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madstronaut · 3 months

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baby's first konig longfic

(masterlist of my FaFiCoWriMo rambles at the Fuck It We Ball link below! looking forward to seeing this become a long untameable monstrous ouroboros of a list)

omg t h i s f i c. IT BARELY HAS ANY SMUT IN IT till the end and it is one of the hottest konig fics ive ever read (and honestly I think he takes home the trophy for man most thirsted over in COD fandom, sorry ghost but you’re all winners in my panties i mean heart I SAID HEART)

Reading: Cat/Mouse/Den by @papaver-decervicatus

idk wot it is - the tenderness and purity of their first few interactions? the forbiddenness of stumbling upon a private radio channel when they’re technically Not On The Same Side? the little GIFTS they give each other? How he can always find her despite her literally being a topranked sniper? the way their physical meet-cute is him literally catching her in his arms?! the knowledge maus can snipe him at any moment and yet konig willingly stepping into her crosshairs? LLBLBLLLBLGLGB

That last “She’s pretty” comment for me was the emotional equivalent of stabbing me in the heart with a roughshod serrated knife in how cute it was (btw let me warn you if you haven’t already gotten the memo folx my whole brand is being aggressively encouraging and excited over fanfic and writers in an increasingly unhinged yet polite manner<3)

in true konig fashion i love how excited he is that maus might be the literal death of him and that he would die happy if she was the one to snipe him lmao

also can anyone else relate to doing a private eye style deepdive into facebook archives stalking and searching for info about your crush and memorizing it like konig did here for mausy lmao

"It’s pathetic, the only place he feels any sort of peace is at war."

chef’s kiss, love this line. brief, but tells you so much about konig’s headspace

“A younger part of him is jealous. The older part smothers that part down as he takes in the view.”

I love this line!!! ive wondered sometimes about the science and why of attraction and maus basically living konig’s dream i feel must play a big part of why they’re so drawn to each other...and ofc no explanation needed for why she is attracted to konig because everyone is, undisputed law of nature, go look it up on wikipedia and jstor, thank you no questions at this moment

“There’s a creek at the bottom, and interesting flora marks the cliffs all the way down. He wonders what wildlife drinks from the stream down there and if there are any decent caves he could find an opening to.”

have u ever thought about what you or someone else might have been in another life, in alternate timeline? I can see biologist konig fitting in quite well in civilian life <;3 LEMME DAYDREAM ABOUT ALL MY SOLDIER BOYS SAFELY RETURNING HOME FAR FROM OR NEVER HAVING TO ENDURE THE FOG AND TERROR AND HORROR OF WAR OKAY

“The exposed rock of the ravine flames to life with amazing browns and reds, and the stone sparkles like rubies and tiger’s eye stones as the sun's rays catch it.”

also sidenote the way the scenery is described here would make me want to go take a photo and download it and save it as my wallpaper; so descriptive and lovely i could see everything so clearly <3

“The sun is setting behind her. She’s very far away, but his skin prickles to life knowing that he’s being watched.”

I also love this usual role reversal of maus being the predator watching her prey (though is he arguably her prey if he wants to be caught? lol anyway putting aside the essay on existential questions in fanfic-)

It’s a beautiful place, really. It’s not such a bad place to die, he thinks. She’s a good shot. She’ll do it quickly. Nothing to fret about,really. It’s his own fault, anyways.

I am obsessed with their chemistry but most of all something about this powerful man fully placing his life in her hands just does it for me

“I’ll bite, soldier.” She says, hurriedly, like someone might walk in on their little game. Like the teacher is about to find the two kissing in a supply closet at the school.

*me reading this line, giggling madly*

He sits down on the ground and opens his legs as wide as they’ll comfortably go and rests his cheek in his hand propped on his thigh. If he’s going to die, he’s going to give her a pretty show.

me: okay slut

also me: ✨o k a y slut✨

I also love how he’s imagining what she would be doing/how she’s reacting all based off what I assume is the equivalent of a shitty driver’s license photo he saw of her 🥰

i also feel like getting warning shots as foreplay IS so konig-coded (yes im fully aware as i type this that this man has so much fanlore, fan hcs, fanfic, faneverything out there despite not even being in the storyline of the main campaign lmao)

