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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

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Rosy Cheeks / Gwaine Imagine

Request: MERLIN!!!! I would DIE if you did a Merlin drabble/imagine etc. Gwaine has been the loml since I was 10 and would LOVE something to do with a headstrong maid or tavern barmaid reader and him. Like he is so flirtatious and she doesn't think he's being genuine until Gwen points out the way he talks/looks at her. FLUFF GALORE. This request is 100% self-indulgent but I couldn't resist! Your writing is so lovely and I love that you cover so many fandoms. Do what you want with this, sending good vibes :)

I literally cannot believe I haven’t written for Merlin before I think I cried for about three months after the finale aired Christmas Eve ahh but thank you lovely that’s very kind! <3

Clocking in at nearly 4,100 words, this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written, and I’m knackered! So please, if you like this, do let me know as this took me a solid 3 days to write!

(I do not own Merlin or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @babinicz.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

You would know the light tread of Gwaine’s footsteps even in the darkest of dungeons. It was familiar, comforting, and most of the time most welcomed from your best friend, but also incredibly infuriating.

It had already been a long enough day: your boss had started to become distinctly unimpressed by the sight Gwaine gracing his doorway and taking your attention away from serving the drinks until far into the night at every opportunity he could find. Between the large crowd of travellers who had nestled their way into the long tables, spilling their drinks on the lone romantics and starting brawls with the for-hire thugs, sweat was already beginning to cloud your vision. It didn’t help that it had been a warm spring day outside; the verdant fields of Camelot blooming to life with fresh grain and wildflowers cropping their borders rolled past your vision every time you went to stoke the already pounding fire at the left edge of the building.

Wiping your forehead with the front of your apron, you blow out a sigh as you collect the next round of empty, splattered bowls and chipping mugs, and head back towards the counter, counting down the minutes until Gwen arrives and you can finally roll into bed for some much needed sleep. It doesn’t take very long for all your hopes to be dashed, as the phantom pursuing you like immortal love appears within your line of vision.

‘What’s a pretty maiden like you doing in a dank place like this?’

The face of Gwaine peers over the edge of the tavern’s chipped table like an eager chipmunk: all bright smiles, rosy red cheeks, and a mischievous glint in his eye as he stares straight at you. The crimson tint of his tilted head, as red as a cardinal and twice as beautiful, alludes you to the fact that he had probably already spent half the night in romantic pursuit of various poor patrons at the tavern. The slight pant in his breathe as he spoke clocked you to the fact that it was he you had heard pacing around the tavern, scheming up some new hairbrained joke to swat your way. The droplets of ale he wipes from his stubble with the back of his glove clues you in to the fact that he’s been here, watching you, for a while, waiting for the perfect time to strike when you were most busiest, and, of course, when the tavern owner was watching you with a scowl from the barrels.

Little did you know, in fact, that Gwaine hadn’t quite been wasting the night away waiting for the right moment to strike. He had been pacing with his mug by the doorway: half of him fiddling with the rose he has bought off the old lady outside, preparing himself to finally muster his usual courage and give it to you, and the other half preparing to run back to Camelot and go hide in the armoury till the end of time. He had heard an avalanche of pillows being thrown behind Arthur’s door as he had walked past the corridor earlier, and the familiar sound of Merlin’s wincing cry of exasperation as he apparently dropped the King’s breakfast on the floor, so he was sure his dear friend would join him in hiding away in the crevices of the castle. Gwen could smuggle them food up from the kitchens, and he’d make Percival keep watch out the door to make sure you would never catch sight of how reticently self-conscious you made the usually so blatant knight.

Yet most of all, Gwaine had spent most of his time shaking his head with a breaking grin, strutting up and down and up and down the entrance and getting in everyone’s way. It was only when Gwen decided to stop in during her daily visit to walk with you back home after your shift, that she finally managed to grab his arm and pull him away from the growing mob of irritated and drunk carousers.

You thump the empty mugs down by his left elbow, grinning as a few drops slosh out and drip over his arm. ‘Gwaine, with all my heart I love you, but if you’re in need of someone to annoy I’m sure Sir Leon has finished with target practice by now.’ Sighing, you lean over him to grab a rag from behind the counter, ignoring the muffled shouts of patrons and wolf whistles to grab your attention.

He seems to flush at your words, shaking his head until his hair splays out over his forehead like a warm dawn’s soft and curling mist. He looks down at his feet, then back to peer at you from behind the safety of his fringe, his eyes burning just as fervently as the gold light of daybreak. It takes him a moment to fall out of his love-struck stupor. In mock offence, he raises a hand and grabs his heart, taking a false stagger back on his heels. He prays you can’t see how fast said heart is pounding in foolish, all encompassing, body devastating, stricken hope. ‘How your words wound me, Y/n! Besides, Leon smells like old goat instead of daffodils and mead. Also... I may owe him a few gold shillings.’

You turn to him with an incredulous look. ‘A few, again!? Already?’ Gwaine just shrugs, and smiles all the brighter as he notices you becoming enticed by his shenanigans. If he could just keep you by him for a few moments longer, perhaps he would find the strength to stop stroking the petals between his gloved fingers and hold it out to you like a proper ‘knight in shining armour trying to woo his true love’ would. ‘I may have said that I could win in a sword fight against Arthur - and I nearly did! If only his trousers hadn’t magically fallen down in the middle of it.’

You press the back of your hand to your nose to try and hide your snort, and Gwaine laughs pleasurably at the sweet sound. Waving away an obviously intoxicated customer who was now slamming his glass up and down on the counter to try and get your attention, you turn away from your now seething boss to look at the blithe knight resting beside you. ‘There is no way that happened. Even I would have heard news of that by now. News seems to travel faster than the crow flies in Camelot.’

Picking up your rag, you turn to move away from the man, but a gentle hand encircles your wrist before you can even take a step. ‘No, please’, he starts with a hitch in his throat. ‘Please don’t go yet. I haven’t finished my tale! Besides... it ends with me fighting a dragon, and being declared the true king of all fair maiden’s hearts by a wizard.’ With a tilted head watching your exasperated feelings flash across your face like zings of magic, Gwaine begins to chuckle through his words. His earthen eyes are dream-like as they trace the outline of your eyes, then the dip of your nose, and further to the bottom curve of your lip, as if you were the brightest beauties of all the heavens rolled into one being.

