should be him. Still, you've learned your lesson from earlier, to not question the captain. So, silently, you nod in confirmation, offer Soap a fist-bump, and begin descending the hill down to the warehouse.

The three sentries are dead by the time you cut through the wire gate, slumped on the ground in an ooze of red you don't pause to look at, courtesy of the Scotsman hidden on the rise. You pass them, following as Price takes point, moves interior to the back hallways of the warehouse.

You take out two more guards as you go, pausing over each with a confirmed kill before you both make your way towards the main storage area of the warehouse.

Yet you signal Price's attention as you pass one of the offices, noting the ledger of goods and its origins that lays in plain view, not yet tucked away. You stuff it into your pack as Price hovers by the door, reminding yourself to offer it later to Laswell for intel.

It's only once you're inside the dim, musty storage floor that Price dares to speak.

"Bravo seven one, this is Bravo six. We're interior. Searching for payload, stand by."

"Copy Bravo Six." Soap's voice comes across the comms- hushed, focused.

Price motions for you to fan out, so you do, the world shades of black and green through your goggles as you navigate the shelves of crates and boxes. You step over one aisle from Price, eyes roaming over the vast collection of possible items in the warehouse. Your first few attempts yield little, nothing more than repair parts or work tools. Most of the boxes are conspicuously empty, and the more of them you discover the more you begin to feel that knot of stifling anxiety coil further within you.

There should be more boxes, clues, leads, something that may yield answers. In fact, for a place that is supposed to offer intel like Laswell promised, it's noticeably unguarded. You’re supposed to find indications of ties to enemy organizations, foreign suppliers with which to track down KorTac. However, this feels for all the world like a standard warehouse filled with various bits and bobbles used only for farming in the surrounding area. It’s almost like someone is trying to hide the evidence here.

You stop where you stand, hands tightening on your weapon in realization. Like scenting blood in the air, you feel your shoulders tighten, your heart thrum louder.

We need to leave.

You find Price at the end of the next aisle, his face hidden behind his goggles. Yet you can tell from the way his shoulders scrunch, his mouth set taut, that he feels the same. There are no answers here, and the scent of iron seems to only thicken at the back of your throat as realization slowly, horrifyingly begins to wash over you.

It's a trap.

No sooner do the words enter your mind does the world suddenly grow bright, blinding you. The clunk of a switch greets both your ears, and your goggles flood with piercing light that makes your head throb sharply. You grunt, tearing them from your face and rubbing your eyes, instinctively hunching down to hide from whichever enemy decided to ambush you.

"Soap!" You whisper urgently into the comms, trying to find your vision. "We've been made, I repeat, it's an ambush, we-"

A hand settles over yours, and you flinch hard, blinking up at Price. The captain settles a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be silent.

"We need to move." He tells you, voice grave, hushed. "Now."

You nod, eyes wide, startled, clutching your weapon like it's your life support. Your lips purse into a tight line, following as Price turns back in the direction you both entered from.

You freeze when you hear it then, the heavy footsteps that echo through the aisles, predators in search of prey. Distantly, you feel the heavy weight of recognition press down on your shoulders, muted by the consuming dread and panic of your situation.

He could be here. He could be only feet away from us and we won't even know until it's too late.

Your heart thumps loud, loud enough you're afraid that he might hear it, trace it to the source, hunt you down like a shark scenting blood. Yet your next thought feels like a flash of lightning that cracks the sky open, cleaves apart the heavens and leaves you with the earth-shattering remnants.

Price could kill him.

Your brain blinks in radiant, fluorescent light, trying to find the balance between two diametrically opposed rationales. The asymmetry of it makes the world around you haze over, tightens the breath in your chest until you begin panting, overwhelmed by it all as you try to discern the truth lost in a haze of lies.

You need to get out of here.

You need to kill him.

You can't watch Price murder him.

You don’t want him to die.

Panic rises swiftly within you, untamed by the paradox of your uncertainty, and even as Price hauls you to your feet with a hiss you can barely hear him, blinking, eyes unfocused-

"Rookie!" Price snaps at you, voice grating, teeth cracking, and that manages to ground you, and you look at him with wide, glassy eyes.

