#A Pint of Plain

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1939 – At Swim-Two-Birds, a novel by writer Brian O’Nolan, writing under the pseudonym Flann O’Brien.

At Swim-Two-Birds is a 1939 novel by Irish author Brian O’Nolan, writing under the pseudonym Flann O’Brien. It is widely considered to be O’Brien’s masterpiece, and one of the most sophisticated examples of metafiction. The novel’s title derives from Snámh dá Én (‘Swim-Two-Birds’), a ford on the River Shannon, between Clonmacnoise and Shannonbridge, reportedly visited by the legendary King…

[byjove]

Sheriff Harry S. Truman has well maintained berry brambles surrounding his house and he cans an assortment of jams and preserves as well as smoked salmon every spring. Cooper is so enthralled and charmed and impressed by this.

[criminallyaddictedtomilk]

[scarlet-bee]

[Plain text:

Wheel of Saw traps

Spin the wheel here

Are you surviving your test?

End plain text.]

WHEEL OF SAW TRAPS

Spin the wheel here

[kazifatagar]

Mother fumes at RM3 pint-sized portion of plain fried noodles at school canteen

https://twitter.com/efaperfume/status/1870096178983150069 A mother, known as Kekfa on X, revealed that her child’s school canteen charges RM3 for a pint-sized portion of plain fried noodles, lacking any protein. Although her child brings food from home, she expressed concern for other students and their parents, calling the portion overpriced. She also criticized the RM5 nasi lemak, which…

[alchemisland]

Dustology Dust Elegy

Downward now to get amongst it, downward fast like bored balloon,

Choking dust and Polish names, rigged games in swinging saloons.

Now as if on arrowback a straight shot through the hills,

Clacking red railroad trucks like spy’s glasses spinning,

Ol’ black red-wheel belching excess, blazered leatherbills steam the whistle

Light thinning to less than eve, ages not amazements blurring,

Wish speed would slow, taking ease amongst; just be.

Lulled by fast-passing wide-eyedness, beholding quick-dissolving wonders that ghosts make with steam.

Just me in the quiet carriage, loud with ceaseless forward the backtracking train a nursery

I creep aisles climbing carts like wandering ivy, among the sleepers ivory of eye-whites invisible.

Two bauld Powers a pint of plain said quiet to the barkeep, who might be a ghost;

Whether holidaying in life, this dead, or deading through life was a fine host.

Two Powers I master milling into pint of plain song on tongue.

[medicinemane]

Ok, so here's my big problem with how things are done in this world right now

It feels like there's enough wealth to take care of everything (wealth here being defined as labor, goods, materials, etc), but there isn't a proper distribution of capital (currency etc) for people to be able to access things they need, and it doesn't feel like the current infrastructure and systems in place are sufficient to meet the needs of people at large (and often feels like they are actively designed in ways that hold us all back)

Basically when I'm advocating for changes, I'm either pointing to people at the bottom not having the needed volume of currency to be able to purchase everything they need, or I'm pointing to the infrastructure and systems and saying... well something's going wrong here, that's for sure

Don't know... just felt like saying that about it

[wreckofawriter]

Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar. 

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy” 

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles. 

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed. 

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last. 

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued. 

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated. 

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison. 

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles. 

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled,  “He reckons it’ll be his gut.” 

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team. 

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.” 

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”. 

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer. 

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you. 

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother. 

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm. 

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced. 

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?” 

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently. 

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!” 

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.” 

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.” 

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred. 

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.” 

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy  who was now standing to leave the pub. 

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped. 

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked. 

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth. 

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely. 

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.” 

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled. 

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out. 

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped. 

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.” 

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.” 

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.” 

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.” 

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered. 

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him.  Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber. 

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready. 

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.” 

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused. 

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring. 

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously. 

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles. 

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?” 

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle. 

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him. 

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”  

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately. 

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation. 

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly. 

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so. 

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you. 

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt. 

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two. 

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes. 

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms. 

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions. 

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open. 

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused. 

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground. 

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face. 

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded. 

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!” 

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.” 

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”  

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?” 

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair. 

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes. 

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again. 

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air. 

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life. 

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were. 

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face. 

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red. 

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!” 

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice. 

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.” 

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles. 

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling. 

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner. 

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was. 

  Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch. 

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room. 

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles . 

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia. 

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away. 

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.” 

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly. 

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.” 

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?” 

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.” 

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman. 

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form. 

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly. 

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away. 

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?” 

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.” 

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead. 

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused. 

“For what?” 

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully. 

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.” 

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.” 

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy. 

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.” 

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still. 

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky. 

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face. 

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps. 

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own. 

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time. 

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence. 

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust. 

 “Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.” 

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race. 

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-dood13 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys @evyiione

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[moonstruckme]

Could I request poly marauders x reader who was always judged at home on what she ate when she was little, and now subconsciously hides her food from the marauders (like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it) I completely understand if you’re not comfortable doing this req!

Thanks honey!

cw: reader experiences shame around eating "bad" foods

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“You know what I could use right now?” Sirius asks about halfway through the film, right on schedule. “A little treat.” 

You smile, and James hops up gamely. “I’ll see what we have,” he says. Remus chuckles as you and Sirius both turn around on the couch, watching eagerly as James goes into the kitchen. “Ice cream?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already. 

“Obviously,” Sirius confirms. 

James opens the freezer. “Alright, we have rocky road…half a pint of mint chip…rum raisin—Remus, you’re an old man.” Remus shrugs with a little smile. You think that he’s probably just glad no one else wants anything to do with his flavor of choice. “Also plain vanilla, and…” James pauses, moving things aside and reaching into the back of the freezer. “...chocolate cherry. This yours, angel?”

You’d forgotten you’d bought that. “Yeah,” you tell him, “but it’s open to everyone, of course.” 

James sends you an odd look. “Why’d you have it back behind the frozen peas?”

“I didn’t know it was back there,” you say with a shrug. “I just put things there automatically, I guess.” 

There’s a crinkling sound as James moves more bags of frozen vegetables aside. “There’s also a box of thin mints and an ice cream sandwich.” 

“Ooh, can I have that?” Sirius asks, giving you a pleading look. 

