#austrian beer

[cerise-on-top]

Fasching with König

Because today is Faschingsdienstag, I just had to write something for him on that day! Today is the only day I can post this, afterwards I'll have to wait over a year again! Fasching is an Austrian holiday that is essentially the last day before fasting for 40 days, so people go all out with food and drinks and festivities, they even dress up in costumes! It's not nearly as fancy as what some other countries have, but it's tradition! Besides, who am I to say no to a Krapfen with König!

Mentions of alcohol, but König is Austrian, so what did you expect?

First off, he hates going to the city during that “holiday”, there are far too many people, the crowds are way too big and it’s too loud for his liking as well. The only reason he’s taking you to the city on that day is so you can experience more of Austria with him. At least that’s what he tells you, in reality he just really wants to go eat a Langos or two and drink a few beers. No one would judge him for that on Fasching, there are crazier bastards out there than him. He’s never been a fan of Fasching, not even when he was a kid. The only reason he looked forward to that day was because he could go home from school earlier than usual. But other than that Fasching had always irritated him. He was never one for playing dress up either.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when you came up to him, demanding for the two of you to dress up as something. The most König would do on his own would be to put on a pair of bee feelers on top of his head, but he would never consider putting on a full costume. Not only was there a chance people would stare at him, but he’d feel awkward as well. Besides, which place would actually sell a costume in his size? Not a common one. You’d need to be a bit annoying for him to put on more than just bee feelers. He’s more willing to play dress up with you as long as you put on something as well, though, even if it still wouldn’t be anything too fancy. If he can find one, he might put on a Winnie the Pooh onesie, but only because it’s somewhat comfortable, somewhat warm and because there are weirder people than him out there.

He’d hate seeing the Faschingsumzug, but he’d tolerate it just for you so you can see all the wagons together and comment on all the costumes. The music is far too loud, there are people surrounding him on every side and he still hasn’t had a single drink yet. Tragic. You might wanna hold onto his arm before you’re being swept away by the crowds. Although König usually isn't one for PDA, in this case he’d prefer to keep you close. It keeps him a bit calmer and you’re not getting lost in a city or town you barely know. You can drag him around all you want, though, he’ll comply, even if he might roll his eyes a bit whenever you wanna go take a closer look at some of the other costumes and wagons. However, get ready to be dragged to one of the nearest stands for a few Langos. They’re not amazing, nothing special in the slightest, but they’re not bad either. He’ll pay for them, naturally. You can choose between a regular Langos, a Toast Langos or even a Käsekrainer Langos. König will likely have eaten all three due to his massive appetite, but you’re more than welcome to take a bite out of them as well.

Once it’s finally getting a bit later and the masses are starting to disperse, that’s when König will be a bit less grumpy. He gets to finally go to a bar with you and drink to his heart's content, his highlight of the day. You can drink whatever you want, from soda to Pago, from Spritzer to Jägermeister, he’ll always go for a few beers. While he might seem a bit grumpy at first, once he’s had his first beer he’s a bit more cheerful, König just really hates big crowds. However, he got to spend another day with you, which is all he could ever want. While you’re sitting at the bar he might take out a few Krapfen for the both of you to enjoy as well. Might joke about getting some Heringsschmaus with you the next day, even if you don’t like fish. It’s tradition, it’s part of the Faschingszeit, but that doesn’t mean he’s a big fan of it either. No, he much prefers the Krapfen you can eat during Fasching. Not big on fasting, he loves beer and meat too much to give up either of those things and won’t even do so if you ask him to. He’s a simple man, he knows what he wants and he knows what he likes. You can pry his Schweinsbraten from his cold dead hands, and even then he’d put up a fight.

Although König loves spending time with you, he will be glad once Fasching is over and once you finally voice the thought of going home. He’s tired from all the people and the alcohol makes this situation only slightly better. Even so, despite all of that, he’s looking forward to the next holiday, proper or not, he can spend with you. Due to him having drunk some beers, he’ll likely stay in bed a bit longer the next day. A perfect opportunity to snuggle up to him for a bit. Afterwards you can discuss what you would like to eat together.

#cod #cod x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I was so unhappy when I had to go through town today and there was no way through so I had to go around town to get home #I was so incredibly pissed about that #but hey my father made Gulasch today! and he put a blueberry quark strudel in the oven! it was so creamy and good! #so food wise today was amazing for me! #I even wore some cat ears at wok. the other apprentice and me were the only ones who “dressed up” today which was a shame #even though he only wore devil horns and that's it so nothing big either #but there are people who dress up entirely! but you barely see couple's costumes here. I saw none today in all honesty #I saw a lot of ladybugs though! a few bees! piglets! sunflowers! #it's a colorful festival! but a lot of people drink on this day so not a lot of them will be at work tomorrow! good #the only reason König would love this holiday would be because of the beer #you guys don't understand just how much alcohol Austrians drink we're far far above the EU average #the state I live in is far above the Austrian average as well my father told me today #so yeah we drink lots and lots of alcohol. beer for the most part but Spritzer is also really popular. Spritzer is superior though #beer is just disgusting and gross. I've tried it once and it was so bitter. but this is coming from someone who likes Jägermeister haha #I didn't get a Krapfen today though which is so incredibly sad :( Maybe some other time but it won't be a Faschingskrapfen :(

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I did it! I finaly bought myself something an ordinary Croat couldn't fkn afford! I always wanted the ipad for drawing and college work but it was just not realistic. But now after sticking to my plan and going to Austria to get a decent paycheck, I did it! I am so proud of myself not just due to materialistic reasons, but for actually going through with my plan and dedicating myself to somthing! I feel happy and satisfied and I finally feel like my own, real, independent person! 🥹

#i am very drunk and very emotional #my czech friend and myself were drinking from 8 until now and the god damn italia sparkly wine got to me #alao fucking austrian beer hit me like a train #also the hugo.... #but we dont talk about the hugo #oh wel time for work tomorrow lmfao #i am finally proud of myself #meli speaks #back on my bs #non hetalia

[umilily]

i'm back. (and i didn't commit murder, but it was close.)

#lily talks #i took some nice pictures that i'll probably post later #many creatures to be seen #but all that really needs to be said is that it was exhausting and i'm done socialising for the rest of the month #i am so tired of dealing with extroverts #there was only one bed but unfortunately instead of a friends to lovers fic this was more like strangers to enemies lmao #(not quite that bad but oof) #like my roomate was alright even if we ahd absolutely NOTHING in common but she was incapable of talking in an indoor voice #or just not saying something for longer than 2 minutes #and this one dude nearly chewed my ear off with his whining about having to walk places and do things #like you know #as is to be expected of a course like this one #food was the shit though #today i ate my weight in Kaiserschmarrn and that is the type of life i want to lead #also once again bavarians are on a whole other level #suffered a cultural shock talking to them #(why would you mix dark beer with coke and cherry liqueur?? #that was probably the first time since i moved here that i felt understood by the austrians #also shout out to the woman running the inn we were staying at who saved us all by literally putting our shoes in the oven to dry #ironically the only day of this trip that my feet were dry was today when i had to put on a chest wader and get into a river up to my hips #in conclusion #i am not made for conducting research outside #(i nearly died on our hike and almost had to crawl towards the end bc it was so steep and uneven before giving up entirely) #but the perfect job for me is work where you have to pay attention to detail and can take as long as you'd like #i had to check riverbed samples for larvae and stuff today and that was the most relaxing thing i've done in ages

[galaxywhale-moved]

it always fun drinking around new ppl bc they’re always like aw you’re giggling and like. yeah. i am

#i am a v happy drunk #tonight has been a good night :) #currently sittingi in th v. comfy large windowsill in this Austrian hostel w the remnants of my Extremelu Large Austrian beer that I was #def. not meant to bring on the bus w me lile 🥰