Only to see the shadow looming behind him.

Price notices a moment too late, raising his weapon, trying to aim. Yet the shadow raises one massive, brawny arm, and swats Price straight in the face with a sound louder than thunder.

The impact sends him flying.

The crack against Price's jaw is harsh enough to rattle your bones, shaking at the creaking, unsteady foundation of you. There's a moment where Price sails through the air, his feet barely skimming the ground and then there's silence, dreaded and suspended on all sides until the moment where the arch of his momentum apexes, races back towards earth.

Your scream is muffled by the sound of your captain's body crashing into the dismantled, empty crates.

"PRICE!!

Yet your captain's body shifts, then falls still, the dust around him lifting, settling around his twisted, fallen form.

He doesn't move.

You can't breathe.

The shadow falls over you, blotting out the light from above.

It's...it's not him.

No, it's someone else. Tall, but not as tall as König, maskless. A beard grazes his jaw, massive, brawny arms hanging at his sides, eyes dark as he advances on you. The distant, still functioning part of your brain reaches for the information Price gave you, tries to recall the face on the folder.

Aksel.

Aksel, the one to hit Price so hard he could have snapped his neck, Aksel, the one who towers over your smaller figure as you panic and try to back up, forgetting the weapon in your hands as your previous panic multiplies, climbs up your throat in a heaving, shuddering gasp. Aksel only continues to move forward, footsteps like the impact of a war drum as he closes the distance, reaching a huge, gloved hand for you.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest, terrified, paralyzed, the air in your throat frozen as you shake, trying to will yourself to move.

Then, movement from behind him. You watch as a pair of hands reach around, looping a chord over Aksel's neck and then pulling, pulling until the soldier's face contorts and he grunts for air, falling backwards. His hands fly up, trying to dislodge the rope from his neck, writhing violently. Yet all he gets in return is a pair of legs wrapping around his arms, pinning them to his sides.

It's only once he's on the floor that you see him. That you see Price.

There's blood gushing from a cut in his forehead, leaking down into one of his eyes. Yet the other remains open, and you nearly gasp at the violence there, the pure atrocities he threatens with his rage alone. The anger you heard constrained in Price's voice earlier seems to bleed into his stare, promising complete, and utter violence. The fury in his eyes seems to speak of divine retribution, a vengeance so unholy you briefly think he may be the incarnation of the fallen angel Lucifer, sworn to an eternal damnation.

"Keep your. Bloody. Fucking. Hands. OFF my sniper!" Price snarls, feral, untamed, each breath a cracked inhale as he struggles to contain the man in his hold. His hands rub and chafe at the rope, twisting brutally into his skin as he yanks it tighter, tighter.

"KILL HIM!" He roars at you, voice hoarse, bellowing the order like it's his final, ultimate act of defiance. He doesn't bother to look in your direction, intensity entirely focused on the enemy in his grip who thrashes violently, feet scrambling as he tries to buck off the captain to no avail.

It startles you from your reverie, jolts you back into the presence as you lift your weapon, take aim-

A blade at your neck.

"I wouldn't, Maus."

You freeze, heart stopping, breath halting, your entire body rigid as warmth crowds into your back, an arm wraps around your front and drags you back, backwards until you meet the uneven, uncomfortable surface of a tac vest.

König.

"Let go of the gun, kleine Maus." He purrs in your ear, and you can't- not when you can squeeze off a shot, could kill Aksel right here. Yet the blade presses further into the bare flesh of your neck and you blink, trying to understand how he of all people could threaten you like this, could force you to abandon your captain.

Nothing prepares you for his next words, as he leans down, and the fabric of the mask traces the edge of your face even as you lean away, eyes wide, horrified, confused, panicked at all that seems to be happening around you.

"You were supposed to be outside."

You blink, lips parting as you try to speak, try to ask him how he knows-

In your shock your hands loosen on your weapon, and it takes little effort for König to divest you of it, clicking on the safety and placing it to the ground, kicking it somewhere far behind him.

