#osse x reader

[cilil]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Mairon, Gothmog, Eönwë, Tilion & Ossë; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: 2nd person POV, vampire!Mairon, werewolf!Mairon, monsterfucking, Balrog anatomy, avian Ainu, merman, some Dom/sub dynamics, bit of predator/prey and other kinks, penetrative sex, intercrural sex, dirty talk

Warnings: Possessive themes, smut, tiny bit of degradation branding/burn marks, blood drinking/vampirism, mentions of impact play (whipping, spanking), swords/blades, bit of blood, biting, scratching

AN: Thanks to everyone who voted on my poll (back in the day). Sorry for the delay and here are your top choices plus our favorite birdy boy - hope you enjoy!

Mairon

𓂀 Once your heart is his, Mairon makes sure to live up to his reputation as the Lord of Gifts and the Lord of the Rings. Whether it is to seal a bond of marriage, asking for your hand or a promise of love and courtship, he crafts a beautiful ring just for you - showing everyone that you are now his and possibly also enhancing said ring with a few spells so he can watch over you.

𓂀 Yet gold is not the only way for him to mark your body; he also loves to use his fire to ensure neither you nor anyone else will ever forget where you belong. Mairon's preferred symbol to draw on your skin is The Eye, and he loves to place it right on your neck or chest so he can see it every time he takes you.

𓂀 His love and desire for you take many forms, as does he; when in the shape of a vampire, he enjoys biting you and drinking your blood while he makes love to you, strengthening the bond between you. He may sing to you to keep you calm while he feeds, and his song causes the wound and the vein he drank from to appear golden for a time until it slowly fades. Mairon expects you to wear those marks with pride and not cover them up.

𓂀 Whenever his form has more wolfish attributes, he also likes leaving bite marks, but his favorite feature is his knot. He loves how it swells inside you and stretches you out while he breeds you and how it keeps his seed inside until he decides he's done with you for the night.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Do you think you can take it?" 

Mairon slams into you with the full strength of his fána, making sure you can feel every inch of his hot, hard cock stretching you out without mercy. 

"Do you think you can take my knot, my precious little slut?" 

You barely manage to nod before a searing hot sensation makes you cry out in pain and pleasure alike. The eye symbol, proudly adorning your chest, glows in response to his words, like on the day when you were first marked by his hand. 

Satisfied with your obedience, Mairon stops moving and allows his seed to fill you. His knot swells proudly, binding you to him, and you try to muffle another scream — only for him to deter you with a quick slap on your thigh. 

"No," he says firmly, "let me hear it. I want to hear how much you love this, and you will not deny me."

Gothmog

☄ Contrary to popular belief, Gothmog can be affectionate and isn't afraid to show it. He likes to keep you close in public and holds you like a pretty little doll, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him and no one else may come close to you, let alone touch you. Even when he isn't around, the scent of fire and heat of his touch seems to surround you everywhere you go.

☄ Yet make no mistake: The Lord of Balrogs is incredibly strong and likes it rough. He may use his claws and fangs to as part of passionate love making and leave bite and scratch marks in strategic spots to ensure that everyone knows he has claimed you. Carry your marks with pride: To Balrogs, they are a symbol of strength and a sign that you belong.

☄ Gothmog's favorite way to claim and mark you, however, is fire - but he won't use his whip unless you ask him to. Instead, he may opt to simply use his hands to leave a nice and warm hand print on your skin; the same applies to any sort of impact play where he uses his hands instead of any tools. The touch of a Balrog leaves a lingering feeling of either cosy warmth or searing heat, and which one it will be is his choice to make.

☄ Aside from horns that you can hold on to, Gothmog also has a tail - and yes, he can and will use it. Not only is it a convenient as an additional limb to wrap around you and pull you close when his hands and arms are occupied and to keep others away from you, but he can also use it to fuck you if he so chooses, be it to tease you or for double penetration. He loves to test your limits.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"What a pretty little thing you are." Gothmog pats your head with his large hand while he continues to effortlessly bounce you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. 

You would have cried out from the intensity of his massive cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly, but all you manage is a muffled moan; your mouth is currently occupied by the tip of his tail. 

"We don't need the entire fortress to hear you," Gothmog said beforehand, and you agreed. 

He is — for his standards — gentle with you, but you also know that there isn't much mercy to be had in Angband. You consider yourself lucky to be with him. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Gothmog rakes the claws of his free hand down your back and chuckles when he feels your throat vibrate with muted screams. 

"And so good for me too," he adds to his previous statement. "Keep taking me so nicely and I might even let you rest after this round."

Eönwë

⚔ As sweet and affectionate as Eönwë is with you in private, he's not exactly fond of others trying to compete, particularly during avian mating season. He stays with you whenever he can, guarding you like a precious treasure, and watches the people who approach you, both when's nearby and when he's somewhere else. Should another suitor be so foolish as to approach you anyway, they will soon notice a very irate Maia glaring at them and posturing aggressively, every single feather fluffed up.

⚔ While you two are still courting and not quite ready for marriage yet, Eönwë presents you with a lovely promise bracelet or anklet (your choice), made of his favorite materials that he gathered himself. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you wear it, and conveniently enough it also serves as a reminder to other suitors that you are very much taken - by the chief of the Maiar, no less.

⚔ When Eönwë makes love to you, he can be gentle, but he can also be feral. Sometimes his desire simply overwhelms him. Depending on his current form, he has talons on his hands and will make use of them to mark you, even drawing ancient patterns on you to show everyone who claimed you. You can also expect to find yourself covered in love bites, with his favorite area being your neck.

⚔ If you enjoy rough sex and agree to try out some more "extreme" kinks, Eönwë would love to make use of his sword - the song of steel and battle is ingrained in his very being, after all. As much as the rational part of him hates to see you hurt, the feral part of him is fascinated by the way you shiver when a cold blade is pressed against you or when it leaves beautiful lines of red on your skin and draws a few droplets of blood.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cold steel bites into your skin as the blade touches your throat, but you only have eyes for Eönwë. He's breathing heavily, and his fána glows with barely contained lust. 

"I want you," he breathes. 

You spread your legs in silent invitation. Surely he must know that you are already his; even if you decided to fight back now, which is the last thing on your mind, he would be too strong for you. 

"Exactly like this," Eönwë says then, and you understand. He wants to take you with his sword at your throat, utterly at his mercy, and your skin prickles with excitement. 

The prospect of submitting to the greatest warrior of the Maiar so completely is thrilling. 

Eönwë enters you with one swift thrust, his free hand reaching for your hip. You make sure not to move, as you know he wants from you, and welcome him inside. The blade presses against your skin, but only lightly; his hold is steady, his posture impeccable, no blood is drawn. 

You surrender. 

Tilion

☽ Tilion loves antlers, his pride and joy when it comes to his fána, and wants to share that with you. If you yourself are an Ainu and grow your own pair, he will paint them silver with moonlight. If not, he will gladly hunt beasts of your choosing for you to claim their horns or antlers as a prize for you to wear and paint them as well. Nothing makes him more proud than everyone seeing that you belong to him.

☽ In order to make sure you are always safe, even when he isn't around, Tilion also crafts protective moon charms, infused with the light of Telperion's fruit. These are designed to keep creatures of darkness away, fearing his wrath, and may also glow to alert you to nearby danger. Not least of all they come with the additional benefit of letting everyone know that Tilion is only ever one call away.

☽ He loves to be intimate with you whenever he can, worshiping your body to his heart's content. Like his own hunt and war paint, Tilion enjoys painting your skin with matching patterns. These are expressions of love and companionship, glowing hymns to your beauty, but also marks of ownership and desire.

☽ For as hopelessly romantic as Tilion is, never forget that he's also a hunter. When lust overwhelms him, he is a passionate and wild lover, and sex with him can get rough. He enjoys chasing you, catching you and holding you down while he takes you, as well as leaving bite marks all over your body. Rest assured though that he will take good care of you after and do anything to ensure that you're comfortable and at ease.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"You are too beautiful for your own good," Tilion sighs, smiling as he kisses you on the lips. 

You are both naked, lying together on a bed of moss in the woods of Oromë, and panting heavily after a wild and lengthy chase. Of course your lover has caught you in the end and carried you to a comfortable hidden spot to enjoy his prey. 

Tilion trails his hand down your chest, your stomach, your lower body, and you spread your legs in anticipation. He wants you, you can see it; his midnight blue eyes darken with desire. 

"There you go, little deer," whispers gentle praise against your lips before pushing two fingers inside of you. "You will be all nice and wet for me soon, won't you?" 

You nod. Of course you will be; how could you not when you are with your beloved hunter, chasing your love and your pleasure with no less determination and ferocity than he chases his prey. 

Ossë

⚡︎ Ossë is a capricious and jealous lover. His feelings for you are strong and passionate, and he will fight anyone who wishes you ill - or comes closer than he would like. The storms he conjures are mighty, and even if Ulmo and Uinen stop him from giving in to his jealousy, Ossë is also a mischievous Maia who will find other ways to mess with those who have wronged you or him.

⚡︎ You will find yourself getting showered with gifts from him, various trinkets that he picks up in the oceans of Arda: Pearls, seashells, items and parts from sunken ships, bones, teeth and also all sorts of fish and sea creatures he caught for you. Ossë delights in swimming, diving and hunting to his heart's content, but most importantly coming home to you with something new to show you.

⚡︎ Just like he himself is wild and fierce, so is intimacy with him. You will find yourself completely soaked, regardless of whether he takes you in the water (as he prefers) or outside, and covered in bite and scratch marks; Ossë simply can't resist taking a bite out of something as beautiful as you are. He also loves the thought that everyone can tell what you two have done afterwards.

⚡︎ Ossë enjoys being on top of you, all around you and inside you, having his tail wrapped tightly around you. After he's done making love to you, he likes carrying you around like a precious little pearl and singing to you in ancient tongues until you fall asleep. You may also notice that, whenever you've been with him, the scent of seawater sticks with you for days.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

The sand feels warm against your skin, but Ossë's form is cool and smooth. He rolls over so he's lying on top of you, his tail wrapping around your legs, and flashes you a toothy grin, like a hungry sea monster about to devour its unfortunate prey. 

"Should I take you here, marilla? Or should I drag you to the bottom of the ocean first?" he teases. 

Clawed, webbed fingers hold onto you possessively, and Ossë wastes no time nibbling on the side of your neck as you writhe underneath him. 

"Please have mercy, o lord of storms," you gasp, entertaining his little game to entice him to go on. 

You know your words had the intended effect when you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. 

"Perhaps I will," Ossë muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

His tail keeps its grip on your legs, and he pushes his now-exposed cock between your thighs to rut against you.

"We will even start slowly," he whispers, "but worry not. You shall feel my full strength soon enough."

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

marilla (Quenya) - pearl

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

[doodle-pops]

When You Fake An Orgasm | The Ainur pt 2

A/N: As promised, I made a second series of headcanons for the other Ainur…after so long.

Warnings: female reader, smut, marathon sex, orgasm denial, rough sex, faking orgasms, fingering, pussy slapping (just once in Oromë’s part), pet names (kitten, pearl, little one, sweetness), squirting

➽ More: Part 1

༻¨*:·Tulkas

He will laugh, filled with amusement and determination at your folly action. The recognition of you faking for a purpose that makes no sense would spur him on to increase the passion so there wouldn’t be a need for another attempt.

Pausing the moment he watched you moan and vibrated, a playful grin would spread across his face. His hands would slide off your ass to meet your hips. “Is that the best you can do?” he would tease, making you shrink in realisation that your actions were foolish to begin with. Yet, his tone was filled with a challenge, as were his eyes and grin the longer he gazed at you above him. “You think I don’t know what you feel like around me, my fierce little one? How tightly you squeeze me when I make you cum?”

Easily with a burst of energy, Tulkas would flip you over, lifting you effortlessly with one hand and pinning you under the mass bulk of his muscles. Immediately, his hands would find your hips, sliding over your pelvis to grip the flesh of your thighs and toss them over his shoulders as he pressed his upper body weight on you. At first, he would catch you off guard with his slow and shallow thrusts, making you assume that he wouldn’t increase tempo, and at the moment when he feels you relax, he snaps his hips with renewed vigour.

Ultimately, you were crying out in pleasure, squealing and begging him to slow down as the new pace he set was a new record, but Tulkas laughed boisterously against your lips and drove his cock deeper. “You will come for me,” he declared with authority and encouragement, leaving no room for questioning. “I know what you’re body craves, and lying to its true nature will make you succumb to me quicker.”

As his words fell on your ears, the sound of his cock dragging in and out of your wet heat echoed alongside the slapping of his hips against your ass. Your nails scrambled to dig into his biceps, leading him to laugh more as he increased his pace, grinning at the reduced state you were becoming. “Feel me and know that you will never commit to such foolish acts while I am buried deep in you.”

༻¨*:·Oromë

I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into with him because you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Such an act is no joking matter, and it will not be dealt with lightly. Expect a punishment that would set the record straight, leaving you begging for release.

Slowing his movements, Oromë’s eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. You felt his hands sliding down the bed to rest on your waist, prompting your smile to fade. The silence that followed was too loud and mysterious, you didn’t know what to expect next from his unpredictability. Then, without speaking, Oromë flipped you onto your knees and pressed your face into the pile of furs, a large hand fixated on your nape to keep you secure. With the absence of his cock in your heat, you naturally clenched your muscles in search of it, causing his eye to twitch at the audacity. “Oromë, please…don’t keep me waiting. I need you.”

“You need me,” he growled, lips lingering dangerously beside your ear now that he curled his body over yours. He applied just a small portion of his true strength to keep you immobilised while he trailed his other hand down the curve of your ass, fingers brushing over your rear entrance before meeting his destination. Without care, two of his fingers plunged into your cunt and immediately went to work, rubbing and playing with your sweet spot to bring you to the edge, but never allowing you to find your release, leaving you begging and crying. “Look at you. Wanting what I would give you in abundance, for free. Why don’t you fake it now? Go on, fake it for me.”

