#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

#headcanons #imagines #silmarillion headcanons #silmarillion imagine #x reader #silmarillion x reader #maiar x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #2nd person pov #mairon #sauron #gothmog #eonwe #eönwë #tilion #osse #ossë #mairon x reader #gothmog x reader #eonwe x reader #tilion x reader #osse x reader #maiar #ainur #silm smut #minors dni #possessive behavior #tw possessiveness #cílil writes

[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.

#mini headcanons #mairon x reader #osse x reader #tilion x reader #eonwe x reader #melkor x reader #orome x reader #tulkas x reader #ulmo x reader #namo x reader #irmo x reader #manwe x reader #valar #ainur #maiar #doodlepops responds

[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

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ ossë ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ uinen ─ ♡. #ossë x reader #osse x reader #uinen x reader #ossë x reader x uinen #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #smut #minors dni #ainur #maiar #confessions

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆 ❜࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

✿ ━ oneshots

❀ ━ headcanons

✾ ━ imagines

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

fics & aus ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

misc ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

fluff ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

angst ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

smut ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

dark ‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊ #ossë #osse #ossë x reader #osse x reader #reader insert #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #ainur #maiar #maiar x reader #ainur x reader #writing

[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.

#ALSO: One of the reasons Alix worked so hard during her OSS training was bc of her PTSD with Clay #Similar to Kate Bishop from Marvel she swore to herself that no one would Ever be able to hurt her like that again #Have some PTSD & Hurt/Comfort feat. a very exasperated & petty gossipy Nix #Band of Brothers fandom #Band of Brothers fanfic #Band of Brothers OC #Band of Brothers fanfiction #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott x reader #Joe Liebgott x Alix Martinelli #Alix Musetta Martinelli my beloved i'm so sorry #FOF #FireOnFire #FOFchapters #mywork #hurt/comfort #angst #angst warning #tw abuse #tw panic attacks #tw PTSD episode #tw flashbacks

[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.

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #swewnt x reader #fridolina rolfö #fridolina rolfö x reader #woso

[pinksparklelps]

Fanfic ask UwU

For you little sib;

🙅‍♀️ 🎶 😭 ✏️

I might ask more but I don't want to bombard you with prompts or questions to answer. So just these for now :)

1) i dont really know. I honestly dont think of any tropes beforehand cuz the way i write is I just do it

Its very rare for me to write a plot or idea beforehand (the only examples being sowf and oss)

2) depends on what im writing. Like when i was writing my stray fic, i listened to Cool Down on repeat. I generally try to avoid songs with lyrics when writing or my brain will get all jumbly

3) i dont think so! Its more fun for me to think of how much devastation ill make my readers feel uwu

4) i have too many favorites :( buuuut maybe Love Like You or The Great Transcendence cuz silly robot ^w^ (I’ve actually been tryna get myself to start writing a p03 x reader fic cuz i liek him)

#you can send as much as you like! #I honestly love answering any questions about anything ever #its just fun to talk

[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.

#silmarillion x reader #ulmo x reader #ulmo x child reader #mermaid reader #osse #uinen #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion headcanon #ulmo headcanon #silm fic #tolkien #middle earth x reader #middle earth headcanons #silmarillion imagines #middle earth imagines #ulmo imagines

[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. 

#loki fanfic #loki headcanon #peter parker fluff #peter parker headcanon #oss! #peter and loki #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader platonic #loki x reader

[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.

#OSS Feeling 30 Challenge #SPN #fanfic #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x f!reader #AlleiraDayne writes

[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.”

Feedback Is Appreciated!

#OSS feeling 30 challenge #liz's feeling 30 challenge #feeling 30 challenge #spn challenge #sam x reader #sam winchester #oneshoeshort #reader insert #spn #Supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #not so dirty 30 #squirrel-moose-winchester

[doodle-pops]

Can I ask for NSFW Ainur's reaction to an S/O sitting on their face? *blushes*

a/n: I loved this more than I should *squeals*

Enjoys every second of it and refused to let you remove an inch off their face. You can ride their face as much as it pleases you but do not ever complain about choking or crushing them with your weight or thighs. Air does not exist to them. What that? Never heard of it, don't introduce them to it. All they want is to be between your legs and probably would not mind if they died like that. Best way to go. "Darling, just sit on my face. . .please. I can take it, I want--- I need you to, please. Just for me." Squeeze their head with your thighs and cut off their air supply and they would still thank you. Fingers digging into your flesh and squeezing it as they go to town.