You smile at him. “Course you can. And Jamie, would you bring me the chocolate cherry, please?” 

James still has a funny look on his face as he shuts the freezer, bringing you and Sirius your frozen treats. You turn around once he hands it to you, finding Remus watching you with a similar expression. 

“What?” you ask, popping the lid off your ice cream. James squishes between you and Sirius, the four of you barely fitting on the couch. 

Remus looks like he’s turning something over in his head. “Why was all that back behind the frozen vegetables, love?” 

You shrug, happily sucking ice cream off your spoon. “I dunno. I just put it there, I guess.” 

“It just…” Remus shrugs, and he’s wearing that tiny smile he does when he’s trying to make light of something he doesn’t consider light at all. You tilt your head bemusedly. “It makes it seem like you were trying to hide them or something.” 

“She’s always hiding food,” Sirius says airily, munching on his dessert. “Like the oreos behind the soup cans.” You all look at him, and he stops chewing. “Was that not something we all knew?”

“I don’t…I didn’t think I was hiding anything.” You cross your arms, feeling defensive without really knowing why. There’s a whole number of things you don’t know about yourself, apparently. 

“It’s alright, darling,” Remus says soothingly, placing a hand on your thigh, “just so long as you don’t think you have to hide anything from us.” 

“I don’t,” you say, but you’re looking at your lap and your face feels hot. You don’t, right? Why would you? 

“Sorry for calling you out like that, babe,” Sirius says through a mouthful. “I figured it was intentional, and you just didn’t want us to eat your food. Nobody here cares what you eat, y’know.” 

“I know,” you promise him. “I guess…I just get a little embarrassed sometimes. Like, if I pig out, I don’t want everyone to know because suddenly a whole box of oreos is gone or whatever.” 

“First of all, as if we would even notice,” James scoffs, giving you a friendly shake by the shoulder. “And second, it’s like Sirius said—we don’t care what you eat, sweetheart. Or how much of it. If you want to eat a box of oreos, that’s your business. That’s not even that many oreos.” He shakes his head like you’re silly. “No one’s going to judge you for it.”  

It’s not surprising to hear him say that, and yet you can’t make yourself believe it’s true. Your boyfriends may not say anything about your eating habits—to your face or even to each other—but there’s no way that if they knew every detail, they wouldn’t think it was shameful. 

“Also,” Remus says, arching an eyebrow, “I don’t love the phrase ‘pig out.’ There’s nothing wrong with having a treat—”

“Duh,” Sirius cuts in, toasting with his half-eaten ice cream sandwich. 

“—and you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide things like that from us,” Remus finishes with a nod to appease Sirius. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you put your food in hiding places before you moved in with us?” 

You gnaw on your lip as you think back to pints of ice cream stowed in the ice cube dispenser when you lived at home, eating before your parents got back from work and quickly putting it away again when you heard cars approaching. Back then, you’d hidden dishes in your room too, evidence of food you knew wouldn’t be approved of crusted onto plates and bowls you were keeping stashed there until you could wash them without anyone noticing. 

“I guess so,” you say, and you can feel Remus’ eyes on yours but can’t bring yourself to meet them. You don’t know whether your shame is for your love of junk food or the odd habit of secrecy you’ve fallen into because of it. It might be both. “I used to do it when I lived at home, but I didn’t realize I was doing it here.” 

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” James says hastily, panicking in the face of your solemn change in mood. “So long as you know we don’t care, it’s not like you hiding it is hurting anyone.” 

“It’s hurting me,” Sirius protests. “We had ice cream sandwiches, and I had no idea!” 

You laugh, and James visibly relaxes. “Alright, I’ll try to stop putting things way in the back so that you can find them. I’m not trying to hoard, I swear.” 

“Keeping all the good stuff for yourself.” Sirius shakes his head at you. “That sweet face hides some pretty selfish tendencies, huh?” 

“Actually, could I grab a few of your oreos?” Remus asks before you and Sirius can really get into it. “That sounds pretty good right now.” 

“Yes!” you say. “Yes, please, have as many as you want. Sorry I kept them to myself, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

James takes your jaw in a big hand, pressing a slobbery smooch to your cheek. “You’re forgiven, sweetpea.” He raises his eyebrows. “If I can have some of those thin mints.”

[illusioninfnty]

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!

જ⁀➴ Brothel : Day 17

feat. Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower ᯓ★ Rhaenyra shows you and Alicent a new kind of fun to be had.

warnings! : NSFW 18+, pre-timeskip, semi-public sex, facesitting, cunnilingus, breast play, 69ing, fingering, dom!Rhaenyra, switch!reader, sub!Alicent

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

The cool air of the night sky hits you all at once, a stark contrast to Rhaenyra’s warm hand clasped in your own.

“Princess, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at you, pulling on yours and Alicent’s hands as she guides you all through crowds of boisterous smallfolk.

People were celebrating—for what exactly, you didn’t know—with the way that people stumbled through the streets, cheering as they clutched their pints of alcohol.

“Someone might recognize you,” Alicent pipes in quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes shift all around.

She pulls at her hood again and Rhaenyra lets out an annoyed sigh. “Trust me. Where we’re going, no one cares who I am.”

You and Alicent share a confused look as Rhaenyra leads the two of you up a small staircase, knocking on a fairly plain-looking door. It opens within mere seconds, and before even stepping in the stench of sweaty bodies and the sounds of loud moans key you to exactly what kind of place you’re about to enter.

“You brought us to a brothel?” you gasp, raising a hand to your mouth. Alicent averts her eyes next to you, a blush appearing across her features.

Rhaenyra smirks as she leads you two in. “This is the only place in town where we don’t have to worry about being caught.”

She gestures a hand out in front of you, and you and Alicent survey the scene. To your surprise, no one even bats an eye in the direction of you three.

Alicent is the first to speak up again. “...And why a brothel?” She doesn’t sound accusatory, but curious, rather.

Your princess friend weaves you all in between couples fucking until you reach a large bed behind a curtain, the space only illuminated by candlelight. She sheds her cloak, throwing it off to the side.

She then goes up to Alicent, unfastening the buttons on hers. “We deserve to have some fun before we’re all married off.” She eyes you. “Don’t you agree?”

