#maus writes

[mausinly]

i wanna see these big scary men get all flustered, give em a taste of their own medicine

Thinking about cod men with the most s/o of all time that is just so so tender with them and is so soft and kisses them so so good just like they deserve.

Thinking about cod men with an s/o that doesn't hesitate to tell them how pretty they are and will hold and caress them in a heartbeat, watching as their big bad military man melts in their arms.

Thinking about cod men that feel tears brim their eyes as their darling cups his head in their hands, their thumbs ever so gently brushing over his cheeks as they pepper kisses all over his face.

Their s/o makes sure to kiss every scar, every blemish and imperfection, everywhere but his lips until he murmurs how much of a tease his darling is. Only for their lips to meet in the most tender, passionate kiss he's ever received in his life, followed by loving whispers in the dark of night only for him to hear.

[heartypiano]

Mornings with Luca!

notes: gn!reader, first fic of the blog! ^_^

Your phone alarm rings under your pillow, disturbing your nice sleep. Moving to reach your phone, you feel all types of warmth and comfort. The soft pillow cases, the new sheets, the heaviness of the duvet.. but wait, there's something else heavy..

Luca's been leeching on you since the start of your slumber. He's been burying his face onto your chest, you're starting to wonder how he's breathing. You can describe the view as a clingy dog that misses his owner so much. It's adorable.

After laying around for a few minutes trying to get more woken up, you try to get out of his grasp in order to start the day, but this huge guy isn't budging. "Luca, I need to make breakfast." You whisper, poking his cheek. Luca grumbles with his morning voice, "Just stay a little longer, I can make breakfast anyway.." Luca mumbles, almost hardly intelligible.

You sigh, sitting a bit up and started to scroll on social media. You had to wait for this himbo to get up from whatever dream he was enjoying so much. The curtains were slightly shambled, having some sunlight poke through it's gaps.

Seeing the light shine on your beloved looked so solemn, you're thankful for whatever you did in the past life to receive whatever this is. The man finally wakes up, yawning. He scoots more closer to you, trying to see what you're up to with your phone.

5 more minutes of lazing around, and he finally gets up. This man usually wakes up early to do a morning jog, but it's a rest day (which is probably rare). Luca yawns again, stretching and puts on a shirt and ties his hair to one little ponytail. "I'll call you once breakfast is done, honey." He says with a smile and waves goodbye to you in a kid-like manner. You waved back and sighed.

You're aware you're lucky, and you're thankful for every bit.

P.S. i write the persona; not the person behind the screen,

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 21

A/N: thank you thank you always to @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing and @kimmania for listening to endless hcs.

Beca

“Are you sure you wish to do this, Little Necromancer?”

Beca looked up at Chloe's dad and flapped her hands under her arm pits in an attempt to dry the copious moisture gathering as they waited for Cahira to let them know the rest of the vampires had arrived. At least. The ones brave enough to accept Beca's invitation to speak.

“What? Face a few hundred vampires that would probably like nothing more than to burn me at the stake?”

He gave a rumble of a grunt and stroked his braided beard thoughtfully.  She could tell he wasn't as afraid of her anymore which was a plus. Probably. Maybe.

“Yes.”

Beca shrugged and finally settled for a meandering anxious pace around the room. She really wished Chloe and Aubrey were there with her now but they had gone to check on defenses. She was pretty sure that was an intentional move to give her time alone with Chloe's parents. At least for the moment. 

How could she face hundreds of vampires if she couldn't handle facing just this one? Granted it might be easier if she hadn’t just banged his daughter like a Salvation Army drum.

Okay who was she kidding? She was definitely the drum. This time. Next time she had serious plans to be the one doing the banging. Lots and lots of banging.

Heat rose to her cheeks at Einar's intent gaze and she suddenly wondered if mind reading was a vampiric gift. If so she was screwed. 

“I'm sure.”

“May I ask why, Little Necromancer?”

She had to smile at that. There could be worse nicknames.

“Because, Big Guy, I took something from them and I should explain myself.”

“You mean apologize.”

Beca thought about that. There was expectation in his tone and nearly imperceptible shift of his attention that was meant to intimidate. The weight of his age and power flexed around her, making her bones ache. It was impressive and would have worked maybe a month ago. 

But she had seen some shit since then. She had done some shit since then. And she knew who she was now. Love hummed through her bond and she stopped her pacing and faced him directly, unafraid. She didn't bother to call up her power to push back, it wasn't necessary. Her conviction that she had done the right thing was enough to straighten her spine.

“I did what I did to save Aubrey. I'm not going to apologize for that. If they don't like it, tough tits. All I can do is explain how dire it was and hope they'll respect that.”

“Respect or fear?”

It was a valid question and she gave herself a moment to honestly answer without her usual sarcasm.

“If I wanted them to fear me I wouldn't bother to explain why I had to do what I did. I didn't want to hurt anyone but to protect or save Aubrey and Chloe I will be ruthless if I have to.”

Einar's power receded in a slow pull and she felt her spine release tension it had been holding. The door opened and Cahira stepped in with a brow raised in question.

“Husband?”

“There is no lie in her words. The Necromancer speaks truly. She meant only to save the Queen.”

“And?”

Beca looked back and forth between them in confusion. She wasn't entirely certain what was happening but Einar let out a great sigh and slumped his shoulders in resignation. 

“I'm sorry I doubted you, Wife, moon of my heart, she who is beauty, grace and wisdom. I am a turd.”

Cahira's lips curled into a satisfied grin and she held out an impatient hand until Einar fished a bronze coin out of his pocket and slapped it into her hand.

“Thank you, Husband.” Cahira tugged gently on Einar's beard until he bowed his tall frame to meet her lips in a soft kiss. She released him and faced Beca. “Do close your mouth dear, they'll think you're damaged.”

Beca's mouth snapped closed with a click and she blinked several times trying to process what she had witnessed.

“Okay wait. What's happening right now?”

“Oh this?” She held up the coin and laughed. “Einar and I have been winning this back from each other for a thousand years. A game of ours.”

“And you make him say that every time??”

“You should hear what I have to say when he wins.”

Her laugh was musical and light and Beca was pretty sure Chloe’s dad had just fallen in love with her all over again if his expression was any indication. She could see where Chloe got it from. 

These were not the vampires she understood. These were real people that loved and laughed. They weren't monsters. And neither were any of the people she needed to address. They were just people. Powerful people with the abilty to do alarming and fucked up things. But still capable of being so much more than the things that go bump in the night.

“Wow. Okay. So are the vamps all here?”

“They are. Are you ready to address them?”

“I guess. I mean. Yeah. Yes. Yes I'm ready.”

“Come, Beca. Einar and I will be by your side. Chloe and the Queen will be back shortly. Unless you would prefer to wait?”

She wanted to wait. If only for the support she knew she would have. Beca took a deep breath and shook her head. No. She needed to do this herself. Besides who was going to give her lip with the Big Guy looming over her shoulder?