[morgenlich]

researching what liquors are popular in austria for fic writing purposes and just remembering how one of my main impressions of vienna was that Czech beers were advertised more than Austrian……

#ANYWAY deciding that roderich likes slivovitz and marillenschnaps #(the latter of which IS austrian specifically lol) #still laughing about the beer tho #i was like hm should I try the local stuff? #well…looks like even the locals don’t drink it! #I do genuinely like how many things that are popular in austria are hungarian or slavic (mostly but not exclusively czech) in origin

[leuchtturmhaus]

the first time Victoria got canceled online was for underage drinking and being 'irresponsible' because someone found a video of her severely drunk at 15 at a ✨Bierzelt✨ (she was yelling along to 'Skandal im Sperrbezirk')

#vf71 #jonah's oc lab #f1 oc time #Bierzelt is like a bigass tent gets put up and then you get wasted which half of your town #followed by Frühschoppen which is when you go to the tent pre midday and...drink beer while listening to a brass band playing ein Prosit #for the 4th time in less than an hour #if you are awake at this time #<- for my non austrian followers

[katzenmas]

König who leaves you little notes when he has to leave the house earlier than you. they're small colorful post its that he sticks on any surface he can.

the tradition started quite a while ago. back when he would leave for ops without telling you, coming back and missing you just by a few minutes. it took a toll on the relationship. he wasn't allowed to have his phone on during ops and there was no way of contacting him.

so one time you took out your old stationary stack and scribbled ' do NOT leave your muddy boots on my white rug when you come back', the pink post it was stuck to the entryway hallway wall. right where he meticulously hangs his jacket every time he comes back home in the dead of night.

when könig read the note a smile tugged on his lips. he took the steel toe boots and put them in the bathroom, deciding to clean them off tomorrow. after a long shower the sun was creeping up on the horizon and the austrian stood in your shared kitchen, ransacking the cabinets.

his strudel that he always buys from a small pastry shop had run out, the milk was turning sour by the smell and there was no more beer. looking at the clock and realizing that you will be up in 40 minutes to go to work he finds a post it and starts writing.

'i went to the store to buy some groceries. please if you eat my strudel leave some for me next time liebe'

the neon yellow note on the fridge caught your attention as you were frantically trying to put together a small breakfast to scarf down before you were late. with a quirk of your brow you picked up a different post it and stuck it right below his.

' you know i dont eat your layered pastries. you were the one that ate the remainder of it after getting drunk.

p.s please make some food for lunch, i'll swing by on my break'

the method worked for you. sometimes it was a list of stuff to get for the house, a little poem you would try to write in german, a reminder for an important date, but sometimes it was just a sweet ' i love you' written in cursive and stuck to the wall behind your bed.

' please stop trying to write in german schatzi, the grammar is hurting my eyes. at least use google translate'

' PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY PANTIES ON YOUR OPS I'M RUNNING LOW ON UNDERWEAR!!!!'

' soup's in the fridge. get some baking soda when you go to the store'

' i love you hase! p.s sorry i broke your laptop it was an accident'

'how did you ACCIDENTALLY sit on my work laptop'

#konig x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x you #fluff #cod fluff #cod #call of duty x reader #headcanons #konig headcanons #cod headcanons #cod mw2 #cod mwii #konig

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)

You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved. You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.

TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping

CHAPTER 1 You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.

Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun? 

Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea. 

Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words. 

Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place. 

— Sorry. 

Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately. 

You aren’t letting go of the bottle. 

The guy doesn’t let go either. 

— Sorry, I think I got it first. 

You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies. 

— Haven’t seen you. 

He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too. 

— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle. 

You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that. 

— What do you need this bottle for? 

— Important reasons. Secret reasons.

The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck. 

Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers. 

He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see. 

Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you. 

But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria. 

— Please, sir, it’s getting silly. 

— Yes, it is. Give up now. 

He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation. 

— I really, really need this bottle. Please? 

You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation. 

In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions. 

— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you? 

His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head. 

— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir. 

You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head. 

“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too! 

— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all. 

His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him. 

— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle. 

He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants. 

He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back. 

— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine. 

— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it! 

— You too. 

— But I will. 

— Just as I am. 

He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are. 

Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are. 

Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm. 

Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you. 

— What’s going on, Tigeren? 

Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions. 

You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…

Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…

Did you miss a horse-riding party? 

— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko. 

— I’m not a tourist. 

You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately. 

— This is a dangerous place, lady. 

The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual. 

— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now. 

— With my coke. 

Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously. 

— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold. 

— You let go of it, sir. 

— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you. 

You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears. 

— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around. 

The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip. 

You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night? 

He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier. 

Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you. 

You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards. 

Nothing. 

God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…

— On me. Move your ass, tourist. 

The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend? 

You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried. 

You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you. 

You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want. 

Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on. 

— Thank…you? 

— No problem, kleine. 

You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old. 

— What the fuck? Who is…

— I’ll explain in the car, alright? 

— Did you drop it or something? 

— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it? 

She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could. 

— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it. 

He…

You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…

The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention. 

— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen. 

Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals. 

— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though. 

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. 

— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts. 

— We’re not some dumb tourists. 

— Ach? You aren’t? 

Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop. 

— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us. 

— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja? 

— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen? 

You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse. 

You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form. 

— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road. 

— You were driving whole day? 

— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice. 

The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation. 

— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you. 

The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies. 

— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind. 

— Are you two alone on the trip? 

Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small. 

— No, Our male friends are with us. 

He humms, almost sounding amused. 

— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy. 

— Sorry? 

— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily. 

You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp. 

— Thank you for the bottle, sir. 

— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja? 

You nod. 

Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right? (You can’t,  but you don’t know that yet)

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #yandere horangi #horangi #kim horangi hong jin #kim hong jin #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #horangi x you #slashers

[wanderingalaskan]

I’m not usually a take-pictures-of-your-food kinda person, but this „Jägerpfandl” was delish. #austrian #traditional #food #beer #brewery #vienna #nomnom (at Fischer Bräu) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cgv3ktkIhJ0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#austrian #traditional #food #beer #brewery #vienna #nomnom

[kneelingshadowsalome]

the yandere x yandere ask and your answer got me going maaaaaaad....pleeeease just one little story, just a snippet I beeeeg you...

I think I am addicted to your writing ❤️‍🔥

Ok ok you here's your little snippet I am not immune to begging (I am weak)

Word count: 1.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only, Yandere!König x Yandere!Reader, situationship with toxic König, light bondage, slight degradation, crazy idiots in love A/N: *sigh* for God's sake.

"No."

Your refusal echoes in the empty hall as you rush toward your room. The one you are talking to is marching right behind you… A giant Austrian killer, a one-man fucking machine, and a terror to women.

You know you shouldn't have said it today – hissed bitterly on the comms how everyone knows König is good with a gun after the new girl commented on what a good shot your foreign lover was. 

You wanted to shoot that girl, and now hated yourself for it. Hated - and loved - how a certain lovesick madman was again following you like an oversized puppy in heat. Had followed you ever since you praised his killing skills (you were the first girl to do that, goddammit), and agreed to go on a date with him. At a gun range, no less.

You try to ignore how your neck tingles as you open the door to your room. Out of breath, you turn to slam it shut, but a strong hand shoots to prevent your strength. It stops the door from moving even an inch.

"No," you repeat while looking up at the blazing blue eyes.

How can such a cold stare scorch your skin? How can those eyes burn your very reason to a crisp…?

"I'll visit you after silence then," he promises darkly, and the tingles turn into a downright shiver.

"No you won't. I'll lock my door."

"I'll break in."

"...You're fucking crazy !"

"You have no idea, Liebling." He steals a peek down at your chest, rising and falling like a wave because you are so riled. You can almost hear how he licks his lips under that hood. "I have to return your strings, oder?"