One huge arm wraps around your front, and it isn't until it does that your brain kicks on and you begin to struggle, arching away from the blade and thrashing. It does you little good, for within seconds König has you restrained against his front, arms pinned to your sides.

"Captain." He states, and you look frantically to Price, who's stopped actively trying to strangulate his opponent and instead now focuses on both of you. There's fear that flashes across his eyes, bright and quick as lightning, and it pierces into you. Your captain was never afraid. Resolute, concerned, angry, yes. Fear, however, was not something he displayed, and never in front of an enemy.

"I have your sniper." König goes on, and you again try to thrash, but the man has the advantage of not only size but also strength, keeps you immobile with one, bulging arm. "If you don't wish to see her bleed to death, I suggest you release my comrade."

He wouldn't

Would he?

No, this is all just a mistake. He...he said he'd never hurt you. He's bluffing.

"Let me go." You whisper, voice hoarse, starved of air.

König shifts then, and you feel him stiffen at your voice until he finally replies with his voice almost too soft to be heard:

"I can’t, Maus."

You look at Price, thoughts reeling, hands shaking, trying to find which way is up, to untangle yourself from the cobwebs inside your thoughts that prevent you from thinking clearly. The world tilts around you, the ground shifting under your feet and you realize this was a mistake from the beginning, to come out here. You weren't ready, too ill-prepared after what happened in Mozambique, when König had crowded to you just as he does now, had offered you a single request that even now echoes in your thoughts ceaselessly, tormenting you.

"If I ask, you'll come with me?"

"Let her go." Price rasps, and you stare at him, as his arms bulge with the effort it takes to contain Aksel.

"After you, Captain Price." König practically purrs, keeping you glued to his front, the sharp end of the blade pressed barely into your skin.

Price pauses, and you can see him thinking, processing, trying to find a way out of this where you both survive unscathed.

"Price. No." You manage, again trying to free yourself. Yet König's other hand snaked upwards, covering the lower half of your face in one huge, gloved hand.

"Quiet, Maus."

It doesn't stop you. If Price frees Aksel, Aksel will kill him, and you can't allow that to happen, can't witness the death of your captain in front of your eyes while you're able to do nothing. Not when it's all your fault.

"Our commander has been very eager to meet you, captain." König goes on. "If you release Eriksen, I may be inclined to let your sergeant here meet him as well."

You still, König's words sink into you as you do into terror, realizing exactly what the enemy soldier's threat entails.

Capture.

You thrash in earnest now, heedless of the blade at your throat. Your voice echoes into König's palm, a cry of fear, of outrage at the prospect of being taken again, of Price, your captain being taken alongside you. Somehow, you wiggle your arms free and try to claw at König's forearm, your gloved fingers scraping uselessly against the metal of his bracers. The blade in König's hand nicks against your throat, and you're certain you feel a red ooze from the source, but you pay it no attention.

You could endure capture, shameful though it was. You were trained to withstand interrogations, to not crack under pressure, but the idea of Price, of Price being captured, of them possibly using your own captain against you, or worse, trying to use you to crack him-

You reach for your vest, one hand fumbling for your blade there, trying to withdraw it in a desperate attempt to free yourself, to save Price, anything-

Yet König's hand releases your mouth and twists your wrist as soon as you find the blade, and you grunt as it is twisted free of your grasp, clattering uselessly to the floor.

"Let me GO!!" You scream, panic now forcing up your throat and through your limbs in an uncontrolled, untampered frenzy.

König shifts with you in his arms, tries to lean down to you, and you hear his voice dip in an almost soothing murmur, tight and barely audible. You don't hear him, focused entirely on your captain.

"Price!" You scream, voice shrill. "Kill him! Run! Get out of here!"

Price seems taken aback by your outburst, his single open eye glinting as he takes in your wildly thrashing form, eyes feral, untamed, afraid.

Slowly, Price unwinds the rope.

You have just enough time to scream, to shout "NO!!" Before Aksel twists, seizing one of Price's arms and bending it down in a harsh motion so abruptly and severely you hear a 'Crack!' at the motion. Price shouts, a harsh grinding sound, yanking the arm back automatically and trying to grapple himself away from the Norwegian on pure instinct. Yet when his eyes land on you, he pauses, just long enough for Aksel to stand and launch a heavy, booted foot right into the man's ribs.