Unable to formulate coherent phrases of pleas, he pulled his fingers out to mercilessly rub your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as he pressed the little nub. His fingers tweaked and slapped it while his eyes never left your facial features, reading every micro-expression. “You will not find release in lies, kitten,” he purred with a tender and commanding tone, slapping your clit to keep you on the edge. “You will cum for me in truth, or not at all.”

“P-…Please let me…cum,” you hiccupped making him grin and spurring him on to ensure that you didn’t.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, kitten. Beg for mercy better.”

༻¨*:·Ossë

Honestly, I don’t know what it is with you and your choice of partner to fake orgasms with. He’s tempestuous and wild, born of the sea, and you’re going to fake something that he has perfected due to reading the ebb and flow of your body and enjoying the feeling of your wet release? Good luck because he’ll make you cum until stars aren’t the only thing you’re seeing.

“Are you close, my pearl?” he mocked, voice dripping with humour as he observed the way you wiggled and squirmed under his motion of his cock driving deeply into your pussy. He could sense the tightening of your walls slowly clamping around his cock for the umpteenth time tonight. With sound of the waves crashing upon the platforms, it set the mood of sensuality, but your little stunt altered his plan. Now, he was pounding away into your pussy, slapping your hand away from his stomach and pinning them above your head.

Ossë leaned his body flush against yours to force your nipples to create an unbearable friction, pushing you over the edge to cum on his cock. You both had lost track of the numbers for the night, but since you were able to keep your eyes open, it meant that you had more juice in you for another round. “Look at you. You want me to stop, don’t you sweetness?” he toyed as his hips continued through the aftermath of your orgasm, fucking you into sensitivity and another one. The echoes of his laughter turned in hisses as you bit into his shoulder, turning him on further. “Just like that. Feel me deep in you, like a wave rocking your boat. Spill yourself all over me until you can’t.”

Sobbing into his skin, you started panted as the fire recycled to signal another wave of release. You weren’t sure when your eyes rolled into your head, if you saw white stars twinkling or nothing. The pure energy he released as he pushed his cock to punish your insides left you breathless and confused. “O–…ssë…can’t anymore,” you begged.

Humming into your hair, he rolled his hips to rub the head of his cock against your sweet spot to tip you over the edge and squirt all over him just the way he loved. “You just did, and you can give me again until you’ve learnt your lesson, pearl,” he murmured sweetly and dragged a hand down to grip your jaw. “You’re gonna give me every last drop.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @addaigio @elficially-done-with-life

If you wish to br tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

[animatorweirdo]

The Maiar Being Horses...

The Maiar being mythical horse legends.

Requested by Anon

Hi! I would like to request a Silm horses AU for the Ainur? I know you characterize them as the owners in the other Silm horses AU but I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing one for them as horses since it might be fun. Thanks!

(Author note: The Ainur are depicted as the owners, but since I had depicted some of the maiar as horses. I got some inspiration, so I hope you will be fine with just the Maiars. )

Warnings: mysteriousness, Sauron, Melkor, mentions of horse poachers and slight violence, Osse being mischievous and causing trouble with his moods.

-------------------------------------------------

Melian 

- The mysterious mare mother of Luthien. 

- She lives in the forest, out of the human’s sight. The forest and the birds heed her command and presence. When she’s around, you feel like the whole forest is watching you which can leave you unnerved. 

- She would look slightly similar to Luthien, except her eyes would glow green and roots and plants would grow out of her mane. 

- Might appear once in a while to observe the Doriath Woods stable to see her foal, but never comes forward. 

- The only mythical horse no one knows about. 

Mairon 

- A dark tall stallion with reddish and sometimes golden eyes. 

- A prideful horse, who loves order and being above everything else. He is considered the head of Melkor’s riding school horses. 

- Not many know his real form as he wanders among the stable, but sometimes have been seen leaving scorched hoof marks on the ground. 

- No one is sure if Melkor is aware of his favorite horse’s unique traits, but taking his interest in Luthien and other mythical horses, he might be fully aware. 

- Is rumored to release smoke from his nostrils, but no horse or human ever dares to come near him to confirm. 

Eonwe 

- Eonwe is a friendly white stallion of the Tirion stable. He is known to guard the horses from harm and poachers who had tried to kidnap horses from the famed stable. 

- Not much is known about Eonwe’s past, except that he had remained as Manwe’s loyal companion for many years. 

- Eonwe is friendly toward other humans and horses. He is especially gentle with children. 

- The only strange things that happen around him are when some birds come to him occasionally and large white feathers can be found in his pasture. 

- Some have speculated that he is a white pegasus hiding in plain sight, but have never found proof. 

- Eonwe often spends time with Ilmare which is considered peculiar but not strange. 

Ilmare 

- A beautiful black mare with a reclusive nature. She also protects the horses of Tirion with Eonwe, especially during the night. 

- Despite her reclusive nature, she is close with Varda and is friendly with most people. 

- Melkor she is least fond of.  

- Her being a mythical horse is most uncertain. However, some have said to have seen stars appear on her goat during nights when the stars are at their brightest, and her eyes glowing with starlight. 

- Ilmare is a very calm horse, but if angered enough, the one to provoke her will spend a very long time in the hospital. 

Uinen 

- There is a local legend in the Gondolin Hills stable, about water horses that lurk in the great lake and rivers at the bottom of the mountains. In truth, Uinen is one of them and lives there with her spouse, Osse. 

- Uinen is curious by nature but mostly observes and stays out of sight. 

- No one had ever truly seen her and Osse, except those who might have caught a glimpse of them when fishing or swimming. 

- Uinen’s coat is light green and her mane is made from the weed and plants of the lake with lotus flowers growing out of it. It would be easy to mistake her for a simple plant lingering on the lake’s surface till you see a pair of eyes looking at you beneath the water. 

- Some have said to have seen her appear on land to eat fruits and apples, causing believers to leave some as offerings to her, especially during bad weather. It was said if Uinen enjoys the offerings, she might make their weather and river days easier.

Osse

- Spouse of Uinen, and one of the legends of the lake. 

- Osse mostly resides in the flowing rivers and is way more active, but sometimes returns to the lake. 

- Osse is more on the wilder side and takes a slightly more unsettling sight. 

- His appearance is more uncertain, as some have seen him with a gray and blue scaly goat with gills upon his neck and a wet dark mane covering his head, while some had said to have seen him in a form completely made out of water. 

- Osse does not often show himself to humans, but he is the most mischievous of the two legends, sometimes causing the river currents to be stronger or splashing the water to startle the local horse riders. 

- However, it is said he is short-tempered and that his mood could affect the weather and rivers. Awful rains have appeared when trash has been found in his home, or if someone was rude and made insulting remarks, they would find themself get injured or taken away by the river current. 

- These moods were often calmed by Uinen, but the fear of him being angry ensured the local horse riders and people never littered the lake and rivers or made awful comments. 

- He is relatively safe. However, do not leave trash in the forest or rivers, or make awful comments about his home, he might just make a bad river, or attempt to make you fall in the water and drown.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 17

(Ch. 16) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: It seems like the only memories that have returned are the ones Alix doesn't want to remember and when she hits her breaking point, Joe is determined to be there for her every step of the way. He may not know what exactly she's been through but he knows she's been through enough.

WARNINGS: ANGSTY. Trust issues, PTSD episode (flashbacks & panic attack specifically), domestic violence/abuse

A/N: HOOOOOOO BOY, this one really puts the HURT in Hurt/Comfort, folks, so buckle up for some backstory bc this one gets Dark.

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @lieutenant-speirs @mccall-muffin @parajumpboots @brassknucklespeirs @hxad-ovxr-hxart @holdingforgeneralhugs @sleepisforcowards @emmythespacecowgirl @vibing-away

Contemporary: September 22nd, 1944. Zetten-Andelot, Netherlands.

After his disastrous exit the day prior, Alix hadn't expected to see Joe Liebgott ever again.

But nevertheless, when she awoke the next morning and peered over the side of her cot, there he was, lying on the dusty hardwood floor, asleep, with his bunched-up jacket under his head and a rifle by his side.

"Sad, isn't it?" Nixon remarked dryly, following her gaze to the paratrooper's slumbering form.

"One of our best attack-dogs and he's been here all night, waiting for you like a lost fucking puppy." 

"What?" the agent breathed softly, trying to process what her handler had said. "You're kidding."

Why? Why would he bother?

Nixon chuckled and closed the files he had been leafing through, seemingly delighted to take a break for a little bit of gossip.

"Kid's crazy" the intelligence officer commented wryly, taking a stab at the air with his pen for emphasis.

"Whether crazy about you or just crazy remains to be seen. But I heard he even paid Penkala twenty bucks to take over guarding prisoners so he could be here, if you can believe it."

Alix just stared blankly, still grappling with the news.

Nothing was making sense.

She and Joe couldn't have been together in that way..They just couldn't have been.

There was no way someone like him would want someone as damaged as her when he could have anyone...

And besides, Alix reasoned. Fraternization is forbidden.

And even if it wasn't, her mother never would have allowed it.

But even still, it would have been her first real relationship since...So if it had been real, like he seemed convinced it was... surely she would remember...Wouldn't she?

"I can't," she mumbled, feeling a cold wave of nausea sweep over her in her confusion. "I can't believe it."

"Well you'd better start, Ziskeit," a husky voice yawned from below. "'Cause it's true."

Alix glanced toward the noise and saw that the paratrooper from the day prior was awake now, stretching his long legs out in front of him and propping himself up on his elbows with another languid yawn.

The soft morning light pouring in through the nearby window made the room seem several degrees warmer than the icy September air outside and the bright flecks of scattered gold in his eyes seemed to spark in its glow, illuminating them like sunshine through a glass of whiskey.

Even with the mud and grime smeared haphazardly across his face like camo paint, Alix couldn't help but stare as the paratrooper fished a loose cigarette from his pocket.

Eyeing him carefully, it was easy to see how startlingly handsome Joe was, but not in the usual way. He wasn't clean-cut and upper-crust, the type she could bring home to her family. Instead, he was ruggedly attractive, all rough edges and roguish grins that could've brought her to her knees in an instant.

Noticing her gaze, Joe shot her a playful wink.

"Take a picture, gorgeous," he teased. "It'll last longer."

"You're incorrigible," Alix managed lamely.

Joe just shrugged with a wicked grin that made her stomach turn dizzy somersaults.

"Eh, you love it," he remarked cockily, running a hand through his thick brown hair in a vain effort to tame it.

The smugness of his tone made Alix roll her eyes but a grudging smile quirked up the corners of her lips anyway.

"There it is!" Joe announced with a sudden burst of energy lighting up his face. "There's that gorgeous fuckin' smile I been waiting on. Jesus, I missed that."

Alix flushed, suddenly even more self-conscious, when she heard a muffled knocking sound from the other side of her cot, where her case officer was standing, dramatically banging his head against the wall.

"Alright, that's it," he sighed exasperatedly once he had her attention. "I'm out of here. Can't get any fucking reports done with you two lovebirds driving me to drink."

Her handler threw back one last round of liquor from his flask for emphasis.

"Short drive," Alix quipped easily and Nixon choked on his whiskey, coughing.

"Well on second thought, just for that little comment, I think I'll take my sweet time," her handler snarked once he'd recovered, reaching over to the bedside table where he'd stashed another stack of files with a mischievous expression.

As he sifted through the pages of each file, making sure nothing was missing, Nixon was unusually quiet and Alix found herself letting out a slow sigh of relief that he hadn't done anything petty...just as the final folder snapped shut.

"You crazy kids have fun now," Nixon remarked, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his face as he noticed Alix's cheeks blossoming a vibrant shade of fuchsia.

"Oh and Lieb--"

He shifted the folders to his opposite arm so he could point directly to the younger paratrooper, who was looking from mentor to mentee with a bemused smirk like he was watching at tennis match.

"Wrap it before you tap it, m'kay? That's a fucking order."

"Yes sir," Joe replied with a lazy salute and Nixon, apparently satisfied with this level of humiliation, made his exit, leaving Alix to cover her face in embarrassment as some nearby patients snickered.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

"Is he that much of an asshole to everyone else or am I just special?" Alix groaned once she was sure her mentor was out of earshot.

"Nixon? Never could tell," Joe answered with a good-natured shrug. "But he spends most of his time with other officers so it's not like us fuckin' grunts see much of him anyhow."

Alix shifted positions on the rusty metal bedframe, which creaked loudly in complaint at every movement, creating a minor vacancy halfway between the foot of the bed and the top.

She didn't want to be too forward or give this guy any ideas but at the same time, she couldn't deny that there was a part of her that was intrigued by him and wanted to know more.

Seemingly oblivious to her reservations, Joe was still lounging on the hard floor beside the bed, smoking yet another cigarette and lightly fingering the worn Magen David pendant linked to his dog tags as though he was checking to be sure it was still there.

"You don't have to stay on the floor, you know," Alix informed him awkwardly, finally working up the courage to address it directly. "I know it's probably not too comfortable down there."

"Eh, 's not too bad," Joe shrugged but he stood up anyway, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

The young paratrooper hovered for a moment, shifting from foot to foot nervously as though waiting for something.

Then it occurred to her: He was waiting for her invitation.

Alix blinked, startled by this newfound realization.

Clay never would have sought her permission for anything; the world had to revolve around him and him only.

The young spy nibbled on her lip for a moment, trying to find the words to encourage the paratrooper, -- Joe, she kept reminding herself. His name is Joe-- to sit on the bed without him taking it the wrong way.

But she didn't want to seem too familiar...Not so soon.

Joe was leaning one shoulder against the wall casually, as though he'd always belonged there, his lanky frame casting a shadow over Alix and shielding her from the bright sunlight.

"Thanks for the shade," she joked and Joe inclined his head politely but she could see something more behind the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Anytime, gorgeous, anytime." 

His voice was husky and his posture self-assured, a little cocky even, but not arrogant.

Leaning against the wall like that and smoking his cigarette, his deep brown eyes tracing her every feature as though trying to figure out a puzzle, he reminded her of those striking, hardboiled P.I.s in the crime melodramas she used to sneak out to see as a kid.