“Let's do this.”

Something glittered in Cahira's eyes. Something like…pride? Beca wasn't sure but she felt like she was doing the right thing. Einar opened the door in the far wall and gestured for her to go first. If she expected a hallway or a buffer between herself and the other vampires she was disappointed. 

Beca found herself on a raised platform with more vampires than she had expected staring up at her. Some with curiosity,  some with hostility, most with barely concealed fear.

“Oh boy.”

She looked back at Chloe's parents nervously then back to the waiting mass. She brought one hand up in a tentative wave and seriously reconsidered her choices the last five minutes.

“Hey. So, I'm Beca.”

There was nothing. Absolute dead silence. They stared at her and she stared at them. Neither one was sure who was the predator and who was the prey. She sighed heavily and the vampires closest to the platform eased back. 

“Okay this…this isn't going to work.” She walked to the edge of the platform and dropped the few feet to be on their level. “Look, guys, you don't have to be afraid of me. I don't want to hurt anyone here.”

Some skittered back. A few held their ground. One pushed forward with mistrust blazing in her almond shaped eyes. Beca held her ground and waited for the unmistakable swirl of power to crest over her as Einar's had done but it never came. Or rather, it wasn't as expected. 

Power lapped up at her, batting gently like a gentle wave. The trailing edge of it tried to stick and cling to her, trying to find a way to overwhelm and influence her but it was too weak and crumbled away like sand with just the slightest push back from her.

Beca frowned when the woman backed up several paces in fear. A few of the nearest vampires that had stood their ground shifted away. She was getting nowhere and fast.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

Repeating it wasn’t likely to change their minds and she realized it. 

“You have already done so, Necromancer.”

She looked for the voice in the crowd that had spoken. Bodies parted to allow a vampire in a heavy cloak to limp forward in an awkward shuffle. He was ancient. Maybe even older than Aubrey but there was something wrong with him.

Her head tipped to the side and she reached up to push the hood of the cloak down. Wisps of brittle white hair fell from an already nearly bald pate. Pale waxy skin stretched translucently over high planed cheekbones and a strong jaw. If she had thought the vampires were scared of her, they were absolutely terrified of this one.

Whispers of verskret hissed through the crowd as they backed even further away. She knew that word. Cursed. 

“Who are you?”

“You may call me Athan. Do you deny what you have done, Necromancer?”

Beca was fascinated by the power she could feel seeping from him without even conscious effort. But none of it was directed at her. 

“No. I did that. I took from all of you and I would do it again if I had to. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone but because the need was seriously fucking desperate.”

“And what could you have so desperately needed with all of us?”

“To heal me. And believe me it was out of desperate need. True death was upon me, I was past the point of healing myself.”

Beca had been so drawn by the vampire in front of her she hadn’t even noticed Aubrey and Chloe’s appearance. A cool hand closed lightly around her wrist and graceful fingers twined loosely with her own. 

Chloe's simple touch grounded her and she shook away the thrall of power. Athan's gaze sharpened on her but he didn't push his power. He simply stood there assessing her. His soft hazel eyes drifted away from Beca and over to Aubrey.

“And what could have brought one such as yourself to the brink of death, My Queen?”

Chloe stepped forward, her hand still clasped with Beca's. “The sun, Athan. After full submersion and fresh blood she was still burning from the inside out.”

There were hushed whispers and soft hisses of remembered pain at Chloe's description. The sun was a foe every vampire feared more than anything else. Even curses and necromancers. Athan turned back to look at Beca again, more speculative than before.

“Why would you do that?”

“A lot of reasons. I think Aubrey is necessary in breaking the Council. I think she is honorable and genuinely hates the system of abuse we all suffer under and can make it better. But mostly just because I love her.”

Beca turned her attention to Aubrey and held out her free hand which the blonde took without hesitation. Power pulsed through the room in time with her heart beat and Athan brought a withered hand to his chest with a staggered step forward.

Her power curled around him and caressed his aura making Athan gasp drop to his knees. He looked up at her and reached a trembling hand to her and then pulled it back fearfully and pulled up his hood to hide away from her.

“If what you say is true, and I now believe that it is, then I understand. So should we all.”

He started to ease back into the crowd and Beca felt compelled to stop him. Her magic stretched out to him again wanting to explore and understand his condition.

“Wait! Please don't go.”

The aged vampire turned his head but she couldn’t see his face in the depths of the hood.

“If you think to break this curse, you cannot. Many have tried, all have failed.”

He turned away and slipped through the ranks and this time Beca let him. Now wasn't the time for that but she made a mental note to talk to Chloe and Aubrey about it later.

Vampires stared at her and she stared back. There wasn't much more she could say. It was up to them now, but she suspected Athan's opinion would go a long way in her favor.

“So…we good?”

There wasn't a resounding cheer of support but she didn't expect there to be. It was enough that many of them nodded agreement. Beca let out a deep sigh of relief and looked gratefully back at Chloe when arms slipped around her waist.

“Tough crowd.”

“Hm.”

“This isn't settled yet is it?”

The vampire gave a slight shake of her head, sending soft red curls tumbling over her shoulder. 

“No but we don't have time to coddle them. If we survive what's coming we can try again.  For now, leave them to Aubrey and come with me.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“To make out, silly.”

Now that was a plan she could get behind. Beca gave their blonde a glance and found her already addressing questions from some of the vampires assembled. Aubrey turned her head and caught her gaze with a quick wink. 

“You sure we shouldn't stay and help?”

“Nah, she'll meet us at the garage in a few. Right now I wanna be on you.”

“Well I do hate to disappoint the ladies so I'm in. Let's go.”

[sprout-fics]

I MISSED THE CALL FOR THOTS I HOPE IM NOT TOO LATE

Konig turning into a blubbering drooling mess from edging👀 reader (or Maus) really vibing with this new power and pushing some more until he eventually snaps. Real quick 180

Yeah remember how I just said Maus is a freak-

“M-Maus, bitte-!!” He cries as he arches off the mattress, and you can see tears in his eyes, hips bucking uselessly as he searches for friction but finds none. His chest heaves, arms bulging as he strains to keep his hands on the headboard. You didn’t bother with restraints, told him you trusted him to follow orders like a good soldier. 

Now you sit back on your haunches, admire your handiwork. König's chest is smeared with his own cum, his first load a mistake on your part, thinking he could hold off a little longer, only for his sudden orgasm to nearly shoot you in the eye as you licked a broad stripe across the underside of his cock. 

“Please, what? Little prince?” You ask, honey-sweet, warm and dripping as you tilt your head coyly up at him, watching his sweat slicked chest rise and fall with shuddering breaths. 

König whimpers.

“P-please let me cum.” He manages, voice strained, arms bulging as his hands flex, a white-knuckled grip on the iron bars of his bed. 