I also love the flip to maus’ POV - though when she notes how outrageous it is for him to keep his shiny knife on him i bet you my future firstborn that it’s to get her attention <3

also <3 sniper candy <3

also we love a girlboss who asks >100x to shoot him on sight lmao

It’s been months since the ravine and she’s seen him just about everywhere she’s been. When SpecGru was gathering intel on KorTacs drug affiliations, she saw him in the haunted deserts of Sonora, Mexico where she lies in the dirt redder than blood and coyotes sing her to sleep. She gazes down at him atop crumbling 16th-century Byzantine marble when she picks off the guards of a weapons supplier in Belgrade, Serbia. In the ancient and verdant bamboo forest of Yibin, China, hunting down spy affiliations, she camps across a creek from him for a night.

“we’ve got to stop meeting like this!” - konig, probably

He would’ve been a good sniper, in another life. If he wasn’t built like the trees she climbs for her shots.

mausy your crush is showing 🤭

He walks like a monster with three legs (and at some point about three months into their little game, she touches herself thinking about that third leg.

i mean honestly? give maus a medal for holding out for three months before succumbing, damn

The secret stays between them and their radios become the divining rods of close encounters.

secret forbidden relationship is one of my fave tropes <3

Mostly it’s just breathing on each line, mostly it’s just-

“König?”

“Maus?”

“Mhm.”

“Hmm.”

honestly this sounds more intimate than sex

She knows she should get a shrink or a good fuck to stop fucking thinking about him like this, but sometimes he whispers a joke into his radio and she laughs, and sometimes she tells him about the book she’s been reading, and sometimes he shows her his favorite knife tricks, and sometimes she tells him stories of before she was in the military and he always laughs and asks questions to show he’s actually engaged and he cares and-

this is so domestic and cute for warzone flirting <3

When they’re alone he’s the perfect gentleman, he gets no closer than when she reaches out to contact him first. When they’re not, it's a whole different story. He runs into the middle field like if he can just reach her, he can keep her. If he can carry back his conquest, well… kings get their war spoils, don’t they? It’s a terrible secret she keeps alive only in her heart, but she hopes one day he finally will.

mausy gettin bingo on all our fave kinks today, apparently

maus picking up on his knife skills and noticing his anxiety via the shaking hands (and that they don’t shake at all around her) is just peak PEAK PEAK PEAK fanfic vibes. feeling safe around someone is one of the biggest green flags in the universe and a gift <3

It’s a shame, but she’s a little happy that it’ll be König, her cat, that’ll catch her corpse.

honestly these two were made for each other lmao

ok THE SCENE WHERE THE FIRST TIME THEY REALLY, REALLY MEET? HE KILLS FOR HER? LITERALLY PUTS HIS ARMS OUT FOR HER TO CATCH HER FALL?

And the first thing he says is a promise. A promise of help. A promise of aid.

I was like speechless with joy and giddiness for a good minute or two reading this whole scene lmao SO SATISFYING esp with konig’s lil gasp when she falls into his arms <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 UGH PLS PAPS CAN I GIVE YOU A MEDAL??? A HUG??? A KISS???? MY UNDYING LOVE AND DEVOTION??? well in lieu of all this I’ll just give your fic multiple visits and so much rambling <3

also their first meetcute THEY EXCHANGE GIFTS????? HOW FUCKING CUTE ARE THEY GOD

He has created, against all odds, something beautiful and delicate out of a brutal tool and doomed material.

so this absolutely stunning construction of a sentence pretty much sums up why I love COD fandom/fanfic writers so much..

I forget where I read this somewhere on this hellsite but it went something like “it’s subversive to write these men made to die/made for war, made to be loved instead” and reminds me of one of my favorite quotes that I stumbled on a random reddit Q&A

“I get discouraged sometimes - just like everyone. I question whether my music/life/work matters at all.

The danger is letting other people define your soul's worth. Sometimes folks will like what you do, other times they'll hate it.

But I continually remind myself that I do NOT matter as a result of what I do, I matter because of who I AM. I am not a "human doing" but a "human being. " I matter simply because I was made in the image of the unmade maker, and I am loved by Love.”