"You doin' alright, Ziskeit?"

He cocked his head and Alix finally found her voice.

"Shit, yeah, I'm...I'm swell," she stammered, inwardly cursing her head injury.

She was nervous enough in front of this attractive stranger on top of it, finding the words for a normal conversation felt like groping around in the dark for a light switch. "Um...Would you...Do you wanna sit down?"

"Sure thing, Zees, just tell me where ya want me."

As close as you want to be, Alix wanted to say but she banished those thoughts as quickly as they'd come.

It wasn't proper to be so forward. What would her mother say?

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light but the way his warm brown eyes crinkled when he smiled made Alix's stomach do another little somersault of glee and she had to avert her eyes to avoid the heat she could feel beginning to creep up her cheeks.

Taking his place near the middle of the bed, Joe's frame was so slight that the metal didn't even creak.

Unsure of what to say or do next, a minute passed between them as the pair were seemingly struck with an uncommon shyness, each flushing slightly when the other would sneak a glance out of the corner of their eye.

There was a brief silence and Alix found herself praying hoping that her heartbeat wasn't palpable through the bed.

Just say something, Alix, she urged herself as though coaxing a child with stage-fright. Use your words.

But it seemed Joe had the same thought because they both began to speak at the same time, cutting each other off and causing them both to dissolve into nervous laughter.

"Well shit," Joe remarked, his face seeming to light up at the sound of Alix's giggles.

Rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, he gestured politely for Alix to continue with his left.

"I was just going to ask where you're from," she replied with a weak smile, inwardly berating herself for asking such a stupid question.

God, she hated small-talk.

Joe's smile faded almost instantly as the severity of her amnesia finally seemed to hit him.

She really didn't know him.

Realizing the unintended weight of her words, Alix dropped her gaze to the stiff sheets of her cot, studying each wrinkle instead and hoping that Joe would stop looking at her like that.

Like a kicked puppy.

Her stomach twisted in knots; she hadn't meant to hurt him but she really couldn't remember.

Should she have lied?

For a second, Joe looked conflicted, like a part of him wanted to hold her and the other part wanted to break down.

But instead, he did neither, dropping his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out beneath his heel with vigor. 

With a sad smile, he quickly tugged another from his pocket and lit it, hands still quivering slightly but whether from nerves or the chilly autumn air, who could say?

"I'd offer ya one, Ziskeit, but I don't think you're 'sposed to have 'em until you're better."

"I don't care," Alix remarked, only half-joking. "I'd take it if you offered."

Joe shook his head and took a slow drag, leaning away from her for the exhale to ensure she didn't get any smoke in her face.

"Well I ain't offering so you can get that idea outta your head right now, Zees." His tone was affectionate but firm and Alix let out a defeated sigh.

His protectiveness was cute but that didn't mean it wasn't frustrating.

Another few minutes passed uneventfully and Alix found herself studying him again.

His face was thin and a bit pointed with an attractive, almost fox-like cleverness about it.

She got the feeling that in his downtime, he could be amazingly quick-witted, always dancing two steps ahead of every smart remark that came his way. 

"Hey, penny for your thoughts, Zees?" Joe gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, his arm quickly brushing hers, leaving a warm trail of tingles behind. "You been awful quiet."

Shit.

Alix felt her stomach drop and in her surprise at being caught staring again, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You smoke a lot."

Joe chuckled and Alix wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

"I'm from Frisco," he responded, his deep brown eyes seeming to sparkle with a mixture of humor and affection in the light.

"We do that."

There's no way they dated, Alix surmised from the warmth in the paratrooper's gaze. There's no way he could still look at her like that if they had.

╔══  • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • ══╗

6 Years Prior: December 1937. Philadelphia, USA.

"For God's sake, Alix, this is exhausting. You're being ridiculous."

"Oh I'm being ridiculous?!"

The sixteen year old snatched the necklace from her neck and hurled it at her fiancé next to her with such force that the string snapped, sending pearls tinkling sporadically across the driver's side like tiny comets shooting through the air.

"I wasn't the one with my tongue down some other girl's throat, Clay!"

"Look, I already told you, it was a mistake, alright?" The eighteen year old threw up his hands in exasperation. "What more do you want?!"

"Giving me a bracelet with another girl's name engraved on it was a mistake," Alix pushed, her voice quavering.

"Making out with her at our fucking engagement party is not a 'mistake', Clay! It's a choice!"

"I can't believe you're doing this now." Clayton shook his head reproachfully, still keeping his blue-green eyes locked on the road ahead. "We were having such a good night."

"How long has it been going on? With her?

Her chest ached but she needed to know the truth.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Clay." Alix's voice sounded hollow even to her and her chest felt like it was filling with ice water, like she was drowning. "The blonde girl. How. Long."

"Since the beginning."

It was an answer so quick but so cruel that for a second, Alix was blindsided. Stunned, she blinked in shock, the breath momentarily knocked out of her, and all she could do was stare helplessly at her fiance, whose face was as cold and expressionless as marble.

"W-What?"

"Since the beginning," he repeated as though she hadn't heard him.

"But why?" the sixteen year old croaked, her voice breaking. "I thought...You said you loved me?"

"And you believed me? Good God," Clayton marveled, reaching over to sling an arm around her shoulders in an almost mocking gesture of affection. "Your father's right. You really are naïve."

"Don't touch me please!" she snapped, the very feeling of his hand on her arm making her want to claw her own skin off.

She began to retreat from him, to turn away, but he seized a mass of her curly black hair in his free hand and yanked her close enough that she could feel his repulsive breath on her skin like a rabid dog's fangs hovering by her ear.

"I'll do what I fucking want," he snarled before releasing her with a shove, sending her right shoulder slamming painfully into the car door with a yelp.

With a huff of irritation, the eighteen year old returned both hands to the steering wheel, ignoring the quivering of the girl in the seat next to him.

There was a frigid quiet in the car, an almost sickening stillness before she broke it, rubbing her sore shoulder warily.

Her voice was small and broken-sounding and through the tears stinging her eyes, she turned to look at him but he ignored her, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

She felt like she might choke at the sight, the not-so-distant memory of his hands locked around her throat making it hard to breathe.

"You said you'd never hurt me again," she managed in a voice barely above a whisper but Clayton rolled his eyes again.

"And if you'd stop running your goddamn mouth, I wouldn't have to."

╚══ • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • ══╝

Contemporary: September 22nd, 1944. Zetten-Andelot, Netherlands.

A gentle tap on her shoulder brought Alix back to the present with a jolt.

Subconsciously, she knew the had been feather-light, more a glancing brush than anything, but it still caused the young spy to flinch away instinctively.

Her head was still buzzing and she remembered the doctor's lecture about stress being bad for her concussion but she couldn't help it: the sick thud of being slammed into the car door and the sharp pain that followed seemed to grow louder and louder, stronger and stronger, becoming a pounding in her ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Alix could feel herself beginning to tremble uncontrollably and her eyes began to sting, hot tears spilling over onto her cheeks before she could stop them. With every desperate, frenzied gulp for air, Alix's heart began to pound even faster and a feeling of terror crashed over her, threatening to break her like a wave on a rocky shore.

Run. She was shaking so violently that the whole bedframe seemed to rattle with her in her fear. You need to run.

But with her dislocated ankle, there was nowhere to go. Her head was pounding and her stomach twisted as though she might vomit.

The feeling of Clay yanking on her hair and shoving her into the door played over and over like a film reel in her mind and she gasped for air but there was none to be found.

Her head spinning, she put a hand to her heart, feeling it racing faster and faster, the buzzing in her ears only getting more intense with her rising panic.

Drowning. It felt like drowning.

The burning in her chest intensified as her shallow breaths increased, each ragged sob sending her further and further into a spiral.

Nothing was happening so why did the world feel like it was crashing down around her?

Was she losing her mind?

Joe noticed quicker than she would have liked.

"Hey..." he said softly. "Hey, you're okay, Ziskeit...You're okay..."

Alix let out a pained whimper, bad memories seeming to hit like flashes of lightning as Joe watched helplessly, running an anxious hand through his thick hair.

"What can I do, Zees?" he begged, trying to keep his voice calm despite the strained notes of concern and desperation. "Can I...Can I hold you? Is that okay? Or d'you want me to go? I can...Fuck, I can go, if-."

"Stay," she managed to choke out through her tears, the first sign of vulnerability she'd shown him recently. "Please stay."

That was all Joe needed to hear. Kicking off the floor, he boosted himself further back onto the bed, gingerly guiding her up with him. Drawing her into his arms, he cradled her as though she were made of glass, his hands ghosting over her skin as though she might shatter at any moment.

Her whole body was trembling, her breaths still coming in short gasps, and he drew her still closer, murmuring encouragements in English and what she assumed to be German as he eased her head gently to his chest.

"I'm here, Zees, I got you. I ain't goin' anywhere, I promise. I promise."

Heaving, Alix wrapped her good arm around him, her breathing still erratic as she buried her face in his chest.

"Ikh hob dikh lib, mein libinke. Mein ziskeit." he murmured and for a brief second, her tears seemed to slow.

That word...Zees-kite...It's not in English but for a second, it seems to cut through the terror. It feels familiar, warm, safe.

But within seconds, the panic has overwhelmed her again, smacking her down mercilessly every time she thinks they're through like a stormy sea, sending her crashing against the rocks and she flinched again, painful memories threatening to drag her to the ocean floor once more.

"Hey, hey Zees, come back," he urged her softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, careful to avoid the bandages.

"Your mind's tryna take you someplace else, okay, but don't let it. Come back to me, Ziskeit, I know you can. Stay here. You're safe, Zees, you're safe."

Brushing the flood of tears away, even as still more come running down her cheeks, Alix clung to him like a lifeline, doing her best to focus on the present moment, focus on the warmth of his body, the subtle rasp of his voice, the callouses on his fingers, built up from years of training.

Joe began to trace soothing circles into her back, still murmuring to her, never allowing the panic to go unchallenged for even a second.

"You gotta breathe, dollface. I know it's hard but you gotta try for me, okay? Atta girl. In...and out. In...and out."

Alix sniffled and tried her best to concentrate, focusing on taking one shaky breath in at a time.

"Good," the paratrooper affirmed, lightly stroking her hair as he kept her pressed close to his chest. "You're doin' real good, okay? Just like that: In...and out. That's my girl."

Slowly but surely, Alix began to calm and to his credit, Joe kept his promise: he never left her side.

They stayed locked in their embrace for what felt like hours as the world seemed to turn around them.

The aid station was in a constant state of overflow and it seemed like there was a never-ending stream of patients being rushed in and out by the few medical personnel they had, meaning that no one even batted an eye at the exhausted-looking paratrooper now occupying the same cot in the corner as the spy.

Small mercies, Alix supposed as she finally relaxed enough to drift off to sleep, still tangled with Joe. Small mercies.

[latenightdaydreams]

Perhaps you have plans for things, but can you please write part 2 of Viking! Konig? I'm so curious how would reader get used to her new life and her new husband

Husband upgrade🤭

Viking!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 3

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, breastmilk

2.1k word count

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Two middle life blonde women gently help you out of the tub they were bathing you in. Small drops of water fall to the wooden ground beneath you. They speak in a soft tone, but in a language you cannot understand. They’re telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky you are to be König’s queen.

You’re seated in a wooden chair, drying off from the bath. One woman stands behind you and combs through your hair. The other leaves out of your view to grab something. You shiver slightly, being naked and wet.

“Vi varmer deg opp snart.” The woman’s voice is kind, and she stops combing your hair and caressing your arms, trying to warm you.

You don’t respond, not knowing what she said. In a weird way, her touch feels familiar and calming. With a simple nod of your head, she goes back to combing your hair.

The other woman walks in front of you, holding up a beautiful blue dress. Again, she speaks and you just gaze up at her. Her blue eyes are bright as she’s speaking. Your head pulls back slightly as the tension on your scalp grows from your hair being pulled into a long braid.

Once your hair was done, she stood you up to dress you. The indigo blue dress fits you tightly, extenuating your breasts and the curve of your waist. A woven belt placed around your waist and a necklace with a medallion of a wolf dangles for it. Leather shoes tied to your feet as you

“Hun er klar.” She exclaims as she sees you totally transformed into a queen. “La oss gå.”

You leave the small house, their arms wrapped in yours as your guild you down a pathway. Inside, you feel as though you are about to throw up. Your feet drag beneath you, dreading seeing König.

“I can’t” You try to turn but the women’s grip on you is firm.

“Du blir bra.” One speaks as she pets your arm.

König paced back and forth in his house waiting for Hilda and Thyra to finish cleaning you for him to enjoy. He walks shirtless and without a mask, exposing his sculpted body covered with battle scars, tattoos on his pecs, and scars on his face. His light blonde hair falls to his shoulder, some pushed behind his left ear.

His head turns as he sees the door open and you enter. The same worried look that has plagued your face this whole journey is still there. König walks to you and takes your hand, thanking the women and sending them on their way.

Worried or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. You look as if a goddess decided to come live amongst men. He will never understand how he got so lucky as to find you. Your breasts are full and swollen with milk, he can’t wait to taste you.

“You look beautiful, Liebling.” The door closes, and it’s just the two of you.

“Please, I can’t stay here.” You instantly plead, voice shaking. “I need to go home.”

“You are home.” He looks down at your face, studying you in the low light. “Don’t be so sad.”

“My children—”

“Are safe at home.” His hands caress your arms up and down.

“I need my children here.”

“I’ll give you new ones. Stronger ones.”

König’s hands grasp yours and bring them to his chest. You look at his body, turning your head away to gaze at the ground. He lifts your chin to face him.

“How about you come with me? I’ll help you forget about your troubles.”

There was no room to protest as he grabbed your hand and led you to the large bed in the corner of the room. He sits on the bed and keeps you standing in front of him. His hands roam over the curve of your body. On the journey back he refrained from touching you so you could mourn your last life, but now- now you’re all his.