Price crumples back with a shout that's dwarfed by your own. You scream, your entire body surging forward, only for König to wordlessly catch you, his entire form rigid, stiff at the sight before him.

"Leave her." Aksel barks at König, his voice cracked, hoarse from Price's murderous attempt. You barely pay any attention to the Norwegian, your eyes focused on the form of your captain. He’s curled on his side, blood oozing from the laceration in his hairline, his hat crumpled and tossed to the side. He writhes slowly on the floor, choking on a ragged inhale, and you call for him, voice thick with despair.

"Price, John, please- look at me."

He does. He turns his head and there's anger there, hard enough to make you flinch. Pure ire seeps from his gaze, one eye mottled with blood that continues to seep from his head. His shoulders heave as he tries to gather his breath. No doubt Aksel's kick, harsh enough to dent metal, was enough to fracture a rib. The pain only feeds the fury, your captain's teeth bared in a feral, gnashing snarl. Yet it isn't directed at you, it's focused instead on the man who holds a knife to your throat, the one who you feel shift with you pinned against his front.

"No." König's voice startles you, makes you flinch against him. Yet the hand clasped across you eases just a touch, his thumb grazing reassuring circles into your skin you barely seem to feel. "O'Conor wanted him alive. We can use her as leverage."

Aksel shoots König an annoyed look, but there must be something in the Austrian's stare that makes him pause, consider.

"Fine." He bites at last, clearly displeased. "You take her. Roze is expecting us outside."

With that he reaches for Price and you snarl, thrash in König's grip like a wild, rabid animal.

"Don't you fucking touch him." You grind out, but Aksel has the audacity to shoot you a look akin to amusement, as if he doesn't really believe the unspoken threat in your words. So, you turn to the captain, who stretches on the floor, seeking your weapon that was kicked uselessly to the side. When Aksel's foot lands on his hand with a sickening crunch, John grits his teeth and only offers a grunt. His enraged stare fixates on the Norwegian standing above him, reaching down to grasp him by his tac vest, and haul him upright.

Then, in a brutal, dizzying move, Aksel cranes his head back and then forwards, connecting it with Price's hard enough to severely stun the man. John’s eyes roll hard enough to make your stomach turn with a putrid, sour taste.

"John-" You try again, voice terribly small, broken at the sight of your limp captain's body now hauled over Aksel's broad shoulders. "John, please."

"Let's move." Aksel barks to König, and soon your world shifts as well. You're too startled to offer a reaction, not until you're slung across König's shoulders in a similar manner to Price, both hands caught in a single, strangulating grasp.

"König." You try once you're sure Aksel can't hear you. Your voice is tight, caught in your throat. "Please- please don't do this."

König doesn't reply, not at first. You can tell he's thinking, considering, his shoulders tense under you as he absorbs your plea.

"I won't let them hurt you, Maus." He murmurs back, voice hushes, raspy. "I'll...keep you safe."

Yet he doesn't sound convinced by his own words, and you only struggle in response, trying vainly to free yourself.

"Let me go." You plead a little louder, voice cracking. "Please, don't...don't let them use me against him. König."

König flinches. Yet he doesn't respond, not as his mind continues to churn and yield only fruitless solutions. You feel panic rise within you again, and as you struggle König only offers small, hushed assurances that do little to deter the building terror inside you.

They're going to capture you. Yet this time it won't just be König. As much as he says so he can't guarantee your safety, can't ensure you won't be tortured, used as fodder to break your captain.

The cool night air billows across your face as you exit the warehouse. There's cars now that you didn't see before, and among them is an armored truck that Aksel makes for with long, unbroken strides. Horror wells in your stomach, the back of the truck yawning open like a black maw, threatening to take you down, down until you choke only on ichor and darkness.

You struggle then, air rising hot and suffocating in your throat, made worse when König's distant murmur of "Maus, Maus, it's going to be okay-" filters through the smoggy haze of fear. You can hardly breathe, mind conjuring images of being tied to a chair in a dark room, of Price, bloodied and beaten across from you-

BOOM-!!