“I am not a human doing, but a human being”

“I am made in the image of love, and I am loved by Love”

“we are, against all odds, something beautiful and delicate, created out of brutal tool and doomed material”

these words touch such a deep and core and unspeakably true part of me - that i forget often, that i find hard to believe, that i struggle to remember and cling to - and tbh one of the most frequent places I find this much-needed encouragement is in FANFICTION! <3

fanfic writers you are truly some of the most beautiful people on this planet <3

anyway yeah, fanfic as therapy is a helluva drug and so fucking real

if I could give all my beloved writers a diploma i would pay a calligrapher to write this gold leaf ink or some shit and put on my best lipstick and smooch it all over and print it out on vellum for you all <3

ANYWAY WHERE TF WAS I- o yes, simping over both maus and konig

When he turns to go she thinks how much his hands must’ve hurt to make this little thing

this is so real; everytime I try my hand at sewing/mending (and i got tiny hands yall) for an extended period of time my fingers always end up so crampy in a uniquely painful way

i also get big “gift of the magi by o. henry” (truly one of my favorite short stories of all time) vibes from this exchange <3

(tl;dr: here, my heart, let me cut out and gift you my heart - oshit what’s that? your heart? *scrambles to catch and not break it*)

cos honestly on one level how fucking hilarious that they basically exchange a piece of wood and a rock lmao but really THEY ARE GIVING SOMETHING SO SPECIAL TO EACH OTHER <333333

The next time she sees him, about a week later, she sees him sharpening his massive field knife with the tiny whetstone on his comically large thigh, and in response, she thumbs at the wooden effigy in her pocket. They laughed into their radios to each other.

ok how fucking hilarious and sexy that they are basically watching each other finger each other…..s' gifts

the final dialogue in chapter two needs to be in the merriam-webster dictionary under “flirting 101: peak examples”

but also omg THE EXTRA LITTLE GIFTS SHE LEAVES BEHIND FOR KONIG? HER FLINTING A HEART AND HIM SHATTERING IT IMMEDIATELY IN HIS GIANT-ASS SEXY ASS HANDS AND LEAVING HIMSELF BLEEDING AS PENANCE????? HIM IMAGINING COOKING FOR HER AND READING ALL TEH BOOKS SHE RECS HIM??? Honestly him musing about actually fucking her at the end is the LEAST sexy part of all this and the line about him aching to make her mewl did…things to me

if I could distill the maus x konig energy here into an drink, I think I could run up everest naked without breakin a sweat

The man is quick, but König is quicker, taking off through the snow like he did as a child. Running with reckless abandon, long legs carrying him faster and further than anyone else when he and his cousins would play capture the flag at his Oma’s house in Gauso.

i love papa’s (really need to find a better nickname for writer while I write this lol) way of capturing like…the sense of child-like wonder/safety and domesticity you return to when you are in love/find yourself in the presence (physical or not) of someone you love in her writing, also why i really love this fic so much

Slicing that man clean between his ribs like a lion strikes a lamb was the second most satisfying experience of his life, greatly eclipsed by the settling of her weight against his chest when she trusted him enough to jump into his arms.

*chanting to summon my talented fellow konig simps to draw fanart of this scene*

“You big, everywhere? I mean, with hips like those… ”

“...” Fuck, bad time to get a boner.

SIR.

hast thou not heard the term “video killed the radio star”???? you’re alone and miles away only talking via radiowaves, LITERALLY THE BEST TIME TO GET A BONER???? smh unless ofc the best time for konig is when he’s with maus <3

“…he’d been chasing a little prayer in her shape. He wouldn’t have considered it ‘done’ when he gave it to her but-

Her warmth was still in his fingers, her beautiful eyes trained on him, her fantastic form somehow devoid of his blood or his filth in his rescue attempt, well. He had been praying, hadn’t he? It’s only right to pay tithing to the thing you worship. He gave her the figure, and he did so with the only real regret being that he couldn’t give her more and that he almost sullied her perfection with his violence.

also men near-worshipping the women they simp for is also a huge kink of mine (i mean whose isn’t it? also i hurt my brain trying to discern if that last sentence i wrote made sense but college was a long tiem ago for me soooo)

And to top it all off, when he wrenched himself away from her, heart heavy and entirely certain that she would never, could never, follow- she called him back and reciprocated.

can confirm, reciprocated feelings is an indescribable feeling, war on drugs would’ve been game over day 1 if it was fought with requited feelings

When he turns away it is because his brain cannot comprehend a world in which she walks away with him.

well, snipe me right in the heart why dont you papi! (again, still need to find a different nickname for writer)

And in fairness, he would rather die than admit his treachery, not out of any misplaced moral but instead out of precaution for her safety.

honestly, husband goals

konig’s dream is p e r f e c t i o n “I love and trust you and feel safe enough to put my life into your thighshands, even if that means you’ll take it”

“Like dovetail joints, a great carpenter must have made them to fit together. There must be a God, and he must have made her to perfectly fit beside (and dare he hope, inside?) her.