Rage and thrill fight for your attention as you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"You–you took my…" you gasp, hating the way you sound like a pearl-clutching woman appalled by such indecency. Truth is, you are appalled. And aroused. But you're not a pearl-clutching woman.

"Pervert," you spit the word out with hot pride. He doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink at your insult.

"Ist das so? And who wanted me to tie her up last night? Hmm?"

Shit... Your cheeks pang with heat. 

Tight moans and pleas of "Use that paracord on me," and "Fuck me like I'm your prisoner," flood your mind, as does his low growl of "You're mistaken, Liebling. This is no play. You are my prisoner."

You thought he would've tied you into a bed, but no: this pervy lunatic tied your hands to the ceiling, not tight, but tight enough to render you helpless as he gave you a 15-minute edging session with his tongue, followed by more than just one profound fucking session with that ridiculously long Austrian cock.

He raised you in his lap and fucked into you from standing, took you from behind like an animal, used your body any way he wanted to until you were dumb and full of his cum. 

He pulled orgasms, quivering breaths and lewd moans out of you while whispering painfully sweet things in your ear – then left you hanging there after he was satisfied. You thought he went to get a towel, which he did... but he also went to get himself a beer. 

He drank that pilsner in front of you, wearing only and only that stupid black hood. Surrounded by his guns and knives, this man looked like a god of war: muscles sheened in sweat, heavy cock glistening with your juices, looking at you with smug pride as the warm seed ran down your thighs.

"Let me down," you finally broke before him, pouting and throbbing from the multiple orgasms he just gave you.

"Ask nicely, Liebling."

"Please, let me down… My wrists hurt."

He came to release you from that rope immediately, carried you to his bed, and cooed what a good girl you were, taking his cock so many times like you were made for it. Cleaned you up with a warm, wet towel and promised he would bring you food from the mess if you promised to stay put. (You promised, and he did.) He even offered you a sip of that yucky beer and asked if his prisoner had everything she needed.

But what's worst is that he dares to shame you for what happened last night.

"What kind of a woman wants to be used like that...? You're dirty," he slurs, eyes flashing with desire.

"You're the one who's dirty," you half yell, then snap your mouth shut, knowing half the barracks just heard your announcement.

He just tilts his head as if it's quite normal to have an argument about who's more fucked up in the middle of an echoing hall.

"Eh? I bet you're wet even now." His voice is high and tight from anticipation. "Shall I make an inspection?"

"I will slap you if you do that," you declare with a lift of your chin. Your shoulders draw back and your hand squeezes into a fist, ready to deliver on that threat.

He looks down at your tiny paw – nothing escapes him, not even the slightest movement at the corner of his eye. But when he looks back at you again, his eyes are filled with a sinful dare. 

"I'm warning you. If you come inside, I'll–"

He steps forward immediately and catches your punch like it's only a meager leaf in his way. You pout furiously as you send another fist flying, aiming for that hood – quite lousily, to be honest. Of course he catches that too, then spins you around like you two are dancing jive and forces you against a wall with his body.

It's the softest, most loving little shove and pin, and the only thing that's knocked out of air is your pride as his groin presses against your ass and shoves up, hard enough to force you up on your toes. 

"You're not a woman, you're a wildcat," he rasps in your ear as the warm darkness of the hood brushes your neck. His hand rests on the wall next to your face like a warning not to squirm while the other is already traveling up the back of your thigh. 

He's going to make that inspection, no doubt, shove his hand beneath your belt and into your camos. See if you're wearing another pair of "filthy strings" – or that's what this crazy dude calls the revealing underwear he says is "not suitable for decent women."

The funniest thing is that you started wearing them mainly because they clearly drive him mad...

"König..." you moan your want into the air as he slips that hand down your pants. Your hands got trapped between the wall and your chest as he pressed you there, but you wouldn't try to prevent him even if they were free. 

You want to tell him how good he is with his guns, all of them. You want to tell him that you hate the new girl. You want to tell him you'll be his prisoner, always…

He takes a good, long sniff of your neck, causing your ass to grind against the hard bulge in his pants. He doesn't like the smell of gunpowder on you, doesn't like it that you're almost as good with a rifle and a scope as him. He wants to take you away from all harm and make you his little wife. 

(The only harm that has ever fallen upon you is this crazy titan who makes love to you like it's the end of the world.)

"Kleine Wildkatze," he murmurs softly in your ear while agile fingers find your soaked cotton, the fragile shield between lust and madness. "I will tame you. Don't you worry about that. One day you will be purring in my lap..."

#könig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #yandere könig #yandere x yandere #könig imagine #konig x you

[two-white-butterflies]

drug (two) | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

part one

"We're trending, and not for a good reason." you chuckled nervously, browsing through the thick of social media. Darn Twitter's post viewing limits, there were at least a million posts mentioning you. "Bad publicity is still publicity," Toto responded - closing his eyes in his inability to fight against rest.

"Hm, will you tell my father's publicist that?" you teased him and all color drained out of his face. He reached for his reading glasses on the bedside table, eyes slightly narrowing against the sharp light. "What is it about?" he groaned in an attempt to have a clear view of your phone. "-ever heard of dark mode?" he humored, slightly freezing when he sees the article's title.

"They make it seem like we're a divorced couple," he joked again, but it was clear that he was panicking. He hoped that nothing would come out of Christian. He prayed that his rival would learn to accept the change sooner than the media could get a wind of it - but nay, Toto was always a dreamer anyways. "Well, aren't you?" you giggled.

"I'll have this wiped off the face of earth," he mumbled to himself, reaching for his laptop hidden under the bed. "Gods I hate it when sports magazines push out this non-sports crap," you rolled your eyes - contemplating on whether or not you should message Christian. He was the only person that could fix this.

A sigh escapes your mouth. He wouldn't understand.

"How did you get rid of that article anyways?" George couldn't help but ask while taking the cooler out of the trunk. "I had to convince a close friend to buy the company," Toto sighed.

"I can't believe that we're living in a reality where Wolff-Horner babies are possible." Lewis chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. Gods, there were a million ways that this one could go wrong. "You're thinking way too far into the future," you chuckled - helping George carry the ice creams inside the house.

Christian half-expected his daughter to show up around Toto Wolff's arms, but he was more surprised to see the man show up alone. "Nice seeing you again," Geri smiled, welcoming the Austrian with arms open wide. "I wanted to bring Y/N but she feels under the weather." Toto reasoned for his daughter, but he already knew that it was some half-baked attempt to evade this dinner.

"Rainy seasons always make her sick." Geri sympathized. Christian shook his head in disbelief. No amount of clarity would ever make his wife believe that you were anything less of an angel. "I'm sorry for being late," the man apologized, sitting on the chair parallel them.

A waitress comes towards them with a menu, but Toto ignores the sheet of paper. "I'm not really here to have dinner. I wanted to inform you of something," he started with a tone that told Christian that he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going. "What is it?" he couldn't help but ask - taking a sip of his lemon water.

"She asked me to marry her." Toto began with a sad smile. "No, no fucking way." Christian shook his head. If this was Toto's way of inviting them to the wedding then the wedding wasn't fucking happening. "And I redirected her." he added and Geri let out a sigh of relief. You were too young for marriage.

"Because I knew that you didn't approve the both of us." he breathed, looking to the far horizon. Toto was a traditional man. He dreamt of a house in Beverly Hills or Bel Air - beside some hot shot producer - inside a house that seemed like a cleaning nightmare. He wanted a small family, a white picket fence with fun neighbors.

He'd be willing to let that go - all for you.

All for your family that didn't love him in return.

"Is this your way of trying to convince us? Y/N's had her turn of older billionaires in the past - they're all the same. I'm not letting her make the same mistakes again," he responded with courage.

Toto stood up - fiddling with his Patek Philippe watch.

"I want you to think about it, Christian. I really love your daughter."