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be intimate with your two best friends. You three were already closer than what was typically seen in other young women your age. There were lingering stares, and hands that stayed on each other’s bodies for just a second too long. You would sometimes wake up with faint dreams of familiar hands caressing your body.

When you don’t respond right away, Alicent elbows your side, whispering your name harshly. 

Rhaenrya chuckles. “I figured.” Finally, she takes off your cloak. She doesn’t stop there, however. You gasp as your friend begins to undo the lacing of your underdress, her fingers ghosting your neck causing you to shiver. Alicent stares at the two of you with wide eyes as your nude figure is revealed.

Rhaenyra leans into you from behind. “Take off her dress, and then lay down on the bed,” she whispers in your ear.

You inhale sharply as her hot breath tickles your earlobe, and you obey silently. Alicent jumps when you begin to take her undergarments off.

“How are you feeling?” you whisper to her.

“Nervous,” she replies. “But…I think I’ve been really wanting this.”

“Me too.” You smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek as you take your place on the bed, back against the plush white covers.

Rhaenyra stares down at you like a predator ready to claim its prize. She lowers herself down, and with no warning begins to feast on your cunt.

You let out a loud gasp that practically becomes a yelp, throwing your head back and clamping a hand over your mouth in surprise. The sensation of her tongue toying with the most sensitive parts of you is even greater than you could have ever imagined. Heat envelops your entire body, and your free hand claws at the bedsheet, desperately for some stability.

Alicent takes a seat on the bed next to you, near where your head is positioned. Her hand reaches down to hold yours, intertwining your fingers together.

Your back arches as Rhaenyra’s tongue is relentless, loud and messy as your cunt grows wetter each second. Alicent’s hand tightens in your grasp, and you can practically see how her breath quickens as she stares down at Rhaenyra devouring you.

“Alicent.” Rhaenyra’s voice is low and suggestive. Her mouth leaves your cunt and your hips buck up, still chasing the feeling. “I want you to sit on her face.”

“S-sit?” she stammers.

“Place your cunt where her tongue is and let her lick you like I am to her.”

You whine hearing that, the thought of having your two best friends so intimately close to you feeling like straight out of a dream. Alicent, despite the redness that takes over her face, adjusts herself to be over your head.

“Come closer,” you croon, running your hands over her legs, enjoying the way she shivers at your touch.

Rhaenyra hums as she watches the two of you, relishing in the way you two interact with each other, yearning for each other’s touch.

“Are you sure it won’t hurt?” Alicent asks you hesitantly.

“If this is the way I part from this world, I would have no regrets.”

“D-don’t say that!”

You giggle as you pull her cunt down onto your face, licking at her arousal that drips down the corners of your mouth. Alicent moans, her fists digging themselves into your hair as she swivels her hips wildly on top of you.

You groan into her cunt as Rhaenyra continues her assault on your own. You match the pace of her tongue, a comfortable rhythm being enacted that has both you and Alicent squirming.

“So good,” Alicent whines. Your hands tighten on her thighs, focusing on her clit, satisfaction arising in you as she whimpers when you nip at the bud.

In her jerky movements, Alicent ends up leaning forward, her head moving closer to your stomach. You reach your arms up to fondle at her breasts, tweaking at the nipples.

She goes to sit up instinctively, but Rhaenyra keeps her head down, placing a palm on the back of her tresses and lowering her to your cunt. “I want you to eat her cunt.”

You feel Alicent’s breath stop, her body going rigid above you. “But I’ve never—”

“Your Princess commands it.” Those words typically hold weight, but by the airy tone of Rhaenyra’s voice you can tell that she isn’t being serious about that.

But Alicent obeys nonetheless, and a lighter, more feathery sensation hits your core as she begins to explore your cunt with her tongue. Rhaenyra guides her head as you buck your hips up.

“More,” you moan desperately against Alicent’s cunt, trying your hardest to reach your peak.

“So needy.”

You whine as Rhaenyra lifts Alicent’s head from you but the sudden feeling of two of her fingers entering your cunt replaces the emptiness inside of you.

“Come here,” you hear Rhaenyra say softly, and the moans of your two friends and the wet sounds between them as they kiss have you feeling hot all over.

With your two friends engaged in their passionate exchange and Rhaenyra’s fingers deftly curling in and out of your cunt, you’re not surprised when your orgasm hits you at full force. Your arousal gushes out of you at the same time that you hear Alicent let out a high pitched squeal and her own juices release onto your face, where you lick up whatever you can.

Alicent soon removes herself from her position on top of you, rolling down next to you, panting heavily.

As the two of you recover from your orgasms, Rhaenyra lies on the bed, on the other side of you.

She chuckles. “It was well worth it, wasn’t it?”

You and Alicent share a look, realizing you’re on the same page. You turn back to Rhaenyra, placing her shoulders down on the bed as you crawl on top of her.

You smile teasingly at her as Alicent’s hands start to move their way up her legs. 

The blush is no longer present on Alicent’s face as she looks to take matters into her own hands. “We still have to take care of you, don’t we, Princess?”

The moans from the other patrons outside the curtains spur you on as you and Alicent aim to please your princess.

[myherobkg]

THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME; dungeons & dragons au

Katsuki was born a half-giant and bred to roam the plains with his barbarian brethren. He was a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, reckless brute adorned in fur and armor with his mighty mace hanging over his back. He was born to rule them all.

But fate had other plans, and his tribe was wiped off the face of the Earth after the King of the skies razed hellfire on them. Returning from a hunt, Katsuki arrived at his decimated home, ruined to ash and rubble.

His family—his people—were there one moment and gone the next, reduced to charred statues. After that, Katsuki wandered aimlessly until he became enthralled by the allure of alcohol.

A young half-giant, the last of his tribe, turned to mercenary work to fund his gluttony.

Katsuki's last payment came from a clean-up job, clearing out a small wooded area infested with monsters. The small village on the outskirts of the wood sent for him, requesting his help for a large sum.

It was an easy feat for a warrior of his stature, and his success wrought fruitful results—a free room at the pub and all the drinks he could ask for.

However, the offer had its contingencies, and Katsuki was forced to enjoy his pints amidst the celebration held for the village people. That's where he met the Businessman.

The Businessman kept two men at his side as he sat down with Katsuki. His companions remained standing behind him.

"Enjoying the festivities, Warrior?" The man started the conversation cryptically.