TULKAS, OROME, TILION, IRMO, Manwe, EONWE, Osse

Oh, they are cruel. Wicked tongues from mean men who make you beg and then have you passing out. "Well, you chose to sit on my face, so I chose to show you a trick. I know you loved it. . .you were screaming my name." Smug bastards. Play games with them and they will always win. Making the choice of sitting on their faces means being in the palm of their hands. You are not in control and will never be, it's them from the start. Their enormous hands gripping your thighs and having you grind against their tongue despite your sensitivity. Forget about being shy because they're going to shock it out of you while giving you a hazy look, Don't act like you don't want more.

NAMO, MAIRON, MELKOR

#reactions #silm smut #tulkas x reader #orome x reader #tilion x reader #irmo x reader #manwe x reader #eonwe x reader #osse x reader #namo x reader #mairon x reader #melkor x reader #doodlepops responds

[dirty-ainur-confessions]

❪ ♡ ❫ ── ainur , pre-consented somnophilia

they only returned to their shared chambers with you hours after you have long fallen asleep. it's been a long day. your body has been on their mind for half of it.

so what do they do when they find you curled up on your stomach, hugging onto your pillows and just ready for the taking?

collapse into you, bring their crotch to flush against you and immediately start rutting against you oh so desperately. it's fine if you don't wake up. they just need relief, they need you. they need to feel your heat, to have their arms around you, hear your sleepy little moans

they'd bury their face into the crook of your neck to hide their moans and how filthy they sound getting off of just grinding against your clothed cunt alone.

you'd wake upon feeling their cock beginning to breach your walls — pushing into you with a sinful groan against your shoulder.

when you call out to them you might think they hadn't heard you because they begin rutting their cock up into you without much hesitation and settle for moaning against your ear.

“just like that. ngh, just let me make you feel good sweetheart. just let me feel this pretty little cunt.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

·⊰ irmo, námo, oromë, mairon, eönwë, ossë, tilion

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ irmo ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ námo ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ mairon ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ oromë ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ eönwë ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ ossë ─ ♡. #·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ tilion ─ ♡. #irmo x reader #námo x reader #mairon x reader #oromë x reader #oromë #orome #eönwë #eönwë x reader #ossë #ossë x reader #osse #tilion #tilion x reader #namo #the silmarillion #tolkien #smut #minors dni #imagines

[jess-irenes-fics]

Cherish This Birthday

A/N: This is my entry for my big sis’ bday challenge. @oneshoeshort

Words: 2,291 (with lyrics) 1,825 (without lyrics) 

Warnings: None, I used ass once 

Links to songs: Easy Like Sunday Morning, Lionel Richie  Galway Girl, Ed Sheeran (I copy-pasted lyrics from Google)

"Happy Birthday Y/N" Dean says as he steps downstairs. You were enjoying a mug of hot coffee, just the way you liked it and you hadn't even dressed as you were still in a robe and your underwear with a t-shirt underneath, and a pair of socks. You loved when you were lucky enough to spend time like this, just quiet and relaxed, not out hunting some monster or demon or angel gone rogue. You had woken up early today to snatch this chance up, today was a special day. It was your birthday, you didn't tend to make a big fuss over it, and since you were a hunter with the Winchester's now and almost Mrs. Samuel Winchester you didn't know what today, or any other would bring. You smile at the ring on your finger, the ring that was there and the sparkle of the rock reflecting like rainbows as the light in the kitchen hit it. You smiled and leaned back taking a sip and letting your eyes close. "Hi Dean, good morning...and thank-you". "So, I thought you would love a day off today, to just relax...." he says sitting with a mug across from you, looking down at his hands and taking a sip. "But...." you sighed, just having a feeling. "But what?" he looks up, his brows coming together, before his lip begins curling into a smile. "Really? Nothing today?...like at all?" You lean forward, he does as well. You were now nose to nose with Dean,locking eyes. "Nothing." he smiles. Your eyes sparkle as your eye's light up and you reach over hugging him tightly. "What's going on?" Sam asks, smiling as he walks in. You walk over and reaching up to hug him, on your tip-toes. You give him a quick peck on the lips. "Dean told me we're taking today off" you bite your lip as he leans down kissing you. "I know~ That is why we stayed up all night" Sam chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "Seriously, neither of you slept....just for me? So we could take today easy?" You asked, looking between them. They answer by sharing a smile and Dean winks, he gets up and walks over to turn a radio in the corner on.