The only thing older than war to mankind is intimacy. You need soldiers for war, you need men for soldiers, and you need love to make those men. “

“He is remembering how to be human, to be a man and not a soldier, and he smiles back into her mouth.”

“She is giving him total control. Complete power and without hesitation. In her teary eyes, he sees a soldier’s trust, firm and unwavering. Ever faithful. Unquestioningly and genuinely she believes the man she’s at the mercy of will make her need no mercy. “

once again paps (yes yes need new nickname for writer, stfu mads) just dropping literary masterpieces casually

“König,” her eyes glaze over with worry. It’s a dangerous game they’re playing and they both know it. “Are you sure you want me?” She whispers, lips meeting the shell of his ear, he feels her fever pitch skin even through the fabric of his mask. His heart aches and he’s so angry with himself that she could even ask that. As if there were ever any questions. As if he has ever wanted anything else in his life like he wants this. As if there is anything else to want. As if there is anything else.

Truly every beloved’s hopeful query and every lover’s debt to happily answer <3

When he wakes up in his cold barracks, decidedly alone and not in between her thighs, he pounds the bed in frustration.ly ok the mood whiplash when i laughed out loud at konig pounding bed with his fists cos hes grumpy and horny

Not so dissimilar to the bride-stealing traditions his Oma had told him about as a boy.

damn oma what stories you be tellin to children lmao

though I AM recalling a medicinal anthropology class I took in college that was absolutely fascinating - we did touch on bride-napping as an actual thing in hmong culture (though from what I learned it has less IRL dubcon and more elopement vibes)

The fantasy of her is potent and life-consuming, but he is also viscerally aware that it is just that. A fantasy.

konig, thinking this, as he lives out most of his actual fantasies lmao

It is not real and despite his choking desire to be with her, he is not entirely sure she wants him.

ah yes, ‘idiots in love,’ an absolute banger of a trope

He wants so desperately to just be a fucking person for her. A person allowed weakness, a person allowed good-morning kisses, a person allowed terrible flirting, a person allowed to sit in the same room, a person allowed to touch and savor and make better another human. Allowed to heal, not harm. Allowed to save, not slaughter.

But he is a soldier, he’s not a person, and he’s not sure he ever really was a person in the first place.

The only thing he wants more than to have her is for her to want him. That hope is a delusion deeper than the ravine they met at, he’s sure.

🥹🥹🥹🥹

yep just uh nothing happening over here, not crying over fanfic what -how dare you insinuate-

He feels no shame when he wraps his arms around the bunched comforter on his chest, imagining it’s a slight body he faithfully cradles.

*tripping, stumbling, running to pay for a custom body pillow big enough for konig to hug for his comfort* (not for me, would be too big anyways)😉😏

no literally ive thought about it i might have to do olympic-level qualifying gymnastics stretching to fit someone of his stature anyway it’s not like i made to-scale stick figure models doodled out on post-its in various creative positions to work out the physics of it or anything cough

If she knew how obsessed he’s become that he cannot help himself from having dreams about her and cannot help himself from getting off to the idea that she killed him with her fucking thighs

sir.

please.

i am ready to beat off the hordes of other women with a sharpened stick who would find this hot and respectful af

also obsessed with this soap who chews on pencaps and macguyvers radios to look like they’re fucking (or maus just has her head in the gutter, but really girl whose isnt??? and someone really needs to tell me if this is wrong grammatically every time i type it it sounds right)

also as a certified soap simp i also just have to say, you know you’ve got it bad when you look deep into soap’s eyes… and fantasize about another man LMAO

“No thanks,” she purrs as she finally sets herself into position.

i like this subtle nod to konig after she re-tells her katze’s joke <3 ooooo reading papaver’s writing is like eating a three-course meal at your fave comfort diner<3

The early morning light hits the streets the same way it had hit the forest ground that day.