“Are your breasts sore?” He asks as his hands feel how swollen they’ve become after days away from your child.

You don’t answer, but just look him in the eyes. It’s clear to see that you’re too full to be comfortable. His hands squeeze slightly and the indigo fabric begins to darken from the milk he expressed. Thyra and Hilda got you all dressed up only for König to ruin you.

König grabs at the woven belt around your waist and slowly undoes it, pulling it towards him, and laying it on the bed beside him.

“Please stop, I’m a married woman.” You step back.

“You are. To me.” He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer.

“In the eyes of God, you’re not my husband.”

“God? Which one?” König teases as his hand runs down to rub your plump ass. “Here, in my land, you’re mine. Unless your old family comes to my shore and fights for you back…you’re mine.”

You just stare into his eyes and nod. Realistically, your husband will never come for you. He wouldn’t even know where to look. The memories of your life with him, with your children flashes before your eyes until a tap on your ass takes you out of your own mind.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.”  His voice is a soft whisper as he stands to get you naked in front of him. The last piece he grabs is your necklace, setting it down on top of your dress.

You stand naked. Your breasts are full and round. Body soft and curvy. A small white pearly bead of milk lingers on your left nipple. Between your legs is a soft patch of hair, he can’t wait to feel it rub against his face. All you can think about is how God will smite you for infidelity, you can only hope he understands.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

König wraps his arms around you and places you gently on the bed, as if you were a delicate jewel he didn’t want to harm. He looks down at you as he finishes undressing. As he steps out of his pants, you can see his massive cock bounce, leaning down. He notices you looking at him, making him feel cocky.

“Big, ja?” He walks to you, parting your legs. “Let me show you how a real man fucks.”

Instantly, a blush forms on your face as you look at his blue eyes. His blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you. You hate to admit that, compared to Callum, König is far more attractive. Your eyes travel all over his body, inspecting his tattoos as he moves on to the bed with you. He notices your gaze and smiles.

“It’s for my family name.” He whispers as he rests his large body next to yours.

“Oh.”

König moves his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you.  You don’t kiss back at first, and that's okay. He knows you’re nervous. His lips leave yours and travel down your neck, he lightly nips at your flesh. A small whimper leaves your lips causing him to smile.

Lifting his head for a moment, he moves his hand to your breast and squeezes. A fountain of milk begins to spurt out. König moves his mouth to your other nipple and begins to suck. He continues to squeeze the other to spray himself with it.

A mixture of relief and pleasure rushes over you. Callum has not touched your breasts since the milk came in, finding it repulsive. König acts like a starved man, as if your milk is the only thing that can save you. It’s…hot.

Milk begins to drip from the corner of his mouth, rolling down your breast. He slowly pulls away, licking his lips. “So sweet.”

König licks in between your breasts and over the other, cleaning up the mess he’s made. His hand slowly trails down your body and touches your pussy. The feeling of your wet folds between your fat pussy lips drives him wild.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside of you.” He growls as his lips kiss up your neck.

König moves his body between your legs, running his hands from your breasts down to your hips. He brushes his hair back and out of his face with one hand as he presses his cock against your entrance. You gaze up at him before he moves his hips forward.

“Wait.”

His eyes move to your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can’t. My husband—” You were cut off by the euphoric sensation of meaty cock being shoved into your tight little cunt. A moan spills from your lips as your eyes go wide.

König grins looking at your reaction. He leans over your body to kiss the tip of your nose. “I am your husband now. Don’t forget that.” The words leave his lips as he slowly shoves the rest of his cock into you.

Your nails dig into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut. König looks at your face, your mouth hanging open and eyebrows pinched together. His hips slowly pull back before pushing back into you slowly; enjoying the look on your face as he does. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away.

“My perfect queen.”

He grabs your hips, pulling your rear up slightly off the bed as he bucks forward into your tiny cunt. Your back is arched as his fingers dig into your ass. Loud moans leave your lips, loud enough people passing the home can hear the two of you.

“König, I- it’s too much.” You feel a tingle run over your body as a heavy pressure builds in your core.

He realizes that you’re about to cum, “beg for it.”

“For what?”

“To cum.”

“I- I can’t.” You feel shameful. Shame for having sex with someone other than Callum and shame for feeling this pleasure. You’ve always been taught to not give into this type of lust.

“It’s okay to let go.” He whispers in your ear as he leans over you, his arms on either side of your head. His lips meet yours, pushing his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth accepting him in as you mewl pathetically.

You turn your head away, desperately begging. “Please…harder.”

He grabs your head and forces his tongue back into your mouth. Moans leave your lips into his mouth as your legs tremble around his waist. His kisses begin to trail to your cheek and down your jawline as he feels your walls flutter around his cock.

“There you go.” His kisses travel down to your breasts.

König pulls out and stands from the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to him. His arms wrap around you and hold you up. One arm holds you tightly to his body as the other reaches down to line himself up with you. He pushes forward while lowering you slightly. A groan leaves his lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His fingers grasping the supply flesh of your ass as his hips thrust into you; your tight little cunt squeezes his cock as he bounces you on his length. The lustful daze you’re in makes you gaze up at him as if you’re in love. The sound of your wet pussy and little pitiful sounds leaves your lips mixing. König glances down to your breasts bouncing. Everything is just perfect.

“Y/n…” He groans as his cock pulses, face scrunching with pleasure.

The next morning you take up to an empty bed. You rub your eyes and stretch, slowly stepping out of the bed. That’s when you noticed König sitting nude and watching you with a smile. Your eyes travel along his body before meeting his eyes, trying to sit in a way that conceals your body.

“Don’t try to hide your beauty, Liebling. It’s just us here.” He stands and walks over to you, caressing your face. Your braid is barely together and face flushed with an afterglow from last night’s activities.

“We have a long day ahead of us. You’re going to be introduced to my people as their new queen. They will be astonished at your beauty.”

You look into his eyes and nod. There is still a lingering sadness in your eyes, he is aware you miss your old life. It will take time for you to move on, but he knows you’ll be happier here with him. No longer are you poor and working the fields. Now you’re a queen.

Part 3

[d3adlyromb3ar]

‧₊˚‧₊˚ if walls could talk

— pairing. neighbor!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you have been having issues with your ex, who tends to invade your space and make himself at home. unbeknownst to you, your neighbor is very observant and doesn’t know if he can sit back and watch you suffer alone anymore.

— word count. 3k

— contents. angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, language, smoking, mentions of injuries to reader, mentions of assault/abuse, mentions of manipulation, choso being such a sweetheart

— notes. credit to @\\yume041924 (left artwork) and @\\oss²¹ (right artwork) both on twitter i believe. thank you @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

The picture shook and rattled on the wall, again. If he stayed quiet enough, he could make out a few words. All coming from a male voice.

He sighed, leaning his head to rest it on the back of the couch. He had every right to get up and stomp his way over, telling whoever was yelling to shut up. But he never followed through with that urge, instead listening in when he could— trying to find out what was going down.

He knew you lived there, and he thought it was just you. Time and time again he’d overhear a man shouting, and he wondered if it was a sibling or a partner— which didn’t sit right with him. If either of those were the case, he wondered what they were yelling at you about.

He wasn’t a nosy person, truly he lived a boring life and kept to his routine and business. However, as soon as the shouting began, around the same time every night— his curiosity forced him to listen in. His breathing slow and quiet as his ears strained to make out the words that were being spat.

He never heard you though. Never. That thought for some reason— didn’t sit well with him.

He almost dozed off, the constant shouting becoming a daily ambience, but the sound of the yells suddenly dying down— he perked up.

There was one last shout, still unable to make out the words— then the familiar door slam. The kind of slam that most likely woke the whole floor and maybe the ones below as well.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stand from his comfortable spot and walk over to the door— but there he was, staring through the peek hole. He wondered what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t your form slumped against the door.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, and he thought to himself— should I really get involved? Maybe it’s nothing.

However, he fought down that thought quickly and slowly and quietly opened his door.

You immediately perked up, head snapping up from the barely audible creak from his door. You relaxed slightly, seeing that it was only your neighbor, Choso.

You wiped your cheeks quickly, smoothing down your hair to make yourself look less— hectic.

“Evening Choso.” You greeted, your voice sweet as always— but right now it didn’t match the way your features were pulled down.

He leaned against his doorway, looking down at your balled up form. Knees hugged to your chest.

“Hey.” He started, deciding to cut straight to the point. “Everything okay? Thought I heard a slam.”

Your cheeks flushed, the possibility of others hearing what goes on in your apartment embarrassing. You felt guilty and you didn’t know why— not that you were the one causing the chaos.

“Yeah, just got into an argument with someone.” You admitted.

He couldn’t control his curiosity.

“Boyfriend?”

You scoffed, a weak smile on your lips.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected him.

Choso nodded.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, we’ve been broken up for months now.”

Choso furrowed his brows, wondering why you were still involved with your ex. Was it one of those weird situations, where you break up but you’re not really broken up? He thought to himself that he shouldn’t care too much, it was your business after all.

“I know it seems weird and you’re probably confused but, we’ve just been trying to… settle things. Not get back together but y’know, just really put that final nail in the coffin.” You rambled on, explaining yourself when you probably shouldn’t have.

Choso listened patiently but still couldn’t understand the situation. Besides, you looked a little rough and seemed to need someone to talk to. He’d happily be that ear for you.

“Sorry, I’m sure you don’t care about any of this. You’re probably just wanting to get some sleep.” You apologized, and he didn’t understand why.

“I don’t sleep well anyway,” He tried to joke, to lighten your mood. “Plus, if you need to talk— You can always talk to me.”

You smiled at that, heart hurting at the way you were receiving kindness from your neighbor— someone you weren’t that close with. That’s the only kindness you’d get, you thought bitterly.

“Thanks. I… I really appreciate that.” You thanked him genuinely. “I hope you’re not just saying that because, I will talk your ear off if you give me the opportunity.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and echoing throughout the hallway. It was such a calming sound.

“I don’t mind.” He assured you, closing his door completely and sliding down the wood— now sat across from you.

Your mouth formed into an O shape, not realizing how literal he meant his words.

“Oh— You mean now?”

He smirked.

“Seems like a good time, yeah.”

You sent him a small smile, tilting your head back towards your door— listening in for a moment before facing him again. Choso was confused.

“I don’t even know where to start.” You trailed off, voice quieter ever since you glanced back to your door.

“How about starting off why you two were fighting tonight?” He offered, trying to get the conversation going.

He was happy to see that you weren’t uncomfortable with him suddenly barging in on your personal life— your business.

“Yeah that,” You cringed, “Well, he came over unexpectedly— again. I asked him to leave and he started begging me to get back with him, and just kept trying to list off reasons why I should get back with him. Kinda felt more like he was trying to sell me something rather than want me back.”

Choso cringed at how pathetic this guy sounded.

“It doesn’t matter what I say or how many times I try to convince him that I don’t feel that way for him anymore. He won’t ever believe me when I tell him I’ve moved on.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Not that I get to speak much around him anyway, he rarely lets me talk— let alone finish a fucking sentence.”

“Why do you let him in?” Choso asked, genuinely intrigued in this situation.

“Well, I don’t mean to honestly— he pushes his way past me everytime.”

“Why even open the door?” He asked another.

You sighed, looking up to Choso with a defeated expression.

“I don’t know honestly… I know I shouldn’t but… I can’t help but feel like I owe him that.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning forward towards you.

“You don’t owe anyone anything, especially this guy.”

His words made their way to your brain and physically you processed it— but mentally you had a hard time. Years of the exact opposite had been spit at you, from your ex— among many other disgusting things.

“Y-yeah… yeah you’re right actually.” You whispered, eyes focused on your thumb tracing random patterns on your knee.

Choso’s gaze softened at you solem expression, knowing that there was more to the story than you’d let on.

“Listen, I don’t know the exact details of what went on in the relationship but, you need to know that you are your own person. You aren’t in that relationship anymore and you don’t owe him anything. It didn’t work out, and he needs to move on and leave you alone.”

You nodded, truly appreciating his words— needing desperately to hear all of this.

Choso let the hallway sit in silence for a moment, getting lost in his own thoughts. He bit his bottom lip, nervous to even ask his next one— but he had a bad feeling. With the way you were acting, like a kicked puppy— he had to ask.

“(Y/n)?” He grabbed your attention, your sad eyes meeting with his, “He hasn’t… he hasn’t hurt you right?”

His question shouldn’t have made your stomach knot up, your throat suddenly dry. But you sat and stared at him, watching his eyes dance all around your features— all while you tried not to throw up.

Choso could only watch as you stared at him, your eyes almost shining in a certain scream for help— he had him unsettled.

“(Y/n)?” He tried to get your attention again.

You swallowed through your tight throat, focusing on keeping your dinner down— while also trying to force yourself to respond.

Choso didn’t need you to respond though— your silence was the answer he needed. It made him sick for you.

“I know I need to end this and just… kick him out of my life already but…” You finally spoke, voice tense.

“But what?” Choso pushed, “There’s not a good enough reason to endure abuse like that.”

You swallowed and wanted to argue, but found yourself agreeing with him. You nodded, not even attempting to finish your sentence.

“Yeah… I know.” You whispered, voice barely audible— but Choso caught it.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, you just deserve so much better than this.”

You found your cheeks dusting with pink, the passion in his voice shocking but appreciated. Choso seemed to notice your reaction and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Listen, I know we don’t know each other all too well but, from what I do know of you— you’re sweet and kind and always trying to help others.” He expressed, “I saw you that day the old woman from downstairs needed help with carrying packages to her room.”

His words had you smiling from the memory, remembering exactly what he was referring to.

“She was complaining the entire time you were helping her, saying you were doing that wrong— and this wrong.”

“Oh god yeah, I remember.” You giggled.

“But you helped her regardless, and you did it with a smile��� even offering to cook her dinner afterwards.” He noted. “You have a good heart and I think that it gets you into trouble sometimes— like giving this asshole the time of day.”

You blushed deeper, his words making you fill with warmth.

“Choso I…” You started, but couldn’t find the right words.