“Oh~” You coo at him, pouting, and he makes a little noise between a frustrated grunt and a whimper. “But you already came once, sweetheart. Without permission too…”

“I-I’m sorry.” He hiccups, face flushing a lovely shade of pink that has you catching your lips between your teeth. “I want…want to cum, please-!”

“Not yet.” You reply in turn, and relish his shudder when you switch the vibrator back on, touch it with the barest hint of contact to his weeping cockhead. 

The effect is instantaneous. König's voice rises high and needy, spine arching off the bed beautifully as his cock twitches. His voice is a litany of pleas as you stroke him idly with one hand and press the vibrator more firmly against the tip of his cock. His hips buck automatically, and it’s enough to make you pull away as he cries out in protest. 

“You need to behave, baby.” You tell him, unable to keep the huskiness out of your voice, the breathless desire that robs air from your lungs. 

“Please.” König says again, firmer, and you arch an eyebrow at his change in tone. 

“Oh?” You ask idly, thumb smearing across his tip. “Who’s in charge here, little prince?”

König's eyes fasten on yours, and you blink at the sudden change there, the shift between docile and wanting to suddenly fixated, hungry.

He moves faster than you can stop him, snarling as he surges up, flips you easily underneath him, taking your hands and hauling them above your head, vibrator and all. He easily dwarfs you, hovering over your smaller form as he growls, primal and needy, his cock jutting against your thigh before he shifts, aligns himself and splits you on his cock, swallowing your cry with his lips.  “Me.” He growls. “I’m in charge.”

[haeseolar]

it's no coincidence, it's a kitty-incidence

for @mau-month day 12 - kink: pet play 😺, foot stuff

summary:

“You don’t like your paws being touched?” Kinn asks, his voice thick and deep. It sends shivers through Porsche, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. Kinn watches him, contemplating, and brings his other hand up to curve around his heel, the one holding his ankle moving to pinch his toe instead.  Porsche makes a sad, wounded noise, overwrought and sensitive from the teasing. Kinn hums, “I guess they are quite a sensitive part of cats.” “‘m not a cat,” Porsche slurs, his tongue too heavy for his mouth.

kinnporsche / rated E, 1.9k words

Porsche feels winded partially lying on his back, propped up on his elbows and legs splayed wide so Kinn can fit himself in between them as he comes up to the edge of the bed. He feels petty, spiteful, full of humiliation from wearing a damned collar and fluffy cat ears, and before he can stop himself from acting out, he kicks his leg out and Kinn comes to a sudden stop, Porsche’s foot planted squarely on his chest.

Kinn’s eyebrows raise, clearly not expecting Porsche to misbehave, sure of the fact that he’d already broken him down and bullied the fight out of him. Porsche is anything but a quitter, though. He feels ridiculous, dolled up and - he can’t even say it in his head, can’t even fathom the words Kinn has been feeding directly into his ears, the way his fingers have left imprints of their reverence and want in his skin so much that it feels like he’s burning from the inside out with the knowledge.

“Do you think this will stop me?” Kinn asks, grabbing a hold of his ankle. The grip is tight, unforgiving, and cruel.

Porsche wants to bare his teeth in defiance, but he holds back, not wanting to add any more fuel to the fire when it comes to feline characteristics, so he just clenches his jaw instead. It aches, his teeth feeling like they’re shifting in their places with the pressure on them. It stops him from hurling choice words at Kinn for now, at least, or voicing just how much he’s enjoying this despite how much he hates it.

The silence stretches on, Porsche not willing to give up for a second, and Kinn waiting for him to move his foot on his own accord. Porsche knows Kinn would immediately let go if he felt him retreating, but he doesn’t, so the fingers around his ankle get even tighter, digging in until he completes a circle around it. He feels his pulse thump in his foot, his circulation restricted.

They’re at a stalemate, standing off as they stare at each other with calculating eyes, waiting for the other to make the first move. Porsche feels stuck, undecided on if he’s ready to completely give into this new thing they have, or hit the brakes for a bit. He wishes his brain would shut off already, but he can see the ridiculous white frilly socks he’s got on, the colour contrasting with the dark shirt Kinn is wearing from where it’s still planted on his chest, and he feels like he can’t let go just yet. 

He hates how he doesn’t hate it. He hates how all he wants is to sink into the feeling and indulge in the way Kinn wants him, even looking like this. The bell on his collar jingles as he shifts, pressing his foot more into Kinn’s chest, the sound of it breaking the thick tension between them. The pink paw pads printed on the bottom of his socks crinkle with the movement, and that sound alone is almost enough to get his hackles up again. Porsche holds his breath, keeping those roiling emotions at bay, realising that Kinn is waiting patiently for him to decide, giving him the time and space to do so.

Something in his chest finally cracks, his bottom lip trembling with splitting his desire open so clearly, and he breathes out. The tinkling of the bell this time is hypnotising as he moves again, but this time it’s to curl his toes, catching on the fabric of Kinn’s shirt. 

It’s permission, and Porsche sees the second when Kinn realises it. His expression softens, settling into something more relaxed rather than on edge, and Kinn moves his foot for him. But instead of pushing it away like he assumed, he pulls it higher and higher, until the tips of his toes brush against his lips, and then even higher still. Porsche’s heart jackrabbits in his chest, his breaths getting shorter as it feels like the collar around his neck is constricting his airflow until he’s barely breathing at all when Kinn’s tongue flicks out at his heel, the feeling of it over the thin cotton of his socks makes his whole leg jerk and his stomach bottom out.

“Kinn!” Porsche gasps, unable to hold back any longer. He squirms at the tickling sensation - it’s not like anything he’s felt before, like an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s as if it’s connected directly to his cock as it twitches within the confines of his panties while waves of heat wash over him. 

Kinn hums against his skin, the vibrations rippling down his leg and reverbing around his body. Porsche can’t look away, not even to blink, even though his eyes are watering from pleasure. 

He worries that he might kick Kinn in the face, but he’s holding onto his ankle so tightly that it doesn’t budge in the end. Once again, Porsche has no power, forced to just lie down and let Kinn do whatever he wants. Each lick and nip Kinn leaves on the sole of his foot as he works his way up makes his calf muscles jump, the place behind his navel tugs dangerously, and his hips twitch. It’s not just his body he can’t control now, it’s his voice: whimpers and mewls spill from his lips, his eyelashes fluttering with each sound. 

Kinn grazes his bottom teeth across the arch of his foot, the drag of the sock and his hot breath makes his spine curve upwards, his mouth dropping open so wide, a moan caught in his throat. It’s the wrong move - it shifts the butt plug inside him, forcing it to press down harder on his prostate.

