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littlemissaddict · 2 years ago

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I have a request! because with the thoughts that I have with Eddie, I am running out of underwear. Anyway… here’s my idea:

A SMUTTY SMUT SMUT fanfic with Eddie Munson x Fem Reader who is Steve’s sister. Somehow the reader finds her way into Eddie’s trailer (she has a huge crush on him) and things get really steamy. I’m thinking a little something of Eddie wanting to take it to his bedroom but the reader is so needy and wants it now in the kitchen area by the door. Things continue to get really heated but right before the reader is about to climax there a knock on the door; it’s Steve looking for the reader. Eddie being Eddie he opens the door but not all the way while the reader sits in the counter next to the door. I really want this!! Eddie reached his hand to cover her mouth and slowly moves his hand down to her throat to slightly choke her. When he finally gets Steve to leave, he turns to the reader and tells her how much of a naughty little mix she is and continues to punish her.

PLEASE!!!

Eddie Munson x Fem!Harrington!Reader

Okay so I got a little carried away with this and it’s probably the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written so I hope that makes up for how long it’s taken me to write this, anyway I really hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2801

Also I don’t think I’ve made this clear in the fic but although reader is Steve’s little sister she is over 18, please don’t come for me. I feel like I need to add that this just pure smut so if you are under 18 please dni thank you.

To say Eddie was surprised when Steve’s little sister turned up on his doorstep was an understatement. “Steve’s not here” he said watching the way her face fell at his words and he figured that was because she was looking for her brother and not because she was foolishly expecting him to be happy to see her.

When she doesn’t answer, Eddie assumes that the conversation is over and goes to close the door only to find it stopped before he can shut it. “I’m not here for Steve” she says, a slight waver in her voice as she drops her arm away from the door as it reopens, revealing an even more confused Eddie.

“Then what’re you here for?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in question as he crosses his arms across his chest while he waits for an answer. Though when she does, he’s even more surprised by her answer and while he tries not to let it show on his face he can’t help it, she’s caught him off guard as his mouth drops open and his eyes widen. Surly he’d heard her wrong but when she carries on, it only confirms that he had heard her right.

“You like me, given that Robin’s nervous ramblings of what Steve had spilled to her of your drunken confession is correct” she says, nerves beginning to creep up on her now that he’s stood quietly in front of her. She’d had this whole speech rehearsed, even practised it in front of the mirror until she was confident that she could deliver it without a problem but now being here all she could manage was a feeble, “for what it’s worth I like you too”

Eddie almost missed her confession, his brian swirling with thoughts of how he was going to kill Steve for gossiping about him with Robin when he knows the girl can’t keep her mouth shut in various situations. Call him a hypocrite considering he was the cause of the problem for opening his mouth in the first place, it gave him hope that Steve wouldn’t kill him in return if anything did happen between him and his sister.

Remembering that she’s still on his doorstep, waiting on him to say something and just when she’s expecting him to turn her away, telling her that it was all a big misunderstanding, he invites her in. Unsure of what to do now that their feelings for the other are out in the open, they each sit awkwardly on the couch, backs straight and hands clasped in their own lap, each of them a mirror image of the other. “So” Eddie speaks, the word drawn out as his eyes flit around the room as he avoids looking at her.

“So” she repeats, her lips drawing into a thin line as her legs bounce beneath her hands, the earlier confidence she’d had completely dissipated now that she was here with him. It takes a second for her to realise that he’s saying her name, too consumed within her own thoughts to realise that he sounds closer as well until she turns to find his face inches from her own, her eyes locking with his as she gives in and makes the first move, leaning the last few inches to close the gap as her eyes flutter closed the moment her lips meet his.

The first kiss doesn’t last long, it’s messy and rushed, filled with clashing of teeth and bumping of noses as they get used to the feeling of each other but when they pull apart, they both are smiling like idiots. Neither have any words for what has just happened and it seems she’s had enough of them skating around the other, deciding to just take what she wants, pushing Eddie back on the couch before sliding off her pants, leaving her in just her panties as climbs onto his lap.

“So that’s how we’re doing things, huh?” he smirks, resting his hands on her thighs, just above her knees as he squeezes the flesh there. Chuckling as she shuffles her body closer so that her chest is pressed against his own as she leans in again for another kiss. This time it’s more controlled so there's less clashing of teeth and more melding of lips, though it doesn’t lessen their want for the other and it’s not long before Eddie’s hands have slid up her thighs to her hips, controlling the movements of her hips as she grinds into him.

She’s moaning into his mouth as he kisses her, urging him on and hoping that he’ll take the wet spot forming on her panties for what it is, her desire for him, all of him. It seems he gets the hint as in one flawless movement, he slides his hands from her hips to under her ass which he uses to lift her body as though she was only a ragdoll as he stands from the couch and goes to make his way towards the bedroom all the while kissing her fervently. The thought of him throwing her around like a ragdoll has a primal need building inside her, taking over the logical part of her brain and telling her she can’t wait the last few steps to the bedroom.

Throwing her arms out grabbing onto anything that’s within her reach, she finally latches onto one of the cupboards as they pass through the small kitchen area. It results in Eddie losing his balance and pushing her, rather roughly, against said cupboard forcing a deep groan to leave her. Worrying for a second that she is hurt, Eddie pulls away and his eyes scan her features for any sign of pain but instead he only finds a deep sated lust shining in her eyes as she pushes forward to try and regain the kiss, whining pathetically when he moves out of reach.

“You are not as innocent as everyone believes princess,” he pants, breathless from their kissing, his eyes blown with desire as he chuckles darkly, a thought coming to mind, “imagine what your brother would say if he found out what his sweet little sister is really like” Her eyes widen at his words. Steve could never know, he was already fiercely protective over her so she couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he found out how she liked to be treated during sex.

“Eddie no please” her plea goes unanswered as he busies himself running the pad of his thumb over her swollen lips, leaning in to kiss her again just as a knocking at the door starts, followed by none other than Steve’s voice.

Eddie brings his palm up to cover her mouth, his eyes bearing into her own, “Not a sound princess” he orders, releasing her mouth only to drop his hand to her throat when he doesn’t get an answer, “got it” he says harshly, increasing the pressure of his fingers that has her stuttering out half a moan and half a cry of ��yes’ in answer to him. “Good girl” he smiles, dropping an unexpectedly sweet kiss to her lips before he removes his hand from her neck and strides over to the door.

“Harrington” he says unamused as he raises an eyebrow at him in question to his unannounced visit, seems like it’s something the two Harrington siblings have in common. The door bounces as if it’s been pushed but Eddie has a tight hold on it to avoid it opening and revealing her, Eddie’s patience is running a little lower than normal as he groans out a ‘what do you want?’

“Have you seen my sister?” Steve asks and she can hear the frustration in his voice, “she left a note to say she was coming over here to study but mom needs her for something” he explains hoping that it would make Eddie budge if he was in fact hiding his sister.

“Nope not here now if you don’t mind I have company” Eddie urges, hoping that Steve would get the hint that it was the end of the conversation.

What she doesn’t see is the way Steve finally registers Eddie’s appearance from his messy hair to his swollen lips and blown pupils and Steve blushes red in embarrassment when it clicks in his brain just what Eddie means by ‘company’. She doesn’t miss the ‘oh ohhhh’ as the realisation hits and she hides her laughter behind her hand at how much of an idiot her brother could be at times.

Finally getting rid of Steve, he turns back to her but the look on his face wipes her previous amusement off her face. Under his gaze she feels very much like she’s his prey and he’s getting ready to go in for the kill, “You left him a note, you wanted him to catch us didn’t you princess” he says as he makes his way back to her, his hands coming up to rest on the cupboard beside her head as he cages her in against it, “you really are a dirty girl aren’t you?” he smirks.

“I-I just didn’t want him to worry where I was” she defends weakly, her voice faltering under the intensity of his gaze as her hands clutch the ends of her shirt tightly. “I didn’t think he’d come find me, maybe only call,” she added.

“Oh you thought he’d call, was that your plan to talk to your big brother while my dick is buried deep in that wet little cunt of yours” Eddie growls, smirking in amusement as a visible shiver runs through her body and a moan leaves her lips. “You like that princess, yeah, maybe another time though because I’m going to take you right here, right now” he says, leaving no room for arguments, not that she had any, as he rips her shirt from her body and follows it by ripping her panties off as well.

Standing there bare in front of him while he’s still fully clothed has her trying to cover herself with her arms but Eddie’s quick to stop her, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head in one of his own. “No let me look at you princess” he chides, letting his free hand explore the skin of her chest and she whines pathetically when he pinches her nipple, rolling it between two fingers as his gaze flickers to her face, “So pretty, now how about we give that pretty pussy of yours some attention” he asks even though he knows the answer, smiling when her head nods eagerly.

“Careful princess don’t want to hurt yourself�� he says, gently taking a hold of her face to stop her nodding after her head hits against the cupboard door. Once he’s sure she’s okay, his hand drifts south again, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as it trails over her chest, her tummy and her hips before it comes to a stop on the inside of her thighs which are already wet from his teasing.

“Please” she begs as his eyes drift from where his hand rests to her eyes and that’s all it takes for him to run his fingers through her folds, getting them wet enough that he can slide two of them easily into her. Her knees buckle as she lets out a moan of his name but Eddie’s quick to steady her, removing his hand from hers where they’re still pinned above her head to her waist, where he holds tightly. “So big” she moans as his fingers begin to move inside of her, in and out, in and out, the motion repeating until all that can be heard in the trailer is the wet sounds of his fingers, her heavy breathing and her moans.

Eddie can’t help but laugh at her statement, “If you think they’re big then wait until you feel my dick stretching you out” he smiles as he leans in closer to her face, “because that’s what you came here for isn’t it princess” he growls into her ear as she cries out in pleasure, “yeah I know now come for me and you can have my dick” as soon as the words have left his mouth she’s cumming, soaking his fingers as her body writhes in place from where he’s got her pinned to the cupboard door.

He gives her the time it takes for him to undress to come down from her high before he’s back on her, wrapping her legs around his waist and positioning himself at her entrance. “Ready for me sweetheart” he asks, his voice soft and eyes searching as he checks in with her, waiting for her consent before he slowly eases into her and lets her get used to his size. He knew what she wanted but there was no way that was happening until Eddie was sure she was going to be okay because he may be acting cruel but that was not how he was.

“Shit Eddie so good, so much better than I imagined” she panted, she’d never felt so full than right at that moment with him nestled inside her.

“Yeah you’ve thought about this, tell me” he orders, pulling out and snapping his hips back into her as his hands gripped tight at her waist keeping her back pressed up against the cupboard door so that she didn’t fall. When she whines instead of answering, he snaps his hips faster, pushing harder inside of her listening as it pushes the breath from her lungs, “tell me” he demands.

“Oh just like this and uh in your van after He-Hellfire” she moans, hands like a vice grip on his shoulders as he growls out ‘more’ to get her to keep talking, “those damn handcuffs of yours-fuck and I can’t, I- Eddie m’gonna cum again” she cries, body shaking again and Eddie has to fight, using all his strength not to drops her.

Although when he feels her clenching around him, his legs almost give way with how good it feels and he pushes forward, crushing her against the door as he uses it to support the both of them. “Yeah princess cum for me again” he encourages, warily removing a hand from her waist and bringing it to her clit where he rubs small fast circles as it finally tips her over the edge. Her body arching into him as she clenches even tighter around his dick than he thought was possible and it’s enough to almost having him cumming as well but he holds it off, frantically asking “Gonna come sweetheart, where do you want it”

“In-inside me” she manages to get out with the pleasure still coursing through her, vaguely feeling him thrust once, twice more before he cums. His head falling against her sweat slicked, heaving chest as he moans through his orgasm until her still clenching walls are too much for his sensitive dick and he pulls out of her.

“That was”

“I know” she hums, accepting his lips in a sweet kiss, sighing when he eventually pulls away.

“We should probably get cleaned up” he suggests and she nods in agreement, expecting him to put her down and then lead her to the bathroom but instead he carries her there, setting her gently on the counter by the sink, “didn’t know how steady you’d be so I figured this would be easier” he explains, seeing her confused expression before he turns to look for a washcloth.

Once they’re wiped down, Eddie collects their clothes from earlier, bringing her panties to her with one of his shirts. He’s already dressed himself in sweats and his shirt from earlier as he brings her the phone. “So you can let Steve know where you are or I can give you a lift home” he smiles sheepishly as she takes it, secretly hoping that she doesn’t ask for the latter.

“I’ll be two minutes” she nods, dialling her home number and praying that Steve answers and not her parents, “then I’m all yours” she winks at him before quickly turning her attention to Steve’s voice on the other end of the line, leaving a smiling Eddie running to clear his bed for the two of them.

It takes Steve nearly an hour after she’s rung to let him know she’s staying the night at Eddie’s before he puts it all together. “Motherfucker” he shouts at no one in particular, though it does get him a scolding from his mother who hears it from down the hallway. If only she knew what her precious daughter was up to, he thought as he buried his head in his pillow, trying to erase the thought of Eddie and his sister out of his brain.

#requested #morgana-dragon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #harrington!reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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awhorrerstory · 10 months ago

Text

Is trust enough?

Part 1/?

Hello yall! I just started watching Merlin after watching supergirl and totally falling for Katie McGrath so I decided to write a book for Morgana because I choose gay sadness. I’m trying to make it slow burn but we’ll see how it goes, I’ll be writing as I go so slow updates! I’ve only found a few for Morgana with gxg so I hope I can do her justice! Thank you for reading! Also happy birthday to Katie McGrath!!!

Warnings: violence, gay panic, slight nsfw at the end.

Y/N was a girl around the age of five when her father became a knight of king Pendragon, her mother became a maid to the lady of the kingdom, leaving y/n to fend for herself. She often ran along the shore of a nearby river, where she often collected seashells of many shapes and colors. Her fascination focused on the shapes and animals that aligned the river. One foggy day, when y/n was 8, she was being stocked by a hungry lynx. The girl was too focused on a cute fish that was enjoying its time as the lynx slowly approached her.