@oceandeepthirst2 @h-c-u @perihelioneclipse @fallwinterr @ohkapten @crimeshowjunkie @ironcowboycopnickel @clusidino-27 @luckyladycreator2 @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @champomiel @wavesnotfeelings @soph1644

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff

[vivwritesfics]

Indian Summer

A collection of moments from their summer together. Lando and Oscar fell hard for her, but it wasn't meant to last. Summer was all they had.

I've missed Landoscar so much you guys

2.3K

F1 Masterlist

November was unseasonably warm as Lando sat in Oscar's London apartment. It happened more often than not now, the two of them reminiscing over the summer.

More often than not it ended with the two of them in tears. It had been an amazing summer, the best of their lives. But it was over, and nothing would ever be the same again. They both accepted it as they clinked their beers together and looked through the pictures.

She was in most of them.

Oscar had met her first. It was the Spanish Grand Prix and she was clearly lost. She marched in front of the McLaren garage several times, going back and forth, searching for where she was supposed to be.

Some of the mechanics noticed her, but they didn't do anything. Oscar saw her out of the corner of his eye. He thought nothing of it at first, went back to his conversation with his engineer.

He noticed when she walked past again. And then again. And then for a third time. That was when Oscar knew he had to do something about it. He, a rookie, plucked up the courage and walked over to her. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around, her brows furrowed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

She nodded her head. "Just trying to find my way," she answered, glancing down at the map on her phone.

Oscar looked at her phone, at where she was trying to get to. He knew just enough to point her in the right direction. Her grin was wide as she started off in that direction, thanking him as she went. That was when Oscar realised that she had no idea who he was.

He couldn't get her out of his head for the rest of the Grand Prix. He didn't tell Lando about this interaction, he had no need to. She was his little secret, something just for him.

There wasn't a picture of that moment in either of their phones. It wasn't something he'd ever forget; he didn't need a picture.

Her first interaction with Lando was only slightly different.

It was the Austrian Grand Prix, a week after she'd met Oscar. This time she managed to find away, but she still took a slow stroll past the McLaren garage, hoping to see the man that had helped her this time.

No, she didn't know it was the Oscar Piastri, didn't realise the young McLaren Rookie had been the one to help her. She just knew it was a handsome young man in orange.

She didn't see him. There were too many people in orange to decipher which one was him.

But she did recognise Lando Norris, and he was staring straight at her, grin on his face.

Holy fuck, when Lando Norris looks at you, its a different experience. It wasn't even like he was giving her a small glance. He was straight up staring at her. She couldn't look away from him - his blue eyed stare was somewhat intoxicating.

It was almost like déjà vu when he walked over to her. Suddenly she was thinking about the man that had helped her at the Spanish Grand Prix. "Are you okay?" He asked, much in the same way Oscar had the week before.

She nodded her head. "Just looking for someone," she said, keeping her cool. Lando Norris was talking to her and she was managing to keep her cool. It was a day she was going to celebrate. "Good luck out there," she said and walked away before she could make a fool of herself in front of one of the drivers.

Lando strode back into the garage as she walked away. He wore a smug smirk as he walked back over to Oscar. "I've just met a really pretty girl," he said.

That night she and the friends she went to the Grand Prix with decided to go to the club. They got to the club early and it was empty, empty enough to easily get a drink.

The drivers were in the club hours later. Lando dragged Oscar with his for this one and only time. And Oscar agreed, just to get him to leave him alone.

Oscar spotted her first. He strode over and tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

But she couldn't hear him over the music. "McLaren Guy!" She shouted and wrapped her arms around him.

"Are you stalking me?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"You know it!" She shouted back.

They started dancing together, bodies grinding together. She had her arms wrapped around his thick neck and his hands were on her waist as they moved. Her fingers were moving through his hair as he kissed her.

Lando was too wrapped up in having fun with Carlos to notice Oscar. But he eventually disappeared, either going off for more drinks or to go to the bathroom.

He spotted her dancing alone. Lando couldn't stop himself from walking over. "Hey," he said after he had recognised her. "You're the girl from the Grand prix, right?"

She held her hand out towards him. "I'm Y/N," she said into his ear.

Lando started dancing with her. He couldn't help himself, she was gorgeous. The way her body moved against his had him throwing his head back. That was before he leaned down to kiss her, his hands gripping her ass.

Oscar must have seen it. He was looked around for her, only to spot her dancing with his teammate. He couldn't be mad - she was just some girl in the club. Oscar had no claim to her.

She left the club that night with Lando's phone number. Of course, she didn't expect him to text her, but he did, making sure she got home okay. It was incredibly sweet of him.

There were pictures in Lando's phone from that night. They were blurry and they could just about make out her pretty face. At first, Oscar didn't want to remember that night. But the pictures of her in that dress had him changing his mind.

The next time they saw her was the British Grand Prix, just a week later. She was there as Lando's guest, meant to be watching the Grand Prix from the back of the garage.

It was his home race, a special one. She was obviously following the Formula One around the world anyway; Lando couldn't stop himself from inviting her along for this one. His parents were going to be there too, watching with her in the back of the garage.

That was when she saw Oscar in his race suit for the first time. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God, McLaren guy," she said upon seeing him. "You're Oscar Piastri? The other driver?" She squeaked.

"You didn't know?" He replied, clearly surprised. e

"No! I thought you were just... some guy!"

Just some guy, that was why he made out with her teammate.

She may have been there as Lando's guest, but that wasn't going to stop her from flirting with Oscar. She liked two guys, was that really a crime?

Lando was on the Podium and Oscar was nearly on the podium. They had to celebrate, and they had to take her with them. Once again they dragged Oscar out for drinks, but she barely touched the alcohol.

By the end of the night she was kissing the both of them. Lando first, his hands on her waist. Oscar didn't see it as he stole her breath and let his tongue explore her mouth.

When Lando went elsewhere, Oscar got his kiss. It was a lot more dominating, and she couldn't get enough. His hands were holding the back of her head, holding her close as he kissed her.

Later, Lando would blame this on the alcohol, but when he saw Oscar kissing her, he walked up behind her and began kissing down her neck. Oscar spotted him, but he didn't pull away. Especially when she began making those little noises.

They had just one picture from that night. She'd taken Lando's phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of the three of them, Lando and Oscar holding her between them. It would become a favourite picture for the boys, one they visited often when they spoke about it.

She went to the next two Grand Prix with them, watched from the back of the garage as Lando and Oscar raced. After races they'd head back to one of their hotel rooms, the three of them sharing the same bed.

In the privacy of their hotel room, Lando snapped pictures of them. His favourite was one of Oscar behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest, keeping things private as he kissed down her neck. The picture was still intimate, though.

The three of them wouldn't just hide away in their hotel room. On the rare instance that they were feeling brave, the three of them would go out for dinner. She'd insist on getting a picture.

But, most of the time they wouldn't. They'd hide away and eat a post-race pizza. They had pictures of that, too. The three of them smiling with pizza in their mouths. These were Oscars favourite pictures; the ones of the three of them together like this, having fun, being soft.

Lando's usual summer break was usually full of golf. He was still going to golf, but he had bigger priorities now. His priorities were her and Oscar.

It was his idea to go to Australia. Oscar was over the moon to be taking them to his home. He drew up an itinerary of all the places he wanted to take them, all the things he wanted them to do.

Lando got them to play golf. He taught them both, had his arms wrapped around the both of them as he taught them how to swing. Those were his favourite days in Australia.

They did a lot of exploring. Those were her favourite days, to explore Oscar's home. He loved it to, loved to see her eyes light up with curiosity as she led them along an unknown path. Both Oscar and Lando had pictures of that. Of her in her shorts and bikini top, backpack on her bag as she led the way.

They were in Australia, but Oscar didn't want them to meet his parents. Not yet, he wasn't ready for that. But one day they would, he was sure of it. These were the people he could see his future with.

Australia wasn't all they did over summer break.