i also love this line <3 i can picture those blue-orange sunrise hours in my head and it’s so lovely because the scene is also tinged with all the complex emotions from their first meeting

He throws it up and catches it without looking at it, instead his eyes are laser-focused on Mouse.

hothothothothothothothot (i realize just typing out hot over and over again leads you to also read thot, but honestly, still tracks)

She remembers her trigger finger twitching with sinful power, she remembers choking back the insistence at killing another lonely person, devoid of their autonomy on a basic level when they signed up for a mercenary-issued ticket to hell.

this line…is too real

“Because they are weapons of maus-destruction. ” Konig replies like it’s not the stupidest thing she’s ever heard in her goddamn life.

somewhere simon ghost riley has to suppress the urge to put down his rifle, stand up, and do a slow golf clap

Suddenly, his eyes look lived in, like someone has just put up new curtains in an abandoned house. His whole affect changes hinging on what was an irresponsible outburst on her behalf at best.

And for the first time, she does not fear a monster hunting her through the woods, silent and purposeful in his pursuit of prey. Instead, she wants to understand a man, whose eyes have lit up like a princess has just laughed when he kissed her hand.)

*i am suppressing the feminine urge to print out paper doll cutouts of maus and konig and just hang them around random parts of my apartment making heart eyes at each other*

Maybe, it's dangerous, to wave a steak in front of a mountain lion, but what if she wants to get mauled?

these two, a match made in heaven. truly there’s someone for everyone~

also i love this COD book club that is happening; i also have a semi-regular work meeting where I hit the jackpot of getting the most chill but passionate cohorts and our goal is basically shooting the shit & talking about stuff we love and how to share it with the world like a workhours book club and I hope everyond gets to experience a little joy in the middle of 9-5 capitalist hell that is the workweek like this <3

Soap says, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Silence of the Lambs from the bag.

“He said he picked it up years ago in Polish thinking it was a cooking field guide.”

fucking dying

how she could rest entirely on top of his chest and not touch the ground beneath them and-

once again i fucking love their inadvertent mindreading/mirroring their shared desires unbeknownst to each other. MOVE THE FUCK ASIDE, JANE AUSTEN

also if gromsko gave me “special field medicine lessons” I would probably pay to continue them

also on this note MEN ARE SOME OF THE SNOOPIEST MOST GOSSIPY BITCHES IN THE UNIVERSE CAN I GET AN AMEN? CAN I GET A HELL YEAH? CAN I GET A WHOOP WHOO-

she basks infatuated by the calamitous captivation he exhibits.

*fanning myself with ripped out pages of shakespeare and hemingway to burn at papaver’s altar*

When he lifts his hood to blow a kiss to her, she knows she will never get her traitorous heart back.

sir??

excuse me sir????

i thought you were told you couldn’t be a sniper? what the fuck is this tender bullshit of a snipe straight to my heart-

also that last chappy YAY ENEMIES TO ALMOST-LOVERS TO ALMOST-ENEMIES, LITERALLY CANNOT FIND THIS TROPE ANYWHERE!!!!

He’s always hoped to be able to pound down into her quaking form.

the first time i read this i blacked out after seeing the phrase “pound down” and instead all i remember after slapping myself awake is actually reading the phrase “he’s always hoped to take her to pound town”

also why am i hot for righteous konig in shining armor being willing to go from zero to murder when he thinks maus is a pimp

and the INDIRECT KISSING VIA THE CIGGY? UNFFFFFHHH FUCKING KILL ME NOW SO I CAN DIE HAPPY (yes i am so easily pleased, sue me)

also i shrieked when maus kicks her crotch up WITHIN SPITTING/BITING DISTANCE OF KONIG PLEASE I WOULD PAY TO WATCH THIS FEATURE LENGTH FILM????

The throbbing in his pants also suggests that he’s probably forgiven her by now as well.

*nodding sagely* yes, boners never lie

also maus slapping konig while he’s holding a knife between his teeth is big step on me queen energy

also the requital and reciprocation of the lines and actions they feed each other is just- one moment: *goes to sephora to buy more lipgloss as i ran out while giving chef’s kisses in bulk to papaver*

i love that konig is passing the time just being horny for maus, an efficient king 🫡

also when i saw gosau austria mentioned i went down a hole googling where it is/pictures and it is absolutely beautiful!!!!