A deafening, catastrophic explosion shakes the ground under you, and the darkness of the warehouse lot is suddenly illuminated by a fiery, orange glow that casts König's gigantic shadow in a looming, phantasmic stretch before your eyes. You twist your head just in time to feel the heat of flames cast brightly against your face.

"ROZE!" Aksel bellows furiously over the roar of the conflagration, and you hear a female voice in the distance yell something back, voice rising sharply in alarm, words indiscernible.

König spins, entire form radiating tension under you. When you twist you catch a glimpse of his eyes- wide, frantic, searching for answers.

You already know. If it wasn't them, there's only one person it could possibly be. Your mouth forms the name, calls out to him amidst the fire and flames, seeking purchase on the only lifeline you have left.

"SOAP!!"

No sooner had you cried out did you feel König's body lurch under you, so abrupt and severe his balance falters. The sound of something sinking into his tac vest is enough to make your heart stop, and he grunts, something akin to pain. Too top heavy with your body slung across his shoulders he teeters, and then goes down like a mammoth tree falling in a forest. You spill from his grip, on your feet in an instant.

König grunts with pain when he reaches for you, manages to secure one foot around your ankle.

Yet then, mysteriously, he pauses.

The Austrian catches sight of your eyes, sees your stricken, terrified gaze looking down at him. A rabbit in a snare, staring into the jaws of a predator, the glint of fangs reflecting in your irises.

He lets go.

You pause long enough only to blink at him, wanting to say something, anything, to speak to him in this moment not as enemies or allies, but something between. Something that feels strangely like trust.

Instead, you fling yourself in the direction of the gunshot, hearing a bellow of anger behind you as you sprint for the fence line in search of freedom.

Only to skid to a halt once you get to the edge of the burning building, against the not yet consumed office spaces, sparing a horrified look behind you.

Price.

No sooner did you turn back in the direction of the truck where you captain was being held did you trace the glint of a scope, reflecting the burning haze of the building.

You duck just in time, absent of a weapon to return fire, getting behind the exterior wall of the building. Heart racing, you barely hear your own thoughts above the sound of the inferno, growing closer to your position at every moment.

You need to get Price, need to find a weapon, to return fire, to-

Hands seize you around your middle.

You scream on instinct, reaching for your knife no longer in your vest, searching for one of your other weapons, for something-

"Rookie, it's me!"

You twist in your attacker's arms, seeing the wide, blue gaze of Soap peer down at you. In his eyes you see the orange of the flames, see your own horrified stare, see the ashes of catastrophe falling around you like omens from a cursed, skyward pantheon.

"Soap-" You breathe, voice clogged with smoke. Your relief is short lived, because soon another bullet pings against the wall and Soap is ducking you both down, his face grim, brow drawn in frustration.

"Th-they have Price." You supply, voice cracking. "In the truck, they said they needed him alive. We need-"

Another bullet, and you flinch. You look to Johnny, who peers over your head with growing dismay, face falling open at whatever he sees.

"Soap." You try again, voice tight. "You need to return fire, to get Price-"

"Can't." Soap tells you, and he looks at you then, his eyes wide, afraid. "I can't risk hitting the captain."

The next bullet pierces the wall above both your heads, but you feel rather than hear it, blood rushing in your ears, the fire roaring so loud you feel the vibrations of it in your feet.

"We need to leave." Soap yells over the chaos, voice stern, issuing an order and still somehow failing to contain his utter anger and grief at the situation. He doesn't wait for your approval, doesn't wait to hear you respond. Instead, he seizes your arm, begins dragging your stunned, paralyzed form with him in the direction of the fence.

"S-Soap." You try, but your voice is hoarse, barely able to be heard. Soap doesn't look back, doesn't try and release you, hauling you along as you stumble behind him.

"GO!" He tells you, shoving you at the hole in the fence and turning to spray his weapon wide, long enough to cover you ducking through the wire. In the time it takes to force himself through, whoever's scope has you in its sights fires in your direction once more, shots barely missing you.