His whole body jolts as if shocked by electricity, throwing his head back as his arms finally give out from holding him up as he collapses onto the bed. Porsche’s brain fizzes out, his skin buzzing with static as he loses himself in angling his hips down to nudge the plug inside him as Kinn continues working, clutching at the bedsheets just for something to hold onto. He knows he can’t touch himself, even though he’s desperate to get a hand around his cock or even palm over it just to feel the scratch of the lace over his length. But he also knows that if he did, Kinn would stop – pulling away and leaving him there with nothing but the disappointed set of his mouth. That scares him more than anything, so he hangs onto the sheets like a lifeline and rides each wave and pulse of arousal that shoots through him. 

 

Porsche can’t help it when his toes begin to curl, hooking over Kinn’s bottom teeth, his mouth open and trying to get enough air in that saliva begins to slide out the sides of his lips, pooling in his hairline and making it feel even stickier than it already was with sweat. He can’t tell if it’s too much - if the way Kinn’s hand around his ankle is too tight, too hot, too heavy, or if it’s the only thing keeping him anchored down to earth. 

Mournful noises begin to filter out, dazed and caught between wanting too many things while not getting enough at the same time, but still, Kinn doesn’t stop; if anything he just doubles down – tongue pushing in between his toes as his lips close around the tops of them to suck. The material of the sock is so thin already, and with the added saliva, it’s practically translucent. Porsche’s panties aren’t any better off, ruined and stained, coated in his own pre-come and copious amounts of lube that soaked through the heart-shaped cut out in the back.

Kinn bites as if sensing that Porsche is hanging on by a thread, and he groans in pain. He should find it gross - he’s worn these socks in the bathroom, and then across the plush carpet of their bedroom, but Kinn’s eyes are hooded and impossibly glassy as they stay zeroed in on his face. Each pass of his tongue and graze of teeth tickles, sending thrills through him. It feels like it’s something dirty, something that feels against the rules to like so much, but he does, and that fills him with even more excitement - the type that floods him with shame, prickles at his cheeks and makes more beads of pre-come gather at the tip of his cock.

The sound of when Kinn pulls away from his mouth away from his foot is filthy, and along with his lips swollen and red, thin threads of spit still join them, keeping them connected even with the distance. Porsche has to bite down on his bottom lip so hard that it feels like it’s bleeding to stop himself from coming on the spot. Kinn’s eyes are blown out, his chest heaving just as much as Porsche’s is, his hair mussed and ruined beyond saving, worn and frayed around the edges as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing as his eyes rake over Porsche still splayed out on the bed.

“You don’t like your paws being touched?” Kinn asks, his voice thick and deep. It sends shivers through Porsche, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. Kinn watches him, contemplating, and brings his other hand up to curve around his heel, the one holding his ankle moving to pinch his toe instead. 

Porsche makes a sad, wounded noise, overwrought and sensitive from the teasing.

Kinn hums, “I guess they are quite a sensitive part of cats.”

“‘m not a cat,” Porsche slurs, his tongue too heavy for his mouth.

Kinn raises an eyebrow at him, his eyes drawn down to the tail that’s draping limply over the edge of the mattress, catching on his ruined panties as he moves them back up to the pastel pink collar fitted snugly around his neck, and then to the pair of ears on top of his head before he finally meets Porsche’s gaze again.

Porsche feels a whole new wave of humiliation redden his cheeks and heighten his temperature at Kinn’s stare, knowing exactly how much his words contradict his appearance. He wants to hide, bury under the covers and call off this whole thing, but -

“You’re so pretty, Porsche,” Kinn’s earlier words echo in his head, his ears ringing. He’d seen Kinn look at him with a multitude of emotions, but the one he had on his face when Porsche first stepped out of the bathroom after getting changed was unlike anything before. He feels that rush again just remembering it: that high, the way he can feel himself preening, wanting to show off and let Kinn experience how lucky he is, how good he has it with Porsche, that the endless depth of desperation comes roaring back to life in him.

Kinn takes his silence as continued resilience, his eyes narrowing down at Porsche and pinning him to the bed with that alone. His muscles seize up, joints locking as his breath catches in his throat with the intensity of it. 

“A pity,” Kinn says simply, his voice terrifyingly neutral as he drops Porsche’s leg, letting it fall back down onto the bed as if he’s discarding him, “I was looking forward to you hearing you meow again.”

Porsche has nothing to lose anymore, nothing at all, and if doing that one small thing is what it takes, he’ll do it.

“Meow,” The sound is off-pitch, cracking in the middle, his mouth drier than ever, his head feeling like scribbles on a piece of paper. 

---------

if enough people like this, i'll write a whole fic for it! ^^ but for now it's just this scene hehe. lmk what you think on here, or on twitter! 🥰

[pan-de-queer]

excerpts of the wips to make it easy for y'all to choose:

three words said through a million more

Kara ended the call and turned to grab her suit, instantly freezing at the sight that met her. Memories of the night before started coming back to her at the sight of one Lena Luthor rubbing sleepily at the corner of her eye.

Kara had invited Lena over for a movie night, arguing that it was a Friday and Lena didn't need to go into L-Corp early (or at all) the next day so they could marathon a trilogy before she went home. They'd ordered from Kara's favorite Chinese takeout place and Lena had brought dessert before they'd sat down and watched the Terminator movies, Kara's own pick of the week after her friend had shared how she'd never watched a "robot movie" before. Suffice to say, Lena did not go home.

2. hanahaki au

The first time Lena thought Kara might be able to love her back was when Maggie had arrested her.

While she was used to false accusations and surname-biased condemnation, she was not used to anyone standing up for her.

Lena’s spent her entire life having to fight for herself. From the moment she left Ireland to the day she lost Lex, Lena’s learned the hard way to never rely on anyone but herself.

Even when Kara seemed like she was fishing for answers, she’d stopped all her grilling just to defend Lena’s integrity.

It’s one of the things Lena first learned to appreciate about Kara—how she was willing to set aside tough conversations and disagreements to put their friendship first. To put Lena first.

She’s never had anyone put her first.

3. soulmate au

In the darkness and difficulty of being raised in the Luthor household, there were very few things Lena could rely on.

She had her wits. Her brain was one of the few things she could always trust. It’s why she worked so hard on keeping her thoughts sharp and ready—always waiting for the next problem she’d need to fix or person she’d need to impress (or not disappoint, in Lillian’s case).

She had Lex. Her brother loved her. He was a constant in the ever-changing sea of Lena’s life. She knew that if there was ever a problem she couldn’t solve, Lex would be there to teach her or encourage her to keep trying. She never had to impress Lex because he always reminded her that someday, she could be the best of them.

And when those two things didn’t help, well, she had her soul mark.

The two little promises wrapped comfortingly around her right hip.

Promises of a future where she wasn’t lonely or used. A future with someone who’d stand beside her and protect her from all the darkness being a Luthor has let into her life.

Two promises she swore to return once she finally met her soulmate.

4. ph uni au

Alex called her stupid.