Morgana Pendragon had run away from the castle; desperate to get out of that ‘boring old place’. Her guardian; the king of Camelot, ignored her and relayed on the servants to take care of his mistake. Morgana had stumbled upon the young girl at the stream, looking at her curiously as she played in the water but quickly realized the girl was in danger. Morgana drew her dagger, slightly worried that what she was taught for self defense was not enough to take down the wild cat, and the fact that she was only 10. Still, Morgana knew she could not stand by and let this girl be killed. She crept up on the approaching Lynx and struggled to keep quiet due to the leaves and sticks. The rustling alerts the cat and it turns, pouncing on Morgana causing her to cry out gaining y/n’s attention. Morgana stabs the cat but it only makes the animal more angry as it growls and scratches at her. Morgana held the jaw of the Lynx while it tried to bite her, y/n taking the discarded dagger and stabbing the beast over and over again from behind until it stopped moving. Morgana quickly pushed the lynx off of her and gasped as she continues to panic. “Hey! It’s okay I killed it!” Y/n assured the crying girl, grateful for the save. “M-my apologies, I tried saving you but…turns out you saved me.” Morgana smiles and extends her hand as Uther had taught her. “My name is Morgana, pleasure to meet you.” She says smiling at you. “Y/n, thank you for saving me.” The girl says gratefully.

Since then, the girls became close. Morgana often snuck out to meet her friend at the stream daily and y/n began to feel happy every time she’d see Morgana come to the shore and looked forward to seeing her. Morgana learned of y/n’s father being a knight of the king and y/n was told about Morgana’s routine at the castle. These meetups continued until Morgana was punished for being caught outside castle grounds and y/n thought the girl had died from the plague or ran away entirely from her home. Morgana came back a week later, bruises and markings on her skin she refused to talk about; but that day she asked y/n something she never had before: “do you want to come over?” Morgana asks softly as she approaches the y/h/c girl. Y/n looks back at her in curiosity. “Sure? Should I trust you though?” Y/n asks with an uneasy feeling, not knowing whom Morgana belonged to. “And what happened to you?” Y/n asks, examining Morgana’s face and arms. “It’s nothing. Will you come? Please?” Morgana looks at y/n pleadingly. “I want you to meet my father so he doesn’t worry I’m coming out to meet a man.” Morgana says rolling her eyes. After the 5 years of knowing each other, y/n never knew who Morgana really was, never knew she was royalty. “Alright. I’ll have to ask my father though.” Y/n says smiling at the green-eyed girl. Morgana smiles and nods, “tell him it’s the Pendragon house…” she mumbles glancing away from her friend. “You mean…king pendragon?” Y/n asks her voice laced with confusion. “I’m sorry-i didn’t tell you I was scared about how you might react and I was worried you wouldn’t want to be friends or anything if you knew who I was.” Morgana rambles, her anxiety getting the best of her. “So you’re the daughter of the king?” Y/n asks in confusion and surprise. “Not exactly…they call me the lady of the castle, whatever that means.” Morgana rolls her eyes causing y/n to giggle making Morgana smile. “There’s those dimples I love to see.” Y/n says placing her hand on Morgana’s shoulder. “Nothing you could do would make me not want to be your friend Morgana.” Y/n says causing the older girl’s heart to swell. Morgana hugs y/n, y/n hugs back, surprised but welcoming the affection. “I’ll come meet the king then…if it means that we can play together.” Y/n smiles pulling Morgana into the stream Morgana screaming out as her dress becomes soaked. “Y/n! What the hell?!” She yells while laughing and pulling the other girl into the stream with her causing y/n to gasp playfully before the girls began splashing each other and laughing. Morgana smiles and looks at her friend, both of them wet and giggling as they get out of the water. Morgana looks y/n up and down worriedly, “come with me, we can sneak into my room and you can get some dry clothes at least.” Y/n smiles at Morgana, “are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble Morgana…” she says worriedly, but Morgana shakes her head, “nonsense, come.” Morgana takes y/n’s hand, both the girls feeling a spark as their hands touch but deciding it was nothing but electricity. Morgana led y/n to her horse and y/n tenses up. “Come now, you’re not afraid of a horse are you? You must’ve rode before with your father.” Morgana teases as she helps the girl onto the horse, “I-i have but never with anyone else…” y/n says nervously as Morgana gets on behind her, her arms wrapping around y/n while reaching for the reigns. Y/n feels a rush of blood to her cheeks feeling Morgana’s arms around her. Shes unsure why, maybe she was nervous about the horse…right. Y/n held onto the saddle as the girls rode through the forest and towards the castle, Morgana’s arms tightening around y/n as the horse ran faster. “It’s okay y/n, I got you.” Morgana assures y/n as they rode. Y/n’s heart only quickened at Morgana’s words and Morgana was just as confused. It felt right to hold y/n, her heart continually pounding around the girl she met 5 years ago. Y/n had showed Morgana a world the castle never could and she was very grateful for their newfound friendship.

After the 5 years of knowing each other, y/n never knew who Morgana really was, never knew she was royalty. “Alright. I’ll have to ask my father though.” Y/n says smiling at the green-eyed girl. Morgana smiles and nods, “tell him it’s the Pendragon house…” she mumbles glancing away from her friend. “You mean…king pendragon?” Y/n asks her voice laced with confusion. “I’m sorry-i didn’t tell you I was scared about how you might react and I was worried you wouldn’t want to be friends or anything if you knew who I was.” Morgana rambles, her anxiety getting the best of her. “So you’re the daughter of the king?” Y/n asks in confusion and surprise. “Not exactly…they call me the lady of the castle, whatever that means.” Morgana rolls her eyes causing y/n to giggle making Morgana smile. “There’s those dimples I love to see.” Y/n says placing her hand on Morgana’s shoulder. “Nothing you could do would make me not want to be your friend Morgana.” Y/n says causing the older girl’s heart to swell. Morgana hugs y/n, y/n hugs back, surprised but welcoming the affection. “I’ll come meet the king then…if it means that we can play together.” Y/n smiles pulling Morgana into the stream Morgana screaming out as her dress becomes soaked. “Y/n! What the hell?!” She yells while laughing and pulling the other girl into the stream with her causing y/n to gasp playfully before the girls began splashing each other and laughing. Morgana smiles and looks at her friend, both of them wet and giggling as they get out of the water. Morgana looks y/n up and down worriedly, “come with me, we can sneak into my room and you can get some dry clothes at least.” Y/n smiles at Morgana, “are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble Morgana…” she says worriedly, but Morgana shakes her head, “nonsense, come.” Morgana takes y/n’s hand, both the girls feeling a spark as their hands touch but deciding it was nothing but electricity. Morgana led y/n to her horse and y/n tenses up. “Come now, you’re not afraid of a horse are you? You must’ve rode before with your father.” Morgana teases as she helps the girl onto the horse, “I-i have but never with anyone else…” y/n says nervously as Morgana gets on behind her, her arms wrapping around y/n while reaching for the reigns. Y/n feels a rush of blood to her cheeks feeling Morgana’s arms around her. Shes unsure why, maybe she was nervous about the horse…right. Y/n held onto the saddle as the girls rode through the forest and towards the castle, Morgana’s arms tightening around y/n as the horse ran faster. “It’s okay y/n, I got you.” Morgana assures y/n as they rode. Y/n’s heart only quickened at Morgana’s words and Morgana was just as confused. It felt right to hold y/n, her heart continually pounding around the girl she met 5 years ago. Y/n had showed Morgana a world the castle never could and she was very grateful for their newfound friendship. These different reactions began shortly after Morgana officially became a woman. Her eyes began to roam and she caught herself staring at y/n on different occasions.

Shortly after they departed, Morgana and y/n reached the castle, Morgana helping y/n off the horse and pulling her through the castle to her chambers. “Go ahead and pick something out, I’m going to have Gwen prepare a bath for me.” Morgana says as y/n looked around the room in awe. She hasn’t been in a room as big before, “Morgana this is…” “too big and bland?” Morgana finishes with a roll of her eyes, quickly stripping away her wet clothes. Y/n laughs and turns to Morgana, “No I was going to say it’s“ she paused as she saw Morgana without her dress her breath caught in her throat as she blushes and feels a stir within her. “Quite breathtaking.” Y/n finishes with a hint of lust in her words as she looked away from Morgana.

The king didn’t mind y/n. He was glad Morgana had something to entertain her little did he know that y/n and Morgana had growing feelings for each other. They spent their time together and Morgana was the happiest she’s ever been, and so was y/n. But the two wanted more, both not knowing what the other thought, though their tension obviously growing. Morgana often found herself having dreams of the two of them together…hands caressing each other, lips on one another and fingers buried inside each other. Morgana often woke in a sweat, but at least it wasn’t a nightmare…

Morgana met up with y/n at the stream her eyes roaming along her friend once more before greeting her; “y/n.” The girl looks up at Morgana, smiling at her. “Hello Morgana.” Y/n says, standing up and hugging her best friend. Morgana hugs back holding y/n tightly, “could I sleep over tonight? At your house.” Morgana asks causing y/n to look at her curiously, “my house? There’s much more room in yours-” “I don’t want to be there tonight.” Is all Morgana says while not meeting y/n’s eyes. Y/n nods and stands up to get a good look at Morgana. “Okay. We can. I’ll meet you in town and we’ll go okay?” Morgana nods and she smiles gently, “thank you y/n. I’ll see you at 6.” She says, getting back on her horse and riding back to the castle. Soon enough, Morgana met up with y/n in the town square, getting off of her horse and looking for her friend, who hugged her from behind surprising her. “Y/n, you scared me. Ready for our sleepover?” Morgana asks turning and returning the hug. Y/n smiles, “indeed, I love spending time with you Morgana.” She says as the two begin the walk back to y/n’s parent’s house. They go in and as usual no one was home. Her father being a knight and her mother a servant in the castle meant they weren’t around much. Y/n and Morgana walk into the kitchen and y/n prepared drinks for them while Morgana relaxed on the lounge in the main room. Y/n came in with two cups and offered one to Morgana as she sat down next to her. Morgana thanked y/n and they began to drink together and Morgana discussed things she would do if she was ruler. Y/n listened and smiled at Morgana’s rules and nodded along, agreeing to the changes she wanted to make. “Morgana, there’s another reason you wanted to stay here wasn’t there?” Y/n asks, almost knowingly. She could tell by the way Morgana tensed up at the mention of the king, the way she’d grow cold if y/n ever mentioned that Morgana looked hurt or bruised. “Well��it is my birthday.” Morgana admits smiling at y/n causing the girls eyes to widen. “Oh goodness! We better get plastered then!” She says giggling as she pours more ale for them. Morgan’s laughs as y/n rasies her glass, “to 20?” She preposes almost as a question causing Morgana to giggle and nod raising her own glass to clink with y/n’s. “To many birthdays together.” She says her dimples on display as they drank the ale. Soon after more drinks the two of them were a bit tipsy and Morgana grew more bold…

“Y/n, I’ve been…having these dreams-” “the nightmares again?” She takes her hand, “are you okay?” Y/n asks worriedly. “N-no…those are terrible too yes but I’ve been…having dreams about you, about us.” She says looking at the y/e/c eyed girl. “What do you mean?” Y/n asks softly, unsure of what Morgana meant. Morgana sighs; “they’re…good dreams but, very intimate…I wake up feeling quite flustered.” She says her eyes meeting y/n’s nervously. Y/n’s eyes widened in realization, “oh…I mean, how long have you been having them?” Y/n asks, blushing from the alcohol. Right. Morgana looks away at her glass, “a few years now…I just…didn’t want to ruin what we’ve had. I don’t know what I’m feeling for you y/n.” Morgana says looking a bit distraught. “It’s okay I’ve been…having these thoughts too. I thought it was wrong, the king declared same sex relations a sin, and here I am, having erotic dreams about his ward.” Morgan’s chuckles smiling and looking to y/n with something in her eyes that y/n hadn’t seen before.

“Trust me, I know how it feels.” Morgana says chuckling again and turning to her friend. “But I also know it feels right when I hold you, and when you take my hand in yours.” Y/n shakes her head, “you’re just saying this because you’ve been drinking-” “no.” Is all she says before grabbing y/n by the chin and kissing her softly. Y/n kissed back, not wanting to push the older girl away whatsoever. “Morgana…” she mumbled breathlessly against her lips as they pulled apart, Morgana wanting to make sure y/n was comfortable. Morgana kissed y/n again, pulling her onto her lap as y/n slips her tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Morgana humming in pleasure at the new feelings and meeting her desires. Her hands go to y/n’s breasts, squeezing and groping them as y/n whimpered into the kiss. Morgana tries to stand up but found her legs were too shaky to do so, causing both girls to giggle. “Apparently I’m too excited to lift you, so let’s go to your room.” She says softly as she tucks stray hairs behind y/n’s ear sweetly. The girls make their way into y/n’s room, shutting the door behind them as Morgana begins kissing y/n again, this time more rough and desperate. Her hands grabbing what they could as Morgana pushed y/n against her bed, “Morgana we shouldn’t…” y/n mumbles as Morgana continues to kiss her, “what? Are you okay?” Morgana asks worriedly. “No I’m scared it’ll ruin what we have, please we can’t.” Y/n says reluctantly pushing morgana onto her back. Morgana sighs and nods, “You’re right I’m sorry…” she mumbles softly as she catches her breath. Y/n hugs Morgana, and they cuddle. Morgana feels like she’s about to fall asleep so she drifts off leaving y/n confused on what just happened and still wrapped in her best friend’s embrace.