He sighed this time and thought that he was going a bit overboard— but he spoke again anyway.

“What I’m trying to say is that, although I don’t know you that well— I can still see that you deserve better. The best even.” He finished.

Your cheeks felt hot now, the pink covering almost your entire face with how flustered you were. It was such an endearing thing to hear someone say such kind things about you. You weren’t used to it— but it had your chest warm.

“Gosh, seems like you know me pretty well for someone who claims they don’t.” You joked, cheeks still flushed.

He chuckled and relaxed back into the door.

“I’m observant.”

“I can see that.” You told him shyly.

“But, I would really like to get to know you better.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but you felt your cheeks get redder. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so flustered by someone’s words. It didn’t help that the way he was gazing at you was so deep— something you’d never experienced before.

“I’d like that.”

At that, both of Choso and you smiled— letting them get lost in each other’s eyes for a second. The moment was quickly interrupted by a loud thump coming from inside your apartment.

Choso’s eyes shifted from yours, squinting at the door before meeting back with yours.

“What was…” He began to ask before it suddenly clicked, “Is he inside your apartment right now?”

All too soon, the familiar wave of stress could be felt flowing throughout you— at the mere mention of him.

“Unfortunately.” Your tone was full of embarrassment. “He locked me out.”

Choso’s gaze narrowed on the door for a moment, picturing your ex’s face— wishing that man could see the pure rage within his eyes. Choso was seeing red, completely over this clown of an ex. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so protective of you. He blamed it on the pure fact that you were a kind soul that needed protecting. He happily be there if you needed him.

“God, what a shit show.” He indicated that he was completely talking about your ex.

You giggled, a weak smile returning to your lips.

“Tell me about it. All I wanted to do was relax after work, watch some cheesy tv show and go to bed… but guess not.”

Choso chewed on his bottom lip, debating his next words.

“You can crash at my place tonight.” He offered, watching the way your eyebrows shot up, quickly adding, “If you want, that is.”

You smiled at him, wondering where this angel of a man came from. It felt too good to be true to have someone like him, in a moment like this.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“I’m sure. You won’t be a bother.” He reassured you, causing your cheeks to dust pink once again.

You bowed your head in his direction.

“Well, then thank you. I appreciate it.”

He waved you off, before standing up and offering you his hand to your spot on the floor.

“I’m sure after the night you’ve had, you’re probably tired, hm?” He started, “Why don’t we get inside?”

You could only smile his way before letting your hand drop into his large palm. He hoisted you up with no effort, the position letting you take in just how tall he was. He practically towered over you— and he smelled really good.

He smirked down at you and turned to unlock his door, swinging it open and standing to the side for you to step in. All while he still held your hand.

As soon as you stepped inside, he was closing the door— at last letting go of your hand.

You wanted to hit yourself for thinking such thoughts about him. His hands were so big, his fingers so long and thick— the pads of his fingers were a little rough. Not that you minded, it felt rather nice compared to your soft ones.

“You can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.” His voice broke you from your lustful thoughts.

“Really? I’d feel bad if I—”

“(Y/n), just take the bed. You’re fine.” He interrupted, voice gentle. “I told you I don’t sleep that well anyway, I’ll just be chilling on the couch.”

You sent him an appreciative smile, unable to control the slight guilt you still felt for sleeping in his bed. It seemed so random— you were a stranger to him. Well, I guess not completely. After talking with him tonight, you felt like you had known each other forever. Conversation flowed so easily with him, it was refreshing.

“Well, if you decide in the middle of the night that you want your bed back— you can kick me out. I won’t be mad.”

He chuckled at that.

“Alright then.”

You couldn’t argue with yourself that you weren’t tired— because you were exhausted. After an already busy day and then your ex’s bullshit. You craved a good nights rest. It pained you to go to bed though, you wanted to keep talking with Choso.

You watched, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as Choso situated the pillows on the couch, plopping down before he glanced over to you.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

Your heart seemed to continue to swell, all his kind gestures and words overwhelming to a point— you just weren’t used to so much kindness.

“Thank you Choso.” You told him wholeheartedly, sending him one last smile. “Goodnight.”

“Night (Y/n).”

With that, you were heading into his room— leaving the door cracked. At first glance, his room was quite organized— the color scheme pleasing. It was a much darker vibe, the low lighting setting the tone immediately. It felt relaxing in here, like a good place to sleep. Plopping down on the bed finally, you didn’t even rush to get under the covers. You curled up in a ball on your side, the cooling comforter rubbing against your skin just right— it almost had you dozing off immediately. And you would have— if it wasn’t for Choso’s distinct scent on the sheets.

The woodsy, minty musk had your senses going into overdrive. It was such an intoxicating scent, the smell surrounding you completely— your own clothes bled on. It smelled exactly how he smelled when you had caught his scent earlier.

His scent had managed to rile you up, but then lull you asleep. The mere thought that it was indeed his scent making you feel at ease— comfortable.

You had never expected your neighbor Choso to be the one to bring you that comfort you so craved ever since the breakup. But in this moment, while you dozed off in your same position on the bed— you realized it was his fault that your walls were coming down. Never before had you trusted someone so quickly in your life.

Meanwhile, Choso had snuck out to his balcony— lighting a cigarette as he needed to get lost in his thoughts. He always knew about you, he knew that you always lived across from him. He always had this pull to get to know you better— be a better neighbor and all.

Truthfully, you intimidated him. Your beauty was unmatched— along with a heart of gold that nobody could ever top. He felt like one touch from him and he’d taint your life. Tonight had been somewhat of a pushing point though, finding out more about what you’ve been going through/dealing with. It brought out protective instincts that he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe you were the light that he’d been waiting for in his life— maybe.

Inhaling a deep breath from his cigarette, he wondered if he’d be able to be the light you needed too. He wasn’t sure if he could ever be considered something as good as that— but he’d try his best to be that for you.

part two

[cupidhoons]

AS THE SEASONS CHANGE and summer transitions to winter, love flutters in the air more than ever ... you dream of a white christmas, walking in a winter wonderland. An evening wrapped in warmth as you sit near the lit fire place in your home. The passing days get colder — but fluttering hearts and red cheeks, the romance in the air could never be warmer. This is your winter fairy tale — so let the season, begin !

HOW TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS EVENT !

OO1 follow me! (not forced)

OO2 choose a member + a prompt from this list

OO3 like + reblog and tag at least three mutuals

ex. joining for sunoo w/ (prompt number) !! @/cupidhoons @/othermutual @/othermutual

YES AND NO'S

OO4 works can be: a thought, a oneshot, a timestamp, reactions, headcanons, an imagine, short smau, with a member/members of your choice

OO5 work must include a synopsis/a short summary/oss at the beginning with warnings specified, word count, genre, au, and the member you are writing for + a keep reading mark in the first three paragraphs

OO6 works can be angst or fluff, but it must be and stay sfw + be member x reader

007 be sure to tag my account and use the event # '꒰ SEASONS OF ROMANCE ☃️  ֺ ⋆ .' in the first five hashtags and have fun !!

ex. participating in @/cupidhoon's seasons of romance event !!

DEADLINES & QUESTIONS

007 this event officially starts on november 2nd, 2024 and will end on december 21st. max extension will be on january 1st.

have extra questions? send me a dm or an ask to check and clarify with me ^^

[gunnerfc]

🎄WOSO FICMAS: Dec. 12 - Fridolina Rolfö 🎄

Fridolina Rolfö x Reader (Arsenal & Sweden) | WC: 745

Dec. 12 prompt: cuddle during the team's christmas movie night

-> any translations come from google!

-> woso ficmas masterlist can be found here!

With the holidays approaching and clubs giving players time off, you and your Swedish national teammates could spend time together away from the pitch. With the club seasons picking up and certain players rehabbing injuries, it made it hard for almost everyone to see each other. The captains of the team decided that there needed to be a team movie night before everyone went back to their respective clubs after the break.

This is how you found yourself in Caroline’s home surrounded by most of your teammates, still waiting on the arrival of some of them. You were in the middle of an intense conversation about the past London Derby with Zećira and Johanna, neither wanting to accept that Arsenal did in fact win that match. Too preoccupied with the conversation with the two Chelsea players, you didn’t notice when Fridolina and Stina joined the three of you on the couch. 

“man kan inte alltid vinna, vet du? (you can’t always win, you know?)” your Arsenal teammate teased interrupting whatever excuse the goalkeeper was trying to say. Stina was especially happy with the Gunners’ win after scoring the late game-winner. 

The Chelsea players switched their attention to Stina, once again voicing their displeasure with losing. Frido could only laugh at the four of you, finding the argument amusing. 

“Frido, hjälp oss här! (Frido, help us here!)” the youngest of the two West London players whined, hoping the blonde would come to their defense.

“Nej, jag gillar när Chelsea inte vinner. (No, I like it when Chelsea doesn't win.)” the forward joked, earning a loud laugh from you and Stina while the Chelsea players rolled their eyes. 

The conversation shifted to how Frido’s recovery was going back in Spain and then to how everyone planned on spending the summer now that Sweden was out of the Olympics. You moved your hand to hold your girlfriend’s as she spoke about her recovery, knowing how much she missed being able to play for both Sweden and Barça.

Once everyone had arrived at your captain’s house, the team was instructed to write down the title of a movie to be drawn out of a bowl to make it easier to decide which movie to watch. You were quick to scribble down the title of your favorite Christmas movie, tossing it in the bowl before finding a seat before you were forced to sit on the floor. A slight shiver ran down your spine, the Swedish cold affecting you more than you thought it would. You knew you should have listened to Frido when she told you to wear a long-sleeved shirt or at least take a hoodie, but you refused, saying something along the lines of being used to the cold.

The blonde was quick to join you on the couch, a knowing smile on her face as she watched you slightly shake from the cold. You were waiting for her to say “jag sa det till dig” (I told you so), but it never came. Instead, she picked up the blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch, moving it across the two of you. Your teammates soon followed after putting their suggestion into the bowl, some racing each other to a spot on the couch to avoid the floor. 

You were too focused on the warmth your girlfriend was providing to pay attention to what movie Magda picked from the bowl but you could hear a few groans from your teammates, letting you know they were not thrilled with the selection. With everyone now settled in front of the TV, Caroline had the opening credits to the movie rolling. You were hardly paying attention to the movie, more content with being wrapped up with your girlfriend, the cold no longer affecting you. With a quick kiss on the blonde’s cheek, you settled into the couch, eyes now focused on the bright screen in front of you.

As the movies continued, Frido moved closer, wanting to be as close to you as possible. With a new movie now starting and your girlfriend fully tucked into your side, you let out a small content sigh, having missed spending time with all your national teammates. You caught some of your teammates’ eyes, teasing smiles on their faces at the sight of you and Frido cuddling, but they knew to keep their comments to themselves for now. However, you knew their silence wouldn’t last long and the first chance they got to tease you, they would take it.

[dirty-ainur-confessions]

Imagine being a sailor and getting railed by both Uinen and Osse

you might even mistake uinen for some form of siren with how utterly ethereal she is. her eyes that shine like the moon on the sea, her tempting voice. she lulls you into a sense of security, asking you to give yourself to her as she pleases you oh so tenderly. unwinding you on her fingers, pressing soothing kisses to your neck and aching muscles due to your voyage

. . . and then ossë comes around, teaming with jealousy at the sight and bickers at his wife to allow him room. he's rough, ravenous, like a raging sea storm as he pulls you into his lap with your back flushed to his chest — fucking you until you're creaming around him so nice and prettily while uinien tends to your clit with her skilled fingers and kisses you drunk

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆 ❜࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

✿ ━ oneshots

❀ ━ headcanons

✾ ━ imagines

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

fics & aus ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

misc ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

fluff ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

angst ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

smut ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

dark ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[imdoingathingmom]

Hi, I know I've been basically dead to the Tumblr world lately but here's an old ass headcannon I never posted. I'm clearing out my Google Docs storage and I miiiight start writing again. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Correlates to Oh So Subtle! (OSS!) 

Initially Loki just wanted the only interaction between him and Peter to be about discussing you and planning his apology surprise.

However, the spiderling didn't get the memo.

Peter would start to come around and talk about the most tedious things. 

School, memes (as if Loki knew what that was), his day. 

At first Loki ignored it but gradually as time went on he grew to enjoy the spiderling’s rambling. It was pleasant.

Loki started participating more in conversations. 

Asking questions and commenting on things. 

Peter tried to teach Loki how to play Left 4 Dead but the he gave up when a Tank beat him to death. 

Loki asked Peter to teach him more about memes. 

So far his favorite ones are: 

“it's a knife” “NO!” 

“Oh hi, thanks for checking in. I'm STILL A PIECE OF GARBAGE.”

Distracted Boyfriend

“Really, right in front of my salad?” 

His least favorite ones are:

“Catch me outside how bout dat?”

Elf on a shelf "This meme is preposterous, Peter, elves are far more majestic looking than that THING and they have better things to do than sit on a shelf all day."

Salt Bae

"Sheeeeesh!"

Loki started teaching Peter about Asagardian traditions.

Loki and Peter often read together in the library.

Or they just sit around quoting memes all day.

Sometimes they watch old movies together.

Peter teaches Loki how to use a cellphone.

Loki loves it. He often calls Peter when he's not at the compound. 

Peter: “I'm at school Loki. Stop calling so much.”

He sends Peter memes he thinks are funny.

Peter: “I've already seen it.” 

Loki: “oh”

Peter takes Loki to Delmar’s 

Loki is confused as to why Peter likes his sandwich squished. 

Loki doesn't know what to order and gets nervous. “I'd like a-” squints eyes “-ebt welcome.”

Peter tries not to laugh and just orders Loki his usual but makes sure it's not squished. 

Loki surprisingly likes it. I guess Midguardians aren't as bad as I thought.

All in all, even tho Peter is tremendously younger than Loki he’s was glad to have a friend like him. Peter made Loki forget all the wrong doings he's done and feel like a kid again.

Peter's friendship is unconditional and Loki was glad for that.

Wow, this was trash but it's my first headcanon and yeah. Hope you enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. 