‘You promise you’re telling me the truth’, you ask, rolling your eyes while trying to hold back your own laughter.

Gwaine unintentionally drags his teeth over his bottom lip as he raises his head up again, wetting the edge of his mouth with a final slight lick of his tongue. His gaze drops for a moment, before sheepishly coming back up to glance at your growingly delighted eyes. His fingers dance a final dainty circle around the pulse point of your wrist, before coming up to draw a quick X in the air above his chainmail. ‘For you Y/n, I’ll even cross my heart.’

‘And you’re definitely not here just to cause me more trouble’, you accuse with a jab at his chest. ‘This isn’t another one of your hairbrained schemes to make me lose my job so I can come work up at the Castle kitchens, is it?’

For a moment, just a flicker across his usually radiant face, Gwaine looks crestfallen at the accusation. Whether it was due to the fact that you would think of him in such a way, or the thought in the back of his head that he wanted nothing more than to spend every day working in as close a proximity to you as possible, neither of you are entirely sure. He quickly recuperates himself again, and with a shake of his head and a quick wink in your direction, he’s smiling fondly at you once again. ‘You’re very lucky I like a girl who has a bit of bite with her bark, otherwise you may have just broken my heart.’

You groan, but the man standing in front of you, plain as day as he holds his love out to you on a silver platter, is still hopeful in his smile.

Distracted for a moment by a weary patron politely tapping you on the shoulder and enquiring as to whether he can purchase some late night grub from this tavern, you don’t notice Gwaine playing back and forth with his hand. After you’ve answered the gentleman, you swing back towards your best friend, who looks as if he’s been caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. Wide eyed, he swings his right hand back behind his back and coughs innocently.

‘What in all the kingdoms are you doing?’, you ask him as you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out why the knight looks so daunted.

With a quizzical frown, you grab onto his shoulder and try to peer around the chainmail engulfing his torso, but with every move you make he matches it with a swivel of his head. His smile never falters, but the edges seem to quiver a little... almost as if he were embarrassed? As if he were bashful at being caught hiding something from you. You drop back down onto the balls of your feet and raise an eyebrow at him, both deeply puzzled but also determined to find out what secret the man, who usually gushed every little detail of his day to you as soon as you met, could be hiding.

‘Now now’, he chides, ‘it’s not polite to ask a knight what he’s hiding behind his back. I could be holding keys to the dungeon, sent on a secret mission by Gaius to infiltrate the castle and release Merlin, especially after Arthur locked him up again for spilling shoe polish all over his pretty new tunic. Or, it could be a powerful artefact, or a relic I won on my quest to slay, you know, that dragon I told you about.’ You lift a hand up and gently slap the side of his cheek a couple of times. Gwaine raises his eyes to the ceiling, chewing the inside of his cheek in humorous anticipation.

‘Or, you could have injured your hand giving Sir Elyan a piggyback ride to the jousting arena again, and don’t want to tell me about it. Or, even more likely, Arthur managed to knock you on your bottom during your sparring match, and you landed on your wrist like the big fool you are.’

Gwaine scoffs, opening his mouth quickly, his tongue ready with a new witty retort to your brazen appraisal. Before he can reply, though, Gwen has nearly shocked you out of your skin by seemingly appearing out of thin air to grab the side of your arm. With one hand resting on your bicep, her other comes around your other shoulder, and she whispers quietly in your ear: ‘Y/n, may I speak with you for a minute before you finish?’ You nod, and with a final teasing smirk at the knight, you allow Gwen to guide you away towards the fireplace, and through the milling crowd of tipsy drinkers and cheeringly clamorous guests. Gwaine watches you recede through the throng with a pang in his heart, taking the flower out from behind his back and looking at it forlornly as he begins to run his fingers over the velvet petals.

‘She loves me’, he murmurs, letting them fall through his fingertips. ‘She loves me not.’

If only he could stop flirting for one moment, then perhaps he may have had the chance of being truly happy. With a final sigh, he places the flower between his fingers and heads back out into the crowd.

Thankfully for you both, Gwen had been as good-hearted and observant a friend to you both as she had ever been. Once she had finally managed to persuade Gwaine to approach you, she had settled herself into a corner of the tavern, to watch the confession she knew in her heart was coming. In fact, you had an incredibly wonderful network of kind friends, as Gwen would soon divulge to you, once she had tucked the two of you back into the corner and away from the ears of any passing gossips.

‘Y/n, she started’, letting go of you and glancing back in Gwaine’s general direction with an apprehensive peer. ‘Why on earth aren’t you flirting back with the poor man?’

You stare at her in bemusement. ‘Gwen, my dearest friend’, you grab both her hands within your own, and familiarly begin to rub your thumb over the back of her knuckles. ‘As long as I’ve known Gwaine he’s flirted with any breathing, moving woman. For instance, I remember a certain someone being wooed by said knight only ten minutes after he had set foot in Camelot!’ You swing your joint arms between your chests, and give her a comforting look. ‘He’s a dear, dear friend, just as you are, but he’s not serious Gwen.’

‘Oh Y/n, that was different’, Gwen swings back and forth on her feet, ducking her head as she thinks of the best way to relate to you what poor Gwaine had been so poor at trying to tell. ‘Sir Gwaine may be a flirt, but he loves you.’ Before you can even open your mouth to laugh, or shout, or groan, Gwen has gripped your fingers tighter and pulled you another step towards her. ‘And! And, he’s in love with you. How can you not see it?’

Your mouth stutters for a moment, the flickering of the settling fire warming the growing blush on your cheeks until you wish you could fade back into the shadows. Falling backwards, you trust your friend to catch your fall as you lean against the cobblestone wall and stare, gobsmacked. Gwen only nods fervently at your speechlessness, and you can tell by the seriousness lining her face, by the eagerness in her eyes, that she’s telling the truth.