They went on holiday, flew to Spain and stayed in a private villa. The two requirements they had for the villa was privacy, and a big enough bed for the three of them. Nights laying together, tangled in the sheets, sweat covering their bodies and breathless, were like no other.

It was amazing.

"We'll go skiing together in the winter," Lando whispered as he kissed her shoulder in the early hours of the morning. She was wearing one of Oscar's shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts as she leaned over the balcony, looking at the view.

Lando stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against his warm, bare chest. She could feel his cool necklace through the shirt. "I'd like that," she whispered, shutting her eyes as she leaned against him.

Oscar brought her coffee. None for Lando, he didn't like coffee. The three of them sat on the balcony together, leaning against each other as they looked at the view.

These were the best days of their lives.

They had so many pictures to commemorate summer break. Pictures of her in the pool, pictures of her sat with Lando on a sun lounger, pictures of her and Oscar holding each other on the balcony. She was in every single picture.

But summer break came and went. In late August racing resumed. Maybe the McLaren drivers were being foolish when they thought she'd come with them, that she'd follow them across the world. She'd done it before, what was stopping her from doing it now?

Suddenly, she wasn't at the Grand Prix with them. Suddenly, she wasn't answering texts or calls. Lando and Oscar both thought the worst. What if something had happened to her? Neither of them could stop their thoughts from racing, their hearts from breaking.

After a month of radio silence, she finally answered their group chat messages. For that entire month, she hadn't so much as looked at their messages (and they'd been checking). September was colder than either of them had expected.

The text was vague. So fucking vague. I can't do this anymore, she sent and left their group chat.

They didn't know what they'd done to cause this, to drive her away. They didn't know what they could have done to make her stay. But there wasn't anything they could have done. This was inevitable. It was always going to happen.

She was always going to leave them. Dating two high profile drivers wasn't something she could handle. They'd always have summer, though, she told herself as she sent that text.

That summer had changed everything for Lando and Oscar. With her gone, all they had was each other and the pictures. The pictures of her. They couldn't stop themselves from going through the folders, reminiscing on a better time.

At least one of them would end up crying, but the beer definitely didn't help.

Soon the boys realised it was nothing more than a fling, but it was a fling they'd never forget. She'd be a fling they'd never forget, and they would never stop searching for her.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader smut #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #landoscar #landoscar imagine #landoscar x reader #ln4 #op81

[nrdmssgs]

König meeting civilian reader Scenario (part 1)

Masterlist

Part 2 is here

Meeting for the first time. Civilian reader. I know, you all have your personal headcannons for his real/civilian name, so I tried to leave it blank for you. Boy is just homesick, so sorry for that “Austria is better than...” thing.

It was Friday night, you gathered with your friends at the local bar. Your neck and shoulders were aching after a week of sitting in the office, barely having time to stand up.

So when you saw an unoccupied coach at your table - you knew it was your choice for this evening.

You see, the coach is good for relaxing, even drinking maybe... but you all were hungry after a long day and sitting down there, you were too low to eat something from the table. Your nose was literally at tabletop height. So you were left alone on the couch.

Not that you minded extra space.

It was until your last friend showed up, bringing this mountain of a man with them.

"Everybody, say hi to *Königs` civilian name*. He is a friend of a friend, he'll be staying in our town for some time."

Despite being warmly greeted, he glances at you all cautiously and answers something under his breath.

You figure, the guy must be tired or just doesn't like big companies. So when he lands on a couch near you and almost immediately moves away, as if trying to take up less space, you just smile and reassure you don't need the whole couch just to yourself.

Even sitting on a low sofa, he rises above the rest of you.

You are quickly distracted by the conversation with the rest of your friends and turn back to the table. From time to time, someone from your company asks the giant next to you about his life, but his answers are always short and reserved.

Sometimes it seems to you that you feel someone's gaze, but when you turn around to your new acquaintance, he turns out to be absolutely fascinated by reading the label of his beer bottle.

At some point, one of your friends is going to the bar and asks what to get you. You glance at the menu without much enthusiasm.

"I don't even know... What are you drinking?", you turn to König.

"It's Villacher...", he answers almost automatic and looks so concentrated and nervous, as if you already knew the right answer and was just testing him.

"I don't see it in the menu... it must be in German exported list, yes?", you ask him without second thoughts, and it is where his face changes.

Anxiety is replaced by surprise on his face as he answers you in much slower pace now: "It's Austrian. You don't place Austrian beer in German list..."

And before you have a moment to consider, if you offended the guy, he starts a whole freaking TED talk on how Austria and Germany approach brewing. And how far the traditions of Austria surpass those of Germany.

But somehow he sounds not angry at all. He is actually very happy to share his knowledge with you. He even scribbles view from a window in a typical village in the Tyrolean Alps (yep, good luck figuring out how is that related to his lecture. IT JUST IS).

You notice small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiles, talking to you. You listen to his accent, remember his name, and put two and two together.

"So, I take it, you are from Austria. Miss your home?", he suddenly pauses at your question.

"Well, a bit... But I'm ok here, I guess".

You two spend the rest of the evening chatting. The more you talk to him, the more relaxed he seems.

It is until it's time to say goodbye, and you casually ask him for his number. Man frowns. Seems like he stops breathing.

"No-no, you got me wrong, I just want to add you to our group chat. That way, you'll have a bunch of acquaintances in the local area. Plus you'll know, when we are gathering next time", you laugh, hiding your own embarrassment.

He answers "Sure" not breaking eye contact and completely ignores the smartphone you placed before him on a table. Instead, he takes a napkin and scratches a number on it with a pencil (this gentle giant is so caught up in a moment, he doesn't have a single idea, what is he doing).

Back at home you understand, you've fetched the napkin with his sketch as well by mistake. But you keep it - such a wholesome reminder of that nice evening.

#koenig #konig #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #konig fluff #konig scenario #scenario #scenarios #cod #cod x reader #könig cod #könig #könig imagine #könig headcanons #könig x reader #könig mw2 #mv2 #cod mw2 #könig fluff #konig imagine #könig scenario #könig headcanon #konig headcannon #konig x reader

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

Metalhead!König at a festival

Tis the season – Festival season – SFW and NSFW

More Stuff in the Masterlist

(cw: alcohol/drugs, semi-public sex, smut, MDNI 18+)

On the way to the festival, I’m living the best passenger princess life, sitting beside him, navigating the GPS, feeding him snackies (he loves little brezels and gummyworms) and most importantly DJing the whole time while driving to the festival. Songs of all the bands we want to go see live are blasting from the speakers and when I start to sing along, König chimes in.

He has an old VW van T4 that he rebuilt himself, so that the back of it actually transforms into a quite comfy bed, one that even accommodates his size.

The trunk of the van is filled with gear and gadgets, there's nothing that he didn't think about.

A plastic pavilion to get a little bit of shade in the blistering summer sun. A camping table and two chairs (even though I don't know why he bothered to get me my own because he always coaxes me to sit in his lap) ((maybe that's why we have a second one because I don't think the small thing can withstand our combined weight for long)). A portable sound system. A bunch of hardware tools, a camping cooker and some equipment for it. Like for example the little espresso can because even at a festival the big guy needs his proper coffee (and not some kind of "instant crap" – his words).

At least I could hold him off from bringing our own beer tap because that would've been ridiculous.

And of course, he brought a grill, he would've even brought one if it weren't allowed.

I mean, he's Austrian and even though the neighbors from Germany are much more known for their fondness for grilling as soon as the temperatures rise over 10 degrees celsius, he still loves it.

I'm just rolling my eyes and laughing when he starts to light the coals pretty early in the morning. But I'm not complaining because he chooses to do so shirtless, showing off his broad muscled chest and the plethora of tattoos on his torso.

The black cargo shorts are hanging low on his hips, the belt holding them in place, the waistband of his boxershorts showing a little bit which accentuates the V of his hips. And don't even get me started on the happy trail leading down.