[alleiradayne]

A Prayer For You

For: @oneshoeshort ‘s Feeling 30 Birthday Challenge, I chose the feeling “morose”. Featuring: Sam x F!Reader, Dean and Cas mentioned Rating: SFW (floofs!) Word Count: 2156

You come back to the empty bunker, finding the Impala gone and hide nor hair of Dean, Cas, or Sam. But upon a second inspection, water running in the showers draws your attention and there you find Sam.

The bunker door slammed shut its heavy metal door, the raucous clamor echoing with your heavy boots thumping on the spiral metal staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, the library lay empty, not a soul in sight but for the signs of their passage sprawled across the long, central table. Two laptops, several books, empty glasses, and a notepad with a pen atop it littered the surface, obscuring its earthen brown grain.

“Hello?”

Your call faded to silence, unanswered, unheard. Beside a lifeless laptop, you set your latest find—a Sumerian text Sam once complained the bunker lacked while praising its invaluable information. Another quick scan of the library yielded no further clues, and so, you ventured through the control and turned to the kitchen. Maybe a late dinner had beckoned Dean, his inhuman appetite never sated.

But the kitchen stood empty, too, no hint of life to witness. Pristine steel countertops glistened in the overhead fluorescent light, their immaculate surface begging for a fresh smattering of flour or a swathe of melted butter. And though the appeal of baking teased your senses, a more pressing matter—finding out what happened to your new family—took precedence.

At the nearest intersection, a right lead you to the garage where a quick glance revealed no Impala. In the far corner sat your pale-yellow Mercury Cyclone, covered, of course, at Dean’s behest. The Cyclone might as well have been Dean’s child, too, second only to his Impala.

“Dean?” you called. “Sam?” echoed through the cavernous garage. “Cas?”

Nothing.

The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, raising stiff as gooseflesh spread across your arms. A thick swallow knotted in your throat, tongue dry and sticking to your teeth. Endless questions tumbled through your head, rattling in the fog of confusion that clouded your memory.

Since the day you’d met them, Sam, Dean, and the angel Castiel never left you behind, never once telling you to stay in the car or to stay in the bunker. Hot on the trail of the Sphinx that killed your hunting partner, they happened upon you in the beast’s maze. Where they wanted answers, you demanded justice for Anthony’s death. And there, Sam taught you an invaluable lesson.

“Y/N, revenge is not justice. Killing that creature will not bring Anthony back.”

Tears stung your eyes as the vivid memory replayed in your mind’s eye. Mere months past, Anthony’s death festered, a gaping wound, deep and untreated for far too long. Your best friend and partner, he’d always had your six. But Sam was right. And even better, the Sphinx answered Castiel’s questions about a boy named Jack. Weeks passed before you understood Sam’s words, but on that fateful day, you found what you had searched for since Anthony’s passing.

A family.

Eyes wiped clean, you returned to the long corridor, heading for the library. Your latest hunt required more research, and the Men of Letters bunker suffered from no shortage in reading material. But near the intersection of the control room, the distant rush of running water diverted your attention, drawing your stride to a halt. With a straining ear, you listened, tilting your head to pinpoint the source. While the kitchen sat in the opposite direction, the showers ended the curving hall before you, twisting around the corner and out of sight.

Tension seized your shoulders, muscles tight in the wake of unspoken questions. From the small of your waistband, you withdrew your gun, a sleek Taurus not unlike Dean’s, and disengaged the safety. With both hands wrapped around the grip and the weapon leading, you edged along the arching hallway lined with rooms, their heavy wooden doors shut but for one.

Sam’s room, sparse aside from his bed and desk, lay empty. Bed made with neat folds, books lining the shelves in precise order, and a clean desk, it appeared as if no one lived there. But an errant piece of paper on the chair grasped your attention, and a quick check of the hall ensured your stealth. You darted into his room, snatching up the note to find fresh ink sprawled across the paper, a personal note written in a shaking hand.

I’m sorry, Mom. We’re still trying. We’ll find a way to get you back soon. I swear.

If not for the piece of paper, the open door remained the only sign of Sam’s presence. He never left his door open while away from the bunker. Though well hidden, Sam’s penchant for stashing their more invaluable items in the secret spaces of his quarters demanded every precaution.

And yet his door stood wide open. With a quick step, you rush back to the hallway and peeked over the threshold to the showers, the sound of running water obvious now. Another read of the short note confirmed your suspicions, and, with a resigned sigh, you returned to the hallway and replaced your Taurus in its holster.

Dean considered your previous mission a disaster of monumental proportions. Although nobody had died, you’d taken ten steps back in returning Mary to your timeline. Dean bottled up that frustration, capping it tighter than a lid on a pickle jar. His anger trickled out in small bursts of frustration, a flipped chair here and a busted bottle there. And no matter how Sam or you or Cas tried to talk to him, nothing but soldiering on helped him cope.

While Sam coped with most setbacks well—an almost naïve optimism maintained him—this failure had crushed his faith. Within hours of returning to the bunker, Sam’s mood slipped beyond consoling. He spoke little and less over the ensuing days, a malaise that not only darkened Sam but the entire world. The light of his faith shined brighter than sun since that day you’d met. But now?

The water stopped with a squeak, snapping your focus from the depths of your thoughts. Silence filled your ears, a deafening roar broken only by a distant exhaust fan. Careful footfalls bore you around the corner and into the locker room, steam rolling along the ceiling as it searched for an escape. Several lockers lined the tiny entry, burnished gold wood shining bright beneath their spotlights. And there on a bench sat Sam, sopping hair falling limp around his shadowed face and head hanging low between his hunched shoulders.

Across his knees lay a favored red and black flannel, and broad shoulders clad in black heaved with a shuddering sigh. Dark denim led to bare feet, toes rolling on the shimmering brown tile with an irregular beat. A shaking hand carded through his brown hair, sending thin rivulets of water along his neck to soak in his shirt. When another heaving sigh raised his shoulders, you hesitated, a tentative step hovering over the threshold and a hand on the trim of the doorway.

Maybe Sam sat there, alone, for a reason. The last few weeks had robbed them of any justice, and so Sam’s mood sunk to a new level. And the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense; he needed time on his own, and so, on your heel, you turned to leave. But tension rippled across his back as you stepped, caught out of the corner of your eye. And there, in that liminal space between seconds, Sam whispered a quivering plea.

“Chuck? Ar—are you there? It’s… it’s Sam. I—”

His thought faltered, hanging on a breath caught in his throat.  

“I know you don’t owe us anything. Hell, we owe you. More than I care to admit. But—”

Another hitch in his throat snagged his voice, a thick swallow bobbing his head. “We need your help, Chuck. We’re in a bad way. I’m sure you know Mary’s… stuck. In that place. We could really use a hand with this one. Again.”

A long pause filled the room with a solemn silence, Sam sitting still as stone. Seconds ticked by, the sound of your watch so loud you feared Sam might hear. But after several minutes, he remained there, hunched over his knees, unmoving. And then the silence broke with a choking gasp.

“Please,” he begged. “We need her. You can’t just… give her back to us and then take her away again. Please, help us. Send us whatever—whoever—you can.”

On the heels of his prayer, an incessant impulse drove a shock between your shoulders so sharp, you all but jumped over the threshold. The urge, the need to comfort, to console and care for Sam in his wretched state of mind rent a gasp from your lungs that reverberated off the tiled locker room walls.

Sam wheeled around, hand reaching for an absent gun at the small of his back. When red and puffy hazel eyes found yours, his guard slipped to surprise, and then to relief. With a hand to his heart, he sighed. “Jesus, Y/N. I didn’t know you were there.”

Of course, he didn’t. But you had not meant to snoop or spy on him in such a private moment. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’ll… leave you be. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t go.”

You hesitated on your toes, ready to flee in an instant. But the sound of Sam’s voice, of his desperate need for company sunk to the pit of your stomach, a lead weight drawing you to him. God, but he looked exhausted, sunken eyes and shallow cheeks the echoes of his sleepless nights and hungry days.

“Please?”

Without another thought, you crossed the tile and sat on the bench beside Sam, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

A hint of a smile found his lips and your heart skipped a beat. “Be you.” He laughed through his nose as he shook his head. “That seems to help more than most things lately.”

Kind as ever, Sam’s compassion knew no bounds. But no appropriate response found your voice and so you remained silent. There, Sam sucked a deep breath through his nose before he spoke.

“I can’t believe I’m about to ask you this, but I want to. I’ve wanted to for weeks.”

That same sinking sensation returned, your stomach plummeting as if the floor had fallen from beneath your feet. Son of a bitch, he knew. Always so perceptive, Sam had read you like an open book. And now, at the end of his rope, he needed you more than ever.

“Can you come closer?”

The warmth of him radiated over you in waves as your hip met his, gun oil, musty books, and a hint of coconut filling your nose. So close, you breathed him in, a deep inhale as a massive arm encircled your shoulders. The chilling rush of excitement numbed your fingers and toes, and a shiver rushed along your spine despite Sam’s warmth. But as soon as his hand found your hip, he hesitated, withdrawing.

“Is… is this okay? I’m… shit, I’m so bad at this. It’s been so long.”

You laughed despite Sam’s doubts, shifting closer and settling his hand on your hip. Along his spine, your fingers trailed, and the tension seeped from his knotted muscles at your touch. The weight of him leaned heavy, and a part of you marveled at the ease with which Sam trusted you. Little else compared to this, the nearness, the absolute overwhelming presence of this vulnerable, beautiful man relying on you for support.

“Thank you, Y/N. I was… in a pretty bad place there for a few days.”

You nodded, head rubbing against his chest like a small cat. “I noticed. I didn’t know what to do, but I was worried about you.”

The press of his lips atop your head sent another shiver along your spine. And then a squeeze of his arm held you closer, pressed tight against his chest. Another long stretch of silent minutes passed you by, but for once, you ignored time. For you, and for Sam, in that moment, time ceased to exist, stretching to give you an eternal minute together. And for as little as you believed, you prayed to God that Sam never let you go.

Prayed.

“You were praying earlier?”

A casual hum agreed with you, but Sam said nothing else as he nuzzled your hair.

“Who’s Chuck?”

For the first time in weeks, his obnoxious laughter filled your ears, and you swore nothing in the world sounded sweeter than Sam Winchester’s laugh.

[doodle-pops]

Dear Mina,

Question: How would the Ainur flirt with their S/O?

Thank you.

a/n: Oh boy, did I have a ball of a time laughing as I wrote these. These aren't different from my Ainur Simp headcanons. The only difference is the new members.

The Ainur Flirting with their S/O

Manwë

Dances and swoons you like a tropical bird but with more elegance and charisma. Expect to be asked to dance at festivals and balls or receive lots of jewellery (sparkles). Know that he will serenade you all the time, dedicating each piece for you (yes, he writes them).

Irmo

Doesn't waste the opportunity to be at your side whenever you are alone. Asking you for walks and tucking flowers into your hair while citing poems. Kissing the back of your hand and looking you deep in the eye while charming you with his charismatic self. Sends you the sweetest dreams ever, and you never suffer nightmares.

Námo

Oh boy, after his brother gave him advice, he would invite you to dinner frequently and ask you about your day. He wants to learn about you instead of flirt, so his approach is more gentlemanly and professional (he's a serious man). Give you a bouquet of your favourite flower and something to symbolise his affection towards you.

Ulmo

He spends most of his time with you on the beach or near any open area of water, but mostly the beach. Taking you deep underwater and showing you aquatic and oceanic life. Gifting you pearls and the prettiest seashells he can find. His favourite moments would be to sit with you on the sand under the moonlight.

Tulkas

Shows off his strength as proof of his admiration for you while also praising yours. He's a pleaser and would do anything to make you smile. Going out of his way to lifting your spirit (and lifting you) through his praises. Every defeat is done in your honour.

Oromë

Shows off his skills as the greatest Huntsman and brings produce for you every month (his ability to provide). Frequently visiting and teaching you the ropes of hunting. Expect to be gifted a few animals if you're an animal lover or have his special creatures show up to gift you some souvenir that he planned to give you months ago and was nervous about.

Melkor

He's seductive about his strategies and prefers to seduce you. He's always standing close and pushing your hair out of your face or neck or resting a hand on your back. He loves to hand-feed you himself for some reason, like strawberries or have you sample his wine from his glass.

Eönwë

Just like his King but boisterous and flamboyant about it. He goes all out and would perform aerial dances or find you little pebbles and shinies out on his flights. He would even take you on flights just to have you cling to him. Always gifts you a feather to have a piece of him.

Tilion

He is quick to visit during the day and spends every moment at your side asking you about your day. Gifts you little trinkets that are different moon phases and tells you he'll watch over you when you're asleep. He has the tendency to break the moon's course just to shine moonlight on you even if he gets scolded.

Ossë

Collects pearls and seashells and prepare them on a turtle shell as a gift to you. Whenever you're in the water, the tides tend to become calmer or around you. He loves to give you the advance over others when you're sailing on the seas. Sends sea creatures to gift you little trinkets whenever he can't make it.

Mairon

You're the only person who is allowed to be within contact distance and touch him. He greets you with a cheerier melody compared to everyone else and always waits on you hand and foot. Actually compliments you and gifts you pieces he made himself. There's a softer look on his face when you're around.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine Ulmo taking you under his care...

(I watched a documentary about the ocean and thought what it would be like to live there as a mermaid. I think it would be terrifying, but what if you get adopted by the valar of sea. )

Warnings, tragic background, scary environments, Ulmo being the best dad. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-You used to be a human, but after you agreed to be a guinea pig to a strange object your mother found, your legs became a tail of a fish, and you gained an ability to breathe underwater.

-You have been living in a water tank ever since.

-You begged your mother to turn you back because you missed being able to walk on land. She always said she was busy or was working on it, but it's been so long that you started to feel like she was not going to do it.

-You have lived in the tank for so long that your only friend was the seagull who often visited the window.

-You named him Scuttle.

-One day, your mother brought a strange man to the place you were hidden.