‘Wh-what?’, you finally manage to muster out after a few seconds shock. ‘We’re... we’re friends. We’re friends! He treats me like a friend, like, like he would talk to any of the knights, or Merlin, or, or you!’

‘That’s not true’, she replies, disappointed.

‘How do you know?’, you ask in a whisper, afraid to hear the answer.

‘I have eyes! Besides, Merlin told me.’

‘About my crush on Gwaine? That little tattletale-’, you begin to rile up, but Gwen could tell from the way you gnashed your teeth and shook your head that you weren’t seriously angry at your friend. You were just disappointed: devastated, even, by the thought of your friends using your infatuation as a source of teasing.

‘Not about you!’, Gwen was quick to correct. ‘Although... that may have come up, just a little.’ She pinches her fingers together and squeezes her eyes shut in apology at the brimming look of annoyance you give her. ‘More about Gwaine though! Apparently, Sir Leon told him in the strictest confidence’, you laugh at that, knowing your friends too well, ‘that every time he’s passed by the armoury in the last two weeks during his nightly rounds, he’s heard Gwaine’s voice echoing inside, practicing to the shields and crossbows how he’s going to admit his feelings for you!’

That... that startles you. With a languid blink, you take a moment to think, before asking Gwen: ‘did Merlin tell you what he was saying?’

Gwen places a finger to her chin. ‘I believe it was something along the lines of: ‘my dearest Y/n, from the first moment I was graced with your company, I knew that you would be the only creature in all the kingdoms to hold my heart, forever.’ Sensing your silence, as you dip your eyes and ponder over her words, your friend continues. ‘Besides, Leon’s not the only one! I heard that Gwaine admitted to Percival, I believe during one of their quests, when they were faced with the Dorocha and of uncertain death, that Gwaine admitted his love too. I think while they were roaming the castle, to try and lighten the mood he told Percival that the first day he had met you in this tavern was the best day of his life, and how he wanted to live so he may return to it once more.’

‘See!’, you finally spring to life, throwing a dirty glance at an old drunkard man who was leaning precariously over his table to lean his ear closer to your conversation. With a final swat of your rag in his general direction, you turn back to the intense conversation at hand. ‘He only admitted he missed the tavern!’

‘No Y/n, if you let me finish, he said that he wanted to return as he had made a promise to himself, all those years ago, that he was going to marry you one day. Do you really find it no coincidence that as soon as Camelot was saved, you were the first person he sought out?’

‘He did hug me rather tight’, you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest and chiding yourself for being so blind. ‘Oh Gwen, how could I have been such a fool too? How can I fix this? He must hate me for the way I’ve treated him.’

Before you can finish your musing thought, Gwen has stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug, squeezing your shoulders before letting go. Sliding her arms down to your waist, she shakes her head. ‘No one could ever hate you, Y/n. And the solution is simple. Go tell him.’

Glancing out across the tavern hall with worry lines deepening your eyes, your heart is relieved to spot Gwaine still milling about; he seems to be entrenched deeply in an arm wrestle with some young, muddy looking farmer, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in to win. Over the course of your conversation with Gwen, he’s spent every excusable reason to glance over his shoulder and back at you. To make sure you were safe. To make sure no one was hassling you. To make sure Gwen wasn’t going to break your heart by indulging his true feelings for you. To make sure you weren’t about to push through the crowd and run out the door, disgusted by the idea. His eyes met yours: aflame, tense, deep set in their worry, and he’s quick to look back down at his elbow again.

How could it really have taken you so long? To realise that his bitten, plump lips, his rosy cheeks, his overwhelming joy was all solely from the thought of you?

With a resolute gasp, you allow Gwen to gently push you off in his direction, despite how thunderously your pulse was flickering through your body. You nod, and let your feet direct your path, not giving yourself a moment to think over the implications of the incoming interaction. After what feels like an eternity of treading water, you come to an uncertain stop behind the three men. Although Gwaine is still chatting with the green-clad man he had been wrestling innocently with earlier, the other crop gatherer seems to have fallen asleep on the table, his crossed arms pushing his mug of ale until it rested against his nose.

Mustering determination, you quickly prod Gwaine three times against his cape, taking a worried step back as he quickly turns to look at you once again. ‘You just couldn’t stay away’, Gwaine remarks with a warm smile when you finally garner the courage to approach the table he’s currently leaning over. ‘I can’t blame you, not many can.’ With his thumb, he points over at the young man gently beginning to snore on the opposite end of the table. ‘This poor lad grew so tired of my wit and charm he had to close his eyes for a bit.’

He stands up, giving a final wink and a nod at his short-lived companions. His tall frame hunches over you as he steps forward, blocking out the rest of the flitting candlelight from the east end of the tavern; the front of his chainmail brushes against where your hands are bunched into the coarse linen of your apron, sending a jolt flying along your fingertips. He seems to be casing you into his very being, that same soft - so soft dopey smile breaking like dawn across his face as he appraises you from above.

Before he can start whittling off again, and you lose your garnered nerve, you break the laden silence by asking Gwaine the most important question you could think of in that moment.

‘What were you hiding behind your back?’

Gwaine seems taken aback by your query, visibly raising his eyebrows as he begins to bite his bottom lip again. You know him to well to think him puzzled: he’s worried, scared that Gwen may have told you the truth, and you have come waltzing over to tell him off, and in doing so, cleave his heart clean in two.

‘Do you - do you really want to know?’, he asks uncertainly, taking the flower out from where he had stored it in his belt for safekeeping, before placing it behind his back once more. You’re swift to reach around his waist, skirting your pointer finger over the bone until you meet his hand. He gives it to you easily, his palm warm and laden with scars as he allows you to unfurl his fingers.

‘I think... I think I already do’, you reply with a hitched breath, enjoying the way Gwaine has taken to rubbing the tips of your knuckles as you press against his palm. Before you can lift the flower, though, he’s already using his free hand to tuck a strand of hair back from your ear. With a careful precision he’s obviously spent many nights over the years practicing, and doting on within his dreams, he tucks the stem of the flower behind your ear.