I'm ogling him shamelessly, sitting in my chair and making some coffee on the burner for us.

(He's also wearing some of his old combat boots, and he reassured me that the weird looking stains on them aren't actually blood. (I still don't believe him))

He looks like such a metalhead dad as he's standing at the grill, a beer in hand and just happily humming along to the melodies blasting from the speaker.

It makes me happy to see him like this because I don't know much about his work, he rarely talks to me about it and it has to be a burden, but right now he seems like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I catch him grinning at me, shaking the almost empty beer can and downing the last bit. I giggle, jump up and go get him a new one from the little freezer box.

With two fresh cans of beer, I stroll over to him, handing him one. His arm wraps around me and I can already see the mischief sparkling in his eyes as he's looking down on me. "Ex oder Franzos.", he tells me, taunting me. (He told me once what this means ‘either down your beer or you're french’ which apparently is an insult?? I don't know what the Austrians are on either)

"Nooo, I’m not gonna shotgun with you right now.", I wail.

"Oh, come on, it's just one beer.", he grins at me.

I put my hands on my hips, looking up at him all scolding. "Well, maybe one beer isn't a big deal for you, big guy." He just laughs and nonetheless drinks half his beer with one big gulp, the little show-off. Ever since he knows what a lightweight I am, he likes to tease me about it. Stupid big tall man.

The sun shines down like crazy which gives me the opportunity to apply sunscreen too him as often as I can.

"I get the feeling you're not doing this for the well-being of my skin.", he tells me, sideeyeing me while my hands move over his shoulders and pecs, making sure every inch is covered.

"I don't know what you mean.", I answer innocently, making him pull his hair out of the way with a nod, and moving on to his tattooed back, skimming over the smooth skin with my fingertips, massaging over the tense muscles.

When I'm finished, finally having applied enough sunscreen on the huge man, he snatches up the bottle, puts a little dollop on his hands and goes straight for my boobs.

"We can't have you getting a sunburn either!", he explains with a serious expression on his face while he shamelessly kneads my bikini-clothed breasts, in the name of sun protection.

Food in the stage area is expensive but that doesn't stop him from buying me everything I think looks good. I need to actually hold him off from getting another portion of the little pancakes because I'm so full, I feel like bursting and I still wanna be able to mosh.

"But what about some ice cream?", he suggests, pointing at a little cart in the vicinity. "It might help us cool a bit down."

I tilt my head to the side, thinking about it, but only for a moment. "Okay, I think there still is room for some ice cream.", I agree and we make our way in the direction of the ice cream vendor.

“Oh, wait, we need to get more water!”, I yell out as I see the water station. I pull him with me by his hand, filling our water bottles and then taking off my shirt to wet it.

“Now, what is this? Wet t-shirt contest?”, he asks with a dirty smile on his face, his eyes travelling down my body.

“Yeah, you wanna join?”, I ask him wiggling my brows, which makes him laugh and shed his shirt in a second. He lets water run over it as well and then wrings the shirt out over his body, the water dripping down his pecs and abs, and I can’t help but stare with a slack jaw. He laughs again when he sees the expression on my face, but he puts the shirt back on.

He pulls me into him, pressing a little kiss to my temple, our wet clothes sticking together. “Come on, let’s get you that ice cream, sweet cheeks.”, he says, giving my ass a few loving pats.

We try and go to as many bands as possible which is becoming quite the workout for me. By midnight my feet are already hurting like crazy and I make the mistake of mentioning it to König because he demands to carry me now. After some discussion, we come to the agreement that a piggyback ride would suffice.

So now I'm clinging to König's back, my muddy shoes dirtying his pants with the way my legs are hugging his hips. His arms are reaching back, the hands crossed under my ass supporting my weight.

Festivals can get pretty filthy but that doesn't stop him from trying to get into my pants. The solution to the filthyness? Going showering.

Most of the festivals I've ever been to don't actually separate between men's and women's shower, so that's not an issue when we slip into one of the cabins together. Still, some people around gave us funny looks.

It gets crowded in there even for two people, especially if one of the two is König. I press my body against his and squeal as he turns on the shower and we get doused with an icecold spray.

He just laughs, not fazed by it at all – duh, but I am someone who german-speaking would call a 'Warmduscher' (someone who likes to shower warm, which is meant as an insult).

His mouth finding mine shuts me up and wandering hands get rid of the dirt and grime on our bodies. I'm still washing away soapy suds while König's caresses drop lower and lower until his fingertips stroke over my pussy, finding my clit. I shoot him a look like "Seriously?! Right here and now?", but the corners of my mouth curl up. The knowing expression on his face doesn't waiver while he draws circles on the sensitive spot, getting me wet and needy for his fingers to slip inside me.

I hold onto him, my hands digging into his shoulders, as he pulls up one of my legs and finger-fucks me. The cold water is forgotten by now.

The palm of his hand pressing against the soft mound, stroking over the clit with every push inside me. His fingertips reaching that certain spot, brushing over it repeatedly, which has me gasping for air in no time. “Ja, fuck, come for me.”, he whispers against my lips. My thighs start to tremble, and moans escape my throat.

“You need to shut up, Liebes, or the people around us will know.”, he grunts, letting go of my leg and clasping the hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds. The realization that there’s other people in the cabins beside us, that the stalls aren’t anywhere near a soundproof barrier, that someone will probably hear the lewd sounds, the realization sends a zap of tingly arousal down my spine. His fingers move faster, hitting me deep inside, and I come around them screaming into his palm.

When my orgasm fades, I snuggle into him, and he holds me up pressing soft kisses to the top of my head and my face. He takes the camping bath towel he brought (you know, the ones that are microfiber and dry really fast? Of course, he has stuff like that) and starts to wrap me in it.

“Wait, what about you?”, I ask, still panting a bit, aware of his hard dick pressing against my belly.

“You’re already shivering wia a Lampe Schwoaf (like a lamb’s tail), we need to get you into the warmth again.”, he says, rubbing me down with the towel, the strokes of his big hands and the fabric tickling me a bit, which is making me giggle.

He leans down a bit, getting to my legs as well, still drying me off, and his eyes find mine, arousal and need glinting in them, a smirky grin forming on his face. “And don’t worry, I’m gonna get my fill of you later.”

In between bands, we’re sitting on the lawn, a little bit away from the stages. The sky is tinted in a rosy-orange blush, blending into the dark of the night that’s about to come. Even when I’m sitting on his thigh, I almost have to tilt my head back to look at him. He sees my little stare and smiles. “What?”, he asks.

I don’t break eye contact as I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”, he asks, seeming a little loopy.

I shrug, the smile on my face only getting wider. “I’m just happy to be here.” My hand reaches up to boop his nose, and the look on his face when he goes cross-eyed makes me laugh. “With you.”, I add, still giggling, feeling silly and honestly – a little lovey-dovey.

His smile matches mine as he grabs my face with his hand and plants a big kiss on my lips. “Me too, du Scherzkeks.”, he mumbles against my lips. (literally 'joking cookie', meaning jokester)

Straightening back up again, he eyes the joint in my other hand. “You still smoking that?”, he asks.

I shake my head and hand him the roach. He takes it and puffs the last bit of weed, inhaling deeply, holding in the breath. Before he can exhale, I grab his face with both my hands, pressing my lips to his. He chuckles, deepening the kiss, letting out the smoke as his tongue brushes against mine, and I taste him and the grassy fume.

We’re still sitting in the same spot an hour later, giggling with each other, sharing the biggest portion of fries we could find, while we listen to the music blasting from the stage speakers.

When we're back at the van, I fall into the mattress, bury my head into the pillow and groan as my body relaxes into the softness. My god, I will never be able to sleep on anything less comfortable when at a festival.