More accurately, she called her a bobong baby bakla. And though Kara argued that she was actually using a great deal of scientific method in her approach, Alex didn't care. All her sister found both amusing and furstrating was the lengths Kara's decided to go through to find her "mystery girl." A woman who wasn't even really a mystery! Kara knew her name was Lena, she was an international student from the USA, her ID showed that she was from DLSU, and she was leaving campus on a Friday. That narrows down her search by quite a bit, thank you very much, Alex! Now, she just needed to put her deduction skills to use and see if she could find her.

bobong baby bakla = stupid baby gay

[themandylion]

Fic or Treat! 🎃 Jaytim Halloween themed photo shoot? Maybe ghost/pumpkin heads?

(Something for Tales from the House of Mau.)

Jason is in the middle of photographing the pumpkin Sin and Charlie carved for Knight & Page when smoke begins pouring from between its jagged teeth.

"Stop that. You'll set off the sprinklers."

"The composition is all wrong," the pumpkin grumbles.

"Light sources do not have a say when it comes to promo photos," Jason snaps. "You can either be quiet and stick to smokeless flame or I run to the store for a pack of electric tea lights." 

"This is anti-dragon propaganda," Tim gripes.

"You volunteered. Now fix your flame so I can finish up here and pay my candle."

[danzinora-switch]

Rolling into Part 2 of Things Change! We take a look at how Leo and Donnie are both doing. Eccentric studying and body-learning do not come naturally to the other, after all.

[day0walker]

I wasn’t gonna post this on my main blog bc I wrote it for fun but then I was like hmmm this is actually good mini smut even if it isn’t fanfic lol cw for spitting in a guys mouth and also making him cry

“You have a terrible fucking accent.”

“Like yours is better? What are you from fucking K-Kans--Kansas--fuck.”

Her hips slide again, forward, his cock trapped between his flat stomach and her body. God she’s so warm. So soft there, parted just enough for him to feel the wet heat she’s not giving him. It makes him moan, a low reverberating sound from deep in his chest and he despises that she’s pulling these sounds from him. Making his body writhe under her like this.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” he snarls. She’d gotten his hands tied up tight above his head, to the wooden headboard slats and no matter how much he twists, jerks, struggles, the supple and soft rope just tightens.

“I don’t believe that,” Mouse says, her smile menacingly gentle as she slides her hands up his chest and oh fuck she’s gliding across him. Xavier’s eyes flutter close, whole back arching up because he’s so desperate to be inside her, to feel her around his cock, tight and warm.

“Please,” he whispers, pants up into the air, chest heaving. “Please, Mouse, holy shit--please.”

She grasps his chin, leans over him, head tilted. She looks predatory. He knows in contrast how pathetic and weak he looks compared to her. Flushed all over his pale, freckled body, God, he can practically feel the tears brimming up in his eyes because she’s just grinding. She’s just making him feel her, his thick cock swollen with the need (hate you, hate you, hate you, his heart is beating in tandem with the please I need you, I need you, I need you).

“I love how pretty you are, Xavier.” And she squeezes his cheeks, parts his lips and the spit from her mouth oozes into his and Christ. How shameful. How embarrassing, but he drinks it. And when he does that’s when she finally lifts her hips but he doesn’t even get to enter her before he’s cumming, thick ropes of it smearing across her entrance.

“God damn it,” he snaps, head leaned back, feeling his whole body tighten with the orgasm, shivering up his spine. He breathes out, labored, eyes closed because he can’t look at the woman who just made him cum with her spit in his mouth.

They snap open anyway when her mouth swallows him down to clean him off and Jesus Christ. Holy hell. He’s never going to survive the night with her.

[kittimau]

Troubled Water

by kittimau

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Fandom: Star Wars Prequels / The Clone Wars

Relationship: Anakin Skywalker / Obi-Wan Kenobi

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Alien Character(s)

Additional Tags: Slightly Unreliable Narrator Anakin Skywalker, Fix-It of Sorts, Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Huddling For Warmth, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Praise Kink, Competence Kink, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, Sexual Tension, The inherent homoeroticism of swordfighting, Friends to Lovers, Dom/sub Undertones, Force Bond, The Love is Requited They're Just Idiots, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Anakin Skywalker is a Disaster, Anakin Has ADHD, Dramatic Anakin, BAMF Anakin & Obi-Wan, Protective Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan Kenobi Is Bad At Feelings, Anakin & Obi-Wan are Chaos Gremlins, Disaster Lineage, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending

Summary: Brother, mentor, friend, partner... Obi-Wan is many things to Anakin. A source of companionship, knowledge, strength, comfort, and—as the years pass and war spreads across the galaxy—so much more.

Link to Ao3

[karvakera]

random oc doodles I have that no one asked for 😼

[mausinly]

I think the biggest part about being in a relationship with Nikto is that you help him relearn things about himself, about his body and his mind. It takes a bit, but somehow, you convince him to let you touch him. It would have been easier if it had been for sex. That's mindless and instinctual enough for him not to worry about. He could have sex with you, no problem (lie).

But no. This was a different touch. Instead of pushing his pants down, your hands carefully push his shirt up, just under his chest. You don't make any moves to pull it off, just keeps it there as your fingers trace along his torso. The pads of your fingers feel each dip and muscle and he tries not to shiver when your nails ghost over his scars.

It's about the sensations. It's about finding all the latches and hooks that hold him together and letting you pull him apart. You pull back his layers and teach yourself about every gear and wire, every muscle and tendon. Then you put him back together exactly as he was. You didn't want to fix him. You wanted to know him

Your deft hands cradle his head, lips kiss across his mangled face as you whisper the most foreign, loving, painful words to him.

Something about the way you hold him makes him feel small. Sometimes, he doesn't want to be big. Sometimes, he'll humor you and let you pull him into your lap. He's such a behemoth, but the way your hands squeeze his hips as you grin up at him makes him feel precious, like a prized pet to be pampered.

It'll take a while, but he'll be a lapdog if you want him to be. Do you want him to bark? Beg on his knees? You've worshipped him, let him worship you more.

[heartypiano]

» RULES «

✓ | will write: fluff, angst, nsfws, drabbles, hcs ⨉ | won't write: watersports, p3dophelia, non con (cnc ok!)

block if uncomfy!

if you're a minor coming across my nsfw content, i have nothing to do with you, its your choice to read or not. you are warned in the beginning of my content.

do not force any kind of reader type (male!reader, female!reader, etc.), you may request but please ask nicely.

if i have done anything wrong, feel free to tell me!

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 18

A/N: It's been awhile for this one. I was a little bit kinda sorta life threateningly sick so I had some time to complete this. Thank you as always to @chloes-yellow-cup and @kimmania for listening to the hcs that eventually become real stories. i love you awesome nerds.

18 Aggression Factor

“Jesus, this is a fucking nightmare.”

Aubrey nodded her agreement at the thought and leaned back in her seat. The leather creaked softly, the only counterpoint to Beca's soft comment. They had gone to the docks, and on the surface in the full light of day everything appeared on the up and up. But just a little digging after business hours had uncovered a nest of nastiness that she didn't yet know what to do with.