‘Well, I’m glad’, he states, dropping the back of his own knuckles down the side of your cheek, until he’s cupping your jaw. Your pulse point races against his skin as he dips his head down with a flash of pearly whites, not satisfied until he feels your nose bump against the tip of his own. ‘For I fear it has been my quest in life to find you, and love you till the end of days.’

‘Hmm, and a knight must never fail’, you mutter between laughter against the side of his mouth.

His voice is stricken: as serious as you’ve ever heard the rebellious man speak, and you know he has choked trying to speak these words many times before.

‘I don’t intend to.’

A rapturous wave of applause seems to fill the serene air (even your grumpy old boss manages to roll his eyes and pound the table a little), so dreamlike in its warmth, as Gwaine leans down fully to kiss you. His arms wrap around your waist, seeming to pull you in their vice like grip impossibly close to his chest, until the air you both breathe seems to be one and the same. You can feel him smile against your top lip as he tenderly places a second, lingering, caressing kiss against it, before pulling away to look at you.

Before either of you can breathe out a sigh of relief, though, you’re interrupted by the sound of Gwen cheering from the fireplace. The two of you finally break out in laughter, then, doubling over together and holding onto your stomachs as Gwen covers her mouth with her hand in embarrassment.

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

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Blissfully Unaware

Prompt: 'A game of 20 questions that ends with “Can I kiss you?” Requested By: Anonymous (Mystery Prompt Pink 19)

Plot: While making your way back to Camelot, you and Gwaine try to make the time go by faster by learning more about one another. Gwaine uses this, to try to find out if you share his feelings.

Pairing: Gwaine x GN!Reader

Warnings: A "detailed" kiss or two, but that's about it.

Words: 1.5k

As you looked out over the valley, you sighed "Well, either we missed them already, or we're ahead of them."

Gwaine stood beside you as he looked around. "We can't wait around for them, we should just continue on our way. We'll meet back at Camelot either way."

Nodding, you turned and looked ahead into the heavy wooded area "I really wish we hadn't lost our horses."

Gwaine nodded as he began to walk ahead "But at least we still have our legs."

You let out a soft scoff, "Might not by the time we make it back to Camelot."

Gwaine smiled as he looked back at you for a moment. He had been dying for a few moments to be alone with you, and now that you had gotten split off from the group, he had more time than he expected.

It felt like almost too much time, as Gwaine felt an uncommon anxiousness in his gut. It was not common that someone made him nervous, but you most certainly did.

"We could talk, to make the time go by faster." Gwaine suggested, as he stopped to wait for you to catch up to him.

"Talk about what?"

He shrugged lightly. "Tell me about yourself."

You let out a soft laugh that made his heart flutter. "We've known each other for months now Gwaine."

He grinned. "True, but that does not mean I know everything about you. I only know the basics, tell me more."

You opened your mouth before you shook your head with an uncertain laugh. "I don't know what to tell you, it's all pretty boring."

"Oh, I doubt that." He said with a soft smile.

You smile in return, feeling your heart hammer in your chest. You weren't expecting to be alone with Gwaine, and now he wanted to know all about you? You had never felt more unsure of yourself.

"How about this, I will just ask you questions, and you answer."

"Alright, but do I get to ask you questions too?"

He nodded "Of course."

"Alright then." You smiled, wondering where this conversation would end up.

"Okay, let me see," he mumbled "Why did you pick Camelot? Of all the placed you could have moved to, why here?"

You thought about your response for a moment, as you and Gwaine headed deeper into the woods, and closer to Camelot.

--------

As the mid-day sun hung over head, you and Gwaine sat by a small river, taking a break from your long venture back to Camelot.

"So, you've been in Camelot a lot longer that I have" Gwaine said as he sat down beside you. "But I hardly see you with anyone but the Knights, Merlin, or Gwen."

"Yes? And?"

"Is there no one else in your life?"

You felt an uneasy tightness in your chest at this, but you smiled casually. "Is that not enough people?"

He smiled and shook his head. "I meant romantically."

You felt a bit of tension rise between you, but felt it was surely one sided. You shook your head as you pulled your water canister from your bag.

"Ah. Well, no, there is no one romantically in my life." Standing, you began to head to the river, unaware of the hopeful gaze on Gwaine's face.

"And no one, headed, in that direction then?" Gwaine asked, watching your profile.

You shrugged your head a bit, "I don't know. I tend to be 'blissfully unaware' of that sort of thing, or at least Gwen says so."

Gwaine let out a soft laugh, and you felt your heart beating heavily. As curiosity set heavy on your mind, you asked softly, while trying to sound as casual as you could.

"What about you? Who are you with?"

He shook his head. "No one."

You looked at him with a bit of surprise, he was unable to miss. He rose a brow a bit. "I know I'm labeled the palace flirt, but that doesn't mean I'm always in a relationship."

You let out a soft chuckle. "I thought you liked that label."

He shrugged softly. "I didn't mind it at first, but, I don't want it to become my reputation. The person I have actual feelings for might not think to kindly of me if it is, they might not trust me."

You felt your heart sink a bit as you turned, looking out at the forest, not wanting Gwaine to see your face.

"So you like someone then? In Camelot?"

Gwaine stared at you, wondering if that was disappointment in your voice or if he was just imagining it. "Yes, I do."

"What are they like?"

Gwaine's lip curled up a bit before he spoke. "They're amazing. They're smart, witty, talented, too kind for their own good really. Attractive, more than they're willing to admit. They're much too good for me, really."

You looked down at your feet but smiled softly. "They almost sound made up."

He let out a soft laugh. "I would think so too if I didn't know them. I don't think they realize half those things about themselves though."

You wondered who it was he was thinking of. Someone you knew? It didn't really sound like it. Maybe it was someone he met in the town.

"Sounds like you really do like them."

Was that a hint of jealousy? No. Surely you understood he was talking about you by now.

"I do. Very much."

His voice had grown softer, and you felt a jealousy in your chest, but you tried to push it away. You should feel happy for him. Happy that he has found someone who makes him feel that way, even if it couldn't be you.

Swallowing down your feelings, you turned back around and made your way over.

"So, how long have you been with them? Do the other Knights know about them?"