"MOVE!!" Soap yells at you, hands shoving, and you've never heard his voice like that before. Terrified, shaking, trying to somehow maintain a grasp on a situation that's spiraled far beyond his control.

"PRICE!!" You scream, voice shrill, cracking in your throat. You reach for him, try and shove Soap off of you, but the Scotsman has an arm secured around your middle, dragging you backwards from the line of fire even as you shriek. "Soap- Johnny, let go!! Price- we need to-!"

"We can't." Soap interjects, and you can hear in his voice the devastation, the complete and utter despair. "We need t' get out of here, right fuckin now-"

Yet it only makes you thrash harder in Soap's grip, watching as the injured form of your captain is tossed, thrown, into the back of the truck. You watch the wheels bounce with the impact, a cry of utter anguish tearing raw from your throat, enough to be heard over the fire of bullets that rain down on your and Soap's position.

"Leave him." Soap hoarses into your shoulders, even as your fingers try and pry his arm from you. "They need him alive- we...we can get him back." Johnny's throat cracks on the promise, as if he doesn't believe his own words. "We will die if we stay here, corporal. We need to leave. That's an order."

You sob then, at the reminder of your rank, at Soap using every method he has to get you to retreat away from your captain. It doesn't make sense. He's right there, so close you can almost see his eyes as the back of the truck closes, and he vanishes from sight.

"C'mon, lass, move." Soap grunts then, none too gently hauling you further into the shadows of the woods, away from the line of fire. "Yer no use to him dead."

You don't reply, allowing Soap to haul you further into the forest even as your wails leave a trail of anguish behind you.

----

You leave him.

You leave Price.

Both of you, you and Soap, flee into the Serbian forest. The blaze of the warehouse burns brightly behind you, casting a red glow upon the horizon in the absence of dawn. The smoke clings to the back of your throat as you pick your way through the forest, jumping at every twig snapping underfoot, every rustle of the canopy. It's unclear if you're being pursued, or if your attackers are too preoccupied with their own exfiltration to even bother.

You and Soap make it back to the van with record speed, and it's only once you're there that you seize him, use all your force to corner him against the side of the truck.

"Why!?" You gasp, hot tears blooming in your eyes. "You could have gotten him, not me!"

You bend your head forward, voice choking on a wail, knowing still there may be enemies in the trees just beyond sight. Fists clench on Johnny's chest and you shudder with a sob, uncontrollable guilt bubbling searing and viscous up your throat.

This. This was your fault.

You should have told Price something was wrong, should have reacted sooner to the ambush, shouldn't have gotten panicked in your own head because of him-

Soap's hands land on yours. Firm, comforting. He doesn't snap at you to get back in line, doesn't scold you for your tears in the face of defeat. Instead, he murmurs two words, his voice broken, choked with emotion that mirrors your own.

"I'm sorry."

You look up at him through a watery gaze, ashes smeared across your face, hair coming loose from under your helmet. Soap's eyes are miserable, face contorted as he tries to contain the guilt, the grief that sinks deep into his chest like the carve of a dull, serrated knife. It's enough to make you pause, blink your eyes free of tears.

"I-I had to." He goes on, voice thick with emotion, laced with despair that fractures at the brittle inside of you, threatens to send the foundation of you crashing down. "It couldn’t be you. Not...not again."

Again.

After the first time. After König had marched away with you into the night, had begun this winding, ensnaring tale of irrevocable magnetism, two planets in asynchronous orbit destined for a ruinous collision of destruction. After you had come back different, shaken, trying so hard to hide the truth that your teammates, your brothers had no choice but to assume the worst.

You understand now, how they must have felt when you were taken. The grief, the despair, the all-consuming outrage that now festers inside of you like molten glass, dripping and scorching over your form.

Your face crumples at that, and like a child you weep against Soap's front, feel the warm wetness of grief trace paths through the ashes on your cheeks. You bang a fist weakly against him, and it only summons another cracked apology, arms closing around you as he gathers you to him in your combined grief.

"We'll get him." He murmurs. Over and over again, a litany of promises that you try to find solace in, try to hide from the guilt of your own ruinous emotions.

Slowly, as the sun rises, you try to bury him in your heart.

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