“We have to do something Aubrey. We can't just let all those women suffer. Some of them were just girls…”

Aubrey didn't say anything for a long time. She was sickened by what she and Beca had seen. But it all made sense now. Everything that Weston had been involved in was suddenly and disgustingly clear. Weston had been using his connections with the Russian mob to traffick women as play things for the rich and elite.

“We can free them all tonight. But then Roman and his crew close down shop here and open up somewhere else.”

“They're going to do that anyway now that they've killed Grant's kid. The kid was nothing to them or his father. By morning all those girls will be shipped and held somewhere else.”

And if Beca were to go to her superiors now she would sidelined by the wheels of bureaucracy before anyone could save those women. Her thumbs tapped lightly on the steering wheel as she turned the problem over in her head. She couldn't see any way to help the innocent victims immediately that would stop the operation entirely. She had to choose. Save who she could now or let them and countless others suffer until she and Beca could maybe find a way to dismantle an entire organization and see that justice was served to the people behind it all. 

“All those rich pricks are going to get off scott free from this, aren't they?”

Detective Mitchell looked away and sighed deeply. It bothered her as much as it bothered Aubrey. When they had started this working arrangement it had been because Aubrey wanted someone on the Force that was in her pocket. In truth it could have been any cop, and quite a few that had less compunction about taking her money to look the other way. But she had needed Beca Mitchell in particular.

It had been late when Beca had pulled into the big bay doors of the abandoned warehouse. But dead of night seemed about right for whatever was about to happen. She pulled the rusted old Nova into a cleared space and got out of the car warily. 

Happy and Lilly were stood menacingly and armed to either side of a seated figure lost half in shadow. Somehow Aubrey managed to be the most terrifying of them all, calmly waiting for Beca's arrival with the patience of a large predator. Smoke curled in a lazy tendril around Aubrey’s head and she casually dropped the butt of her cigarette to the floor and ground it out with her shoe as she rose.

“Did you bring him?”

“In the trunk. It'll be a miracle if he survived carbon monoxide poisoning back there. I think the catalytic converter fell off this bucket somewhere on Imperial.”

Aubrey nodded and Happy and Lilly moved to pull their guest out of the trunk of Beca’s unmarked police car. She put a hand into her suit jacket and pulled out an envelope of cash and tossed it to the Detective. Beca caught it and counted the cash half distracted by the none too gentle way her cargo was being dragged and strapped to a dusty work table.

“So look. I know the deal here. You make moves and I follow them. In the end I make some money and really shitty people get what they deserve. I'm oddly on-board with meting out punishment in non legal ways when its due. But this guy? He's nothing. Some B&E, some minor theft. A bar fight. On paper this guy is no one.”

And she had looked. Beca might be okay with playing things a little loose with the law for Aubrey but she wasn't going to do it blindly. She had pulled Mervin Evans’ jacket and read through his past charges before she picked him up and shoved him into her trunk. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't horrible either.

The blonde glanced away from Mervin and pinned Beca with a cold stare. She wasn't afraid of Posen exactly, but she was a fan of exercising caution around an unpredictable variable. Asking too many questions could easily land her on the table next to Mervin.

“On paper you're an officer of the law and I'm a hardworking, law abiding, businesswoman.”

“Touche.”

Aubrey slid the suit jacket from her shoulders and hung it neatly from a hanger. There was a deliberateness about the way the other woman removed her cufflinks and watch and placed them in the pocket of her jacket. Beca swallowed hard when Aubrey rolled up the sleeves on her shirt and strode to the table with echoing steps. 

“You can leave now, Detective. The kitchen is gonna get hot.”

Beca narrowed her eyes at the subtle challenge. Okay sure watching Aubrey tug on leather gloves before picking up a thin steel bar and hefting it lightly in hand was alarming. But if she left now without questioning this was she really the person she thought she was? 

“You implying I can't hack the job?”

Aubrey chuckled softly and placed the bar on the table near Mervin's head. For the most part he had been sort of out of it, too many bumps in the road on the way over. He groaned and his head lolled to the side. He just stared at the bar for a moment in dazed confusion before recognition dawned on him and he started to struggle. Happy slapped him hard a few times to settle him and Beca shifted uncomfortably.

“I'm not implying anything. I'm out right telling you. You ain't got it, kid. Now beat it before you realize how dirty your hands really are.”

Whether she meant to or not Aubrey had issued a challenge that Beca couldn't ignore. She had to take a stand one way or the other. Even if it might get her killed.

“I need to know what he did, Posen. He's too small of a fish in our great big pond to deserve whatever it is you're planning.”

Aubrey picked up a torch striker and gave it an experimental squeeze to text the way it sparked. She nodded in approval before using it to point at a wide eyed and gagged Mervin.

“You're right. He's a little fish, but he's no Nemo. He's a remora.”

“Wait. Like those fish that eat shark leftovers or whatever? Where the fuck is this going?”

Aubrey lit the acetylene torch standing at the head of the table with the striker. Mervin jumped and tried to struggle but the straps around his body held him fast. She was methodical about the way she heated the end of the bar, leaving the fire on the tip until it glowed a white hot.

“Hm. Something like that. Remoras feed on shit. And this little shit eating fishie is feeding from a shark I don't want in my water.”

“I'm guessing we aren't talking a cute friendly reef shark.”

Aubrey inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. Beca was used to seeing the action and knew that the person she respected most was about to do something that she felt needed to be done. Aubrey was violent and practical to brutality but it was never without a reason. When she opened her eyes and looked at Beca there was a hollow void where most people had a soul. 

“Someone is taking women from MY streets. Teenagers, Mitchell. Young women are being stolen and sold and this stronzo, this oh so little fish, is the one finding them for his master. And do you know what he does to them? He brands them so they know who they belong to. And now I'm going to mark him.”

Aubrey raised the brand and moved to bring it close to Mervin's arm. Only Beca's shaking hand on her wrist stopped her. 

“Wait…wait…”

Whatever was going on in the Detective's head was a struggle Aubrey did not envy. Her job was simple. She did what she needed to and she didn't have to play by anyone's rules but her own. Mitchell on the other hand lived with a foot in two worlds, there were lines she couldn't cross with the same ease Aubrey did. 

Lines she shouldn't cross because she had people in her life that would never understand. Detective Mitchell had a family. Brothers and sisters and two of the most loving people as parents that chose Beca and saved her from a life in the system. Aubrey had done her research on Beca long before she ever approached her. She knew all her triggers and all her secrets. She knew them all and played on them to get what she wanted. Just like she was playing on that now. 

“Are you asking me to spare him? Do you think he spared those girls he stole and hurt? Do you think if I let him  go now he'll stop and change his ways and never touch another person's daughter…or sister?”