König's chuckle behind me makes me aware before his hands grasp my hips and pull them upwards. He pushes my pants down and his mouth into my pussy. I gasp into the sheets gripping them, squirming against his tongue, when he sloppily licks me, lapping at my wetness, dipping into my ass as well, until I’m making a total mess on his face.

He gets greedier, pulling out his dick and fucking me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips. The pace he’s going at makes the whole car shake, and somebody passing by could notice, but I'm counting on the darkness to conceal us, to hide what we're doing in the back of the van, especially when he flips us, and I’m on top now.

He's splayed out on the mattress looking up at me, satisfied smirk and hooded lids, as he grabs my wrists, securing them behind my back, and tells me to ride him. I whine and moan a little while I start moving up and down his length because the muscles in my legs are already aching from all the dancing, jumping and moshing, but his dirty ramblings spur me on: "Fuck, you feel so good, just like that." and "Harder, ride me harder." and “Ah, scheiße, i- that’s it, good fucking girl.”

He lifts up my shirt with the other hand and brings the fabric up to my mouth, gesturing me to bite into it. He pulls down the bikini top I’m still wearing underneath, freeing my boobs.

"Hm, such a little slut, getting fucked in the back of a van.", he murmurs, his eyes glued to my bouncing titties, while he fucks up into me, hitting spots deep inside me that pull obscene sounds from my throat. The little bit of fabric between my teeth can't damp them down. I try to hold onto the last bit of sanity, but then he pinches my nipple, hard, the sensations flowing over me, and I come on his dick, straining against his hold on me, shuddering while the orgasm wrecks through me.

My thighs are pressing together and König’s hands are the only thing that’s holding me up. While I’m still coming down, he pulls me against him. I sigh snuggling against his chest when he rolls us over.

“Oh no, Liebes, we’re not done yet.”, he chuckles, pushing into me again, his lips finding the sensitive spots on my neck.

A little ray of sunshine falls on my face through the window of the van, the early morning light making me open my eyes. I try to move to escape the brightness, but I can’t move my body. I turn my head and open my eyes, seeing König’s arm and legs draped over me, the big hand splayed out over my belly. Well, that explains it. The big guy is still sleeping, the soft sounds of his breathing filling the space around us. He’s facing me, a relaxed expression on his face, his brows that always seem to be furrowed turned up a little bit. I don’t think I have seen him this peaceful yet.

My lips curl up into a smile and I reach out, cupping his cheek, softly stroking over his jaw, because I can’t help myself. Normally he shaves pretty often, a habit he picked up at the military, but somehow, he’s still always wearing a 5 o’clock shadow. Right now, the beard has developed into more of a longer stubble, a few grey hairs in between. And it looks good on him.

Suddenly he’s stirring in his sleep, his lids fluttering as he groans, the big hand moving up to his face to rub the eyes. A little huff escapes my nose and I greet him with a “Good morning, sleepy head”. He groans again because he can be a little ‘Morgenmuffel’ (a little grumpy in the mornings), but opens his eyes to look at me.

“Why are you so cheery this morning, hm?”, he asks me, still blinking the sleep away while a sly smirk is forming on his face. “Oh yeah, that’s right because I fucked you seven ways to Sunday on this mattress.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the little grin on my face. “Yeah, yeah… If I can’t walk to the stages today, it’s your fault, old man.”, I taunt him.

His eyes light up with playful threat and he grabs me, rolling onto me. I yelp and giggle as his full body weight presses me into the mattress. “Keep running that mouth, Fräulein, and I’m gonna make sure of that.”, he says, his words a dirty promise.

a/n: this should have been a quick little fun drabble, but I got carried away - ah well, it happens <3

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

[sopiao]

task force 141 + konig going to the beach :D

100% unorganized and all over the place. Gaz and Ghost ganging up on Soap with water guns. Price lounging on a camping chair with a beer in hand, a book on the other. König and Shark drifting on the shore on floaties.

(callsign will be ‘Shark’ :3)

A beach day is just what the team needed after an unusually hard mission, and heaps of paperwork for that mission. Captain Price taking everyone out is like taking kindergartens out on a field trip.

Arriving to the beach, the whole group turned heads and caught the attention of almost everyone in 100ft radius. Group of soldiers, body covered in badass, healed, scars. Trained gazes to intimidate and belittle anyone with just a glare. All the while they had colorful beach items, coolers, towels, umbrella, and floaties. They all stare, not sure whether to be scared or turned on, or maybe both?

There were almost no space to breath with how many people were occupying the beach. They could already tell Price was getting irritated with how his personal space was being invaded. And with a simple glare from his soldiers, the people occupying the space around them immediately scooted away, giving them more than enough space to set up their towel and umbrella.

Not even minutes later, the soldiers were running around and acting like children. Of course, not before Price reminded them to put on sunscreen.

Gaz and Ghost whipped out two water guns each, super soakers, mischievously sneaking up on Soap, whose minding his own business making sandcastles, and drowning him in the cold water. Making him jump from the sudden temperature change against his back and immediately stumble up and run away.

“Pri—ce! Tell them to stop!” He shouts, running up to his captain, to tell on them like a kid. Price rolls his eyes from being pulled out of his book. He quickly looks at the two chasing Soap, waving them off just to get Soap off his back. It works for now, but planned to attack him when Price isn’t around.

Shark and König were floating around close by the shore, letting themselves get drifted away by the calming water. König sat himself in an inflatable shark pool float, while Shark dove under, looking for seashells or tiny rocks, floating up to the Austrian to show him and drop them all at his lap.

Soon, König couldn’t hold anymore seashells, rocks, or starfish. So, they’d run up to Dad Price. Running up like an excited toddler with a new bug they found.

“Cap’ look! I found a sand dollar!” Shark ran up, holding the sand dollar up, almost tripping over sand in the process. They looked for sand dollars and starfish that was pale and already dead, they wouldn’t wanna take a live animal to suffer in a new environment.

“Good job, kiddo” Price would laugh, looking up from his book to look at them from his lawn chair, chuckling heartily when Shark gave it to him, wiping of the excess sand before pocketing it in the swim shorts. Trying hard not to laugh when he sees them trip on nothing, getting up from the sand like nothing happened, and running away back to König.

—

“Noo! Get that thing away!” König would screech, backing away and shielding his eyes from the large crab that Shark held. Cringing and shivering at the look of how the crab moved it’s legs and tried to wiggle out of their grasp.

“König, look at him. Isn’t he just so adorable?” Shark cooed, retracting the little crab away from the big guy, finding it amusing how a wall of a man such as him can be scared of an itty bitty crab. You didn’t even have to hold it with two hands.

“Ooh, dinner” Gaz joked, sneaking up behind them to take a crab from their hands, being careful to not get pinched by her strong claws. Holding it above his head and opening his mouth in a joking manner.

“Ahh” He continued to tease Shark, sticking his tongue out. The crab wiggling frantically, thinking she was actually gonna get eaten.

“No!” Shark protested, punching Gaz in the shoulder to drop their new friend. Their pretty resilient so it’s fine, they got hard shells. The little hard shelled friend using this as an opportunity to crab walk away, hiding under a rock.

—

“Sandball fight!”

Sand in the face is not what Shark wanted.

When the grainy texture fell off their face, still sand in some of their hair, eye lashes, and face, they looked forward to see Soap laughing a few feet in front of them. Ghost started snickering, finding the lack of emotion in their face funny from his comrades usual stunts.

—Thud

It was Shark turn to laugh when Ghost’s amusement stopped, and his face covered in sand as well. Both Soap and Shark laughed and snickered. Ghost shaking the sand off his face before taking a big hunk of sand from the ground next to him and sending it flying to hit his attacker in the face. Giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Both Ghost and Shark started chasing Soap, second time he’d been chased today, with a mix of water and sand in their hands. Shark, later on, filled up a bucket with compacted sand and a little bit of water. Price couldn’t help but laugh, not even trying to hide it.