Katsuki doesn't look up from his pint. The party raged around him, but no one dared touch him in passing. "No."

Clearing his throat, the man decided to skip the niceties. "I have a job for you."

"Not interested," Katsuki gruffs out before touching his lips to the rim.

"I will pay you 100 gold," the Businessman bid.

"I want 300." Katsuki slammed his glass on the table and signaled for another. The man's jaw dropped.

"300 is outrageous. It's a simple delivery to the Earl." He laughed pathetically. "I'm sure the Earl will reward you handsomely for your efficiency."

"You pay me 300 now. I'll have the Earl pay me 500 when I get there."

"So, you'll take the job?" The Businessman clenched his hands into fists with a broad smile before remembering Katsuki's rate. "If you come with us, we can pay for the cargo. However, you must leave tonight."

Katsuki froze, lifting his topped-off drink. "Make it 400."

The man choked mid-breath. "Warrior, I implore you to reconsider your price. Think of the honor you'd receive for escorting such an important gift for nobility."

Katsuki lugged half of his drink down, spilling some down the sides of his face and neck. "It's 400, or you shut the hell up and quit bothering me." His ruby-red eyes glimmered dangerously in the lamp-light.

The Businessman shrank in his seat and waved his hand for his men. The guard on his right went off to get the payment.

"If you wouldn't mind following us as quickly as you can," the Businessman murmured nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. "We can settle you with the cargo, and you can be on your way."

Katsuki looked at the weak man standing behind his employer. It wouldn't take any effort to throw that man through the ceiling, but it somehow felt appealing for the Businessman to bring security.

With this in mind, Katsuki didn't expect any issues from a little side quest for money. Perhaps he was tired from his last battle, but the adrenaline and deep, crippling fear of loneliness kept pushing him to suppress it.

"Let's get this over with." He grumbled, disregarding his last sip of beer and pushing away from the table.

The Businessman and his guard led Katsuki outside to a barn on the edge of the village. The night was calm, and the skies were clear—a good omen for this task.

"The cargo is just inside here," the Businessman murmured, sharing an uneasy expression with his guard, which alerted a few alarms in Katsuki's head. As he led Katsuki in, the guard stayed outside the entrance.

The first thing Katsuki noticed was that there was no "cargo." Two more guards were standing inside, and you were chained to the floor. Your hair and face were dirty, and your clothes were covered in dirt and cow shit.

When you looked up at him, he took note of your cat-like eyes and pointed ears. The chains around your wrists had runes etched into them.

Magic?

"Is this a goddamn joke?" Katsuki asked loudly, making one of the guards flinch. "What do you goddamn hicks take me for?"

He turns on his heel and starts walking out when the Businessman shouts out for him.

Katsuki falters in his step, and something compels him to turn to turn around. He sees the Businessman sweating profusely—he must be desperate to get you off his hands, Katsuki thinks. He catches the two guards adjusting their grips on their weapons: a spear and a bow. The sight of them shaking in fear and regret almost makes Katsuki laugh.

He licks his lips and pulls out a dagger—decides it's expendable. When he winds his arm back, all three adversaries flinch, fearful of being the target. The knife flies through the air between their shoulders, aimed for the floor where your cuffs come together.

Katsuki's taken by surprise when you slam your wrist against the ground, breaking the cuff on your right in one attempt. You tear off the other cuff with ease. He stands back and watches you jump between each man, slaughtering them with your clumsy, desperate hands.

After the men are dead, you're left standing over their bodies with blood on your hands, panting heavily.

With his arms crossed, exuding confidence, Katsuki whistles for your attention. He knows he has it when your head turns, angling your ear to him.

"How did men like them get their hands on a magic-wielding elf?" He questions, sincerely curious.

You turn to face him fully, blood and hay falling from your tunic.

"Auction houses," you answer breathlessly, with sweat matting hair to your forehead. Wiping it out of your face, you trip on your shaky legs to the barn post and release a heavy sigh. "You would've delivered me to my sixth owner. You looked like a good one when you walked in, too."

You were still breathing heavily. Katsuki recognized it as panic.

"I'm not going back," you say quickly as he approaches you. Your eyes are wild, and your appearance makes you look hysterical.

"You aren't going back," he promises quietly, raising his hand for you. Your arm shakes when you reach for him.

When he brings his fur around your shoulders, you bat it away, spitefully refusing it.

"I want to leave," you whisper anxiously, pushing against Katsuki's arms.

"Then cover yourself," Katsuki orders firmly, wrapping his fur tightly around you. His fur, which drapes over his shoulder like a garment, wraps around you like a blanket. "There are still folk wandering everywhere."

"Where are we right now?" You ask as he ushers you out of the barn.

"A village. Heldenfaire," Katsuki answers.

"There's a town in this land. I wish for you to take me there."

"We can discuss the details of our arrangement later." Katsuki threw his cloak over his shoulders and pulled his hood over his head before steering you toward the nearby stables. "Let's first focus on getting a horse."

—please reblog & comment if you like it! do not copy or repost ©

[living400lbs]

"There is a container of chocolate candy in my living room and there are multiple pints of ice cream in my freezer. This probably sounds like a recipe for disaster or even like a lack of willpower, but keeping something in plain sight, viewing it as a neutral food, and giving yourself permission to have said food unconditionally is the actual food freedom recipe. Not to mention, of course, that eating all the food groups consistently helps with feeling the need to binge on sweets. There are many pieces to the puzzle of food neutrality, and acknowledging that I am wholeheartedly allowing myself to have these foods when I want is helpful."

- from Live Nourished by Shana Minei Spence

[criminallyaddictedtomilk]

[velvet-paradox]

Secured (Part One)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader Summary: wanting a little slower pace in his military career, König takes a calmer, desk job while he recovers. After a bit of a mix up on shifts, König is now in charge of what comes next. (I've been watching The Night Agent and got inspired!) Length: Medium Warnings: explicit content, strong language, eventual NSFW. ENJOY!

König had fully intended to listen to his mother's concerns the last time he visited her cozy little cottage on the hillside. Tended-to garden, trimmed up grass from the helpful lads that lived just down the road. He'd been injured, shot in the shoulder where conditioned muscle met bone, got treated and sent home with strict orders to take it easy.

Relax.