The look in Beca's eyes was terrible to behold. A leviathan of disgusted rage rose in the deep blue depths and if Aubrey were being honest, she was proud to see it and bothered that she had to be the one to invoke it. Hate boiled beneath the surface when Beca gripped the brand in her own hand and pressed it down with a scream on Mervin's forehead. 

Aubrey felt nothing as she watched him writhe and howl in pain behind his gag. She felt nothing when Mitchell flung the brand away and staggered drunkenly to the door outside to retch on the hard black macadam lot. She gave Mervin a disinterested look and nodded to Happy and Lilly to finish the work. They would without question or conscience and she appreciated that.

But it wasn't what she needed.

Aubrey stepped outside and knelt by Beca heaving on all fours. She reached out a tentative hand to rub the other woman's back soothingly and wasn't surprised to be shrugged off. She had pushed too far. Beca tried to scramble away, tears running down her face freely but Aubrey gathered her as easily as a child and held her while she struggled with what she had just done.

“I'm sorry Mitchell. Sorry I goaded you into it because I didn't like being questioned. Because I felt like a point needed to be made.”

“I'm gonna hork again.”

Aubrey eased away and let Beca rise on shaky feet. The way the Detective looked at her would haunt her at night when she was alone and the horrors of her life replayed themselves on repeat. Anyone else would have looked away from the accusation and revulsion. Aubrey stared back, evenly, accepting who and what she was now. She hadn’t always been this. Once it had affected her too.

“I threw up my first time too.”

“Jesus Christ, Posen. This work is fucking evil. The people that do this are fucking evil.”

You're fucking evil.

Beca didn't say it. She didn't have to. Aubrey rose and brushed the dirt off her neatly pressed slacks. Yes. She was. She nodded at the unspoken statement and smoothed her tie.

“I'm no saint, that's true.”

Something flickered in Beca’s eyes and she looked away from Aubrey. The blonde slid hands in her pockets and considered for a moment.

“I might be the devil.”

The detective turned to eye her quickly. Measuring her worth with a skill that only cops had.

“You're not the devil. You're fucking awful sometimes but you're not the devil Posen. You're trying to do a job with the only tools you have and its sick work but maybe some of it has to be done.”

“I'm a weapon, Detective. My purpose is pain and order and I am very good at it. Who I inflict pain on is how I sleep at night.”

Beca nodded and turned away to stare at the moon above. Her voice was raw and tight as she struggled to contain her emotions.

“Lesson learned. Don't question you if I don't want to become an unfeeling weapon.”

Aubrey hesitated and looked up to the moon as well. No one questioned her. Ever. Even before her father had passed and her work was new, no one had questioned the way she handled business. And perhaps that was why she was the monster she was today.

“I need you to keep questioning me, Mitchell. Even if I hate it.”

Beca glanced at her quickly again, eyes wide with surprise. Aubrey sighed deeply.

“There are lines even I shouldn't cross and I don't know if I recognize them anymore.”

“What are you asking here? You want me to be your Jiminy?”

Fatigue set in making her shoulders hunch with the weight of so many misdeeds. Seeing Detective Mitchell break down, seeing her feel something, had shown her how far removed she was from humanity. And it scared her.

“I don't flinch, Bec. Humans should flinch when they do terrible things. They should feel it in their soul. I feel nothing.”

“Jesus. You're really asking me to help you be human?”

Her lips quirked in a quick grin. If anyone could help her find her humanity again it was Beca Mitchell. Perhaps the only person alive not afraid to tell her to fuck off. 

“I just want to be a real girl.”

“Great, fantastic, maybe you can start by taking a crack at that work life balance thing. Take a night off…and don't fucking call me.”

She had taken that advice to heart and gone to a poker game hosted by a friend. Aubrey smiled softly at the memory of spending four hours letting the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen win every single dollar she had brought and her heart to boot.

Beca had been right then and she was right now. Aubrey inhaled deeply knowing she was going to end Roman and his business but Weston's friends would still be safe to continue doing what they wanted. And she wouldn't be able to do a damn about it. 

“I need to make an example of Ekzarova and make it very costly for his organization to run that line of business.”

“Too costly to be worth the effort.” Beca watched her careful nod of agreement before speaking again. “Richie Rich's friends are a lost cause aren't they?”

“For now. Yes. They have more money and resources than I do. So for now, until I can find out the right leverage on them, they skate on this.”

“We still have the proof on those drives.”

“If you thought that was enough to nail them for this you would have used it a long time ago. We both know it'll get buried and you'll find yourself out of a job.”

“And Alice?”

Alice Alice Alice. Aubrey hadn’t allowed herself to think about her ex girlfriend. She was afraid the rage would overwhelm her good sense and she would do something sloppy enough to get her caught.

“For her part in what happened to Happy? For putting her hands on Stacie…”

She gave Beca a look that didn't mask the well of darkness in her soul at the thought of ending Alice.

“She needs to be made an example of too or they'll send another just like her. But you know. Competent.”

“You asking me to cross lines Jiminy?”

“No I'm outright telling you we are going to cross lines. A lot of them.” 

“Bec…”

“Don't Aubrey.”

“You're a cop.”

She felt it bore a mention. Beca was rapidly approaching a point where there would be no turning back. She had a life and family she could easily lose.

“For what though? Did cops stop my alcoholic father from beating my crackhead mother to death in front of my face? Did cops take me out of the foster system and put me in a safe home where I felt loved for the first time in my life? I'm sorry was it the cops that found the gang banger that murdered my older brother for trying to protect a store clerk? Are cops doing anything at all to protect any of these women? No. Man…fuck the police. They are part of a system of abuse and I'm done Aubrey. I'm fucking done. You know who was there to save me? People. Just fucking good people. And a goddamn murdering mobster might be the best one of them. So don't fucking tell me what I'm losing. The answer is nothing. I lose nothing but the shame of being part of the problem.”

“Okay.”

What else could she say? Aubrey reached out a balled fist and held it steady. Beca looked at her and bumped their knuckles together. 

“I don't think I'll ever be a real girl if I lose myself in this, you know that right? What I'll have to do to end this whole thing…”

Beca's tone gentled and she looked at Aubrey with something the blonde had never seen in the Detective's eyes before. Pride.

“Aubrey, this only makes you that much more human and real.” 

They sat there a minute longer while she let that sink in. Somehow, somewhere, she had changed. Because of Beca.

“So you gonna be my best man or what?”

Mitchell was right. Fuck the police. If they were going scorched earth then it wouldn't matter who stood by her at her wedding. And she really couldn't think of anyone she wanted more at her shoulder.

“Do I get to bang hot bridesmaids?”

“No guarantee but there is an open bar and a hot doctor among the guests.”

Beca sighed heavily as if she were making a huge sacrifice at not being able to sleep her way through the wedding party. But Aubrey could see she didn't really mean it.

“Yeah alright. I guess I can rock a suit for a day. Maybe I can pass out and Doc Beale can give me some mouth to mouth.”