—

Soap and Shark were sitting at König’s sides. Covering his lower half in sand, Gaz coming back every so often to deliver buckets of fresh sand for their sculpture. Patting down the sand to be compact and smooth on his lap and legs before using sticks and their fingers to draw on scales and add details to his sand fins. König was beaming under his mask, resting his hands on his sides, tilting his head side-to-side to the beat of his own song he was humming

“Seriously?” Ghost’s shadow looked over the four of them, giving Shark’s eyes a break from the bright sun. He had his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow to show how much he finds their actions childish. A smile spreading on Soap and Shark’s face, while König waved happily.

Not even thirty minutes later Ghost was in the same position. Well, kinda, he was laying on his stomach, resting his chin in his hands. Feeling his teammates dump sand on his booty and legs. Gaz adding extra sand on his butt to give him an extra dumpy. Doing the same thing they did with König, who is laying down, lower half covered in sand, arms out like a starfish, basking in the sun.

“Seriously?” They all looked up, stunned when they see their captain looking down on them with his arms crossed, bucket hat over his head. Really? His best team of soldiers, that’s killed many, are turning themselves into sand mermaids? These soldiers have killed hundreds, infiltrated secret organizations, destroyed operations. And they’re playing mermaids to pass the time?

Not too long after, their captain followed the same fate as his two soldiers, buried in sand. Sunglasses on, without a care in the world. Many people walked by, finding it charming how such rugged and dangerous soldiers doing such teenage like acts. Price leaned back on his elbows while Soap and Gaz decorated his sand tail with seashells Shark was coming back to give them.

Later, Shark found coconuts and string to make coconut bras for each of the mermaids X3.

—

“Are they… dead?” Gaz asked, watching Shark float face down at the shallow end of the shore. Gaz and König were just soaking their feet in the water, taking in the beautiful scenery when Gaz noticed his comrade floating like a dead frog.

“I’m.. not sure” König tilted his head, bending down at the knees to try and determine if they are dead. Instead of actually checking or even just poking them with a stick, they just stood there and watched Shark’s body sway in the water.

—Gasp

Both jumped when Shark suddenly came up for air, pushing themselves up on their knees to stand up properly.

“Jesus, fuck!” “Scheiße! (Shit)” They both jump, not expecting for them to stand up so suddenly.

“Gotcha!” Shark squeals, holding a large seashell, holding it close to them it was as big as their head. Both were confused why it was so special and why they had to stand so still to look for it.

They both stood at either side of Shark, leaning in to look at the large shell. Maybe it was really pretty? Had a rare pattern, or just was rare in general. Shark smiled when they saw the cute little face of the hermit crab peek out of the shell then cover his face with his claws.

“Gross!” König yelped, immediately backing away and covering the eyes of his hood, startled once again by a sea critter.

“Sick” Gaz beamed. Leaning in closer, resting his elbow on Shark’s shoulder, to try and get a better look at the shy hermit crab.

—

The next day they were all sunburnt, except for Price. For the most part he stayed under the sun but when he was out swimming with his team he always made sure to put on sunscreen when he needed. The rest always put it off for later and never did.

#cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #gaz cod #gaz x reader #ghost headcanons #gaz headcanons #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig headcanons #könig mw2 #soap call of duty #soap x reader #soap headcanons #captain price #price cod #price headcanons #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #cod headcanons #cod men #cod mwii #cutie patooties #task force 141 shark

[empirearchives]

Napoleon and Water

Excerpt from the book Aaron Burr in Exile: A Pariah in Paris, 1810-1811, by Jane Merrill and John Endicott

Aaron Burr lived in Paris for 15 months, and this book goes into detail about those years living under Napoleon’s rule. This part focuses on Napoleon’s water related reforms.

———

Napoleon’s fountains gave drinking water to the population, that is, children drank water, not beer. The water was free, not purchased. And the apartment would have had a separate water closet equipped with squat toilets (adopted from the Turks) and a bucket to wash it after use. Some restaurants and cafes had W.C.s, even one for ladies and one for gents. These were hooked into the sewer system that branched under each important street.

Napoleon merits points for delivering fresh water to Paris. If serving Paris with water from the d'Ourcq River by canals was not be a consummate success, Paris gained 40 new fountains, and the emperor commanded that fountains run all day (instead of a few limited hours) and that the water be free of charge.

Perhaps the most laudable of Napoleon’s policies were utilitarian city works, especially bringing clean water and sanitation to Paris. The improvements to infrastructure included new quays to prevent floods, new gutters and pavement, new aqueducts and fountains, and relocating cemeteries and slaughterhouses to the outskirts of the city. This was also a way of keeping up employment. An Austrian aristocrat in town during Napoleon’s wedding to Marie-Louise wrote his mother, in Vienna: “Nothing can give an idea of the immense projects undertaken simultaneously in Paris. The incoherence of it is incredible; one cannot imagine that the life of a single man would be enough to finish them.”

It was a tall order. Previous rulers had been aware of the problems and one big engineering initiative, a failed marvel, had been the waterworks at Marly, located on the banks of the Seine about seven miles from Paris. Louis XIV had it constructed to pump water from the river to his chateaux of Versailles and Marly. This was the machine marvel of its age, with 250 pumps that forced river water up a 500-foot rise to an aqueduct, and it was a sight Burr mentions going to see. By 1817 the “Marly machine” had deteriorated because it was made of wood, and the waterworks were abandoned.

Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, the prominent 19th century literary critic, wrote that there had been “ten years of anarchy, sedition and laxity, during which no useful work had been undertaken, not a street had been cleaned, not a residence repaired nothing improved or cleansed.” Postrevolutionary Paris was at a nadir in terms of both the inadequate, disease-ridden water supply and the filthy streets, which were basically open sewers, deep with black mud and refuse.

“Napoleon,” writes Alistair Horne, “was obsessed by the water of Paris, and everything to do with it.”

Parisians had mostly been getting their water directly from the Seine or lining up at the scant pay fountains. In 1806, nineteen new wells for fountains were dug that flowed day and night and were free. Napoleon had a canal built 60 miles from the River Ourcq, ordering 500 men to dig it, while still a consul in 1801. It brought water to the Bassin de la Villette, opening in 1808. Some doubted the wisdom of having such an abundance of water—an oriental luxury that might incur moral decay. Now the supply of water for firefighting was also much improved. The canal had light boats, as Napoleon tried to make back some of the huge expenditure by licensing navigation, and a circular aqueduct from which underground conduits went to the central city. In 1810, there were still many water porters wheeling barrels through the city.

Now Napoleon attacked the problem of the Seine as a catchall for pollution. Parisians were so used to it that men swam naked in the river and a contemporary guidebook advised merely that the water of the Seine had no ill effects on foreigners so long as they drank it mixed with wine or a drop of vinegar. Thus houses on bridges were demolished and an immense push began to clean and modernize the city sewers.

As this book is about Aaron Burr, here is section about Burr taking inspiration by a new water related invention during his time in Paris:

Remarkably for someone who was very aware of his health, he never complained of the water. He did, however, take an interest in an invention to make it easier to dig a well. When the inventor of a process to make vinegar from the sap of any tree was not in his shop, Burr and a friend, “Crede”, went to see another invention: “We went then to see Mons. Cagniard, and his new invention of raising water and performing any mechanical operation. His apparatus is a screw of Archimedes turned the reverse, air, water, and quick silver. Cagniard was abroad; but we saw a model, and worked it, and got the report of a committee of the Institute on the subject. If the thing performs what is said I will apply it to give water to Charleston.”

[Bold italics for quotations by me]

#Aaron Burr in Exile: A Pariah in Paris 1810-1811 #Aaron Burr #Jane Merrill #John Endicott #napoleon #napoleonic era #napoleonic #napoleon bonaparte #first french empire #french empire #19th century #france #history #Paris #french history #water #water history #Napoleon’s reforms #social reforms #social history #reforms #napoleonic reforms