Gwaine frowned as he watched you set your water down, before you grabbed a rag and went back to the water. You really didn't realize he had been talking about you. He almost laughed.

"I'm not with them."

"Oh." You looked back at him, clearly confused. Wiping your face and hands with the damp rag, you steadied your voice. "So, do they know? How you feel?"

He shook his head softly as he watched you closely. "I don't think so."

"Whats stopping you from telling them?"

He repressed a smile as he cleared his throat and began to stand up. "I've tried, but I don't think they understood what I was saying. Or, they just didn't understand how it could be them I had feelings for."

'Sounds familiar' you thought quickly as you stood. "Maybe they need a more obvious sign."

You mentally kicked yourself for encouraging him, all you were doing was pushing him further away from you.

Gwaine made his way towards you, "An obvious sign? Like a kiss?"

You almost choked, "Uhm, I suppose that would be obvious" you let out a short laugh. "But, you can't just march up to them and kiss them out of the blue."

Gwaine stepped up to you. "So I ask first?"

You tilted your head with a soft shake, "Yeah, then you'd at least know for certain how they felt."

Gwaine continued to stare at you as he nodded softly. A small smile spread across his face as you felt your heart flutter.

"Alright then." Taking a step closer, he was right in front of you, his eyes drilling into yours. You felt your breath catch in your throat. "Can I kiss you?"

As confusion turned into denial, following by realization, you opened your mouth slowly, and spoke softly. "You were talking about me?"

His lips stretched into a grin as he nodded softly. "I thought I was being obvious."

You felt your face grown hot as you failed to repress a smile. "Gwen was right. I am-"

Gwaine's smile turned into a grin as you both spoke at the same time.

"Blissfully unaware."

You giggled softly as you looked down, feeling almost overwhelming embarrassment, confusion and excitement.

Feeling Gwaine hook his finger under your chin, you looked up to meet his gaze. "I was certainly right about one thing. You really don't realize any of those things about yourself do you?"

"I don't really think about myself at all." You admitted.

His smile faded a bit, before he replaced it again with a flirty gaze. "That's alright, I think about you enough for the both of us."

You let out an almost startled giggle as you felt your ears burning hot.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you felt him gently caress your chin with his finger. "So, about that kiss?"

Your heart was hammering heavily in your chest, as you found it hard to breath. Smiling, you nodded your head.

Gwaine slowly lowered his head, as his lips met yours gently. The soft kiss was deepened as Gwaine brought his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. You brought your hand up and set it against his chest.

Slowly parting, your eyes fluttered open meeting his again. You both had soft smiles on your lips.

"I do trust you, by the way." You whispered softly. "Label or not."

His smile widened, "You really are too good for me."

You shook your head lightly. "Agree to disagree."

Letting out a soft breathy laugh, he pulled you into another kiss, deeper and more passionate than the last. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he pulled you flush against him.

xx End xx

I had no idea what to write next, so I just ended it lol. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl

Merlin/Gwaine Taglist: @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @dominos-palast, @ambitionspassionscoffee, @locke-writes, @multifandomfix,

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thee-bat-boys · 5 months

Note

Could we get a merlin fic maybe? Flangst would be appreciated!

*if the gif is yours please let me know and I'll credit you/take it down*

warnings; shouting (ish??)

a/n; i hope you like it! Let me know what you think, I loved writing this for Merlin!!

Merlin x gn reader

❃❃❃❃❃

"You could have died!" Y/n wasn't usually one to raise their voice, especially not when Prince Arthur was within ear shot, but they couldn't help it. Merlin stood in front of them, a sheepish look on his face with a serious glint in his eyes.

"I'm sorry but it's my-"

"Your destiny, yes, I've heard it a thousand times!" Their voice grew quieter as they spoke, again mind on Arthur being within earshot. Y/n shook their head, taking a deep breath as they took another step towards Merlin.

"You mean so much to me Merlin, you know that, and I understand that it is your destiny to protect Arthur but please, think about someone else." They could feel the tears welling up in their eyes, willing them to go away. "Think about the life we have in front of us, the wedding and the home we are going to create when we're back in camelot. Think about me."

Merlin was silent, unsure of what to say to y/n as they stood in front of him nearly in tears. Being related to the King of Camelot had often meant y/n's feelings remained their own, no one able to pierce their heart, but now stood in front of merlin, y/n's heart was on their sleeve.

Instead of allowing Merlin to say anything, overcome with emotions, y/n bid Merlin goodnight and took themselves to bed. Merlin watched them leave, Gauis in his head telling him what the right thing to do would be. Away from home Merlin realised that y/n most likely would be overly emotional, especially at the prospect of not even returning to Camelot.

As the night grew on, snores sounded around y/n as they lay in bed. Sleep evaded them, no hint of tiredness in their eyes as they lay staring blankly at the dying fire. A rustle alerted them to someone moving closer, hand inching closer to the dagger they kept under the blanket.

"It's me." At Merlin's voice they relaxed slightly but not fully, not after the way y/n had spoken to Merlin earlier in the evening. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, whatever." Y/n was glad Merlin still wanted to sit by them but didn't want to appear that way, acting indifferent. There was a silence as Merlin took a seat, sitting close enough that he was slightly touching y/n, able to feel their warmth from under the blanket.

"I'm sorry." Y/n swallowed as Merlin spoke, his voice low so no one else could hear. "I'm sorry that I didn't think of you, that I don't think of you when I go into danger. It's hard, knowing there's someone who cares about me as much as you do, that-" Merlin's voice broke slightly, y/n turning round so they were now facing him.

"That I have a life ahead of me that isn't just my destiny, that isn't just protecting Arthur." He looked down at y/n, love in his eyes as he did so. It knocked the breath out of y/n, realising how much Merlin loved them.

"I understand Merlin, I really do and I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I just worry every time you leave to do anything. Not just that you'll die but someone will find out and I'll have to watch you die for the way you were born." Y/n signalled for Merlin to lay down, he did so and y/n moved closer so their head was nestled in Merlin's chest.

"I couldn't bear to lose you Merlin, not when we have a life together."