Beca winked at her and slid out of the car with a chuckle. The door slammed, leaving her to sit in the quiet car park alone. She had a lot to prepare and she needed to do it quickly. But right now the only thing she could focus on was getting back to Stacie to find a little peace before she burned the world to the ground.

[sprout-fics]

sometime after the kerfuffle with the 141 and Kortac is done, I'd like to see Konig's reaction to Maus going missing when trying to recover. I think man's would be terrified out of his mind that his sniper just up and disappeared while injured, meanwhile her whole team is just like "ffs not again, get the net and blanket and look in the vents"

Ohoho see I think the team would have so much fun with Konig, would send him on a wild goose chase just to get back at him for all the grief he caused them in the past. (Messy little drabble, not exactly a oneshot)

It had been three hours since you’d gone missing. 

Four, technically, because König had arrived at the infirmary an hour after your disappearance, encountering a fatigued medic who had tiredly informed him of your sudden absence. She’d merely raised a single eyebrow to König's frantic efforts to get more information, and had eventually waved him off with a jaded comment of ‘This happens all the time.’

As if that somehow made him worry less.

You couldn’t have gone far, he theorized. With a sprained ankle, a broken arm, and a mild concussion, it was unlikely that you could have made it to the other side of the base by the time he had started searching for you.

That was three hours ago. Now, as the afternoon slowly crept towards evening, König could feel his panic rising at the idea you had simply vanished. He had searched everywhere. Your room, the mess hall, the rec room, the gym, the firing range, the training course- He’d even checked Price’s office, wondering if you had sought refuge there instead of being in your bed where you belonged.

When he had knocked on the door Price had leveled him with a look, wondering why the newest member of the newly formed SpecGru dared to darken his doorstep. Yet when König had belayed his concerns to the captain, Price had lifted his report to his face and idly told König to once again check the mess hall. 

(König didn’t see the wry, sadistic smile that sprawled across Price’s lips)

Yet with the mess hall still empty, he had instead found Ghost, who tilted his head at the Austrian as König tried to explain why he was all but racing around base trying to find you. Ghost made a strange little huffing sound in response that, If König didn’t know better, he might almost mistake it for laughter. He then suggested looking into the women’s barracks to see if you had somehow disguised yourself as one of the recruits.

(That venture went over rather poorly)

As he’d been chased out, König had run into Soap, who had cackled at the Austrian’s misadventure and consequent flowery aroma resulting from one of the women throwing a shampoo bottle at him. 

“Rookie?” He’d echoed, looking surprised. It took him a moment to understand, at which point a peculiar smile pulled at his mouth, sly and amused at König's quest. 

“Aye.” He intoned, eyes averted so Konig couldn’t see the utter glee in them. “Y’know what? I saw her over at the training grounds climbing up into the tower. Bet you anything she’s still there.”

König had thanked him profusely, had darted off in the direction Soap had spoken of, unseeing of the way Soap hid his laughter until he was gone. 

(The training grounds were empty, of course.) 

As daylight darkened König resisted the urge to tear at his hood in frustration. It seemed, to him, that you were exactly where the men said you were, only to seemingly read his mind and vanish to a new location every time he drew near. Maybe they were alerting you, for whatever sadistic reason, sending him on a wild goose chase for pure entertainment. 

Eventually, when he had run into Gaz, König had all but fallen at his feet pleading for assistance, trying desperately to find you and haul you back to bed so as to not injure yourself further. 

“She has a habit of hiding in the vents.” Garrick told him with a straight face, not an ounce of deception in his eyes. “Usually over by the armory, or the officers quarters, or the kitchens, or the infirmary…” He trailed off, looking nonplussed, and eventually offered König a small shrug. Then Gaz had brushed past him with a small excuse, and as König rushed off towards the locations Garrick had suggested, Gaz sent a small message to you:

“You owe me one.”

(You were nowhere in the vents, naturally)

König spent until dark asking every person he ran into if they had spotted an injured soldier running around earlier that day. It took several explanations for them to understand, and when they did König inevitably saw a weary, annoyed expression cross over their faces before they shooed him away in favor of their current task. 

Eventually, König had collapsed  against a pile of crates in one of the nearby warehouses, shoulders slumping as he desperately wracked his brain for any other possible location where you could have hidden. Half a day had passed since your disappearance, and not once had anyone seen you. To his knowledge you hadn’t eaten, hadn’t taken your medication, had failed to be present for your check-in-

König couldn’t stop the dark, churning thoughts that in your weakened, vulnerable state someone might have taken it upon themselves to abduct you. The fact that the team didn’t seem to share his concerns only made his heart drive higher in his throat, stifling the air in his chest as he pleaded with the heavens to return you. You drew his gaze upwards, to the rafters of the warehouse, wondering if somehow the heavens could hear his prayer. 

A small shape, just above the upper walkway, not entirely obscured by one of the long steel beams that supported the roof. 

“...Maus?”

The shape stiffened. 

König scrambled to his feet, eyes locked on the figure lofted high above the warehouse floor, on a flat, wide beam that effortlessly supported you. As he called once more, a chagrined expression turned down towards him, a guilty smile offered in apology.

“Hi, Konig.”

Distantly, König could hear the sound of something in his mind fracturing. 

“Maus, get down here.” He nearly bellowed, voice thundering upwards. Yet far from scaring you, you only offered him a little pout and replied with a small:

“Mmm, no.”

“Maus!!”

You giggled, and the audacity of your refusal was nearly enough to send König onto his ass once more. Cursing under his breath, he realized the only way to get you down from the precariously high perch where you lay was to come get you himself. 

Two ladders later, and 50 feet up in the air, König could see you facing him, blanket draped over you, cheek propped on one hand, and snack wrappers littered about you. It was like you had made a little nest up here, intent on avoiding anyone who may pester you.

“Not a Mouse.” He thought wearily. “Perhaps a baby bird.”

You refused, initially, to leave your little loft that remained just out of his reach, even as König clung to the railing and tried to reach for you. Yet eventually when his frustration had given way to a near frantic, pleading whine, he could see genuine guilt color your gaze, and eventually you had performed the delicate maneuver of scooting yourself forward so he could hoist you into his arms. 

Yet rather than immediately try to take you down and back towards the medical wing, König instead slumped against the railing of the walkway, his arms fastening around you and a heavy sigh of relief tickling across your hair. 

“Please.” He begged, gathering you tightly to him, a protective hold to refuse your escape as much as it would protect you. “Please don’t ever do that again, Maus.”

Warm, wrapped in his scent, you smiled, nuzzled against his chest with a weary little murmur. 

“I won’t.” You promised, feeling your boyfriend completely and entirely relax against you, head falling gently back against the railing in satisfaction. 

(He didn’t see your fingers crossed behind your back)

[camping-with-monsters]

I THINK ONE OF THE BABIES FOUND A MAKER AND DREW ALL OVER THEMSELVES ????