Live a little.

And he did just that.

Enjoying his time with is mother, resurfacing memories of when he was a boy, less scarred and jovial then the man posted up on her afghan covered couch. Physical therapy was bitch, even a pint couldn't stoke off the fire that burned into his joints.

He was also enjoying homecooked meals and not the usual mess hall offerings or freeze dried lumps they'd slap tantalizing names on the plain, brown packaging, as the stuff inside were actually up to snuff.

Ja right!

"You ought to settle down now , König. You have been fighting for most of your life, you should be living, traveling and seeing the world with the love of your life under arm. Don't you want that?"

Of course he did.

Most of his life were acts of service, finished deeds, quotas. Filling out paperwork, signing classified documents, pursuing the worst of the worst, taking down targets, letting his life on the actual line for the greater good.

Did a certain foreign dictator need to be 'rescued' from their senate floor and taken to an undisclosed location and threated, beaten and broken for an extended amount of time until intel was finally given through broken teeth and a bloody jaw? Perhaps.

Was a 'missing' senator maybe not so missing after all under the clutches of the Austrian and with good reason, added sex trafficking was highly frowned upon and under his high ranking position too? Not on his watch.

Yes blood was on his hands, in his hair, in his mouth but those same hands wanted to also be washed clean, to hold another, to touch another.

Sometimes he'd feel unworthy, all these acts, all these years in the military formed the man laying in his bed, the same four walls that molded him, crafted him like clay. That maybe all his hard work wasn't worth all the damage. His shoulder screamed when rubbed his hands over his face.

….

"How she doin'?" Sebastian Krueger asked the following morning, sipping tea from one his mothers' glass cabinets, sitting across from König at a little table and chair set behind the cottage. He'd already eaten two biscuits was not so subtly eyeing the third one of the decorative plate.

"Mother is well, she'll be back from the market soon. You should stay for dinner, I have half a mind that she is trying to fatten me up like some Christmas goose!"

"You know I wasn't going to say any-"

"Then don't!"

Krueger chuckled and broke off half the biscuit instead.

"She must be happy to have you home for a bit, not off on field duty."

"A little too happy," König took a long, hot sip, savoring the honey on his tongue. "She thinks I should settle down, find a partner, live life while I still can."

"Is she wrong?"

"Nein. I want those things as well, Seb. I just don't know where to start! I've been on deployment after deployment, cots, and safe houses since I was seventeen. How do I talk to a woman about a life like that? One isn't going to just fall into my lap, you know?"

"I could set you up with someone if you like?"

"Yeah right," König snorted and finished his tea. "I'm not taking fucking dating advice from you."

"Why not?" Krueger eyed him, expression laden all the way up to his hairline.

"Because smart pants, you don't know any women to set me up with!"

Krueger pondered his words, eyes narrow, mouth opening and closing, lost in thought he just grunted and finished off the rest of that biscuit in defeat.

"It is smarty pants by the way!"

König heard Sebastian shout as he made his way through the threshold of the open back door to refill their cups.

….

Four months.

Four months of softly changing his sheets, helping his mother about the house, going for runs through the jagged hills, splashing his face with fresh creek water, chewing on wild growing ramps. Bringing back little rocks to add to his mother under-window flower beds, he'd done so since he was a knee high boy. She had saved them all of course.

He was starting to lose his mind, the pain meds his doktor had prescribed sat half full on the nightstand, he took them as needed but for the most part he punished himself, testing his own pain tolerance as means of an endurance challenge of sorts. He needed to do something, anything, to get out of the house.

Sebastian suggested he come back to work, take a desk job, fill out reports, that sort of thing to make his life a little more interesting until he was medically cleared for field operations.

"I know of another type of job, real laid back, you don't have to do too much physically." Kruger had mentioned one sunny, yet cold afternoon.

"Like what?"

"Ever heard of Night Division?"

"Nein, I have not." König had answered, a query on his mask covered face. Sounded interesting.

"There is a reason for that, it is a top secret op, need to know basis," Krueger pulled him in close on their walk through the base, stopping by the archway that lead to the rec room. "If you want in, let me know, I'll get you clearance and I'll walk you through it. If not; not harm, no foul."

König considered it, contemplated it for the rest of the day. He was feeling a bit down, his shoulder throbbed something fucking fierce every fours or so, letting him know he was still in the healing stages, still on the mend. But a cushy little desk job, keep him occupied, maybe he could get caught up on a few books he'd started and had to put down or leave behind, relax at a desk like he had when he first started out after basic. He could do something like that.

Sebastian was right; this job would keep dinner on the table and the lights on. It was simple enough as well, answer the phone when it rang and flashed burnt orange (according to Krueger this phone hadn't actually rung in two months). Monitor the actions, pay attention to the caller in need of assistance, ask the appropriate questions in order to render aid.

König brought a thermos and a water bottle full of ice. He was afforded a notepad and pen, a binder in the top right drawer of a silver desk, the left held a rolodex of people who might be calling in need.

He'd been at it for two weeks now, no phone calls, caught up on three books already as he reclined back in the softest office chair he's ever sat his behind in. Ankles locked, boots on the table reading, belly full. Then it happened.

The phone rang, a shrill sound that damn near rocked him right out of that chair! His book fell to the floor, loosing his page instantly. The orange flashed urgently as König scrambled to get out his notebook to take notes and location, the binder that held random question whoever was on Night Division duties to ask to make sure they were truly talking to who they were supposed to. The phone number as Krueger had told him was only given out to military, not a simple phone number one might find scribbled on a folded up post-it or bar napkin.

König cleared his throat and picked up the receiver, holding it tightly to his ear.

"Hallo, what is the color of the day?" König asked, clicked pen at the ready and pressed onto the first page.

"What? I don't know! I need help." A frantic woman hushed her voice into the phone, he could some shuffling and light grunting.

"Ma'am, I need the color of the day before I can assist you."

"I don't fucking know! Please help me." The woman gasped and he could hear something close.

"Miss this is a very secure line-"

"I know that. Night Division, right? My brother said if anything suspicious happened while he was deployed, I should call this number immediately. Which is what I am doing!"

"Without the color, miss-"

"Please, sir. There's two people breaking into the house, their looking for something. I don't want them to find me. There's a crawl space in my brothers' closet, that's where I am." The woman rasped, panic in her voice made König uneasy, things could get messy fast, he knew that first hand.