Oh that's why I'm easy I'm easy like Sunday morning yeah

He looks back smiling at you as Lionel Richie's voice fills the room and you begin to sway. Your hips swing slowly side to side with the music. Your eyes close and your hand makes it's way to the air beginning to wave. You were feeling the music deep in your soul, the sound of slow, relaxing, smooth, you felt it from your heart to your toes. Sam smiled at you as he watched, making himself some coffee. As he waited for it to be done he grabbed your hips and held you close, swaying with you. Dean smiled at you both as he sat drinking his coffee, with his feet on the table. A few minutes later Sam's coffee was done and he let's you go so he can turn and pour it. He leans against the counter as he drinks it and watches you. You had began to hum so Dean stands up, he holds his hand out and gestures you over with his head. "Com'er" he smiles. You smile and slide over to him.

Know it sounds funny but, I just can't stand the pain Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow Seems to me girl you know I've done all I can You see I begged, stole, and I borrowed (yeah)

Dean begins singing along as he takes you and spins you around before wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you close from behind. You giggle ans Sam shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "You do know she is marrying me, right?" he asks teasingly and Dean shrugs. "Yeah Sam, things could change." You smirk at him and kiss Dean's cheek. Dean smiles as he raises his eyebrows, making them jump. "Come on, I know you wanna sing Y/N, go ahead. It is just us" "Dean, I don't know-..." you say nervously. "Promise, there is no one is here but us, I'll just be listening to your pretty voice and Sammy I'm pretty positive is watching your ass away back and forth." he pleads. You blush and look down, then to Sam. "Really?" Sam smirks and shrugs. "Maybe~" You chuckle, slipping your hair behind your ear. "Alright" you say before you begin to sing. You're still dancing and using your socks to slide around the room as they sit watching.

Oh that's why I'm easy I'm easy like Sunday morning yeah That's why I'm easy I'm easy like Sunday morning

Dean does close his eyes and enjoy it. His eyes close. "Yes, birthday girl woo~!" his hand had found it's way to waving in the air. You chuckle seeing that and continued dancing and dancing. Your back was turned as Dean high fived Sam.  A few minutes later the song ended. "Poo" you say slumping against the table. Dean only chuckles. "Don't worry it's a mix tape I made you, well a mix CD...Sam she is going to want help on the next one, hold my coffee" he shoves his mug to Sam. Sam, who was leaning on the counter and watching still and now had a brow raised in confusion. Dean walks over next to you. "I practiced for the next one" he says smiling proudly as the Cd goes to the next song. Then Ed Sheeran's voice filled the room.

She played the fiddle in an Irish band But she fell in love with an English man Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand Said, "baby, I just want to dance"

"You...praticed?" you ask Dean confused, your brow raised now. "Uh-huh, just wait and start dancing when you always do" "Alright." you shrug in agreement as you wait for the line of the song you always begin Irish River dancing at. You and SAm share a look and shrug but you could both tell that his brother and your soon to be brother in law was indeed very proud of himself. It had to mean he spent a lot of time perfecting something, you wanted to know what, and you and Sam loved and cherished seeing him this way. It was are to see him that happy, carefree and excited. Finally after a few seconds which felt like forever, the line finally came and you began to dance. One leg kicking over across the other, Sam points, making you look over bringing your attention to Dean who was doing the same. You began to sing along to this song as well as Sam shook his head at the both of you. "You guys are dorks~" "Shutup Bitch~" you and Dean say together.

You know, she played the fiddle in an Irish band But she fell in love with an English man Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand Said, "baby, I just want to dance" With my pretty little Galway girl You're my pretty little Galway girl

You know she beat me at darts and then she beat me at pool And then she kissed me like there was nobody else in the room As last orders were called was when she stood on the stool After dancing to Kaleigh, singing to trad tunes I never heard Carrickfergus ever sang so sweet A capella in the bar using her feet for a beat Oh, I could have that voice playing on repeat for a week And in this packed out room swear she was singing to me You know, she played the fiddle in an Irish band But she fell in love with an English man Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand Said, "baby, I just want to dance" My pretty little Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl And now we've outstayed our welcome and it's closing time I was holding her hand, her hand was holding mine Our coats both smell of smoke, whisky and wine As we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night I walked her home then she took me inside To finish some Doritos and another bottle of wine I swear I'm gonna put you in a song that I write About a Galway girl and a perfect night She played the fiddle in an Irish band But she fell in love with an English man Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand Said, "baby, I just want to dance" My pretty little Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl My, my, my, my, my, my, my Galway girl, hey