-You didn't know who he was, but you were filled with dread when you saw him.

-That was the day you knew your mother was up to no good and bailed out of there.

-Since you didn't have legs, you had to crawl across the floor.

-Scuttle guided you to a strange hatch, which led to what seemed to be an underground tunnel with flowing water.

-The smell was horrible, but you took your chances than staying with your mother.

-So you dived in and allowed the current to guide you.

-The smelly water led you to a river, and from there, Scuttle guided you to the sea.

-It was scary.

-You always thought the sea was beautiful from the land, but now it was terrifyingly haunting how silent and massive it was.

-Especially when you were alone.

-You wandered around the sea for a while, avoiding any predators and people on boats.

-Scuttle took you to a beautiful place with all kinds of fish and colorful reefs.

-The water also tasted sweet, so you decided to make this your temporal home.

-You found yourself a cave to sleep in and fed on shrimps and tiny fishes you could find.

-It was peaceful for a while. Scuttle kept you company, and you found yourself a safe place.

-But it didn't fix the fact of how lonely you felt.

-Your mother was a horrible person, and you regretted that you didn't choose to live with your father.

-You would most likely never be accepted by your kind ever again. Not with a tail of a fish.

-You were all alone.

-Your only sort of comfort was humming songs your dad used to sing to you.

-You never thought; your humming would capture the attention of the most unlikely creature of the sea. Ulmo

-Ulmo started hearing sorrowful tones in the ocean. At first, he thought his maiars were having some troubles, but that was not the case.

-So he looked for the source of the sorrowful music, and one peculiar seagull led him to a shallow coral reef.

-What he found shocked him.

-A human child with a tail of a sea creature, living underwater, far away from the land humans are supposed to live.

-Your sorrowful humming was enough to tell him what happened to you.

-You were robbed of your humanity and abandoned by the one who was supposed to cherish and protect you.

-And all that at such a young age. You were a child even to the eyes of your kin.

-Feeling sorrow for you, Ulmo made himself known to you.

-At first, you were frightened by the deity but soon felt comfort when you spoke with him.

-Even though; he already knew what happened to you, he listened to your story and offered his comfort.

-He started visiting you daily, trying to heal you from your trauma and teach you about the ocean.

-You slowly started to heal and bring out your inner child, playing with the dolphins and friendly sharks.

-It made Ulmo happy and introduced you to hidden sea fruits he obviously didn't create just for you and seaweed you could eat. You didn't have to eat fish anymore.

-He knew the ocean might be too scary for you, so he summoned some whales to swim close to the shores.

-He brought you there to meet them, and you were having the time of your life.

-You played with the baby whale and listened to them sing.

-It was wonderful, and your fear of the ocean slowly vanished.

-You once accidentally called Ulmo a dad, which shocked him, but he was surprisingly happy about it.

-He started teaching you the music of the ocean. You developed a great singing voice, and you were able to hear the tones of the sea.

-Ulmo took care of you, made sure you ate well, and you could live like a happy child.

-So he accepted you were technically his kid now.

-Ulmo's absence became noticeable to his maiars, so Uinen and Osse went to look for him and found him caring for a human child who had a tail of a fish.

-Shocked and confused, they approached their lord and you.

-Osse was a bit suspicious of how you came to be, but Uinen was quick to get enamored with you.

-Uinen brought you something new to wear since your old human shirt was getting mossy and old, and braid your hair into a proper style.

-She dressed you in a comfortable piece of clothing which also decorated your tail.

-You were startled and a bit shy, but you soon got close with Uinen.

-She was like an adoring older sister.

-Osse didn't know how to approach you at first, but since you were curious about him. You followed him a lot.

-It was not he was trying to avoid you. He didn't just know how to act around humans, especially children.

-He started his first conversation with you by asking; what was your favorite sea creature.

-Your first answer was whales, but surprisingly your second favorite fish was the great white shark.

-This got him excited because the great white were his favorites too.

-So he brought you to ride sharks with him, and it was fun.

-When Uinen and Osse heard your story from Ulmo. They were like, protective instincts activated.

-They were going to protect this little human half fish no matter what.

-Osse became your reckless but fun older brother figure.

-You do a bunch of reckless things when you're with him, and you two always end up getting scolded by Ulmo and Uinen.

-Worth it, though.

-Osse also started teaching you how to screw with surface dwellers, which is a lot of fun.  

-He was a bad influence on you.

-Uinen taught you many things about the deep ocean. You found the depts scary, so Uinen accompanied you when she sometimes took you there for a visit.

-Singing and doing each other's hair became a common thing between you two.

-Ulmo was happy you got along with his maiars since they were technically his kids too.

-Maybe when you get older, he could introduce you to some of the elves, but that was a story for another time.

-You were happy with your new life. Taking your chance in the sea was the best decision ever. You were never returning to the land.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 15

(Ch. 14) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Tag List Application II Symbol Guide II

Summary: Tackling a mission meant for a team all by herself, Alix goes head-to-head with her most dangerous opponent yet. But perhaps this time, she's bitten off more than she can chew.

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, ANGST, SEVERE INJURIES, Implied Substance Abuse, Death, the usual espionage stuff

A/N: Sorry this took so long, y'all! I've been on a trip! Here, have a holiday cliffhanger before I disappear again🤭💖

Taglist: @softguarnere @latibvles @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @brassknucklespeirs @parajumpboots @vibing-away @emmythespacecowgirl @hxad-ovxr-hxart @holdingforgeneralhugs @bellewintersroe @wwhatev3r @ax-elcfucker-blog

Contemporary: September 20th, 1944. Oosterbeek, Netherlands.

As soon as Lieutenant Kruger exited the Hendriksen Hotel, Alix was ready for him. 

Opening her issue of Modes de Paris to a random page once more, she began to study the page on upcoming winter clothing trends, gradually increasing her pace until she "accidentally" collided with the young SS officer, causing him to stumble. 

Most targets would apologize for knocking her and check to see if she was alright, but when the Lieutenant recovered his footing, something in him snapped.

Whirling around in a fit of fury, Kruger seized the spy by the throat, swearing in German as he slammed her against the wall of the Hendriksen hard enough to elicit a choking cough as the air was punched from her lungs.

Alix knew she couldn't put up true resistance or she would risk blowing her cover so she struggled weakly, one hand gripping his wrist and the other pushing him away from her as she fought for air. 

The urge to break his arm was growing stronger with every second but Alix had committed herself to the civilian role and she would have to play it, even to her own peril.

Horrified townspeople saw the confrontation but scurried by, hastily avoiding the scene so as not to catch the SS officer's eye. 

No one wanted to be next.

Tears involuntarily sprang to the spy's eyes as Kruger's hold tightened. When he lifted her off the ground, her ears began to buzz loudly as her vision began to blur and narrow.

Desperately fighting to remain conscious, Alix began to claw his hand and Kruger finally released her, yelling in pain, his voice seeming far away. 

Gasping for breath like a fish out of water, Alix sank to her knees, the magazine slipping from her hand and falling limply to the cobblestones below.

The world seemed to be spinning like a children's top and Alix sat dazed. Kruger looked like he might come at her a second time but before he could, she saw another pair of boots approaching with the sharp clip-clip-clip that meant business. 

As she coughed, leaning against the wall for support, the young woman could hear voices arguing above her in German. Blinking blearily upward, she could see a dignified-looking older man also in an SS uniform with the name “Schwarzkopf” emblazoned on the breast pocket.

A panoply of medals sat proudly on the opposite side of his chest, including what Alix recognized to be the Iron Cross. 

This must be SS Captain Schwarzkopf then, she surmised through the haze. Werner Schwarzkopf. 

She vaguely remembered his file.

Schwarzkopf was engrossed in a near-shouting match with the short-tempered Lieutenant, waving his hands as he gestured to Alix, to the street, and then jabbed an accusatory finger back into Kruger's chest. 

All the fight seemed to have left the younger officer now and his body seemed to sag as he hung his head guiltily like a child being scolded by the schoolmaster.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, the row seemed to come to an end and the older officer knelt to pick up Alix's magazine before extending a hand politely down to her which she accepted.

Once she had gotten to her feet, Alix let the tears run down her cheeks and sniffled, hoping to seem more sympathetic. 

It worked. 

The older officer glanced over the title of the fashion catalog with a fond smile.

"Modes de Paris," he read out loud, his German-accent almost disappearing, making his French surprisingly comprehensible. "My wife is subscribed to this. Lisette has a weakness for capes." 

"Well she's in luck because they appear to be all the rage this coming winter," Alix assured, returning the smile weakly as she rubbed her sore neck in with a gentle hand. 

"I should hope so, with all of the money we’ve spent on them!" 

The man let out a booming belly laugh that set Alix's ears ringing again and she winced, clinging to the wall of the bookshop with her left hand in a bid for balance as she slowly straightened up. 

"I am truly sorry for my carelessness," she uttered softly, keeping her head lowered as a sign of her deference. "I sometimes get too immersed in my reading." 

"No need to apologize, Mademoiselle, no harm done," the older man stated broadly but Lieutenant Kruger huffed like a spoiled child before shooting a suspicious glare in Alix’s direction for less than a second. 

Strangely, the youthful SS officer couldn’t maintain eye contact to save his life.

Alix couldn’t even tell what color his irises were because they were dwarfed by his dinner-plate pupils and darting every which way as though distracted by a million different things that only he could see. 

Lieutenant Kruger was muttering under his breath, seemingly speaking more to himself than anyone else as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

The agent glanced over to the older man with concern, lowering her voice to avoid triggering Kruger’s ire again.

“Is he… alright?” 

The graying man grimaced. 

“He is functional. Mostly.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, making sure to keep her body language open and non-defensive to emphasize her earnestness. 

The key was seeming politely concerned, not overly curious.

Schwarzkopf shook his head, seemingly mystified.

“Overwork perhaps? Who’s to say?”

“S-She’s a spy!” Kruger burst out suddenly, extending a shaking finger toward the agent.

Alix’s eyebrows shot skyward with a bemused laugh but the older man beside her merely frowned, his forehead creasing. 

“You said the same thing earlier about 4 men in the bakers regiment, Klemens." Captain Schwarzkopf's voice was rising. "Is this your idea of a joke?" 

Kruger was completely ignoring him, seemingly too immersed in his own paranoia to notice. 

This was not a joke, Alix thought as she watched the troubled young man begin pacing anxiously back and forth along the same path.

Something was seriously wrong with her target and it wasn't trench fever. 

"So many spies," the young man mumbled, his movements becoming more jerky in his distress. "So many…So many." 

The lieutenant was becoming more and more agitated by the second, scratching frantically at his neck and face like a dog with fleas, raking his fingernails up and down the pockmarked skin feverishly as if trying to dig his way down to the bone.

Kruger's erratic behavior was causing Alix some serious trepidation.

 The young SS officer was sweating excessively but there were no other symptoms, meaning the Intel she was acting on was incorrect. Whatever his affliction, it was most certainly not trench fever and Alix wondered if it might be better to take him out from a distance instead. 

She might risk losing the chance to nab vital documents he was carrying but if his affliction was contagious, she didn't want to risk any more exposure because she could potentially infect others she came into contact with after.

Deciding to try one last ruse, Alix turned glanced over at Kruger, whose hands appeared to be twitching as he shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

"I really should get going," she excused herself breathily.

"Papa will be expecting me after Monsieur Pètain has gone, I'm sure." 

With all the practiced coyness of an actress delivering a throwaway line over her shoulder, Alix turned to leave when she was stopped, as she knew she would be. 

Kruger was slack-jawed, his huge pupils boring into her like black holes.

 “Your father knows The Marshal Pètain? The Lion of Verdun? But how-” 

"Papa was his roommate at Saint-Cyr," Alix lied effortlessly, cutting the babbling young man off. "And when they left the military academy, they served together in Artois. As you can imagine, they are quite close." 

“What did you say your father’s name was?” the older man asked, a hint of skepticism in his gravelly voice and Alix forced her expression to remain neutral, hoping to God that her cover had been properly backstopped. 

“Antoine Duchamps,” she replied, keeping her tone even, and Kruger’s ghostly face brightened immediately. 

“I know that name!” He piped up eagerly and Alix resolved to thank Nixon later for properly planting her cover when Kruger began chattering twice as fast to the man next to him, leaving Alix blinking as she struggled to follow along.

The Lieutenant's French wasn't bad for a German but the faster he spoke, the more his words began to slur, running together in a muddled mess and on top of it, he hardly seemed to breathe!

"Philippe Pètain! My God, can you believe it? Do you think he would meet with us? Perhaps-" 

But the older officer held up a hand to silence Kruger, who was starting to pace again in his excitement. 

"I'm sure the Marshal is a busy man, Klemens," Captain Schwarzkopf began but Alix shook her head, tossing her curls airily like the airheaded socialite she was supposed to be. 

"Don't be silly!” she chirped brightly, her tone syrupy-sweet. “He'd be honored to meet with some of our valiant German allies! If one of you could escort me to the nearest phone, I'm sure I could ring Papa and arrange it!" 

The young agent paused for a moment, watching as Lieutenant Kruger began scratching vigorously at his neck and cheek again, angry red lines beginning to trail down the irritated skin.

"It can't be a party line though," Alix hinted, twirling a strand of her raven hair around her finger flirtatiously. 

"The Marshal is very particular about who has access to him, I'm sure you understand. One can never be too careful these days. It should be somewhere…private.” 

Kruger had ceased his clawing now, too distracted by the sight of Alix’s fluttering eyelashes and suggestive tone to focus.

“I know the perfect place,” the young man blurted out, seizing her by the arm rather suddenly and practically yanking her towards him in a sudden burst of virility. 

Good, Alix thought as the notorious ladies' man led her back inside the hotel, leaving a confused Captain Schwarzkopf behind them. This should be quick. 

But it wasn't. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

An impromptu SS Headquarters on one floor and a rented love nest on the other, it seemed the Hendriksen made good money from collaborating with Nazis because the place was crawling with them.