"I do not know your location."

"There's a rolodex in the top left drawer of your desk, my brothers' name and address are in there. And hurry!" She growled lowly.

"Name?"

"[REDACTED]."

"I'll send over someone."

"What? You're not coming?" The woman almost sounded offended, as if he had stood her up on a date or backed out of a last minute party.

"This is my station, miss. I can't leave my post, another call might come through."

The pregnant pause made him even more uneasy, as he wrote down the boyfriend's name and address with three scratches of his pen below it.

"I don't want to die like this." The woman exclaimed with a sniffle.

….

Much to König's surprise when he told his supervisors that a phone call had come in, he didn't realize that meant he was the one to answer it meant that in the very sense. Another selected Night Division advocate would take his place.

They handed him a standard service weapon, shoved a bullet proof vest to his bulky chest and sent out on his way. He even got to pick which company car from the lot. The SUV handled beautifully, the screen on the dash showing the coordinates to the Division caller. He cut the lights as he turned down the block, a quiet, wet residential street. Most of the cars were put away in their garages, all but one.

König memorized the plate, just in case things got hairy.

He could see movement in the house, shadows dancing in the low light. He narrowed his eyes, and softly exited the vehicle, approaching the house like the thieves already inside. König maneuvered around the back of the house, rolling his bad shoulder before kicking open the back door. He could hear muffled voices from inside, startled footsteps, a new magazine is put into a weapon that stands no chance against the man advancing in the darkness, especially when he flips down his night vision goggles.

"Whoever the hell you are, you owe me a new door asshole!" A raspy man calls in the dark.

"Sorry. Are you [REDEACTED]?" König asked, already knowing the answer.

"Who?"

"Didn't think so!"

König held his gun steady as rain, aimed true at one of the intruders. The man before him was crouched and steadily raising to his feet in the foyer, hands up.

"Do not do anything stupid, well more stupid than breaking into someone's house."

"Easy big guy, [REDACTED] is my brother, he asked me to check on the place while he's on vacation."

"Vacation, ja? Where to?"

"Uh Spain I believe he said." The man mumbled something.

"Then why are you in the dark? Go ahead and turn the lights." König suggested.

The man reacted by reaching behind him and swiftly pulled out a blade, the metal glinting in the darkness.

Big mistake.

Though König is on the larger scale in terms of height and weight, he is quite agile, a superb trait and bonus to his career. The blade came right at him but was easily slapped away by his gloved hand, the man reached back for another but ever the observant Austrian, he located the light switch panel next to him, flipped up his goggles and whacked the room into brightness, exposing everyone to the white hot lights. A woman tried to bum rush him and failed as she made a distressing sound when she hit the floor, her loosely held gun skidded away.

The second attempt at throwing a blade stuck to the wall beside him, König ripped it out of the dry wall and threw it back at the man in the foyer, landing perfecting in the shoulder. The man wailed out in pain, the woman scrambled for the gun only to slide it further out of reach.

König pointed his gun and undid the safety.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the woman looked up at his towering frame, her head jerked slightly and she slowly put her hands up. "Get your little friend and leave, you wish to wake up tomorrow do you not?"

They left without a fuss while König cleared the rest of the house. Not too much damage, the office behind the French doors was a mess though and going to be a bitch to put back in order but that wasn't his problem.

"Miss?" König called out after finishing his sweep of the first floor.

"Miss you can come out now. We talked on the phone. Night Division. You're safe now."

As he made his way up the staircase, lined with paintings of landscapes and bodies of water, the door to his immediate right swung open and the woman appeared.

"Oh!" She was startled, no doubt by his mask and head coverings, by the way he was steadily putting away his service weapon. His size in comparison to hers.

Her eyes went wide and she slightly hugged the doorframe, a baseball bat in hand. Her expression ranged from frightened, to skeptical, to calm in an ease of seconds.

"I didn't mean to startle you." König apologized.

"It's not.. sorry. You're who I spoke with. Are there more of you?" She asked peering around him, or at least what she could, clutching her cellphone and bat.

"Just me I'm afraid."

"Oh. Did you kill them?"

"Maimed."

"Good. I don't think there's enough peroxide to clean that up."

"You've cleaned up blood before?"

"You do see that I'm a woman, right? I've been cleaning up blood since I was twelve." The woman cocked her head to the side with a snort and dropped the bat down to her side.

König got the OK to clear the rest of the second floor, just in case. All was well and he followed her down the stairs, pointing out the mess the intruders had made of the office.

"You mentioned they were looking for something. Did you hear what exactly?" He asked from the doorway, watching her side steps and tip toe about the space, moving a crooked lamp, picking up a few pillows from a small futon in the corner, a woven blanket.

"Something called Eden. Does that mean anything to you?" The woman asked, putting her brothers' things back in order. The sound of shuffling papers being neatly stacked once more made for a delightful background noise.

"No but I'll look into it. You should get ready."

"You certainly cannot stay here, miss. Those two dirt bags might come back with more firepower and back up. Nein nein, you shall come with me to a safe house after a debriefing at the base." König explained, watching her face rise and fall with understanding that the man before her was right. "My superiors will want to know what you have told me."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

König waited patiently in the office, looking at childhood photos of the woman who was pounding the floor upstairs, gathering some belongings. Her brother's Marine portrait, certificates of accomplishments and replica swords lined the wall behind the wood stained desk.

She knocked on the side of the office doorframe soon after, giving him a thumbs up.

….

"You said Eden, correct?" Kim Hong-jin or another masked man by the codename Horangi sat down with König and his charge. He was used to the cold conference room, the woman beside him, shivering and rubbing her hands before sitting upon them, did not.

Mid conversation, König shouldered off his jacket and draped it over his shoulders, dwarfing her in size. She gave him a nervous smile before continuing.

"Did they mean to hurt you, the duo?"

"I don't know. They just broken in through the side door, my brother, [REDACTED] has three entrances to his place, I got a Ring notification and hid. I'd never seen them before but they were adamant that my brother had something they wanted."