#gxg #smut #lesbian #katie mcgrath x reader #morgana pendragon x reader #morgana pendragon #morgana x reader #merlin

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abbygracerecs · 1 year ago

Text

Doctor Who Fic Reccommendations

9th Doctor

I love you - @alloftheimagines

Just One Yesterday - @lovelyfictional-imagines

10th Doctor

A Noble Ship Embarks - @kisstherainwriting

Now that I saw you, I can never look away - @penguinwithitsarseonfire

Danger Magnet - @thepokyone

Deepest Truth - @quietkatie1864

Are you drunk - @iwritefandomimagines

Having the blues - @doctorslove

The way you look at me - @kisstherainwriting

Make a move - @okay-j-hannah

Snap out of it - @gracesimp

Heartstring - @make-me-imagine

Just like old times - @11thsdoctress

Hear my words - @okay-j-hannah

School Reunion - @starfirette this one is smut

11th Doctor

Deep - @marauder-exe

Little Family - @specialagentlokitty

You make me want things I can't have - @iwritefandomimagines

Touchy - @onceuponachole

You've changed - @11thsdoctress

Starry nights are for coffee and contemplation - @cloginthedrain

My point is... -@11thsdoctress

Is it alright to say what I feel? - @11thsdoctress

12th Doctor

Light in the Dark - @i-imagine-my-doctor

Heartbeat - @morganas-pendragons i cry everytime i read this

A Perfect Day - @quietkatie1864

In Another's Eyes - @cas-kingdom

13th Doctor

Come on in - @fabulouspotatosister

Autistic!reader - @x-neurodivergent-reader

Hidden Colors - @timelord-winchester-22b

#doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #fic rec #ninth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader

1K notes · View notes

wild-typo-turtle · 12 days ago

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Threads - Part 10

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Dreamcasting: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut)

A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thank you all once again for all of your support for my story - I truly appreciate all of the likes, comments, and reblogs SO MUCH! A quick note - as I've mentioned before, this is an incredibly busy stretch for me at work, and the next chapter is also quite long, so it will likely be next week before I update again. But it will be THE WEDDING so I hope it's worth the wait :) -WTT

Part 10

Fire rages. He can feel the heat of it on his skin, heat even beyond the ability of the Eldar to endure.

A flock of brown sheep that he stands in the middle of. A light snow begins to fall, and the sheep look at him with calm, limpid eyes.

A frost creeps over his bracers, cooling him. He holds an icicle in his hands. The ring of a smith's hammer fills his ears.

An armored helm rising up in front of him…

“Meleth nín.”

Linnea's soft voice, pulling him from the vision. And a moment later, her arm, slipping around him from behind.

Gil-galad leaned back against her, sighing. The room was still dim, the sun not yet risen, and he had still been abed when Vilya had whispered to him. But he must have made some sound, to have woken Linnea.

“I can feel the tumult of your thoughts,” she murmured. “What troubles you?”

He smiled. He could feel her gentle warmth against his back, a marked contrast to both the scorching heat and the soothing cold from his vision. Her hand rested on his bare chest, and he caressed it, her scent of roses and lavender wafting around him.

His bed smelled of flowers now.

She came to him at night; she had come to him ever since that first night they had spent together, that night of pure wonder and love. And each of those nights had been filled with exploring one another, loving preludes for their wedding - and afterwards, she slept in his arms. And she rose to greet the dawn with him, standing and watching the sunrise.

He truly did not know which gift to treasure most. The joy he found in her embrace, in the pleasure she both accepted and gave so willingly? Companionship, her presence that had banished his eternal feeling of being alone, even when he had been in the midst of a crowd? That she was good, and kind, and strong; that she would be a great queen such as Middle Earth had never seen?

“Nothing,” he murmured. And there was a soft snort of disbelief behind him; he did not blame her, for he knew better than to think he could fool her. The osanwë grew stronger every day.

“You are not being truthful, aran vuin,” she said softly. “You have carried a share of my burdens. Allow me to do the same for yours.”

He turned, rolling over in the bed to face her. In the faint light of pre-dawn, her curls were still rumpled from sleep and her soft lips begged for a kiss. And he gladly did so, once again savoring her against his body, drawing her tightly into his arms beneath the blankets.

She smiled at him when the kiss ended, raising a brow. “Do you think to distract me?”

“If I did, I would not have stopped,” he murmured. “I had no intent but to enjoy the love of my queen.”

She didn't reply, just looked at him, and he sighed - but he smiled as he did it.

“The ring has been quiet since Eregion,” he finally murmured. “Until this moment.”

She understood him; both brows rose now, her eyes widening. “You saw something? Another glimpse of the future?”

He shook his head. “I know not. The vision after the siege was clear. This was a return to how it had been before - brief flashes alone.”

He paused, trying to sort through what he had seen and felt. Linnea remained in his embrace, simply being there with him, although she slid back a few inches to be able to look fully into his face.

“Fire,” he said quietly. “At first I could feel the heat of it scorching my very skin. And then it changed. I was standing in a field, amidst a herd of sheep. It began to snow. And it was cold; I could see the frost on the armor I wore. I held an icicle in my hands. And then…”

He paused.

“The helm,” he murmured. “The armor. Sauron. He was there, I recognized him from visions past. It was he that burned so fiercely. The heat of him, I could feel it even through my armor.”

Linnea’s brow furrowed. “You said snow began to fall. Perhaps it is a warning that he comes in the winter?”

Gil-galad considered it. Somehow it didn’t feel right - but then, who was he to say? If someone had told him that his previous visions were a warning of what lay in store at Eregion, would he have recognized it as the truth?

“Perhaps,” he said, but even he could hear the doubt in his voice. “But then what of the sheep? They were brown, I cannot recall ever seeing such…”

Linnea started, her eyes widening again. “Brown sheep? Brown coats, brown wool?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Melethel, what is it? What calls to you?”

She considered, thinking, and then offered him a small, shy smile. “I know not if it signifies. But I have a gift for you, meleth nín. To give to you at our wedding, in place of the jewel that is traditional. And the brown sheep minded me of it.”

His mind came alight, wondering what it was. Something of fabric, he was almost certain, both with the words she had spoken and simply knowing her. But what could it be? Was she weaving something new for him?

He would have to see to something for her. He had assumed they would simply ignore that part of the ceremony, since neither of their parents were living. But if she had planned something, there was no question but that he would have a gift. It was fortunate that this vision had come now; he thanked the Valar for it, that it had prompted her to tell him. He would have struggled to forgive himself, had he had nothing to give in return for whatever she had made.

There was a thought that had occurred to him, back when they had visited the Havens. When Círdan had named her, Linnea Calagûr. Was there time enough for it? He would need to send for a smith at once, that day - and the stones were uncommon, there was no guarantee there were any to be had. But one thing at a time.

He smiled at his beautiful queen, his cherished lady, his wedded wife in only a few more days.

“Thank you, rîn vuin,” he whispered. “I will receive it gladly, whatever it may be. For it comes from your hands.”

Linnea smiled back at him. She scooted back close to him, the length of her body coming flush with his. “I had hoped to surprise you,” she murmured. “But with what you saw, I thought it best to tell you. Even the smallest thing may be important in the fight against our enemy.”

He nodded soberly, tightening his arm around her. “The truth will reveal itself in time,” he said quietly. “And when it does, we shall be here to face it, you and I.”

And he felt that truth deep within him, as Linnea leaned against him, resting her head on his chest.

The glade was far from the palace, but Linnea hadn't minded the walk. The veiled maiden that led her did not speak, and neither did Landir or Hellathas as they walked behind her; the only sounds were the birds, and the wind rustling through the trees.

The very air felt holy, sacred. Which was appropriate, given where they were going.

She had protested at first when the Yavannildi had come to her. She was not queen yet, this could easily have waited until after the wedding. She had no desire to appear greedy and grasping, clutching at power that was not hers to take. But they had insisted.

The time is now, Your Grace, the leader of them had said. The Lady Galadriel wishes it, for you to take charge of the lembas.

And so she had agreed, and the day had been appointed.

The maiden in front of them stopped and turned, and she bowed her head.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” she murmured. “Your guards must remain here.”

Landir frowned, shaking his head. “We are charged with Her Grace’s safety.”

“The queen will be safe. This place is under the eye of Yavanna herself. Can you not sense it?”

It was true. The peace that had settled over them as they had walked had grown stronger and stronger. This close to their destination, it was almost tangible; even an army of uruk could not maintain their bloodlust here. The gaze of Yavanna, the Valar charged with all things that grew, was indeed close.

Landir was still frowning, but Linnea looked at him and nodded. “Do as she says, Landir. I will call if there is need.”

He still looked unhappy about it. But Hellathas nodded, and she swung around to stand next to the path, her position allowing her to see in both directions. After a moment, Landir did the same, standing opposite her on the other side.

The maiden bowed to Linnea, and then continued walking.

It was not much further. The path ended, but the maiden continued leading them without hesitation, winding their way through the forest in seemingly a random pattern. The sound of water grew stronger. And then, slipping between two great trees, they were there.

The clearing was of a good size, hidden deep within the forest. A small creek ran across it, and at the far end, there was a modest stone hut. The trees were packed thick around them, but there was an opening in the canopy here, and the sunlight reached all the way to the grassy floor. And in the center, gleaming like stalks of emerald set with topaz, was the corn.

It did not look real, so pure was its perfection. The brilliant gold of the ears peeked out from the husks, ripe and ready for the harvest. Baskets woven of pure white straw sat next to the field of corn, empty now, but soon to be filled.

And, also next to the field, the Yavannildi waited.

There were a full dozen of them, as was meet for such a great realm. The maidens of Yavanna, the only ones permitted to handle the corn from ear to bread, as it had been gifted to the Eldar by Oromë through Yavanna’s graces. They wore veils; many of them were also members of the order of Estë, and Linnea saw Pendes standing among them.

All wore veils, save one.

Their paths had not crossed often. Commander Galadriel had been in Imladris for most of the time that Linnea had been at court - but of course, she had come back for the wedding. She and Elrond had arrived together several days ago. And she was standing at the head of the Yavannildi, for it was she who had been the highest-ranked lady of Lindon and so the lembas had been her charge. Until now.

Galadriel was wearing a gold dress, whose every inch seemed to sparkle with beading, and a pale blue velvet surcoat. Linnea herself had chosen a rich green gown that day; it was a color that she hadn't seen much of in Lindon, but it reminded her of Eregion.

It had begun to be easier, just a little, to think of it as Eregion. Not home.

The Yavannildi stood behind Galadriel, waiting on her cue. And she gave it, stepping forward and bowing her head to Linnea.

“Ing tarí,” she murmured. “Elye cáva lissenen.”

High Queen. We receive you with grace.

It was the first time anyone had addressed her so. Gil-galad had oft referred to her as my queen or the queen, and the rest of the court had followed his lead, even though she was not crowned yet. But the formal title of High Queen had never been spoken.

She returned Galadriel’s bow with a deep nod. Not only was Galadriel the commander of the northern armies, but she had been born in the Blessed Lands. She had seen the light of the Trees, and even now, that light was still on her face. She was owed all the respect that Linnea could give.

“Massánië,” she murmured. “Lissenen ni cavina.”

Linnea had followed Galadriel's lead in using the Quenya. Eregion had its own complement of the Yavannildi, but their leader had preferred the Sindarin besain for the bread-giver, the lady whose charge was the making and keeping of the lembas.

Galadriel gave a small smile. “That title I pass to you today, ing’tarí,” she murmured. “Come. The Yavannildi will show you the work. And then I shall give to you the secrets of the making.”

The recipe. Closely guarded, known only to a few. And now she would know.

The Yavannildi moved gracefully, and Linnea watched closely as they did so. One of them remained where she stood and began a song, a soft melody of the harvest that added a slow rhythm to the work. There were no tools; the women carefully removed the ripe ears of corn from the stalks with their bare hands, placing them in the baskets that were at the ready. It was simple work, but each motion was carried out with reverence. Once a stalk was stripped clean, one of the women would uproot it from the ground equally as carefully as it had been harvested, and carry it to the side of the hut to stack it for drying.

“Go,” she heard, and Linnea started. Galadriel had come up beside her, and as she turned, the other Elf was smiling. “This is yours now,” she said again.

Galadriel might say it a hundred times, and Linnea would still struggle to believe. But she set herself and walked forward, stepping up close to the nearest of the Yavannildi. And after watching once more, she swallowed her nervousness, and reached out, and grasped one of the golden ears.

It was barely any work at all. The corn seemed to detach itself from the stalk and the husk, practically sliding into her hands. She placed the ear in the basket the Yavannilda next to her held, and then reached for another ear, and then another. It was swiftly done, now that she had gained confidence; more, it was easier to watch and then follow the next step, the uprooting of the stalk to dry it for later.

The song ended just as they finished clearing the field. Each basket was heaped with golden corn; the pile of green stalks, that would dry to the pure white of the baskets, stood tall.

Galadriel had not joined in the work, but had stood observing them - but there was a faint smile on her face as they finished, and she came to Linnea's side.

“My hands were ever more suited to the sword,” she said quietly. “Even when I was here, which was seldom enough. Yours match this task well, ing’tarí.”

It was a compliment, and Linnea bowed her head in gratitude.

“I am honored to receive this charge,” she replied. “And honored that you would give it into my keeping.”

Galadriel raised a brow at her, a hint of curiosity in her glance. “It is your right as queen to hold it.”

It was, that was true. And the Noldor - like all Elves - respected formality and tradition. But Linnea was young, so much younger than Galadriel; she felt half a child when standing next to her. Had anyone told her even a year ago that she would take this duty from one such, she would not have known whether to laugh at the idea or to stare in horror at the one who spoke so.

Perhaps that was why Galadriel had insisted on it being today. Passing the charge now, instead of after the coronation, emphasized that it was a willing transfer of power. It was a fit for the kind of queen Linnea wanted to be.

She nodded in acknowledgment, keeping her voice soft. “Having the right to it does not change the fact that it is an honor,” she said. “And so you have my gratitude.”

Galadriel looked at her for a moment, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts. Linnea wondered if she had said something wrong, it went on for so long, but at last, Galadriel nodded, as if she had both asked a question and answered it.

“The High King is fortunate that you survived Eregion,” she finally said. “As are all the Noldor.”

It was another honor, and one that Linnea had had no thought to expect. Enough of one where she had to suddenly blink tears from her eyes at the openness of the welcome.

“Thank you, Commander,” she murmured. “But I feel that I am the more fortunate by far.”

“That…remains to be seen.”

There was something in her voice that made Linnea look more closely - not just at Galadriel’s face, but her eyes flicked down to the ring on her hand. Vilya’s companion, one of the three Elven rings: Nenya, white and silver, cold and sparkling like fresh snow.

Snow. The vision Gil-galad had had that morning as they lay abed. Did that echo in her voice have the same origin? A hint of the future?

It made her smile for a fraction of an instant as she thought of it, remembering how he shared it. How they had lain in bed together, arms around each other, him speaking and her listening. Yet another honor, taking a share of his burdens, just as she'd said at the time.

But Galadriel’s eyes were closed. Whatever she had seen, she would not be sharing it.

“Come with me,” Galadriel said softly, and she turned to take a step towards the stone hut. “We will show you how the grain is dried and milled. And then I shall pass to you the way of the making, as it was given to me.”