I eagerly await updates papi <3

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #Cat/Mouse/Den #papaver-decervicatus #König #i accidentally wrote decervixatus when i first typed this and laughed so hard im sorry papi

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wordstome · 6 months

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so hm...does metalhead!könig play any instruments or??? 👀

(also welcome to the Peter Steele "brainrot" hope you have fun)

obviously he was taken from us way too soon and that’s tragic but in a way I’m glad he’s deceased because I’d be so fucking embarrassing about him if he were still alive

of course! I mention it in the upcoming metalhead fic, but he does play electric guitar. He’s very…good with his fingers

#Caedis of papaver-decervicatus’s Julius plays the bass #but due to various reasons #(tiktokers with sexy hands)#I chose to make Alexander a guitarist #answered #metalhead könig

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bucca2 · 9 months

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Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

#bucca writes #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Note

do you have some authors you recommend on here?? like ghost and Konig fics maybe?

Hey there!

I’m making a more detailed fic rec list soon but here are some of my favourite Ghost and König authors on tumblr (in no particular order):

Ghost

@ceilidho @luminousbeings-crudematter @yeyinde @neoarchipelago @undercoverpena

König

@papaver-decervicatus @wordstome @lycheedr3ams @gremlingottoosilly

and people whose fics, hc’s and drabbles I love:

@cookiepie111 @ivymarquis @konigsblog @deadbranch @frogchiro

also @glitterypirateduck is doing the god’s work and has amazing fic rec lists for Ghost, Gaz, etc! Heavy rec!

#fic recs #answered

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Engravings Masterlist

Completed

(Makarov x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: Mature Tags: Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapping, False Romance, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Injury/Blood, Whump, Stockholm Syndrome, Winter Soldier AU, No Fluff, Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Mind the tags (Read on Ao3) (Playlist)

Summary:

Marionette, your callsign. A name he bestowed upon you, the one who holds the strings. You’re his blade, his weapon, the arrow in his bow. You fly in the direction of his enemies, cut them down with lethal precision, feel their heartbeats stutter and still in your hands. You’re used to the scent of blood by now, arrive back to him awash in red and let him kiss it from your lips, the taste of your murder on his tongue.

You know what the others say about you. You see them as they watch you walk with him, two steps back, by his right shoulder. A designated position. If someday he were to be betrayed, shot through his spine, you know the bullet would enter you first.

You know too that you’ve accepted this.

-----

You never had reason to doubt Makarov until you find yourself cornered by a mysterious man who stares at you with wide eyes and whispers a devastating revelation

"What did he do to you?"

Chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three (Finale)

Taglist:

@writeforfandoms @alicesfracturedmirror @soapskneebrace @badame0224 @mayhem-baby @emrzennn @papaver-decervicatus @warenai @ggeveryone99 @justmare @merkitty49 @darkstars-14 @lostagoodcigar @gazs-blue-hat @siilvan @bucca2 @franticallyfanning @danjo-ao3 @scatter-mind001 @lonesome-doves @thriving-n-jiving @bucketbunny @secretliteradite @anatweyen @imagineswritersblog @bucca2 @sae1kie @preciouslittlecreature @allbark-littlebite @theallpowerfulrosami

---

Thank you for reading Engravings.

#Makarov x reader #makarov x you #Makarov x y/n #Makarov x f! Reader #mw3 #cod x reader #x reader #reader insert

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blut-s · 10 months

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Konig as described by @papaver-decervicatus 's headcanons!

it took definitely too long but i had fun! i love the ideas<3

if anyone wanted a sheet of his tattoos i photoshoped from some free pics i can share it!!!!!

#call of duty #cod fanart #cod mw2 #cod #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig #konig call of duty #konig fanart #konig cod

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ivymarquis · 7 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by @direwombat <33333 Last week but shhhhh

Tagging; @gaeadene @strangefable @g0dspeeed @socially-awkward-skeleton @deadbranch @kneelingshadowsalome @bunnyreaper @bunny-extract @papaver-decervicatus @luminousbeings-crudematter @glossythor @391780 @ceilidho

Placed under a cut!!!! (Read the fucking tags before clicking!)

Contains; Omegaverse, Ghoap x Reader, kidnapping, mentions of sex trafficking/human trafficking, illegal breeding facility things?????

They’re too excited by her scent to accept the truth.