"Hmmm. We'll look into it, see what rocks we can over turn," Horangi scribbled down some information, circling a few keywords from your statement. "König; take her to the old farmhouse on 84th, hasn't been used in a beat, could use a tune up. Keep yourselves occupied until further notice." Horangi shook the woman's hand before gathering up the folder and notes. "Oh and König?"

"Ja?"

"Don't let her out of your sight."

The ride to the farmhouse was a bumpy one, the cabin of the SUV jostled the pair around, rocks and pebbles no doubt threatening with good merit to get lodged into the tread of the tires. The crooked place came into view from just the headlights, on bright of course, started to appear along the empty dirt road. There wasn't a neighbor for miles König and his partner noticed once they took their exit ramp from the highway, making sure they weren't being followed.

He held the door open for her, taking the duffel bag from her lap, flipping it over his shoulder like an afterthought.

"I never did get your name," the woman said, walking up the rocky driveway to the creaking porch as König took out the keys Horangi had given him on their way out from base. "Suppose I ought to know who I'm being shacked up with."

König snorted and put the key into the lock. "You can call me König ." "Hmm, nice ring to it if you ask me." She said, fumbling along the wall until the lights came on, showering the cozy house in a nice warm glow.

"And you are, miss?" He asked and placed her bag down on a stiff looking couch.

She spun on her heel and held out her hand in salutations. "I'm Y/N."

Even in the country light and glow of the almost yellow/orange lighting, you looked great. Not that he thought you looked bad; at all. He realized you were incredibly attractive the moment you popped out of your brothers' room, weapon and phone in hand. Hair mussed, face contorted with relief at his presence, stroking his ego.

You looked around, checking the rotary phone on a polished side table. Lifting the pewter Eiffel Tower, the fake flowers were dusty and the place reeked of mothballs.

The kitchen was decent, a little round table with a cheap plastic table cloth, four chairs with matching tied cushions.

"Not too bad," you announced after rummaging through the empty fridge. "I could live here."

"How long do you reckon we shall be out in the sticks?" König asked, more so out loud to himself than to you.

"Who knows. We'll need to go to the store in the morning, fuck all is in this place. Not even a water pitcher!"

"We will just have to take it day by day, I'm scared."

You snorted. "You're scared? You. All what? eight fuckin' miles of you. You're scared."

"I mean uh… I'm afraid. You'll forgive me, I tangle my words sometimes."

"Clearly! We should check out the rooms, I call first dibs!" You shouted, brushing past him like a child or wobbly infant, thundering your footsteps to the second floor. He could hear you exclaiming up there, bouncing on one squeaking bed in favor of the other as he locked up the house.

"Found mine, fend for yourself big guy."

He took the third room, at the top of the landing, it's bedspread reminding him of sweet grass summers. He laid there for awhile on top of the covers, telling you to keep your door open just in case. He could hear you snoring lightly, could picture the rise and fall of your breaths, timing them on his watch before he crept down the stairs, taking sudden notice that the fourth stair from the bottom creaked at just the right spot to the right.

He propped himself into an armchair by the sheer curtain covered window by the door.

Ever cautious.

Hyper aware.

He knew he wouldn't sleep and had planned on being awake as soon as Horangi sent you on your way from base.

He didn't mind.

He was being useful which filled his head with light, happy thoughts.

[ponyosmom35]

they know

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: the team learns that reader is being followed by enemies and they rush to save her.

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She spent the day wandering Simon's hometown, immersing herself in every story and memory he'd shared with her. It was a quiet village, the kind of place where everyone seemed to know one another, and she could easily picture Simon here, growing up among these familiar streets and rolling hills.

Her first stop was the pub he'd talked about—the one where he'd had his first drink. The smell of aged wood and faint traces of ale filled the air as she stepped inside. She ordered a pint of the local brew he'd always said was "decent enough" and found a small table in the corner. As she sat sipping her drink, she could almost see him as a lanky teenager, sitting in this very spot, laughing with friends, his deep voice carrying over the din.

From there, she wandered to the corner shop he'd often mentioned. It was small but charming, with shelves packed tightly with everything from groceries to trinkets. She bought a pack of biscuits he'd once claimed were the best in the world. Opening them right outside, she tried one and laughed softly to herself—it tasted like plain shortbread. She imagined teasing him about his questionable tastes.

Her next destination was the park he'd described as his thinking spot. The air was crisp, and the ground was soft with winter's lingering dampness. She walked along the worn paths, passing skeletal trees and the occasional bird flitting through the branches. Finally, she found the bench he'd told her about, nestled near the top of a small hill.

Sitting down, she gazed out over the quiet expanse of countryside, the rolling hills stretching into the distance. A faint smile touched her lips as she pictured Simon here, lost in thought, his sharp mind working through whatever weighed on him at the time. She could hear his voice in her head, teasing her about how she'd probably get mud on her boots but assuring her he'd clean them for her later.

For the first time in months, she felt a bittersweet sense of peace. This was his world, and though he wasn't with her, being here made her feel closer to him. She allowed herself to imagine what it would've been like if things had turned out differently—if he'd been here with her, showing her around, his hand in hers as they made their way through the places he loved.

When the sun dipped low, and the chill deepened, she finally left the park. Walking back to her hotel, she carried the day's memories with her, a quiet ache in her chest but also a small, flickering warmth. She'd had a good day, and for that, she was grateful.

At the same time, Simon sat in a dim, makeshift office at the safehouse, his laptop open in front of him. The mission was a nightmare—Makarov's men were always one step ahead, their network far more extensive than anticipated. Despite the chaos, his thoughts constantly drifted back to her. He knew she was in London; he'd been monitoring her flights, ensuring she stayed away from their current operations.

His phone buzzed on the desk, the secure line lighting up. He snatched it immediately. "Yeah?"

The voice on the other end was clipped, urgent. "We've got a problem. Two of Makarov's men were spotted tailing her."

Simon froze, the air seeming to drain from the room. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. They're keeping a low profile, but it's her they're watching."

Simon's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Where is she now?"

"Still in the village. But if they're following her, it's only a matter of time before they make a move."

Simon didn't waste a second. He stormed out of the room, his voice ringing out in the quiet safehouse. "Soap! Price! Gaz!"

Within minutes, the four of them were packed into a truck, speeding down the motorway. Price was behind the wheel, his face set in grim determination. Simon sat in the passenger seat, his knee bouncing restlessly as his mind raced.