The feet of the Elves left no trace upon the ground. Their steps were light, carrying them swiftly over sand or snow or solid rock.

Yet on this journey, Elrond Peredhel’s feet dragged.

He would not defy his king’s command. Yet had Gil-galad not ordered it, Elrond had no sense of how long it might have been before his eyes beheld the entrance of Khazad-dûm again. Another twenty years? It seemed a paltry span to soothe the ache in his heart, the bruise that had blossomed as his eyes had searched the hill crest to the north of Eregion.

Searching for aid that had been promised. And had not come, until the last possible moment.

Our dead might have been fewer in number, had Durin held to his word.

And now here he was. With a wedding invitation.

He could not fault Gil-galad's reasoning. They would indeed need every ally in the fight; Gil-galad had extended more hands than just this. The relationship between Lindon and the Greenwood had been civil enough in the matter of shared defense, but now he was opening discussion with Oropher for a stronger alliance.

And Oropher, too, would be at the wedding.

A small voice in the back of Elrond's head reminded him that Durin had forgiven him for those twenty years. With grumbling, true - and it had been legitimate grumbling - but he had forgiven.

Elrond owed it to him to try and do the same.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and picked up his pace.

The door of Khazad-dûm opened for him immediately; he was admitted with no issue. The guards’ demeanor was respectful as they escorted him inside, as they led him to the great lifts. They had sent word to Durin, and the reply had arrived almost at once.

Bring him in. Bring him to my hall.

Khazad-dûm sprawled around him, below him, above him as they made their way into the heart of the mountain. The sun shafts had been fully restored, and all around them was illuminated by the great mirrors that reflected the light from above. Crops grew green and plentiful in the terrace fields, and the bustle of marketplaces humming with commerce reached his ears. There was no evidence of political turmoil, and yet, Elrond could feel it rumbling beneath the surface.

The guards spoke no word as they escorted him, arriving at the doors he remembered so well. There were more soldiers outside it than the last time he had been here, a sign of both the unrest and also the potential of Durin's ascension to the throne.

The soldiers struck their axes on the floor, and then pushed the great doors open.

Elrond stepped in. Behind him, the doors swung shut, but he barely registered it.

Durin stood in the middle of the hall.

To his right, Disa sat at the table, her expression somber. The stone table that Durin had swindled from Gil-galad - and even now, Elrond was unsure of whether the High King had known all along. And further on to his right, the sun poured in, illuminating the young tree that grew there.

The echoes of the door closing faded.

For a long moment, no one spoke. But Durin's face had never been a secret to Elrond; the prince’s eyes were sad as they looked at one another, the guilt he felt over what had happened at Eregion filling them.

It was up to him to break the ice, and finally, Elrond inclined his head. “Prince Durin. Thank you for revoking the order to banish me.”

He couldn't entirely keep the chill from his tone, and Durin heard it. The prince breathed in, hooking his thumbs on his belt; he was trying to appear at ease, but tension hummed throughout the room, taut and shimmering.

“Seemed sensible,” he said. “Since it was m’father’s order. And I was curious as to what brought ye here.”

“I come on the High King's personal order, bearing an invitation.”

Durin winced, and Elrond had no doubt he was remembering the last time the Elves had sent an invitation. Gil-galad’s reminder rang in his head; the Dwarven rings cost them dearly.

Disa rose from the table, setting her hands upon the surface. “What kind of an invitation?”

In answer, Elrond uncapped the message tube, slid the scroll out into his hands, and passed it to Durin. The prince unrolled it, his eyes flicking over the parchment as Disa began moving toward him, and she had barely taken three steps before Durin looked back up at Elrond in shock.

“A wedding?”

Disa stopped momentarily, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. “A wedding! Whose is it, then?” She turned the smile on Elrond, along with a coy glance. “Yours?”

Durin was back to staring at the scroll. “Gil-galad’s wedding. The High King of the Elves has supposedly invited us to his wedding.” He thrust the scroll into Disa’s hands and took a step towards Elrond. “Is this a joke? Are ye here to mock me, is that why you've come?”

Anger, and more guilt, rolling off him like waves. Elrond actually had to set his feet at the force of it, but he stood steadfast, and he kept his tone even.

“It is no mockery. The wedding is in five days’ time. If you choose to accept, you may return with me to Lindon. With your wife, of course.”

Disa was busy reading the parchment, nodding slowly. “Five days,” she murmured. “Ye haven't given us much time to prepare a gift, now have ye?”

“Gift?” Durin looked at her, stunned. “Ye can't think we're going to accept?”

“And why not?” she countered. “It's as plain as daybreak that it's an honor. Support for your claim to the throne. We can't say no.”

“We can, and we will,” he sputtered. “We're not going.”

“We are going.” Disa briskly began rolling up the scroll. “I'll ask my sister to watch the wee’uns, that’ll do for a few days.” She paused, thinking, and turned towards Elrond. “Or will the wedding last longer?”

“We're not going.”

Despite himself, Elrond felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest, watching their easy familiarity. He smiled at Disa, shaking his head.

“The wedding ceremony is brief,” he assured her. “It is celebrated at a feast, and the High King has kept the guest list small. Khazad-dûm will hardly notice your absence.”

“Easy for you to say,” Durin muttered. “A few days may not be much to an Elf, but my brother's been consolidating his support.” He glared at Elrond. “I could come back to find his scraggly arse on the throne and nothing to be done but kiss his ring.”

Disa winced at the word ring, and Durin saw it. His expression instantly grew contrite. “I'm sorry, Disa. But I canna leave now, you know it.”

She looked at him, not speaking.

Elrond sensed the moment, that it hung on the edge of a knife. He could nudge it one way or another, and part of him wanted to derail this whole endeavor. He could return to Lindon and report to the High King that the invitation had been declined. He had told himself to forgive Durin, but it was hard.

But, he reminded himself again, Durin had forgiven.

“Perhaps Princess Disa could attend in your stead?” he suggested. “She will be an honored guest. You need not fear for her safety, or her comfort. I will ensure it myself.”

Durin didn't appear to be fond of that idea either. He glowered, his eyes moving from Disa to Elrond - just as Elrond had expected. Durin loved his wife; he would not trust her to any hands but his own.

And then the prince heaved a sigh.

“The shaft's treacherous ahead no matter what,” he muttered. “We're in the mud if we do and the water if we don't. Might as well go and have a good meal out of it.”

Disa beamed, crossing her arms over her chest in satisfaction. “We'll leave first thing in the morning,” she pronounced. “And Elrond, in the meantime, I want to hear everything about this princess your King is marrying.” She winked at her husband.

Elrond shook his head. “No princess, my lady. A weaver who survived the siege at Eregion. The High King found her in the ruins and was…”

He, Elrond, had been there. He had been witness as Linnea had opened her eyes, as Gil-galad had seen her that first time. He had watched the High King fall in love in that one instant; he had never seen anything like it in all his years. Two souls meeting and finding each other, recognizing yes, it is you, in one single glance.

“... enraptured,” he finished quietly.

“Hm.” Disa slid her eyes sideways to Durin. “That’s a sight worth a trip to Lindon, isn’t it?”

“Seeing Gil-galad acting like a lovesick fool?” Durin raised a brow at Elrond. “Didn’t think you Elves were so romantic.”

“On the contrary,” Elrond said. “Our people love once, for all our lives. Once we wed, we are wed forevermore. Until Arda itself is remade. I can think of nothing more romantic.”

He couldn’t quite keep the wistful note from his voice. Although he had seen many friends find their own joy, it had never happened for him. Gil-galad himself was proof that it was perhaps not too late, that it could come even after so long - but so many of their people chose each other in childhood. Was there still someone out there for him, as Linnea had been for Gil-galad?

Thoughts for another time. Instead, he looked back at Durin.

“I missed your wedding, old friend,” he said softly. “To my everlasting regret. Do not repeat my mistakes. Come. Celebrate our King’s wedding, and share in our joy as our new Queen is crowned.”

Durin let out another of those heavy sighs, and turned his face up to the ceiling. “Aulë’s beard,” he muttered. “I said we’ll go. Don’t make me repeat m��self, it’s already turning my stomach. Narvi won’t sleep a wink till we’re back.”

Disa clapped her hands, letting out a soft squeal of delight. “I’ll go to the treasure rooms now and hunt down a wedding gift,” she announced. “There’s not time to make something new, it’ll have to be already forged. Is there anything traditional, Elrond? Perhaps a set of bracelets for the queen, or…likely no’ a crown, we might have a pair of torcs…oh, and there’s those jeweled platters…”

She trailed off as she walked away, still muttering to herself, and that laugh bubbled up in Elrond again at the pained expression on Durin’s face.

It was going to be all right.

“I am sure whatever you choose will be most appropriate,” Elrond said, calling after her. But he couldn't keep himself from glancing at Durin, and raising an eyebrow with a small smile.

“Although…I do believe the High King may be in need of a new dining table.”

Continue to Part 11 (warning, contains light smut)

#rings of power #gil galad #gil-galad #the rings of power #trop fanfiction #fanfic #gil-galad x ofc #fanfiction #fix it fic #fix it au

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tootoomanycats · 21 days ago

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||UPDATE ||

Hello friends! I bring an fun little update on the first chapter of my Gil-Galad x Reader fic

"The Plan"

(if you are not sure what this is in reference to, please see this

(post here)

Currently, the first chapter is 2/3 of the way done and is 4,500 words 6,200 words long, with an estimated 1000+ words left to complete.

I have the full story outlined with all major plot points, smut scenes, and themes written out; currently sitting at five chapters-ish.

The reason it's five-ish is that I am doing something new that I haven't done before. There will be TWO different endings posted at the same time. I did not start with this intention at all, truley.

I love to write angsty emotional fics. However, Gil-Galad's character deserves a happy ending as well. And to be honest, I couldn't choose between either ending I devised.

I hope to have the first chapter out by Halloween (fingers crossed)

PS: If you're curious about the smut scenes, my current outlines are already at 3k words 5k words —and those are just word vomits, so I keep the emotional sequencing in order. If you are curious about what kind of flavor of smut I create, I recommend reading two other creations that I'm really proud of. Boiling Over (Geto x OC/Reader) The Closet (Buggy x OC)

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know in the comments 🖤

Tag List:

@morganas-pendragons @clairevoyant813 @wild-typo-turtle @liar-anubiass-blog @0heimwaerts0 @melithril @yesnessieme @perse-cora @xcrybaby555x @angel-astre @aliives @inyx-writes44

#gil galad x you #gil galad fanfic #gil galad x reader #gil galad #ereinion gil galad #the rings of power #gil-galad smut #gil galad smut

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waynes-multiverse · 7 months ago

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Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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gayandfairycore · 1 year ago

Text

Finished fics ੈ✩‧₊˚

Authors favourite: 🌷

Smut: 🍓

Fluff: 🌞

Angst: 🌛

Fem reader: ✨

Male reader: 🪽

Fandoms I no longer write for: 🍂

Warning: please check my request terms before requesting as I no longer write for some fandoms, and I no longer write male reader fics, any previous requests you have sent may be slow to release!

Masterlist

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Lockwood and co:

Marmalade and mischievous mornings🌞🌷✨

Thin walls 🍓🌞✨

Titanic:

Jack dawson x reader🌞✨🍓🌷

Bbc Merlin:

Merlin x reader 🍓🌞✨

Morgana x reader 🍓🌞✨

Morgana x Merlins sibling reader pt 1 🌛🌞✨

Pt 2 🌛✨

Just hold me 🌛🌞✨🌷

The prince, the magician, and the physician 🌞🌛🌷

Teen wolf:

Stiles stilinski:

Movie night 🌞🌛✨

Scott McCall:

Movie night 🌞🌛✨

Wednesday:

The albatross 🌛✨🌷

My babysitters a vampire:

Ethan Morgan x male reader 🌛🌞🪽

Narnia:

Narnia headcanons 🌞🌛🪽

ೃ⁀➷ fics/fandoms I don’t write for anymore ⁀➷

Xo kitty:

Do you see right through me 🌞🌛🌷✨

Outer banks:

Distraction 🌛✨

The middle:🍂

Axl heck x reader 🌞✨

Love and monsters: 🍂

Joel dawson x reader 🌛🌞✨

Supernatural:🍂

The green necklace 🌛🌞✨

Tfw x reader 🌛🌞✨

Fear street: 🍂

Sacrifice Simon kalivoda x reader 🌛✨

Marauders: 🍂

James potter x reader

Nothing is as clear as the clarity of death 🌛✨

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simp2537 · 9 months ago

Note

Hello, I was the one who sent the request about king!sirius having many concubines. I really like your writing on it, and it fits my imagination🥺🫶🏻.

If possible, I would like to ask for another request. This time it's about Matteo Riddle. Mattheo was told to remarry by his father, Tom, because his wife had not produced a son. Even though his wife never gave birth to a son, Mattheo had a daughter who was already a teenager. When told to remarry, Mattheo immediately became angry with his father, because he only loved his wife, and insisted that his daughter was his heir. Mattheo will 'eliminate' anyone who dares to 'remove' his daughter from her status and right as heir.

By the way, may I be 🩰 Anon

A Fathers Love

a/n : Hope you enjoy, but what is an anon? I’m relatively new to all this. Also I changed the daughter from a teen to like 12.

Warnings : period misogyny, almost deadly child birth and pregnancy, allusion to smut, allusions to Reader having a more fragile body, Mattheo and Reader having an arranged marriage

Anon 🩰

Royal au

Matthew Riddle x Fem! Reader

Mattheo had never thought he’d glared so fiercely before. His father, Tom Riddle, the one who usurped the throne for his great grandfather, now know as King Voldemort stared down at him with mild interest. Mattheo his only heir had one child. That child was the Princess Morgana.

Mattheo and his wife, the Lady Y/n Riddle had one child. Lady Y/n’s body wasn’t meant for such strenuous things. With how bad her pregnancy was they assumed that her child would be a boy.

After a long and difficult labor, Y/n battling for her and her child’s life, Morgana was born. Y/n’s recovery was a long and challenging journey, her healer informed her it would be against her if she bore another child. Y/n would stay up late at night with her darling daughter in her arms, fearful her father would wish her a boy.