After months of searching- hoping, praying-, Laswell (God bless her) points the bonded alphas to a facility that she believes is housing their omega.

It’s fucking vile that there are still backwater omega breeding facilities. But designation numbers are still out of balance enough that an omega is something to be cherished. Coveted, even.

And theirs was stolen.

It takes time to organize everything. As much as Ghost and Soap want to hop on a bird that fucking night and snatch her up- there’s other omegas to think about. They need to hit and hit hard in one fell swoop to knock the facility to its knees. They group with the local law enforcement and programs to help the omegas once they’ve been rescued. They don’t quite know how many there are. How many have families waiting eagerly for them to return home, or how many were exploited because they had nowhere to go home.

Ghost and Soap lead the charge. Room by room, floor by floor, they drop any hostiles without a second thought. No one other than the omegas is leaving this building alive.

Far enough into the building, they find where the omegas are housed- rooms wreaking of distress and panic; alarm having them scrambling away from the hulking alphas and hiding behind each other.

Their sense of smell tells them as each door is opened that it doesn’t contain her and they move deeper into the complex with an assurance to the omegas that they’re safe now.

Soap, the younger and more impulsive one, nearly crawls out of his skin when they catch a whiff of her down the next hallway.

Johnny either can’t or willfully won’t notice what Simon has, and it twists in his gut like a knife wound.

It takes every ounce of self discipline as they continue on room by room down the hall.

Dread and apprehension fills Simon in equal measure as Soap’s excitement and anticipation increase in him.

The door opens and Simon’s brain screams wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong-

She’s not here. Every other room houses 2-3 omegas, huddled together in fear of the strange new alphas.

She was here. Her scent lingers in the bedding, mingling with the other who stares at them, alone and petrified and without another omega to seek any comfort from.

Her scent is stale. She was here yesterday.

#as always feel free to poke me if we are muts and you wanna be included in the wip wednesday shenanigans #or tell me to fuck off if I poked you and you dont wanna #I gotta streamline this taglist lmao #fun fact I was gonna schedule this but oops #it's officially midnight! so it's wednesday!!#guess what folks I am back on my omegaverse bullshit #yeeeeeeeee haw buddy what a time to be alive #wip wednesday

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wordstome · 8 months

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Last night I did what I always do when I can’t fall asleep: think about fictional men. Here’s a list of wonderful stories written by incredibly talented people who have helped me think about fictional men by providing the most delicious playgrounds.

In the interest of keeping my recommendations brief, I'm going to talk about what I liked about the fic instead of summarizing what it's about. To know what it's actually about you're just gonna have to click through and read the fic <3

(and just in case anybody's gotten lost, this is all COD, mostly modern MW)

✦ complete ║ ➠ ongoing

König

✦Just Friends by @kneelingshadowsalome Salome is so good at capturing a very unique interplay between König’s social awkwardness and his deep, dark, nasty inclinations. He’s so feral and enjoyable to read, and the sheer force of his desire for Engel is downright intoxicating. I find it difficult to describe how much of an impact Just Friends has had on me and my portrayal of König, to be honest. There's a reason why three of Salome's fics are on this rec list.

✦Fatum Nos Iungebit by kneelingshadowsalome Five words. König with his cock out. That's it. Okay, but in all seriousness, I love his character applied to this setting. All the raw visceral violence a König could ever want, a pretty little lady in his bed—he's so boyish and happy in this au it brings me such joy. The way their relationship between him and Fee develops is so natural and so sweet. Please for the love of God read this.

➠Cat/Mouse/Den by @papaver-decervicatus The chase. The pursuit. The adrenaline when Mouse dances out of König's reach once more. I'm a little biased because I adore Julius and Jenny (I could call her Lucretia but the double J names make me giggle) as ocs already, but CMD is so, so well written. The tension, the flirting, the scene where he catches her falling out of the tree?! As I said in a reblog, I shrieked. You know when you're reading something that's so good you want to bite down on it and shake like a dog with a toy? (No? Just me?) That's how I feel about CMD.