"How the hell did they know she was here?" Simon demanded, his voice sharp with fear and anger.

"They've probably got eyes everywhere," Price replied, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "If she's on their list, it wouldn't take long for someone to spot her."

Simon swore under his breath, raking a hand down his face. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw, unfiltered panic that was unlike him.

In the backseat, Soap leaned forward, concern etched across his face. "Simno, we'll get to her in time. Don't—"

"Drive faster!" Simon barked, cutting him off. His voice cracked slightly, and he slammed his fist against the dashboard. "She doesn't know she's being followed. She has no idea—" His words choked off, and he took a shaky breath before glancing at Price. "Please, just drive faster."

Price pressed harder on the accelerator, the truck roaring as it tore down the road.

Soap exchanged a worried glance with Gaz, who had remained silent but tense beside him. None of them had ever seen Simon like this—shaken, frantic, and desperate. It was unnerving to witness.

Soap leaned closer to Gaz and whispered, "I've never seen him like this before."

"Love will do that to you," Gaz responded.

Simon ignored them, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime.

In his mind, he could see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her warmth against him. He'd given up everything to keep her safe, and now, it was all unraveling. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever.

The city lights blurred past as they sped toward her, the tension in the truck thick enough to choke on. Simon's heart pounded rapidly as he tried to keep the dark thoughts about what could happen to her away.

"We'll get there, kid. Nobody here would ever let anything happen to her. You know that."

Simon nodded and gripped the butt of his rifle as he closed his eyes and attempted to calm down.

[honeylullaby]

you are INCREDIBLE!!! ✨ Thank you so much for all the amazing Rupert fics 😍

Could I please request a Rupert & reader fic where they are at a New Year’s Eve party and he can’t take his eyes off her. Before the 10 second countdown he walks towards her to make sure he’s the only one who gets to kiss her

thank you ever so much my DAHHLING 🥰🫶🏽 i’m so glad you like them 🩷 what a smashing idea!!!

“Happy New Year, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader (ft. Lizzie Vereker)

Suggestion by this lovely reader 🥰 / You start the New Year off with a bang, as you encounter Mr Campbell-Black…

18+ FANFIC / Soft Rupert 🥹. Kinda short but hope you love! Reader character aged at 21. 🩷🩷

It was 11:30pm on New Year’s Eve. The residents of Rutshire took it in turns to throw an annual ball and this year was the turn of Rupert Campbell-Black. He had hired a designer to aid him in decorating Penscombe Court and by designer, he of course means Lizzie Vereker. Despite Rupert’s general lack of effort, the ball had an incredible turn out — packed with every resident of Rutshire, both people he hated, and that hated him.

He stood on his own in the corner of the room and surveyed the scene. Drunken couples danced sloppily to the blaring music, and a few stragglers had found their way to the snack bar. A gentle hand placed itself atop Rupert’s shoulder, and snuggled beside him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around them — it would definitely be an adoring fangirl. “Enjoying yourself?” The small voice peeped from the crook of his arm. Looking down at them, he spied his tawny-haired friend, Lizzie. “Oh hello, darling. Umm… Yes, I suppose. Boring really, isn’t it?” He sighed. “You’re lonely.” She declared, squeezing herself from under her arm and standing in front of him now — frustrated arms crossed. “What? Don’t be silly.” He chuckled without a smile. Lizzie’s accusatory stare burned holes into his skull. She was the only person that could see straight through his Lothario facade. Softening her expression slightly, she took a big gulp from a champagne flute she had quickly nipped from a passing server and informed him, “New Years is the best time to meet people! Everyone’s full of joy and love.”

“Where’s James?” Rupert quizzed her but she took another swig of her champagne and spluttered through the awfully bitter taste. “Oh, God knows. Probably eyeing up any poor woman that looks his way.” But Rupert couldn’t quite hear Lizzie’s response. In fact, he couldn’t quite hear anything at all. Because, there you were. He had seen you. It’s as if everyone else’s faces had been blurred out and someone had turned down the volume on the entire ballroom. Cascading charcoal black locks, tantalising olive-toned skin and heavenly emerald orbs. A floor-length black satin dress hid your silver kitten heels, and was just low-cut enough to show your cleavage. Crimson red lipstick and mascara-coated wispy eyelashes atop silver jewellery completed tonight’s look. Plain and simple, you looked otherworldly.

Walking away from Lizzie mid-sentence, Rupert approached the bar area and poured himself a pint glass of straight gin. Screwing up his face in disgust, he drank the gin in one and straightened the collar of his crisp, white shirt. Cracking his neck from side to side, he exhaled gruffly and strolled into the middle of the room. Every woman, single or not, turned to stare at him. Of course, nothing out of the ordinary there. You, however, were stood in the centre of the ballroom floor, being serenaded at great length to an improvised poem from Patrick O’Hara. Partway through fighting back a yawn, you were barged out of the way — too hard to be intentional — and yelped in shock, champagne sloshing violently out of your glass and seeping instantaneously into the black satin of your dress. “My God, darling. I’m so sorry.” Rupert fretted over you, trying ineffectively to swipe the bitter liquid from your dress. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” You begin, but drink in the man’s appearance before you can continue.

Jet black hair and an incredibly chiselled face. He must be a good few years older than you, but a few years older meant more experience, after all. “Oh my, you must be…”

“Rupert Campbell-Black.” He interjected. “Lovely to meet you, darling.” He spoke as he raised your right hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Once again, ever so sorry.” He chimes and walks off in the opposite direction, smirking to himself. He had caught you hook, line and sinker already.

-

“10, 9, 8, 7…” The entirety of the ballroom chimed in unison. Rupert was stood beside Lizzie, eyes affixed on the grand clock placed just below the ceiling. You were stood just in front of them, Patrick essentially glued to her side.

“3, 2, 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Was screamed, followed by the noise of party poppers and blow outs. Rupert watched as Patrick began to pucker his lips towards you. There was absolutely no way he could stand by and watch this. He strode towards you and held the side of your face, intertwining his fingers through your curled hair and planting a soft kiss upon your supple lips. The smell of his oud aftershave filled your lungs and allow you to relax into the kiss. Every fibre of your being wanted this kiss to last for an eternity but, unfortunately, he eventually pulled away.

“Happy New Year, angel.”