Merlin smiled, placing a kiss on the top of y/n's head. "Maybe that's my destiny, to love and be loved by you."

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #yn x merlin #imagine #ask #merlin imagine #angst #fluff #flangst #tw shouting #my writing #i hope you enjoy #merlin reader

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ghostmaldo · 2 months

Text

Merlin X GN!Fae!Reader Modern AU

I wrote this purely out of my own suffering in my heart. Gooosh I miss the show so much ;-; Reader can be a good friend of love interest. Left it up to the reader. I think about Merlin wondering around the earth waiting for Arthur much more then I’d like to admit. Anyway. Enjoy!

Little sad, fluffy ending. Merlin misses Arthur.

Slight warning: Mentions of death, spoilers??? If you haven’t ever finished watching BBC Merlin ^^

Playlist listened to during the writing process: https://youtu.be/_DMo7B7oAVo?si=WVMp4ZYLMGiIDdaQ

youtube

~Maldo

Merlin sat quietly under the gray thundering clouds. Nothing but the company of an old park bench and the creaking of its old wood underneath his legs. Pellets of water graced the young man's shoulder as the sky weeped upon him. Well… prehapes… young wasn’t the right word… Not anymore at least. Truthfully he was… millennia upon millennia years old. He only appeared young… bright eyes and high cheekbones. The weight of carrying such heavy misery waved from the corners of his eyes with a little sorcery still brightly dancing in his veins. Magic had long died in this world, yet not in him. Clinging on to thin threads from a promise made to him long, long ago.

The once and future king will rise again.

Creeaak. The interruption made Merlin nearly jump out of his whole skin. His eyes immediately looked to the source of the sound. Where he found an old friend. A fae with many secrets… yet still a comforting presence. A small smile crept onto his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. ”Come to keep my company in the rain, (Y/N)?” They promptly returned his smile. The rain seemed to lighten with them here beside him. They had that sort of effect on the world . “Someone has to, otherwise you might just let the rain consume you.”

“You might be right about that.” He shot back with a low chuckle. In all of his years of being alive. (Y/N) was still the only one in eons to bring amusement back into his tear stained heart. He took a deep breath, basking in the rain's chill icy touch. He closed his eyes briefly and simply let humanity’s silence rush over him in waves. What was he doing here…? Truly? Still waiting for Arthur? Merlin’s memories of him were still freshly cut in his mind. The pair running through the castle halls like fools and the iron still strong in his mouth from the battles they faced… The scars he kept when Arthur died in his arms…

”Merlin…?” He flinched when he sensed (Y/N) wrap their delicate fingers around his arm. Though he quickly relaxed, the warmth of their head on his shoulder chasing away some of those unruly demons. “Your doing it again.” They spoke softly, always so courteous to his feelings…

“Sorry… I can’t help it sometimes… I was suppose to protect him-“

“It wasn’t your fault Merlin.” (Y/N) cut him off before he blumitted to far into his guilt. Merlin let out a long sigh, he certainly didn’t agree with them… but he knew better than to argue.

”What was he like?” Merlin fixated his eyes on them again, brows raised above his head. The question had taken him aback for a second. Unsure if he’d heard it correctly. “Arthur?” He confirmed watching them nod. They hummed, peering up at him with those wide curious eyes he’d come to cherish in his years of immortality. Their cheek a little smooshed up against his shoulder. He couldn’t help the wide grin spamming across his face.

“Well, first off he was a complete ass-“ A fit of giggles erupted from (Y/N) mouth at the comment, followed up with his own series of laughter. The rain didn’t feel so cold along his shoulder anymore…

Merlin went into all the details of his adventures with the young king of Camelot. Their adventures, conversations, the friends they’d made and the memories they’d forged together. His mood lifted with each word, recounting each step he’d taken next with his best friend. The one he missed so dearly…

“He was an idiot sometimes… but he was a good man with a good heart. He always wanted to do what was right.” As soon as he’d spoken the words, he sensed (Y/N) curl tighter around his arm. Their loving touch melding with his own. He was so grateful they were here with him. His body moved on its own, clasping one of their hands with his and pulling them closer. Resting his head on top of theirs. The motion brought a harsh burning lump into his throat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

“It’s okay to cry Merlin. To mourn something you’ve lost even after all this time.”

That’s all it took. Large tears welded in his eyes and cascaded over his pale cheeks. Becoming lost in the sea of droplets still raining down from the sky. He stayed this way for several minutes. Clinging and sobbing into (Y/N) arms. Their gentle fingers circling soothing circles onto his arms. Everything he’d kept bottled up inside of him for so long ruptured violently and without apology. He didn’t need one. Not with them.

Over some time, the tears did run dry. He snuffled a few times as he wiped away the excess unflattering snot leaking from his nose with shaking hands. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from him. Feeling so light he might fly off into the heavens to find Arthur himself.

“Better?” (Y/N) voice sweetly questioned. He smiled toward them through his tear filled lashes. “Better, thank you. I needed that.”

#Merlin #BBC Merlin #Merlin x reader #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #morgana #x reader #fanfic #maldo writes #imagines #Merlin Imagines #Merlin Imagine #Mordred #magic #Maldo #cry #sad #fluff #Youtube

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azaleaniath · 1 year

Text

Dude idek, have some christmas fluff already :)

______________

Sir Percival x reader

includes: christmas, hugs, cuddles, lots of fluff, kissing, reader fucking hating christmas, Percival being the purest shit I've ever seen

word count: 4.3k (what am I doing with my life)

______________

"Bloody hell, how long is this going to take..." you mumbled to yourself as you pathed up and down the hallway in front of the conference room.

Your heart felt heavier every second you thought about how you were going to tell the queen about your request.

It felt like an entire day passed until the big wooden doors finally opened and everyone left. The servants, the council members, the knights.

You tried to sneak into the room without the knights even catching sight of you. It was only Gwen, the king and his manservant in the room. As you neared them, Gwen heard your footsteps. She turned to you with a loving smile, coming a few steps closer.

"(Y/N), you said you wanted to talk abou something earlier?"

Her voice was calm as always.