➠Anything by @darklordofthesimp Anything, in only 7 chapters (they are hefty, don’t get me wrong), has turned König and Birdy’s dynamic from “THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IRREVERSIBLY SCARRED MY BODY AND MY BRAIN, AND I CANNOT TRUST HIM” to “these two are going to get married someday”. (author if you’re reading this, I say that not as an expectation or prediction, but as a vibe reading.) This one is for the hurt/comfort girlies. Also, shoutout to all the other stories set in the Anything-verse. Sunshine and Ghost are just soooo *grips my hand in a fist so hard it shakes*

➠If you need to be mean by @gremlingottoosilly This mostly serves as a blanket recommendation for all of Gremlin’s fics. I found If you need to be mean, and then visiting Gremlin’s author page was like opening a treasure chest. Want to be König’s pampered, (unwilling) little housewife? That’s If you need to be mean. Want a harem fic with almost all of the COD MW men? Gremlin has two, both with their own little spin to keep it fun. Do you want König to keep you in his basement or hunt you down as a serial killer? Gremlin's got it. Monsterfucker? Gremlin has that too. Special shoutout goes to 1295 kilometers. I think about fucking König on a train a lot now.

➠Break my mind by @kaiasdevotion (kaiasown on ao3) There’s no way around this. This fic has the most unhinged, kinky, downright dangerous smut I’ve read in the cod fandom so far (positive). Just Friends König is the metric by which I judge all other Königs’ nastiness, and Break my mind König is tipping so hard on the “unhinged horny violent freak (affectionate)” end of the scale he’s about to fall off. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I've developed a taste for writing/reading from König's perspective, and he's so chillingly deranged in the most controlled way possible during the chapters from his pov. Incredible writing. Chefs kiss.

✦Experimental by @uhohdad (surgeoninspace on ao3) Alright, enough of just König being nasty. He is still nasty in this one, but he’s not the only one who gets to have a little fun and be a total creep. Our little scientist here is a grade A pervert, and I was delighted the whole way through. The most important thing I need in a fic is suspension of disbelief, and Experimental takes an unrealistic, maybe a little bit silly situation and makes it so believable. Everybody reacts the way you would expect them to, even if the scenario they're in is A Lot.

➠Little Mouse and Rotes Madchen by @sprout-fics I'm combining the recommendation for these two because while they are both very much distinct, unique fics, I love them the same way. Sprout is such an engaging writer, and the internal dialogue of her characters is so well done. It reveals their personality, motivations, and internal conflicts without being overly expository. Do you guys remember that post I put on the König bible about instant obsession? It's this inexorable attraction borne from obsession that sticks me to Little Mouse like a glue trap. (Is that too morbid?)

✦Hot in Sarajevo by @50cal-fullauto Rags' König characterization post is on my Königcore bible, for very good reason. They get it. König is a feral dog forced to live as a man and loves like a total maniac, emotionally and sexually. I marked Hot in Sarajevo as complete but I don't know how many parts there are going to be, and frankly, I do want more. However, if you're going to only read one part (which. why would you do that??? read both.) I recommend the second part. I want to write love like that. Goddamn.

Ghost

Yeah, this list is a little bare bones right now. I'm gonna get back to it, I promise.

✦Anhedonia by kneelingshadowsalome The way. Salome takes the "I would take a bullet for him but he's so cold to me" premise and then flips it entirely on its head for the second part is so important to me. The way Simon craves the reader is like human catnip. I reread this fic all the time.

Keegan

✦For the Weak and Weary by @halcyone-of-the-sea Read this if you want to believe in true love. That's all. Go on now.

Multiple

✦Easy by @danibee33 When people say "I wish this were a book!" about fanfiction, they usually mean it in a "this is good enough to be published by the traditional publishing industry" way. When I say I want Easy (and Diablesa) to be a book, I mean it in a "I want to get this story bound in a beautiful ass cover and keep it on a shelf so I can take it down and reread it whenever I want" way. I don't want the traditional publishing industry to get their claws in this, because it's perfect as it is. This fic is so wild and fun, and the character moments are so special and well done. Do yourself a favor and savor this one.

➠@ghouljams's entire blog [masterlist] "What do you mean someone's entire blog" YOU HEARD ME. Those aus are some good shit. Good characterization, delicious premises, love the group effort of it all. To absolutely nobody's surprise, my favorite couple is König and Bee from the cowboy au (ditzy but well-meaning and competent in her own way woman x big strong man who is obsessed with her and maybe also creeping on her, my beloved), but I also have a fondness for Ghost and Die from demon darlings au. Trust me on this one. Dig into those masterlists babey.