 

As the pair made their way through the lobby into the elevator, Alix kept her head dipped low, making sure that her thick, Veronica Lake-style waves were obscuring at least half her face from passersby. 

Beside her, Lieutenant Kruger was still trembling like a leaf; his short, shallow breaths coming out in pants as though he’d just run a marathon. 

A part of her wanted to ask if he was alright but she thought better of it; Alix knew if she set him off again, she wouldn’t be able to hold back from killing him and she was fairly certain that the noise would attract unwanted attention from the multiple Nazis milling about downstairs. 

In the elevator, the young SS officer pressed a shaky hand to his chest, the feeling of his racing heart starting him rocking on his heels once again and Kruger’s anxiety coupled with the groaning of the rusted cables made Alix grit her teeth.

He better not drop dead before we get to the room, she thought bitterly. Because I’m not dragging him there myself.

Fortunately, the ding of the elevator signaled their arrival and the young spy allowed herself a quiet exhale of relief as they exited onto the plush, patterned carpeting of the hall. 

It was showtime. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Common courtesy dictated that a gentleman should offer a lady a drink upon inviting her in but Lieutenant Kruger was certainly no gentleman. 

Alix had barely sat down by the bedside telephone when the young officer plopped down beside her, his leg bouncing vigorously, practically shaking the whole mattress with it.

"My, my,” he marveled and Alix could feel his bony fingers boldly caressing her upper arm. “Aren’t you a stunning creature?” 

It took all of her strength not to break his hand.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she simpered but when she reached for the phone, Kruger’s other arm shot out like lightning to stop her, clutching her wrist painfully tight.

“What’s your hurry, Fraulein?” he inquired and Alix felt a chill run through at the sight of his crocodile grin. “I’m sure the Marshal can wait until we’re through.” 

The agent played dumb, wincing at his vise-like grip.

“U-Until we’re through…?”

 

“Until I’ve had time to properly enjoy…your presence.”

 

Good luck with that, Alix wanted to remark but she lowered her eyes to the carpet instead, feigning shyness.

"Forgive me, sir,” she murmured breathily, doing her best impression of a bashful ingenue. “But being alone with a man as…” She swallowed her disgust. “As handsome and well-respected as yourself…” 

Beside her, the Lieutenant dropped her wrist and straightened up at her words, puffing his chest out like a strutting rooster and Alix bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. 

“You needn't be coy, Fraulein," he assured her with a pompous wave of his hand. "We're finally alone."

With that, he made a daring swoop toward her, attempting to hook an arm around her waist but Alix shied away, scooting closer toward the phone instead.

"Perhaps a drink first?” she insisted quickly, followed by a tight-lipped smile. "For both of us, to calm the nerves." 

"I'm not thirsty," he countered, continuing to lean in and Alix kept her expression neutral, tolerating his advances as her mind raced through possibilities. 

She needed him to ingest the cyanide somehow but she knew she couldn't push the subject or she'd risk blowing her cover.

 

So she played hard to get, ducking away from his arms again and hoping desperately that her attempts at coyness would pay off but they didn't.

The SS Lieutenant was like a machine. 

He didn't need to eat, drink, or sleep; he seemed to run on desire alone and he was vibrating as though there was lightning coursing through his veins. 

She tried several times to engage him in conversation but the Lieutenant wasn’t interested in talking. Once he’d reached out and groped her breast, Alix decided she’d had enough. 

Swallowing her pride, the spy leaned in, keeping her lips just inches away from Kruger's as she slowly eased the F-S fighting knife from the waistband of her skirt. He was so near that she could smell his putrid breath and as soon as his eyes closed, she seized her opportunity and thrust the blade deep into his abdomen.

The force of the stab alone would probably have killed the average soldier but it seemed almost as though the SS officer was superhuman.

He let out a single, strangled noise and looked down at the knife embedded in his torso before his eyes shifted up, black with unspeakable rage as he leapt to his feet and took a swing.

Alix blocked his first strike with one hand while yanking the knife from his bloody ribs with the other, eliciting another bloodcurdling scream from her opponent. 

Heart racing, Alix swiped at him with the blade like Nix had taught her but the Lieutenant was faster, catching her wrist and clamping down between the tendons, forcing her to drop the knife like a hot coal.

 

She hissed in pain and managed to land a blow to the side of his face before he struck back, his fist flying over her head as she dropped to the floor. Panting, she managed to sweep his legs out from under him and he came crashing to the floor with a loud thud. 

But just as she straightened up, reaching again for her knife, the bastard latched onto her leg and dragged her back down onto the carpet with him, bellowing the only word in German that Alix recognized at the top of his lungs: 

“Spionin! Spionin!” 

Spy.

Rolling over, Alix rushed to clap a hand over his mouth but the damage had already been done. 

She could hear the clamor of approaching footsteps, the squealing hinges of doors swinging open, panicked voices shouting in French and German. 

The officer caught her dominant wrist before it reached him, bending it backwards with such force that Alix swore she heard a sickening crack and a hot pain shot up her arm just as he swung again with his opposite hand, this time connecting squarely with her jaw in a stunning uppercut that sent her head snapping back like a flipping switch.

Reeling from the dull throbbing in her skull and spitting blood, Alix managed to tug her pistol from its hidden holster and fired two shots, one after the other, into the man’s head, dropping him instantly.

The sudden cacophony of German coming from just outside the door spurred the agent to struggle to her feet.

Cradling her injured wrist, Alix was seeing double but she managed to stagger her way to the window overlooking the hotel’s back. The deafening jingling of room keys set her ears ringing and she leaned against the windowsill for support as the world seemed to spin.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her racing pulse causing blood to gush steadily from her split lip, dribbling down her chin in a warm stream.

Despite the pain, the young agent still managed to shove the window open and shakily clamber onto the sill. Staring down into the shadows of the alleyway, Alix felt nausea creeping in, her fear of heights making her stomach churn as her vision blurred.

The ground below seemed to undulate like an ocean tide and Alix had to lean against the wall, each time she blinked in the streaming sunlight feeling like a hammer slamming down onto her skull.

Hearing the deafening click of the door unlocking, the OSS operative swayed unsteadily for a moment as the world slowed to a crawl.

Standing on the ledge, Alix found herself in a fog, wondering thickly how long it would take for her case officer to be informed of her death.

It wasn't your fault, Nix, she wanted to tell him. You were a great handler. I wasn't a good enough agent.

"Too many risks, kid." Alix could hear him now, scolding her like he had during training. "You take too many risks."

Suddenly, several uniformed men burst into the room, interrupting her hazy contemplation. The resulting commotion sounded so far away, as though it was all happening underwater.

Holding a hand to her pounding head, Alix squeezed her eyes shut.

I'm sorry, Joey, she thought groggily, her aching head beginning to loll. I love you.

Then with a last shaky breath, she leapt from the ledge, sending herself plummeting downward onto the unforgiving bricks below.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Not So Dirty 30

Title: Not So Dirty 30

Characters: Sam x Reader, OC, and a smidge of Dean.

Word Count: 1491

Warning: Negative Attitude (yes, it’s a warning!), Language, Alcoholism, Implied Sex, Sexual Objectification, a splash of humor.

A/N: This is my submission for Liz’s (@oneshoeshort) Feeling 30 Challenge. I had had fun writing this. It took a different turn than I was expecting but none the less, I am happy with the way it turned out. I did add an OC in here and named her after myself (I know, dick move, but oh wells. I just wanted to be a part of the birthday celebration!) My word for this challenge was Repugnant. I don’t know why I chose it, but I rolled with it and this was the outcome. Tell me what you think!

Also, Happy Birthday Liz, and I hope the feeling is NOT repugnant and is nothing but positive! And always remember, you’re AMAZING!!

Turning 30. The thought was repulsive and saying the number out loud was enough to make you cringe in disdain. The new age just made you feel disgusting. You wished this day would never have come but like most wishes, okay all of your wishes, they never came true. Now you had to live through the day and accept being 30 until it was time for you to turn 31, which you were already wishing would never see the light of day. You wanted to be in your 20’s forever.

Currently drowning the foul taste of 30 in your mouth with bourbon at the local bar, you heard the chime above the door clang together signaling a new patron had entered the establishment. You paid no mind, indulging in the feel of liquid fire slithering down your throat. You were on the road to forgetting about your cursed birthday.

A couple of stools away, you could see from your peripherals that whoever had walked in took a seat. Giving in to your curiosity, you turned your head to see the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on. In fact, he looked like he could be a model. The more you stared the more he looked familiar. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just being stupid, or it could even be both, but he sure as hell looked similar to Jared Padalecki, one of your favorite actors. God, the thoughts that man brought to your head.

Getting back to minding your own business, you finished your drink in exchange for another. You knew that a man like that could never go for a woman like you. That, or he was already taken or happily gay. You could never tell now days. Regardless, Dirty 30 was more like Repugnant 30, Revolting 30, or Foul 30. The list was endless!

Cursing yourself for still thinking about it, you tanked the entire glass of whiskey before demanding another one. The man beside you glanced your way with a surprised look, his eye brows raised with his own drink in his hand.

“Bourbon, keep it coming,” you told the bartender who looked at you warily.

“Is that really a good idea, Y/N?” She questioned.

“Oh yeah! I’m trying to forget that today is ever happening!”

“C’mon now, your bir–” Before she could even finish her sentence you cut her off.

“Eileen, please. You know how I feel about it.”

She sighed in defeat. “Alright, I’ll start you a tab,” she joked.

“Sounds fabulous,” you mumbled rocking the glass in your hand in a circular motion, watching the dark honey liquid swirl around.

The effects of the alcohol were definitely beginning to get to you. You could hold your liquor pretty damn good, so it took a lot to get you shit-faced. In a way, it was good business for the bar. Too bad it was yours, so you were practically wasting your own money, but hey, It’s your birthday and you can cry if you want to. In this case, drink as much as you want to.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be nosy, but what’s so bad about today?” The stranger asked.

Slowly turning your head, you fully took in the man beside you. He was definitely hot as hell. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you spat, the alcohol getting the better of you.

“Sorry about her, it’s her birthday and she’s just being a Sulky Sally,” Eileen interrupted as she was placing freshly cleaned glasses on the shelf.

“First off, Sulky Sally isn’t a thing. And secondly, if you want to keep this job, you better zip it!” You growled. Your employee and best bartender raised her hands up in the air in mock surrender, a small smile curling the corners of her lips, as she backed away. She knew you would never fire her, but she did like to humor you.

“Well happy birthday,” the stranger congratulated. You squinted your eyes, glaring at the man who practically, purposefully, offended you. “My name is Sam, by the way.”

So Mr. Perfect has a name! You let out a tsk before turning away. He may be drop dead delicious, but telling you happy birthday was unacceptable. It was going to take more than a pretty face and a godly body to get you accepting that you were getting old as fuck. Unless he allowed you to unwrap the present he was hiding under the flannel and tight jeans, and only then, would you reconsider.

Eileen refilled your drink, not bothering to exchange the glass considering there was no point. You were the owner and all you were going to do was drink the entire bottle and then the entire bar.

Sam waved for another drink as well. As Eileen handed it over you could see through your side vision that they were talking, not to mention, they weren’t the quietest bunch.

“Really?” He asked her.

“Mhmm, but don’t mention it around her or else she’ll ring your neck!” Eileen whispered.

You rolled your eyes at the two morons. Did they not understand the concept of being inconspicuous? You slammed the empty glass on the table, causing them to jump and grabbing both of their attention.

“I can hear you,” you stated, voice filled with annoyance.

“Sorry boss.”

Sam left his eyes on you, which you could feel boring into your skin. “What?”

“Sorry, I just don’t understand. I’m in my 30’s and I have no problem with it. I’m actually thankful.”

You turned your head towards him again, this time not trying to hide the fact you were checking him out from head to toe. Sam cleared his throat as you did so, not caring if you were making him feel uncomfortable. “Have you seen you?” You questioned. Eileen snorted in the background as she listened in, which made you feel a little better. “Some of us don’t age like wine.”

“Uh, thanks I guess,” a small smile creeping onto his face. “But I’m just saying that it’s not so bad. You should be glad that you were able to make it to that age. You know some people don’t get that opportunity.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me right now? What are you a doctor in the ER? You come into my bar, nosy your way into my business,” by this point you were out of your seat and sauntering over to Sam, “manipulate my best bartender to tell you my story, then have the nerve to disrespect me?” You were now in his face, cheeks red with fury and alcohol.

Sam was a little taken aback at your quick progression. He glace over at Eileen for help but when she did nothing but shrug, he returned his gaze back to you, his cheeks flushing at the close proximity. Unbeknownst to you, he thought you didn’t give yourself enough credit. To him you were gorgeous, sexy, and better than wine. And if he had to come clean about who and what he really was, he would admit that he was a little turned on. A lot turned on.

The two of you stayed that way for a good few seconds, your eyes dropping down to his thin lips. You licked your own with animalistic want. You wanted to hurt him for telling you that you should be happy to be 30, but you also wanted to fuck him so hard into submission that he apologized. But as you took more of him in, you knew he was not they type to give in. It was in his nature to take control.

A low predatory growl vibrated through his chest. When you locked eyes with his, you noticed they were a swirling mass of color, quickly darkening. The sight shot electricity straight down to your core, causing your most private area to clench around nothing.

“Boss, since it’s slow, I think I’m going to head out, possibly close the bar. There’s no one in here and I…” Through her rambling, your lips collided with Sam’s hungrily. A crashing sound broke you two apart as you saw Eileen on the ground trying to gather her things. She shot up from the ground, looking frantic and terrified. “I’m… I’m gonna go. Bye!” She squeaked before running out. As she made it to the door, a man was about to walk in. “SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED!” She shrieked in pure panic, pushing the man away from the bar.

“What? My brother’s in–” That was all either of you heard before the door slammed shut. The click of the lock mixing in with the sounds of heavy breathing.

Both you and Sam chuckled before getting back to business. Maybe you were over reacting. You figured that it really was called Dirty 30, because you were about to get into your birthday suit and get really-fucking-dirty.

“Mmm, happy birthday to me.”

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