It was hard to look her in the eyes, so you just watched yourself fumble with your own hands in front of your stomach.

"I do... but can we talk in private? I don't want to..."

Gwen rested one hand on your shoulder, nodding slowly.

"Of course, I understand. Let's go to my chambers."

With that, she lead you out of the room and over to hers. As you passed the knights, you still faced the ground, not wanting them to notice you.

Yet you could practically feel a cold stare in your back as you carried on.

Soon you arrived in her room and you closed the door with a trembling hand. Gwen offered you a seat on the table which you gladly accepted. She sensed that there was something on your chest that seemed to be a burden to you.

"You may speak freely, I promise that whatever it is, it will not leave this room."

Only now you found the courage to look at her.

"Your highness, would it be possible for you to free me from my duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow? I don't feel that good."

She furrowed her eyebrows. A worried look lingered on her beautiful face.

"Do you need anything? Should I get Gaius?"

Quickly you shook your head.

"No, I'm fine, physically. I just need to be alone, if that's okay."

Now, she understood.

"Is it the same thing as last year?"

You nodded slowly, looking out of the window.

Tomorrow was christmas.

You hated cristmas.

It reminded you of not having any family members left anymore.

"I understand. If you want to be on your own, I respect your choice. And if you need anything, please let me know."

With a slight smile you leaned down and got up to leave.

"Thank you for your generosity, my lady. I appreciate it."

And with that, you left her room, making your way over to your own one.

As you walked through the castle, you suddenly ran into a familiar face.

It was Percival who stood right in front of you, your expression worried him a bit.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You looked up to his blue eyes and forced a smile. He noticed right away.

"Yeah, sure..."

Percival knew that, like this, the conversation would go nowhere. At least nowhere pleasant for you, and he tried to avoid that.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?"

You continued to force a happy expression, even at his words.

"Tomorrow's a big day. I'm sure the christmas festival will be wonderful."

"You're probably wearing your best dress, aren't you?"

"Are you saying I have ugly ones?"

Percival huffed, then mustered you for a moment.

"... Are you dodging my questions for a reason? Should I stop interfering or do you want to talk?"

Like a switch, your faked happy facade broke down to your sad expression again.

"I don't want to talk about it. But thank you for offering, Percival. You're truly a blessing."

He smiled down at you, respecting the fact that you did not want to share your burden. Yet he still wanted to cheer you up.

"Would you like a hug?"

This made you blush immediately and your expression switched once more so you ended up with a weak smile on your reddened face.

A nod was more than enough to have him open his arms, taking you in gently. You leant your body against his. It felt good. On the other hand, when did it ever feel bad to hug him?

Carefully as he could he pressed you against his chest and rested his head on top of yours.

You felt your heart starting to race. If there was one person that would always be successful in cheering you up, it was him. He gave you so much love and warmth, much more than anyone else. This man had a special place in your heart even if you did not dare to tell him that he was in fact the man you adored.

After some time had passed he gently let go of you, only to pick you up onto his strong arms like you did not even weight a pound. A loud giggle and a squeal escaped your lips as he did, with a big smile.

"See this as an... Extended hug. Where were you heading to?"

Both your arms were holding onto his neck to secure yourself.

"Hey, I can walk on my own!" you laughed, but he resisted.

"I know you can, but let me at least bring you to wherever you need to be before I leave you to your thoughts."

After a few seconds you gave in giggling, navigating him to your room.

On the way, he tried to keep that smile on your face. He hated to see you so sad.

"It's actually quite pleasant to carry you. Do you think I can borrow you during training?"

"As weight?"

"Uhuh, that would make my workout a hundred times more pleasant."

You playfully piched his upper arm, asking him "are you saying I'm heavy?"

He chuckled while shaking his head.

"Of course not. I'm just saying that I like having you close to me."

With closed eyes you nuzzled your face against his neck and inhaled his scent. He smelled of sweat and iron, but you did not mind. Somehow, it even seemed to calm you down.

Soon you arrived at your room and he gently let you down again. Once more he pulled you into a soft hug before reaching out for your hand, placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles.

"My lady, in case you ever need a ride somewhere, just call out for me and I'll be there."

Again you couldn't suppress a giggle and blushed. His gentle, lovely smile filled your heart with joy.

"I will, Sir Percival. Thank you, for everything."