But Mattheo doted on his daughter every chance he could. He sat with her in the darkness of her room to “protect” her from monsters. He’d duel with wooden swords with her. He loved his beautiful Y/n for gifting him with such a wonderful child.

The King Voldemort however was not pleased. The women he chose to be his sons bride was worthless. She hadn’t provided a male heir, she had failed at her one job as his son’s wife. So he found a solution.

“Are you being serious Father?” Mattheo’s voice rang through the throne room. His father’s advisors turned away, not wanting to face the princes wrath.

“Lady Daphne would make an excellent wife, she would give you sons.” Mattheo’s eyes raged with fury at his father’s words. How dare he! He had no right.

“I have no need for sons, I have my heir!” Mattheo voiced his tone bordering a scream. Voldemort rolled his snake eyes and shrugged.

“You have a daughter, a girl unfit to rule.”

“My daughter is my heir!”

The room went dead silent. It was unheard of for a father to allow his daughter to be his heir. Mattheo remembered every moment from his daughter creation to now. Mattheo didn’t make love to Y/n on the night of there marriage. He wanted her love before he force a child into her.

For months the pair grew their relationship, and then they decided they wanted a child. Mattheo was fearful, he knew his wife well enough to see her lose her breath so easily, to see her fatigue in the cold.

When both Y/n and Morgana survived, Mattheo made a vow. That for his wife’s hard labor his child would sit his throne. His daughter would be queen one day. Morgana grew to be a mommy’s girl with no doubt in his mind. Although Morgana looked and acted so similar to Mattheo, she was never far from her mothers side.

“I will not remarry, my wife is very much alive!” Mattheo roared. Voldemort stood from his throne as Matthe stepped forward.

“I’m saying divorce your wife, send Morgana away with her and give this kingdom a true heir!” Mattheo froze on the spot. Leave Y/n… leave Morgana. Mattheo didn’t allow another word and quickly left the room. He ignored his fathers shouts for him as he marched outside.

Mattheo walked outside and saw them. His darling wife and daughter played in the meadow around the castle. Y/n sat braiding flowers into a crown as Morgana chased a butterfly. Y/n’s green dress blended into the greenery around her. Morgana’s silver dress sparkled brightly as she chased the orange butterfly.

Mattheo slowly walked over to Y/n and tackled her into the ground. Y/n shrieked in surprise as Mattheo began to litter kisses all over her neck and face.

“Mattheo!”Y/ n squealed happily. Mattheo brought his wife into his lap holding gently onto her waist. Mattheo stared into Y/n’s dazzling e/c eyes. Y/n stared at her husbands face for a while, she gently cupped his cheek.

“What’s wrong my love, you’re troubled.” Mattheo leaned into her touch. Her hands were so delicate.

“I am fine darling, I promise.” Y/n nodded softly deciding not to pry. She placed the flower crown on his head with a smile.

“Papa! Mama! Look what I’ve caught!” Morgana yelled as she plopped down next to her mother. Y/n gently brought Morgana closer and placed a crown on her head.

“What is it Morgana?” Morgana’s hands slowly opened to reveal the orange butterfly in her hands. The butterfly crawled into Y/n’s outreached hand. There was a small tear in its wing.

“Can you fix him Mama?” Y/n giggled softly.

“How do you know he’s a he?”

Morgana pouted softly, her brows furring. She nuzzled into Y/n and she placed her mother’s crown on her head.

“Yes I can fix him.” Y/n’s hands began to glow softly. The butterfly began to glow, then his wing was perfectly clear. The butterfly flew away quickly and Morgana stared at it in awe. Mattheo stared at his lovely little family.

“My daughter will be queen, I will make sure of that, no one will challenge you my darling.” Mattheo thought as he stared at his daughter.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter fanfiction #royal au

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anika-ann · 5 days ago

Text

Ochranuj me (Protect Me) - S.R. - part 1/2

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; a part of this pseudomedieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8,6k

Summary: Your practice of magic is punishable by death. Your love is forbidden by law; and yet it has been blessed, more than he knows.

When the crown prince is poisoned, Knight Steven Rogers is faced with a choice: will he risk a war or the love of his life?

And what of you? If asked… shall you risk it all? For the lands where you live… for your knight?

Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, blood, mentions of death, polytheism, mentions of pregnancy (reader/OFC), Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Ochraňuj mě (Protect Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a ň in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; fits after the events of the previous instalments

A/N 2: This is one less smut and more plot, forgive me 🤭 I hope you'll enjoy anyway. Yes, the Merlin inspo is real here. Inspo also from Bílá laň by Vesna. For music, check it out here, for visuals here.

Chodila, chodila za tebou bílá laň lásky se napila navzdory všem přísahám. Prosila pány lesa ať ji pustí za tebou zažít si, jaké to je jít za srdce ozvěnou.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Jako bílá laň svoji duši chraň, ať záři neztratíš.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Tak ať nepotká tě kříž. (kříž, kříž, kříž) - Bílá laň by Vesna

Boisterous laugh. Wine poured in gallons painting cheeks nearly just as ruddy as the warmth of the torches illuminating the high halls of the Starkerbürg castle painted the walls. Rich aroma of butter, oils, meats and spices flowing in the air, clinking of the most precious silverware and a distant sound of flutes as the musicians tasked to raise the already high spirits could be barely heard over the noise of the feast.

Under the watchful eye of the gods or the only God it was now believed there was, a celebration of peace was raving, everything but peaceful and serene; loud and overwhelming instead, a whirlwind of emerald green threaded with gold welcomed by the steady colours of rich crimson and gold. An anniversary of the peace made between the kingdom of Asgard and Starkerbürg, a party led by Thor Odinson, the king of the lands, honouring the deal his late father King Odin had made right before his passing.

The high table with King Howard sitting at the centre, his son Anthony, the crown prince, by his right, along with the woman he was courting, Pepper of the Potts; on her right, King Howard’s daughter, Princess Morgana. On the king’s left, the guests of honour; King Thor, his wife Queen Jane, and his brother Prince Loki. Knights and warriors of the highest ranks, lords and ladies of nobility joining the celebrations, servants all but running around the hall to tend to everyone’s needs.

Then, a sound of a chalice hitting the stone floor, one that would have been met with more laughter, had it not fallen from Prince Anthony’s hand, suddenly scarily pale and trembling. Cold to touch too, a terrifying contrast to his burning forehead glistening with sweat. Body sliding down the chair, barely even faint frantic motions to his chest.

Brief, deafening silence.

The traitorous calm before a storm would hit and leave nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Chaos.

Swords drawn.

A wave of threats of violence.

A thundering voice of the King of Starkerbürg himself.

Calls for the royal physician Banner.

Images of peace and joy shattered; a single inconspicuous calm face among the sea of others in the face of a tragedy in making.

“Poison. I cannot determine what kind as of yet. Carry His Royal Majesty to his chambers!” the physician called out, not bothered by the fact he was ordering around knights and other nobility. “At once! There is no time to spare!”

Knights practically tripping over each other to tend to their prince, to their future ruler, to their brother in arms even as by rank he stood high above them. Rustle and grunts; a whisper of skirts as the culprit slipped away in the midst of disarray and cries of fear for the prince and the future of both kingdoms alike.

To think that an attack at the crown happening during the presence of a party of another kingdom – one similarly strong – was but a coincidence, would have been foolishly naïve.

Oh there were no such coincidences; this was but the first step towards a war.

And the perpetrator would be treated with that in mind.

“Aconite, most likely,” sounded the verdict, the words solemn on the physician’s lips as he fearfully raised his gaze to the King hovering over his shoulder as he inspected the second most important patient of the kingdom at the royal chambers.

The dark note in Banner’s voice snapped Steven from the haze as he, Sir Barnes, Sir Barton and Sir Wilson stood along the walls of Anthony’s chambers, tall and menacing, but just as helpless as Prince Anthony’s betrothed seated in the corner.

Whatever poison the physician was talking about, it was not known to Steven; but the message written in Banner’s expression was clear as day and terrifying like a night to be spent in the woods with rumoured presence of ghouls.

Inevitable death.

It was true that King Howard Stark might have yet to comprehend, despite his long years of ruling his lands, that one might catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, gain more by threading his actions with kindness than by spitting threats of violence; but he was no fool. He perceived the solemnity of the announcement and received it with a shadow over his already distorted features.

“This… aconite, Banner. What kind of a poison is that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, but not bending. Not under the weight on the crown on his head, nor under the weight of the tidings he might be scared to receive. His face was but a mask of stern indifference; a silent warning to Banner to choose his next words carefully.

As if stating the patient’s condition was a choice, Steven thought darkly, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he exchanged glances with his best friend standing by his side. When he looked back at the physician, he could see him swallow dryly even from the several feet distance. Yet, the brave man faced the King with his head held high and his expression filled with sorrow.

“A deadly kind, Your Royal Majesty,” Banner said slowly. Rage flashed on the King’s face, Steven’s stomach dropping at both the sight and the worst tidings brought. Death. “It is made from the nectar-filled blossoms or the tubers of the Aconitum lycoctonum flower. There is… no cure known to man.”

A sniffle sounded in the corner of the room, completely ignored except for Sir Barton’s compassionate glance towards the woman who was on the brink of despair at the mere thought of the man she had clearly already learned to love leaving this world forever.

The King beckoned to the guards standing by the door, making them instantly step forward with their spears ready, heading for Banner menacingly.

Steven’s feet twitched as he wanted to step forward to protect the physician, outrage rising at the injustice even as fear twisted his stomach.

Sir Barnes brushed his hand discreetly to stop him.

Steven gritted his teeth, but stayed put for now, watching the scene unfold with disdain.

Sir Barnes was correct in one thing: Anthony being poisoned and having his life hanging on a thread was horrible enough, and rash decisions and actions such as standing up to the King would only make it worse.

A raging man was an unwise man; and the King was only a man too, even as he compared himself to various deities and had nearly as much power as them – which only rendered him more dangerous. There was no point in scaring the physician to death or even hurting him, but such was the King’s power. Such was his God-given right to punish whoever as he pleased. It mattered little that Banner could barely be blamed for-

-for the crown prince’s impending death, apparently.

“Then I advise you, Banner, to find one fast,” King Howard sneered as the guards stood behind the physician now. “Otherwise, you shall meet the same fate as whoever of Asgard dared to try and rob me of my son.”

The guards grabbed the man’s shoulders and Steven’s hand instinctively went for his sword again; and he was not the only one. Still, the knights stood, hesitant to disobey their King even in the face of the glaring injustice, fighting an inner battle between honour and goodness of heart and the oath they had taken. Their loyalty was to the kingdom and the King represented it most of all, after all; even if he seemed to threaten it the most of all, too, at the moment.

Well, not on Steven’s watch.

“Wait!” he called out as he stepped forward, earning a hard glare from the King himself that should have told him to keep quiet and fall in line, but he could not. Not even for Bucky’s audible sigh behind him. Not when-

“Is there anything we can do for him as of now, is what we are trying to ask,” Sir Wilson spoke up before Steven could, moving to stand next to him.

Steven took a deep breath as his gaze flickered to his comrade, finding his face arranged in a carefully crafted humbleness – as it should be in the face of the ruler even when he was addressing the physician.

Banner’s words were kind, his voice firm and regretful.

“I am afraid there isn’t, good Sir.”

“The Royal Guard and all the knights have a clear mission given by the crown, Sir Wilson,” the King barked as he gestured for the physician to be dragged away, the poor man allowing it without a protest. King Howard’s gaze fell on his son’s pale face as he lied on the bed with nothing but soundless whimpers on his lips, before he snapped back to the four knights present. “Arrest all servants and nobility of Asgard. I shall have the King and his brother for myself. And should my son meet his forefathers, I shall have their heads on a spike by tomorrow.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and stepped out, his leave abruptly followed by Anthony’s wife-to-be rushing to her betrothed’s side, cheeks damp with tears.

Steven regarded the scene unfolding, frozen with horror and unease greater than anyone.

He feared the death of his friend, naturally, as they had just dragged the one single person with any chance of curing Anthony in the whole kingdom away from his bedside.

But Steven feared a lot more deaths too. Should Prince Anthony die, King Howard would unleash pure hell on Asgard and as a consequence, on all Starkerbürg as well.

All the knights knew that; everyone knew that. They all had a heavy feeling in their stomach at the mere thought, their feet slow and unwilling as they left the chambers one by one. Yet, Steven’s heart was heavier.

The thought had occurred to him when he had wondered what exactly the King was expecting from Banner.

To turn back time so the prince had never got poisoned?

To pray to the gods for a miracle?

To perform a miracle himself and cure what was considered uncurable?

The last idea had squeezed his heart in an icy fist, nausea clawing up his throat.

He knew someone who could achieve things as close to a miracle as possible in this realm. He had felt such miracle in his own blood, tissue and cells; he had felt the wonders strong magic was capable of when in the hands of the kind-hearted. He was still breathing solely because of it; and he knew the person who could achieve this closely, intimately even, mind, body and soul, the depth of the goodness of her heart.

Perhaps you would be able to replicate the feat of saving Steven from certain death.

Perhaps your magic was powerful enough to save thousands lives by saving one. Powerful enough to prevent a war.

But hope and miracles were not to be trifled with. Magic was not to be trifled with. Being seen practising magic meant a definite death sentence.

But would it? If it saved the future king’s life?

Surely, he couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t risk your life. Of all the things he had seen in his life, of all the things he had ever had the fortune to hold, you were the most precious one to him. If he brought you here, he could lose you. He could lose you, by his own hand no less, and that would be the highest price to pay for peace he did not even know would settle or not in the end.

No.

That was the one price he couldn’t pay. He’d much rather pay with his own life – but not yours. Gods, never yours.

But if you only could… knew a potion, could do anything at all…

As he marched with his comrades to arrest the innocent – for it could not be the work of all Asgardians at once – his jaw was tense, the dilemma occupying all his thoughts, feeling like it might tear him in half.

Until it hadn’t.

If he did nothing, the war was be inevitable. If he did nothing, he would lose you anyway.

A raging man was a dangerous man and King Stark would burn the world in the wake of his anger and grief, heedless of whoever would burn with it.

Steven stopped dead in his tracks, Sir Barnes nearly colliding with him as a result.

“Steve, what the-“

“I must go,” Steven said in a hushed voice, swiftly changing direction; or attempting to. Sir Barnes’ hand was quick to grab onto his elbow, stopping him, heedless of other knights continuing their path.