You were thrilled that Sam and Dean did this for you, that they were up all night so you could take your birthday easy, that Dean made you a mix CD, that he was dancing and singing along with you, most of all you loved and cherished the time like this with the brothers. The man of your dreams, and the brother you never asked for but couldn't be more glad you had found, they were your world. There is no that way that  you would rather be spending the morning, or your birthday, or any day. You almost wished everyday could be like this, but, you knew better and were always one to be careful what you wished for. If days like this and moments like these weren't as rare as they were to the three of you, you knew they wouldn't mean as much. You knew none of you would care or enjoy it as much. They were rare though, you all did lead a hard life, there was lots of heartache. You were all traumatized, you had loved and lost everyone and everything you had ever come to know and grow close to, if you were blessed enough to even be so lucky to have the chance to grow close to it to begin with. It was busy, and it was dirty, and it was tiring, but it was also what you did. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, but you three had to do it, sure there was sometimes more than the three of you, so yes, you had to call in help. However, when all was said and done, it always came back to you three, it all ended up being you, there was no one like you. No one with as much experience with all the the creepy crawlies, the boogy mans. or the things that went bump in the night. You three had done so much, from saving the world, to saving people. It was always something different. Your lives were always in danger and you had all lost your lives at some point. As a unit you have been to heaven, hell, purgatory, the cage and back. All three of you have had to make deals and work with the enemies, you haven't always agreed on everything either. There were times where the life, the job, this business, would take all of everything all three of you had, and then some, plus interest with that. There had been countless times you have all came back filthy, covered in blood and ghoul. There were the crappy motel rooms with the disgusting continental breakfasts you had to deal with, the long rides where you grew stiff. You had all been beaten, bruised, broken, ripped, shredded, dragged, punched,cut, stabbed, kicked, tortured, tied up, chained, shot. All three of you had been used and abused. Anything that could ever go wrong had and it never seemed to end, there was always more right around the corner. Constantly watching your back behind you, not trusting the job, sleeping with a gun or a knife or something under your pillows, having to keep it at arms reach and be at full alert no matter what, taking shifts on sleeping, that was all part part of it. Yet you did it, most of the time, getting little to noting out of it, but, you had saved people though you hurt some, there were people sleeping safely at night now, and that was one thing that kept you going. Honestly, you wouldn't change anything about your life since you had met them but you really did cherish every second,minute,hour and day you had with them. You would also cherish this birthday, your first with them, as long as you lived. You didn't expect what was about to happen though.

"Yoohoo~" Dean was waving a hand in front of your face. "Oh! Hmm? I was thinking...what?" "Sam...you wanna tell her or should I?" "Tell me what?" you look up to them. The music had now stopped as you had stopped singing and dancing and zoned out. They were sharing a evil glare.

"Honey, you haven't gotten your real gift yet" Sam says. "This wasn't my gift?" "No, she is" Sam turns you around, there stood your younger sister. The one you had lost, about four years ago. Your eyes filled to the brim. "S-She-"

"Happy Birthday" they say at once, arms crossed over their chests as they smile to each other, watching you run to her and hug her as tight as you could. You turn. "Wait...how?" "I found a spell....." Sam reassures you.  

#OSS Feeling 30 Challenge #supernatural #liz's birthday #sam x reader #reader insert

[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.

#cliffhanger [jazz hands lol] #Band of Brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #Band of Brothers fanfic #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott x reader #Joe Liebgott #BoB #Ross McCall #Joelix #Alix Martinelli #OSS agent #mutual pining #established relationship #my girl really just launched herself from a building #god bless but also OUCH #lets hope she survived the fall #HBO War #HBO Band of Brothers #Lewis Nixon #Espionage fic #WWII #spy fic #spy fanfic

[pinksparklelps]

Two of my biggest inspirations for One Small Step don’t really update anymore and it’s kinda sad to me

Like I started my whole story just because I was like “yknow I dont like this extremely little detail, im gonna write my own” and ive come so far. Like this is the farthest ive ever gotten in a story before ultimately giving up. But OSS is just so much fun I just need to keep writing

I remember in 7th grade I made my first jsab fic ‘Corrupted Love’ which I also abandoned. Each chapter was around 500 words, and I never got as far as I was planning. I even sorta abandoned the rewrite, where I wanted 1000 words per chapter. Im really proud of myself with OSS, 2000+ words per chapter, even if its not some 10k masterpiece like some authors i follow make. Especially today. I wrote chapter 11 solely today, and I kinda amazed myself by writing 2000 words in a day, when it usually takes 2-3 days with breaks between updates sometimes.

I dont know if the authors will update their fics again but i do recommend reading them cuz the chapters we currently have are really nice and well written. Theyre ‘The Outsiders And Their Scientist’ and ‘Move On (Without Looking Back)’ and i really love them

Its a little strange being one of the only x reader fics constantly at the top of the stray tag on ao3 haha

And just between you and me, im definitely gonna be making a sequel to One Small Step