“Steve, what in heavens do you mean by that?”

“I must fetch someone. I believe she could help.”

Sir Barnes bewilderment would perhaps be almost comical had it not been for the dread pooling cold in Steven’s gut.

“…she? What—the woman you have been sneaking off to see?” Sir Barnes enquired, causing a startled and utterly confused expression to appear on Steven’s face, a small alarmed sound pushing past the man’s lips despite his effort to remain composed.

Hold on, hold on-- Bucky knew?!

The look Steven received back was unimpressed at best – of course Bucky knew. He knew Steven almost better than he knew himself.

“Save the surprise for another day. How could she possibly help? Is she a physician’s assistant? Or even an apprentice for some insane reason?”

Had Steve had the capacity, he’d glare at Bucky for the offensive tone with which he had asked the question; however, he did not have it and in the brief moment he spent pondering, he realized that Bucky was not opposed to the idea itself. It was simply the ways of Starkerbürg: to try and take a woman as a physician’s apprentice was insane indeed. King had the God-given right to appoint physicians – and King Howard would certainly never approve of a female one.

But that didn’t matter, because that was not who you were.

“She’s… she is a healer.”

“A healer?” Sir Barnes echoed pointedly, doubt colouring his words. “What does than even mean? We do not have time for this.”

Steven huffed, trying to tug his arm free from Sir Barnes’ grasp as his impatience grew along with the number of doubts whether it was ever a good idea to consider your aid; but there were no options. No time to search for them. No time to waste and no time for finesse. He needed to go and he needed Bucky to understand – and more than that.

“She saved my life, Bucky. Back when I fell from the crags into the river… when you thought I was dead-“

“You must have been lucky, fell into deep water. You had superficial injuries. This is a poison. One the best physician of the court claims to have no antidote for.”

Steven swallowed thickly, the heaviest of feelings in his stomach as he chose to reveal his greatest secret as to make a point and be released to act before it’d be too late. “Bucky, I had much more than superficial injuries. She… she helped then. She might be able to help now, but… I will need your help with protecting her should it come to it.”

Bucky looked at Steve as if he had just grown a second head, glancing around nervously as guards and knights alike kept passing them, casting strange looks at them for their stillness. Sir Barnes lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.

“Are you saying you were wounded much worse and yet she was able to tend to you? In such short time that you were missing then? And that she might be able to help here, now, with a poison that has no known cure?” Sir Barnes demanded hastily, bewildered and clearly irritated. “Are you hearing yourself, Steven? What kind of a healer would she have to be to-“

The almost sardonic voice suddenly fell silent, all blood draining from Sir Barnes’ face when the horrifying realization finally dawned to him. His hand fell limp, finally releasing Steven’s arm.

“Steve, this is not a subject for joking.”

Steven swallowed heavily, heart thundering in his chest, blood pounding in his temples. He shouldn’t have told – but he had to. He had to, right? Bucky needed to understand-

He sighed quietly, whole body strung tight in expectation of his friend exploding in rage – rage he had no time for.

“I am not joking. And you are right, we are losing precious time, I should-”

The sudden grip on Steven’s his shoulder, appearing as to stop him from leaving, was much more brutal than the hold on his elbow had been, fingers digging into flesh even over the layers of clothing.

“You— have you been… lying with a--”

Steven’s voice was quiet, but as sharp and dangerous as the sword resting in the sheath on his hip. “Choose your words carefully, Bucky. That is the woman I love and owe my life to. I would die for her, and I would not have been standing here had she not healed me.”

“That could be exactly what she wants you to think!” Sir Barnes sputtered. Steven fought the urge to roll his eyes – the absurdity of such statement was glaring.

“Oh for heavens-- I might be a fool sometimes, but I am not an idiot-”

“Debatable!” Sir Barnes whispered as madly as if he was in fact yelling. “As you’re proving it this very moment!”

Steven shook his head, the feeling in his gut growing more gnawing by the second, every frantic beat of his heart feeling like a waste of precious time.

“Bucky, you said it yourself – we do not have time for this! I must go. I will get her, but… please. Help me protect her if the King is blind to the fact she uses--- it to do good.”

Sir Barnes simply stared back, the halls empty by now as much as his gaze, however inquiring.

The grip on Sir Rogers’ arm loosened.

Silence stretched. Precious second ticked by, grains of sand in hourglass no one could turn back falling; and with each and every one, Steve’s stomach tightened further with creeping horror.

Surely his most precious, most loyal friend, having been standing by his side since childhood, would not abandon him now? Surely he would not betray him in moments that might be deciding his fate, the fate of his beloved, of the whole kingdom?

“Bucky, please. I swear-- I’m begging you. I need to-- I need to protect her. At any cost.”

“What of your sword?” Sir Barnes asked dully, appearing indifferent to Steven’s desperate pleas.

What of your knighthood? Are you willing to give up that, if you are forced to leave in the darkness of the night and never return to bring your beloved to safety? Are you willing to leave the path of the honorary knight to become a lawless fugitive?

The smile which found its way to the corners of Steve’s lips was soft; sad and torn, for it was the greatest honour to serve, to protect, to help. He had been and always would be grateful for the rare chance he had got.

But there was no greater blessing of the gods themselves than you having entered his life and taking it by the most beautiful of storms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything and anyone in this world and that was what he would not even dream of giving up.

He didn’t respond with words; and yet, the exasperation on his closest friend’s face told him he did not have to. Sir Barnes understood from Steven’s expression alone. He always had.

“Gods, Steven Grant of Rogers, of all stunts you could have pulled to get yourself hanged, you truly had to go and chose the most foolish one. My God- Steven…”

Most foolish one? Echoed in Steven’s head, the words absurd. No. The most gorgeous one, the purest one, the most blessed, he allowed himself to muse. The most honourable one too, no? Love. Where was justice, if love, the purest emotions of all, was considered a crime? Did the new religious teachings not speak of love being kind, patient, knowing no dishonour and wrongs?

That was how he loved you. Wholly and entirely, kindly, patiently, even if passionately.

It was only then when Steven snapped from his haze and finally noticed a trace of hurt on Sir Barnes’ face when it occurred to him why Bucky had taken so long to respond. He was cross with Steven; but not as much for the alleged crime, but for having kept it a secret. Keeping you a secret; the one closest to his heart, his beloved, hidden from the one person he had always trusted with anything.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. No one could know. She’s-- she is too precious. I had to protect her,” he explained softly, urgently. “And I still do. I will, with your help or without it. But… please.”

Sir Barnes continued to regard him, stunned into silence still, expression unreadable.

Then, he shook his head; what might seem as disagreement however, Steve recognized as resignation. He had known Bucky for too long to not be able to decipher which shake of a head was a no and which was an expression of indignation and regret at his own choice of a best friend.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

And with those words, Steve took his hasty leave, his minute relief drowned in the sea of worry when he sneaked into the stables to rush through the gates of the castle, claiming to be running a King’s errand.

Seeking his closeness the pretty white doe having sipped at love all despite her oath, she begged the forest spirits to let her go to follow her heart and its eternal song.

Light breeze caressing your hair like the tender fingers of your lover, brushing away a lose strand from your face. Gentle September sunrays of a late afternoon warming your cheeks, long leaves of grass tickling your ankles and your hands as you gathered brownwort, thyme and lady’s mantle, the smell almost too much despite its pleasant notes. Your hand instinctively laying over your belly as the reminder of why you were gathering these particular herbs blossomed in your mind anew, a smile settling on your face. It was not just the time of year blessing people with abundance of these flowers, a nature’s reminder the time was coming to bath in the blessed lake on the Autumn equinox; it was the sweet secret humming under your heart too, growing stronger and more beautiful by day – and slightly bittersweet for for now, it was only yours to keep, your beloved knight none the wiser.

Steven.

The very reason, you suspected, for the heavy feeling in your heart; the reason why none of the kind offerings of mother nature seemed to sooth a jittery feeling you had woken with up from your restless sleep. Unease had been crawling over your skin; a solemnity’s shadows, despite the beautiful weather and the joyful morning realisation that a barely noticeable bump was now showing on your body, a testament to the blessings of love.

The sky was beginning to colour with sunset with no clouds in sight; and yet, you could feel a storm coming, one you did not feel would be of the refreshing purifying kind. The air did not smell of rain; if you breathed in deeply, it reeked of the very death the wind seemed to whisper about in the tallest of birch trees. A warning; a witch’s intuition tuned to the finest hints of the gods of nature and forest spirits. You had tried to sooth yourself, coaxing yourself into peace by wondering if it perhaps was but a new future mother’s anxiety.

Yet, an instinct as old as time whispered to you to know better.

Which was why the wild stomping of hooves nearing your cabin should have not taken you by surprise. But it did.

You rose from your crouch so fast your head span, gathered flowers falling from your hands at the brief faint sensation; you steadied yourself just as Steven’s horse came into view, slowing into a walk as not to startle you or crush all the blossoms on the meadow.

The silent thank you to the gods for seeing your love alive and well left your lips without prompting, followed by your spine tingling with a shudder of power at its base.

Almost as if the gods blessed you for your genuine gratitude and gifted you with strength. Strength you shall no doubt need, for Steven might be living and breathing, dismounting his mare in a thousand-times practised manner, breathtaking as ever, but the distress on his face and the tension of his wide shoulders told you those shoulders carried the weight of the world at the moment.

Feet waking with motion, you met him halfway as he rushed to you, his arms quick to embrace you lovingly but so tight all air left your ribcage for long moments. Steven’s heart thundered against your ear as you hid your face against his chest. Fresh air had washed his clothes of most smells, but sweat and wine and rich spices still enveloped your senses, a tell-tale signs of the feast which he had told you about being interrupted by something vicious.

Yet, you took precious moments of simply breathing your lover in, basking in the comfort his arms offered no matter the circumstance.

He nuzzled his face in your hair, his chest expanding with a generous inhale, a steadying breath which made his heart race faster, as if attempting to outrun the very storm you had felt arriving.

You ran your hands down his broad back, feeling your own heart leaping into your throat as the silence between you, often so sweet and comforting, stretched ominously.

“Steven… love,” you whispered, attempting to shift in his embrace, only achieving his hold growing firmer, his muscles almost shaking with effort not to let go.

Oh Steven… What a terrible feat had been laid upon him?

“What has happened?”

Finally releasing your body, his hands were quick to cradle your face instead, achingly gentle, even as his eyes roamed your face wordlessly, brimming with so much emotion it stirred your unease further.

“Rytier moj?”

Steven’s face softened minutely, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as tenderly as butterfly wings despite the power – or the lack of it – in his grip.

“My love…”

Lips curling in a tiny smile, you mirrored Steven’s affection, reaching to settle your palm against his cheek, fingers of your other hand carding through his hair; your heart fluttered when he leaned into your touch, a wavering breath escaping his lips before they pressed against your palm to sooth the scratch of his beard against your skin.

Despite the dulcet image he made, eyes fluttering close for a blissful moment of nothing but love shared, you felt his body pulse with anxious urgency seemingly seeping into yours through your fingertips.

“I did not sleep well…” you confessed, his already pursed lips turning down. “I had a heavy feeling in me. Now I know the gods had not warned me simply for their own whims. What’s happened?”

Steven opened his eyes again; with a single caress of the breeze, he straightened, his aura of a knight – a fierce protector, a loyal friend, a humble determined servant – returning with its full force as did his worry.

“I need your help.”

A simple plea.

A simple answer.

“Always, rytier moj. Anything,” you promised.

One would expect relief to fill your lover’s features; instead, dread twisted them into a frown of dismay. Almost as if he had been hoping for your rejection.

Why?

The whisper of death among the trees grew louder, haunting, sending such a shudder through your body not even your lover’s warmth could hope to protect you from it, another urgent question scratching at the back of your mind.

Death, the trees seemed to whisper.

Whose death?

“Oh bosorka moja…”

Not Steven’s. Never. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

And not your child’s. You’d claw a throat open with your bare hands had anyone tried to take them away. Take her away. You had dreamed two nights prior, dreamed of a girl with Steven’s beautiful eyes and your hair caressed by the wind, her laughter filling the air as he sat her on his shoulders and she placed the daisy crown on his head-

The image had been so full of hope, so bright, so full of promise; it battled the current scent of death fiercely, one blending into another, and it felt like you were stood in the middle.

Your choice. Your power.

Your victory; or your loss.

You gulped, your gentle hold on Steven’s face growing shaky; with fear or the weight of responsibility, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, love? You are worrying me… come in. Tell me what weights down your-“

“Prince Anthony has been poisoned,” he said at last.

The whisper of the wind seemed to turn into a screech of a gale, even as the tree leaves and grass barely rustled.

The Prince… was he the one whose death you felt impending? It must have been.

In a split second, it became so clear why Steven was so shaken.

An impending death of his brother in arms. Of someone whom he served and appreciated.

Of the future ruler; quite possibly caused by the attempts of the party of Asgard.

An act of war.

Should Prince Anthony die, there would be no stopping at one death. Devastating number of lives could be lost. Including Steven’s.

No. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

But could you stop it?

Stood in the middle. Your choice. Your power.

Could you prevent a war?

Your mind was set into a whirl, various herbs and remedies for different poisonings refreshed in your mind.

“Do you know which poison it was?” you asked urgently, dropping your hands; and confused as why Steven’s remained firmly on your face, his expression speaking of pain greater than before. “Steven, love. What are his troubles? I can send a potion, pass it as a remedy from a physician-”

“Burning feeling in his forehead, weakness of muscles, trembling, cold sweat… he fainted and could not be woken up, only for a brief moment. He had trouble speaking, began to shake, fainted again...” Steven listed slowly, his unease growing with every word.

And so did yours.

Determination bled out from your body drop by drop, replaced by dread, the very weakness your lover was talking about as if settling in your own muscles and bones.

“The physician believes it might have been... aconite?” he added.

You had figured as much, seemingly endless moments before Steven spoke the dreaded word.

Aconite.

The worst nightmare of all living things; the deadliest daydream of those who meant harm and would not stop until their enemy released their last breath.

Death, screeched the breeze in the crowns of the birch trees; the yew trees, the very symbol of passing, joining in.

Death. War. Death.

Your power. Your victory. Your loss.

Your voice shook more frantically than young aspen leaves in the wind.

“Steven… aconite is deadly. I have no potion or salve for this. There is no cure-”

“That is what physician Banner said.”

“But then what…”

Your voice trailed off, words stuck in your throat, air stolen from your chest. A lighting from clear skies could struck you at the very moment and you would barely take notice of such.

It all made sense now. You having lost sleep. The whispers of death. The assumed shiver of power you shall no doubt need. And at last, Steven’s almost palpable dismay when you had said you’d help. That you’d do anything.

He had hoped you’d help.

He was terrified of it all the same.

You could feel blood draining from your face, rushing past your ears; unspeakable horror and determination swept you like the non-existent gale in the tree crowns.

“Steven…”

His grip on your face grew firmer, unsteady but urgent, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes slid shut, his whisper a frantic promise, a confession and a prayer at once.

“I know. Believe me, my love, I know, and I have never been more scared of anything in my whole life,” he said huskily, barely audible over the wild thundering of your heart, the shaky sound of your quick breaths, even as the rest of the world faded into background, all noise ceasing. Or perhaps even the sparrows forgot how to sing, struck by fear for their life.“I would have not asked this of you if I did not fear that Anthony’s death would unleash a war with Asgard and might destroy us all… and if I did not believe I could protect you.”

“Steven-“

A thumb over your lip, gently pressing to silence your protest, Steven guided you to look up to his eyes, every word falling from his lips an oath signed by his own blood.

“Bosorka moja… I shall protect you, no matter the cost. You must know I would lay my life for you. I will, should it come to it. As long as you are safe.”

Consumed by adoration and terror at once, you slipped from Steven’s hold, shaking your head.

He had not the slightest idea what he was speaking of, the reckless fool.

He had no idea.

And he had no idea whom he would be leaving should he deliver on his terrible promise.

“These words are not nearly as comforting as you believe them to be! How would we-- how would I live without you?” you lamented, feeling the fire of power and indignation burn inside of you, chasing the fear away for several beats of your heart. “And I-- I am not even sure I can heal him.”

“You healed me,” Steven offered kindly, encouraging, confusion and the softest trace of hurt at you having escaped his touch twisting his face. He had no idea. He had no idea at all. “You said I was at the brink of death myself-“

“You were,” you spat, not appreciating the reminder – not of his injuries, nor of your past recklessness, as grateful as you were for the latter, not a single regret in your mind for having risked it all to save the handsome stranger with goodness etched into his very soul, having shone so bright it had outshined your doubts and fear for your life. But this was different. So much circumstance had changed. “But I was… I had faith in your soul, saw your good heart. I believed to be safe from you should I be too weak to protect myself after I casted my spells, and for that, I was able to pour all my magic into the healing. And I-- I was much more careless with my power then… “

You made a pause, inhaling slowly, gathering courage in the face of Steven’s features twisting further with distress.

“But Steven… that was before. I-- before we-“

“What is it, bosorka moja? Before what?”

Your lower lip trembled, regret lacing the soft touch of your fingertips to his face.

This was not how you wished for him to find out. You had told him before, erased his memory to ease his conscience and to prepare for the right moment, a moment fit for such joyful tidings; but much like him, having rushed here asking for help despite the unspeakable risks, you had no other option.

You had no choice.

You had no time.

The deep-sea blue with a forest green shade of his irises brimmed with emotion, tenderness and silent question.

With a lump in your throat, you dropped your hands again, curling them around your middle as if to protect the secret and save it for a reverent moment your love and lover – and your child – would have deserved.

Steven regarded your stance with dread visibly climbing up his throat. You could see it in his eyes, the sudden uncertainty, the questions written in his eyes growing frantic and painful.

Why had you stepped back from him? Why had you evaded his touch? Why did you seem taken by sorrow? What secret had you been keeping from him? For you must have had some. You must have not told him something crucial – and in a dark time like this, it shall come to light.

You appeared so shaken; you appeared scared. Of something he had failed to protect you from?

Or of his reaction to the revelation?

You chose your words carefully, speaking them slowly, even though you could feel him hanging onto every syllable.

“It is not only me anymore who needs to be protected.”

Steven did not understand; that much was clear from his expression, from the step he took closer to you only for you to take a step back, etching his hurt deeper into his face.

“I… I do not understand, my love. Do you have—do you know of someone who could help you? Do they need protection too?”

The they tasted of poison much bitterer than aconite; disbelief and profound pain.

You could almost hear it, the absurd questions he seemed to be asking himself. Was there… was there someone else? Someone else who had earned your love more fiercely than he had? More deserving?

The way your love remained hidden, the distance he still had to keep, laid heavy in his mind, always, now feeding his doubt; his fear that someone else now occupied the space he had so selfishly taken up in your heart.

But had only been here mere days ago, yes? Surely you could have not--- you would have not… or had you? No. That wasn’t possible. You were the kindest most loving person he had ever met, loyal to a fault – and he was blessed to be yours, to be loved, unconditionally, more than he deserved for keeping you his little secret.

You could not read thoughts; but Steven’s always seemed to be laid bare in front of you to card through. Betrayal and resignation all at once, jaw tight to mask his hurt, to hide the very doubt you read so clearly. Doubt, but not of you; of him. He had always carried it with him, the guilt of not providing for you as he imagined he should for his beloved.

Doubt, crystal clear in his gaze. It was possible, was it not? The most wonderful woman he had ever met, finally fed up, the goblet of your patience finally having overflowed, deciding to find a man worthy of you, able to take care of you, truly, one you were willing to-

You could not bear his mind screaming anymore, even as you had not heard a single word, a single thought, all of it but achy questions expressed by his gaze alone.

“No, Steven, I do not--- I merely cannot only think of myself now,” you said softly, searching for words to reveal the secret at last, not, not wanting to and craving it all the same. “I… I need to protect us.”

His shoulders sagged, doubt and heartache erased at once, tenderness at your worry for him melting into his smile.

“Do not fret, bosorka moja. I can hold my own.”

The faint smile in the corner of your mouth hurt, tears burning in your eyes.

“I know, rytier moj… and yes, I meant us, but I--- I also meant us.”

The arm you had curled around your middle shifted. Your palm spread pointedly over your belly as you met his gaze with hesitance and silent hope; for as much as you dreaded revealing the source of your worst fear, the tidings were still joyful. And you hoped with the entirety of your heart that Steven would accept them as such, much like the first time.

But first, he had to comprehend them.

Several rushed beats of your heart it took him; but then he finally did.

Suddenly, it was his turn to stand still and rigid as if a lightning from the perfectly clear skies struck him. And it might have as well.

His voice was barely louder than a breath, hoarse, laced with careful hope despite the glaring truth.

“You—we- are we-?”

A crystal-clear memory of those being the very words he had spoken the first time entered your mind, a single tear spilling over; the awe and reverence on his face mirrored his expression all the same as you confirmed.

“Yes.”

“You are with a child? My child?”

It would have been amusing, the questions, if you hadn’t been on a brink of hysteria and hadn’t there been a metaphorical sword hanging above your heads while you indulged in revealing the sweetest secret there was between lovers.

“Yes.”

Countless grains of sand in hourglass fell, Steven simply observing you, his gaze feasting on the entirety of you with newfound emotion that touched your very soul and made it shiver with delight. He observed you with such adoration and devotion you could only imagine he would show to a deity descending to walk the Earth.

And then he was surging forward, falling on his knees in front you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapping around your lower back to keep you close as he laid his forehead on your belly, shaky, slow and careful; nothing short of reverent. Despite the circumstance, all the tears prickling in your eyes found their release – every inch of your body sang, feeling Steven’s love for both you and the life he had a generous hand in creating.

“Oh bosorka moja… láska moja,” he muttered into the fabric before he looked up, hesitant fingers slipping under, to feel the very bump you had only noticed today. His lips parted in mute awe, eyes turning glassy with sheer delight and wonder at the miracle.

You allowed yourself another moment of basking in his love; feeling the delight spreading through every vein, through every bone and nerve, all the way to your very core and source of power. Your hands found gentle purchase of Steven’s hair as his lips pressed to your belly.

But then, the inaudible crackle in the air brought you both from your reverie, the breeze screeching of death instead of new life returning.

There was no choice; dread filled your being along with a haunting whisper of opportunity from a voice speaking in tongues you barely understood and yet deciphered as guidance.

You must go. You must try. Despite the risks.

Stood in the middle. Your power. Your victory; your loss.

Your only hope and your possible doom.

“I shall try my best to help, even as I do not know if I will be able to. But Steven…” you addressed him softly, revealing one more piece, one more source of joy, “our little girl must remain safe at any cost.”

The hands sprawled around your middle twitched, a single tear escaping him as his eyes shone.

“Our--- a girl? How-“

“It is but a feeling,” you admitted, earning a brilliant smile which lasted too shortly.

You smiled tightly in return, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Steven’s hand softly caressed your barely-there bump again, butterflies seemingly to erupting in your stomach, your heart humming.

He rose to his feet with something in his eyes turning steely, his gentle voice once against taking on a heaviness of an oath.

“I will protect you both, even if it should be the last thing I will ever do.”

One wavering breath was all the luxury you granted yourself before springing into action, not allowing yourself to lament at the potential of death weaved into Steven’s promise. You could not afford any more distraction. The hourglass was unrelenting, rushing you.

“I know. We shall get going.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a mute confusion as you ruminated through the cabinets, the fire lit, a small pot placed on it, two handfuls of water, milk thistle, ginseng roots, and sprinkle of uncaria leaves added to the mix.

“You can sit down, love, I shall only complete the potion swiftly and we will be on our way,” you assured him, reaching for a pinch of turmeric to add.

Steven did not, in fact, sit down – if anything, you could feel him grow taller behind you, as if his growing bewilderment added an inch or two to his already impressive height. His stare was firmly set on you, a little burning and slightly insulting since you could almost hear his silent questioning of your sanity.

A potion? But you had said-

You looked over your shoulder briefly, your lover’s body nearer than expected, causing you to need to crane you neck a bit.

“No, there is no potion to neutralise the poison – but this remedy strengthens a body, aids it to fight off an infection and weakness,” you explained, expecting Steven’s face clearing, but not waiting for it do so, busying yourself with reading the mental list of ingredients, recalling every indispensable element. Milk thistle, ginseng, uncaria leaves, turmeric… ah. Yes. Where herbs were concerned, rare or common, that would be all. Only one last ingredient.

A gentle hand on your elbow stopped you as you were turning to the stack of knives, halting your movements tenderly but firmly. Blinking, you lifted your gaze to Steven’s face again, disconcerted by his unreadable expression.

“Is it… safe?”

Had it not been for the large distress he was in, the feeling oozing of him and adding to your own shakiness, had it not been for the tenderness of his touch, you’d feign a slap to chase his hand away at the almost silly question – and at the sudden doubt in your knowledge and power and your reign over it.

“Steven, love, my apologies for the bluntness, but Prince Anthony is on his deathbed, so I cannot very well hurt him further and I shall have you known that this very potion you have drunk yourself-”

“For you,” he clarified, two soft syllables in contrast to your slightly exasperated words, your voice falling silent as sweet worry reflected in his sky-blue irises. Despite the circumstance, your heart seared at the fussing, no matter how groundless and ironic. “I am asking whether it is safe for you and our… our child to prepare that. I know it may seem irrational given why I am here, but-“

It was, you had to admit. And yet. You spent a precious moment, precious grains of sand falling in the ominous hourglass above your heads, placing your palm over his hand, reassuring.

“It is perfectly safe, rytier moj… certainly no more dangerous than rushing to the castle, the very heart of the Kingdom, and attempt to save the prince using the most outlawed practice in these lands,” you added with an unsteady cheekiness, earning an exasperated glare; and a full body shudder he couldn’t hope to contain.

The same tremble ran through your body; and yet, the whisper for caution was overshadowed by a tingle of energy unknown, a wordless encouragement. Almost a haunting promise from the Fate itself that bravery shall be rewarded.

But if that were true, where would the ever-present whispers of death and upcoming end fit in the mosaic then?

Shaking your head as well as the overwhelmingly bewildering sensations off, you charmed a soft smile for your lover and love – for the father of your child, already caring so deeply for the life to be born out of your love – and let your hand fall, turning back to your work as stream began to fill the cabin.

One last ingredient; a life essence to help maintain life.

You cradled the handle of the blade carefully in your hand, turning your other palm against the tip; the knife was out of your hand before you could comprehend how, pressed flat to Steven’s thigh, shielded from your touch.

“I’m sorry. I--- is that necessary?” Steven asked with a painful edge to his voice, his continued concern causing your heart to tremble.

“Yes… it is but a drop of blood, my love, I promise. A speckle of life essence to maintain life.”

His frown deepened as you reached for the knife again, fingers brushing his soothingly as you grasped at the handle. So many emotions played over his features; hesitance, concern, guilt. He must have realised you had used your blood before to cure him before you had even learned his name, another sacrifice having been made aside from having left yourself completely vulnerable to him when you had drained your magic and body alike to bring him from the death’s doorstep where you had found him at.

Then, an almost shy question, as if he felt too bold to even suggest such heretic thought.

“Life essence… would mine suffice, then?”

Where his implication was shy – that his mere mortal, human blood could match yours, the blood of a born witch – his determination was not.

He met your eye, a brilliant satisfied sparkle lighting up his irises when he read the truth in your hesitant gaze.

“Yes… it would. But-“

Your knight offered his left palm outstretched, no further questions. The bottomless trust in his gesture and in his eyes caused a lump to grow in your throat; the mere idea of cutting him, even if it was to only be but a scratch, had ache sting deep within your ribcage.

“Are you cert-“

“Would you rather I lead the cut myself, love?” he asked, his voice tender upon your hesitance, understanding the action would cause you pain – as if you were to hurt yourself instead.

And you might as well.

Your hands were made to heal his wounds, not cause them; your hands were made to erase his aches, not bring them; your hands were made to love, not hurt.

Your read in his gentle gaze as he nearly read in yours: I despise the thought of hurting you, rytier moj; It is but alright, bosorka moja.

You shook your head.

“I-- no. I may do it. I apologize, we do not have time for-“

A hand grasping your jaw, soft lips silencing your apologies; your eyes fluttered close despite seeing right through the trick. You felt the pressure of his hand against the blade, the silent sound of protest earning you a deeper kiss, a softer caress of his lips against yours, tasting sweeter than summer breeze, so achingly tender.

“There you go, bosorka moja…”

With his retreat, Steven ran his thumb over your cheek, smiling; then, he moved his injured hand into yours, leading you above the pot.

Slightly dazed and exasperated still, you sighed and carefully squeezed his wound to indeed only spare a drop of his precious blood.

As you pressed your lips to his fingertips in a thank you, you let your healing power flow through your touch, closing the cut your body should have worn.

“This had better be the only blood spilled today,” you whispered; and prayed too. You met your Steven’s stormy gaze as the contents of the pot sizzled, sweet coppery aroma rising in the air.

“It will, bosorka moja. It will.”

He sealed the deal with a kiss, sweet and desperate and bruising.

And falling on deaf ears, whisper in the crowns of the birch trees, his and your words echoed the very same song.

Blood had better be spilled…

Today, today, today…It will, it will, it will…

Next part

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Endearments used: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine)

I hope you liked this - let me know your thoughts!

May your November be sweet and cosy ✨

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #knight steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #medieval AU #fantasy au #fairy tale au #steve rogers #knight steve #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #witch reader #ochranuj me #protect me #anika ann

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godjustkys · 6 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ masterlist;

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR;

- Teen wolf

- Marvel Cinematic Universe

- Supernatural

- The Walking Dead (AMC)

- Merlin (BBC)

- Stranger things

- Dune

- Game of Thrones

- F.R.I.E.N.D.S

- The Maze Runner

- Lord of The Rings

- The Hobbit

- Harry Potter

- Brooklyn Nine-Nine

- IT

- Diary of a Wimpy Kid

- Dead Poet's Society

- Shameless

- Handsome Devil

- The Black Phone

- Sweet Home

- Arcane

- Spider-man Universe

- The Goldfinch

- The Last of Us

- The Beekeeper

- Weak Hero Class 1

- Bad and Crazy

ANIMES;

- Demon Slayer

- My Hero Academia

(the anime list will get updated as long as I continue watching anime.)

Characters I will to write for;

Teen wolf:

- Stiles Stilinski

Stiles Stilinski x top!m!reader (smut)

- Scott McCall

none yet..

- Derek Hale

none yet..

- Allison Argent

none yet..

- Lydia Martin

none yet..

- Isaac Lahey

none yet..

- Jackson Whittemore

none yet..

- Peter Hale

none yet..

- Malia Tate

none yet..

- Kira Yukimura

none yet..

- Liam Dunbar

none yet..

- Theo Raeken

none yet..

- Jordan Parrish

none yet..

- Erica Reyes

none yet..

- Ethan Steiner

none yet..

- Aiden Steiner

none yet..

- Christopher Argent

none yet..

- Mason Hewitt

none yet..

- Danny Mahealani

none yet..

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

- Tony Stark

none yet..

- Peter Parker

none yet..

- Bruce Banners

none yet..

- Thor Odinson

none yet..

- Loki Laufeyson

none yet..

- Steve Rogers

none yet..

- Natasha Romanoff

none yet..

- Stephen Strange

none yet..

- Wanda Maximoff

none yet..

- Clint Barton

none yet..

- Bucky Barnes

none yet..

- Carol Danvers

none yet..

- Shuri

none yet..

- Sam Wilson

none yet..

- Okoye

none yet..

- Wade Wilson

none yet..

- Pietro Maximoff

none yet..

- Vision

none yet..

- Yelena Belova

none yet..

- Peter Quill

none yet..

- Gamora

none yet..

- Nebula

none yet..

- Matt Murdock

none yet..

- Frank Castle

none yet..

- Xu Shang-chi

none yet..

- Eddie Brock

none yet..

Supernatural:

- Dean Winchester

'What a perv.' Dean x top!m!reader (smut)

- Sam Winchester

none yet..

- Castiel

none yet..

ALL; SUPERNATURAL HEADCANONS (NSFW)

(I have little knowledge of supernatural.)

The Walking Dead:

- Rick Grimes

none yet..

- Carl Grimes

none yet..

- Michonne

none yet..

- Negan

none yet..

- Daryl Dixon

male reader x daryl dixon (smut)

- Eugene

none yet..

- Rosita Espinosa

none yet..

- Maggie Greene

none yet..

- Glenn Rhee

none yet..

- Carol Peletier

none yet..

- Andrea

none yet..

- Gabriel Stokes

none yet..

- Dwight

none yet..

- Simon

none yet..

Merlin:

- Merlin

none yet..

- Arthur Pendragon

none yet..

- Morgana Pendragon

none yet..

- Guinevere

none yet..

- Lancelot

none yet..

- Mordred

none yet..

- Gwaine

none yet..

- Percival

none yet..

- Elyan

none yet..

- Leon

none yet..

Strangers things:

- Mike Wheeler

none yet..

- Nancy Wheeler

none yet..

- Will Byers

none yet..

- Jonathan Byers

none yet..

- Joyce Byers

none yet..

- Jim Hopper

none yet..

- Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

none yet..

- Lucas Sinclair

none yet..

- Dustin Henderson

none yet..

- Steve Harrington

none yet..

- Maxine Mayfield

none yet..

- Billy Hargrove

none yet..

- Dmitri 'Enzo' Antonov

none yet..

- Eddie Munson

none yet..

- Henry Creel

none yet..

- Robin Buckley

none yet..

Dune:

ALL; stranger things headcanons.. pt 1.

- Paul Atreides

none yet..

- Leto Atreides

none yet..

- Chani

none yet..

- Feyd-Rautha

none yet..

- Duncan Idaho

none yet..

- Stilgar

none yet..

Game of Thrones:

- Ned Stark

none yet..

- Catelyn Stark

none yet..

- Robb Stark

none yet..

- Jon Snow

none yet..

- Theon Greyjoy

none yet..

- Sansa Stark

none yet..

- Arya Stark

none yet..

- Tywin Lannister

none yet..

- Jaime Lannister

none yet..

- Cersei Lannister

none yet..

- Tyrion Lannister

none yet..

- Tommen Baratheon

none yet..

- Joffrey Baratheon

none yet..

- Daenerys Targaryen

none yet..

- Jorah Mormont

none yet..

- Sandor Clegane

none yet..

- Samwell Tarly

none yet..

- Margaery Tyrell

none yet..

- Tormund Giantsbane

none yet..

- Brienne of Tarth

none yet..

- Podrick

none yet..

- Ramsay Bolton

none yet..

- Jaqen H'ghar

none yet..

- Grey Worm

none yet..

F.R.I.E.N.D.S:

- Rachel Greene

none yet..

- Phoebe Buffay

none yet..

- Monica Geller

none yet..

- Ross Geller

none yet..

- Chandler Bing

none yet..

- Joey Tribbiani

Joey Tribbiani dating headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

The Maze Runner:

- Thomas

none yet..

- Newt

none yet..

- Minho

none yet..

- Gally

none yet..

- Frypan

none yet..

- Aris

none yet..

- Janson

none yet..

Lord of The Rings:

- Frodo Baggins

none yet..

- Samwise Gamgee

none yet..

- Pippin Took

none yet..

- Merry Brandybuck

none yet..

- Aragorn

none yet..

- Legolas

none yet..

- Boromir

none yet..

- Faramir

none yet..

- Galadriel

none yet..

- Arwen

none yet..

- Éowyn

none yet..

- Éomer

none yet..

The Hobbit:

- Bilbo Baggins

none yet..

- Thorin Oakenshield

none yet..

- Kili Durin

none yet..

- Fili Durin

none yet..

- Tauriel

none yet..

- King Thranduil

none yet..

- Elrond

none yet..

Harry Potter:

- Harry Potter

none yet..

- Hermione Granger

none yet..

- Ron Weasley

none yet..

- Fred Weasley

none yet..

- George Weasley

none yet..

- Draco Malfoy

none yet..

- Blaise Zabini

none yet..

- Oliver Wood

none yet..

- Seamus Finnigan

none yet..

- Luna Lovegood

none yet..

- Neville Longbottom

none yet..

- Dean Thomas

none yet..

- Severus Snape

none yet..

- Sirius Black

none yet..

- Regulus Black

none yet..

- Remus Lupin

none yet..

- James Potter

none yet..

- Lily Potter

none yet..

- Bill Weasley

none yet..

- Bellatrix Lestrange

none yet..

- Cedric Diggory

none yet..

- Lucius Malfoy

none yet..

- Narcissa Malfoy

none yet..

Brooklyn Nine-Nine:

- Jake Peralta

none yet..

- Amy Santiago

none yet..

- Charles Boyle

none yet..

- Gina Linetti

none yet..

- Rosa Diaz

none yet..

- Terry Jeffords

none yet..

- Ray Holt

none yet..

IT:

- Richie Tozier

none yet..

- Eddie Kaspbrak

none yet..

- Beverly Marsh

none yet..

- Bill Denbrough

none yet..

- Stanley Uris

none yet..

- Ben Hanscom

none yet..

- Mike Hanlon

none yet..

- Henry Bowers

none yet..

- Patrick Hockstetter

none yet..

Diary of a wimpy kid:

- Greg Heffley

none yet..

- Rodrick Heffley

none yet..

Dead Poet's Society:

- Neil Perry

none yet..

- Todd Anderson

none yet..

- Charlie Dalton

none yet..

- Knox Overstreet

none yet..

- Steven Meeks

none yet..

- John Keating

none yet..

Shameless:

- Fiona Gallagher

none yet..

- Lip Gallagher

none yet..

- Ian Gallagher

none yet..

- Debbie Gallagher

none yet..

- Carl Gallagher

none yet..

- Liam Gallagher

none yet..

- Mickey Milkovich

none yet..

- Mandy Milkovich

none yet..

- Kevin Ball

none yet..

- Veronica Fisher

none yet..

- Jimmy Lishman

none yet..

- Karen Jackson

none yet..

Handsome Devil:

- Ned Roche

none yet..

- Conor Masters

none yet..

- Dan Sherry

none yet..

The Black Phone:

- Finney Blake

none yet..

- Robin Arellano

none yet..

- Vance Hopper

none yet..

- Bruce Yamada

none yet..

- Billy

none yet..

- Griffin

none yet..

Sweet home:

- Cha Hyun-su

none yet..

- Lee Eun-hyuk

none yet..

- Pyeon Sang-wook

none yet..

- Jung Jae-heon

none yet..

- Seo Yi-kyung

none yet..

- Lee Eun-yu

none yet..

- Yoon Ji-su

none yet..

- Jung Ui-Myeong

none yet..

Arcane:

- Jinx

none yet..

- Vi

none yet..

- Viktor

none yet..

- Caitlyn

none yet..

- Silco

none yet..

- Sevika

none yet..

- Ekko

none yet..

- Vander

none yet..

- Mel

none yet..

- Jayce

none yet..

Spider-Man Universe:

- Peter Parker (A. G.)

none yet..

- Peter Parker (T. M.)

none yet..

- Peter B. Parker

none yet..

- Miles Morales (Earth 1610)

none yet..

- Miles Morales (Earth 42)

none yet..

- Miguel O'Hara

none yet..

- Hobie Brown

none yet..

- Pavitr Prabhakar

none yet..

- Gwen Stacy

none yet..

The Goldfinch:

- Boris Pavlikovsky

none yet..

- Theodore Decker

none yet..

The Last of Us:

- Ellie Williams

none yet..

- Joel Miller

none yet..

- Tommy Miller

none yet..

- Tess Servopoulos

none yet..

- Abby Anderson

none yet..

- Dina Woodward

none yet..

- Lev

none yet..

- Yara

none yet..

- Jesse Pinkman

none yet..

- Manny

none yet..

- Owen

none yet..

- Mel

none yet..

The Beekeeper:

- Derek Danforth

none yet..

- Adam Clay

none yet..

Weak Hero Class 1:

- Yeon Si-eun

none yet..

- Oh Beom-seok

none yet..

- Ahn Su-ho

none yet..

- Park Hu-min

none yet..

- Kang Woo-young

none yet..

- Jeon Seok-dae

none yet..

Bad and Crazy:

- Ryu Soo-Yeol

none yet..

- Do In-beom

none yet..

- K

none yet..

- Oh Kyung-Tae

none yet..

- Boss Yong

none yet..

- Andrei Kang

none yet..

Demon slayer:

- Tanjiro Kamado

none yet..

- Nezuko Kamado

none yet..

- Zenitsu Agatsuma

none yet..

- Inosuke Hashibira

none yet..

- Genya Shinazugawa

none yet..

- Kanao Tsuyuri

none yet..

- Aoi

none yet..

- Shinobu Kocho

none yet..

- Tomioka Giyuu

none yet..

- Rengoku Kyojuro

none yet..

- Uzui Tengen

none yet..

- Mitsuri Kanroji

none yet..

- Obanai Iguro

none yet..

- Shinazugawa Sanemi

none yet..

- Muichiro Tokito

none yet..

- Gyomei Himejima

none yet..

- Muzan Kibutsuji

none yet..

- Akaza

none yet..

- Douma

none yet..

- Gyutaro

none yet..

- Daki

none yet..

- Kokushibo

none yet..

- Murata

none yet..

HASHIRA; hashira headcanons, pt.1 (angst)

My Hero Academia:

- Izuku Midoriya

none yet..

- Katsuki Bakugou

none yet..

- Shoto Todoroki

none yet..

- Tenya Iida

none yet..

- Ochako Uraraka

none yet..

- Denki Kaminari

none yet..

- Eijirou Kirishima

none yet..

- Tokoyami Fumikage

none yet..

- Shoji Mezo

none yet..

- Momo Yaoyorozu

none yet..

- Hanta Sero

none yet..

- Kyoka Jirou

none yet..

- Mashirao Ojirou

none yet..

- Mina Ashido

none yet..

- Yuga Aoyama

none yet..

- Monoma Neito

none yet..

- Shinsou Hitoshi

none yet..

- Rumi Usagiyama

none yet..

- Keigo Takami

none yet..

- Aizawa Shouta

none yet..

- Hizashi Yamada

none yet..

- Oboro Shirakumo

none yet..

- Touya Todoroki

none yet..

- Tomura Shigaraki

none yet..

- Toga Himiko

none yet..

- Jin Bubaigawara

none yet..

adding anime back cause I watched demon slayer,,, :3

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