He bowed, then let go of you finally. The smile he had magically brought to your face lasted for a good while, until you layed down on your bed, sinking into the pile of pillows.

~~~~~

Later that day, you heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

As you looked to the door, you saw a hand reaching in a plate with grapes, bread, cheese, some chicken, lettuce and berries. Soon followed a head peeking through the door.

It was none other than the knight that had carried you to your room; Percival.

You smiled gently, getting up from your bed and fixing your hair quickly.

In the meantime, the man entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Afterwards he set down the plate at the table.

"I noticed you weren't present during dinner, so I thought I'd bring you some."

A certain redness flushed your cheeks, making them glow bright red.

"Oh, Percival, you're too kind and attentive. Thank you, but I don't really feel like eating right now..."

He furrowed his eyebrows and you both sat down at the table. There was a hint of worry in his expression.

"You already refused to eat lunch and you only had a few snacks during breakfast. I'm not leaving until you eat something."

"Then get comfortable, that could take some time."

He raised his eyebrows and his hands, closing his eyes for a short moment.

"That's fine with me, I'll stay the entire night if it means you'll eat something."

This answer, you did not expect.

For a while, you looked back to the plate and his face. He seemed to be serious about this.

The way he watched you closely made you reconsider and give in eventually.

"Alright, alright..."

And with that, you began to eat. Instantly, the knight seemed happier and satisfied.

"So...", he started, "You also weren't there when we decorated the main hall. I could've used your help with some things."

"For example?" you asked while picking up a few grapes.

"Holding Gwaine back from hanging mistletoes on every single door frame."

The image in your head of Sir Gwaine trying to put mistletoes everywhere and Leon and Percival running after him, taking them all of in annoyment surely amused you.

"What was I supposed to do about this?"

"I don't know, lunge yourself at him and keep him down or something."

Both of you laughed for a moment, until he added something more to that.

"Just your presence would've been wonderful. The guys asked why you weren't there with us. We would've loved to have you around."

You finished your meal and sank your head slowly. Would he understand your choice if you would explain to him?

For a moment you sat there in silence before breaking it with your unsteady voice.

"To be honest, I don't celebrate christmas. People always celebrate this day with their families, and as you know, I... don't have anyone left."

His blue eyes watched you carefully before he spoke again.

"(Y/N), I honestly understand your choice and your feelings. This is also the first year I celebrate christmas again since my familiy died. But this year, I'm spending it with my friends. They are my new family."

You looked into his eyes, closely listening to his words. Only now you realized that you had never thought about that before.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. You also don't need to celebrate it, but the thought of you sitting here all alone when we're all together, partying, that doesn't feel right. I would love to have you around tomorrow."

Soon you got up, walking towards the window, taling a look outside while you drowned in your thoughts for some time.

A gentle hand on your waist ripped you from your daydreaming. The knight stood right behind you, capturing you in a soft embrace. He rested his head on top of yours while holding you so close to him.

With closed eyes and a smile on your lips you enjoyed his company and his touch through and through.

After a while, you turned around in his embrace. "I think I could use another hug..."

"I'll give you as many as you need."

Both your arms found their way around his torso before you leant your head against his chest. It felt like your heart was going to explode.

Some time passed as you and Percival just hugged each other and enjoyed having each other so close.

"(Y/N)?" his voice broke the silence.

"Hmm?"

You felt him swallowing before his lips parted again.

"I know I cannot replace your family, nobody can. But would you still give it a try to join us for christmas? I'll do anything to see that lovely smile on your beautiful face tomorrow. Or else I'll stay here in your room with you all day."

Only now you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

"You can't be serious, Percival..."

"Of course I am. I don't want you to be here all alone. Also, I know that the knights have some gifts for you too. I'm sure they would love to give them to you."

You huffed at the thought.

"So they really thought about me too?"

Since you were Gwen's personal servant, you also spent a lot of time with the knights. As a matter of fact, you had organized a present for each of them as well, as much as you hated christmas.

"Surely! They've been pestering me with questions about you since early october."

Since it was getting awkward to hold him so close and looking into his eyes you rested your head against his chest again.

Deeply inhaling, you nuzzled your face into the fabric of his vest.

"But only for an hour..."

"2 hours. Excluding dinner." he protested.

"You know what? I'll stay until Gwaine's getting drunk."

Percival huffed, pulling you closer. "Then I'll leave with you, believe me."

~~~~~

The next day you woke up, you rolled out of bed slowly and got yourself ready. Only when you were done you noticed a small note and a christmas rose on your table.

You reached out to both of them, inhaling the scent from the flower and reading the letter.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flew over the paper.

'To the most wonderful lady in Camelot

Dear Lady (Y/N),

I am truly beyond happy you're joining us for today's event. Thank you for giving me this opportunity and your time. I can't wait to see you tonight.

P. S. : You look adorable when you sleep. '

Only now you recalled that Percival had stayed with you until you had falled asleep. With rosy cheeks you stuck the letter to the frame of your mirror, then decided to braid the flower into your hair.

The thought of him didn't leave your mind for one second.

~~~~~

Before the evening, you had already talked to Gwen. She was more than willing to let you join the festivities nonetheless of what you had talked about the day before.

You had a lovely time eating dinner with all the guests, as suddenly, you saw Arthur tapping his goblet with his knife. All eyes landed on the king as he got up, clearing his throat.

"My dear friends", he started, "It's an honor to me to be able to spend this evening with every one of you. My dear wife Guineviere and I are sitting here today, proud to have you all around. Yet, I'd like to pass this speech on to someone who certainly will find the right words to express this even better."

You looked over to Percival who sat right next to you. He quickly smiled at you and got up as soon as Arthur had taken his seat again.

"As for some others, this is my first christmas here in Camelot and I could not wish for a better place to be right now. Tonight we celebrate the company of our dearest friends. We celebrate tonight as a family. As brothers and sisters, not bound by blood, but by something even stronger. As in battle, tonight no one's getting left out or behind. This might not be what you're used to, but I'm thankful for everyone of your who's joining us now. Let's enjoy the time we share."

He reached out to his goblet, reaching it out in fromt of him. Everyone else in the room, including you, joined in and raised their goblets as well.

"To everyone of us, and to a wonderful christmas evening in Camelot."

With that, everyone drank together, celebrating the company of each other. Once Percival sat back down, you gently pushed your elbow into his side.

"My my, I didn't know you were that good with holding speeches~"

He turned his full attention to you, watching your beaming smile in awe for some time before he spoke.

"I had to make it special since you're joining us."

You giggled, then took another sip of wine and got up. "I loved it" were the last words you whispered to him before you grabbed a few gifts that you had placed next to the wall behind you, then you walked over to the other knights.

"My knights in shining armor~" you chanted as you leant over the table between Leon and Gwaine.

"oh hello there pretty lady~" the brown haired man answered, and they all got up from their chairs.

"It's good to see you here, (Y/N)." Elyan chimed in, and you greeted them all with a short hug.

"How's your evening so far? Everything going fine?" Lancelot asked with his genuine smile.

You gave him a smile back and nodded. Leon pulled you to the side quickly and asked you if this was really fine for you. He knew how much you disliked this festival.

"To be honest, until yesterday evening, I did not intent to join."

"What changed your mind?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

"A certain someone showing up to my room and threatening to cuddle me to death."

Leon laughed and turned you back to the others after quickly glancing over to Percival.

"You mean a lot to him, he's been madly in love with you for months." he whispered to your ear, making you blush a bit.

"That goes both ways." you answered quietly before giving your attention to the entire group of men, handing everyone their gifts.

You watched them unpack in silence. They were all stunned by their gifts and thanked you right after. Now that they had opened their presents, you recieved some gifts from them as well.

"This one's from Elyan, Leon and me." Lancelot explained and handed you a big wrapped bundle. Your eyes shot wide open at the gift, it was stunning velvet dress in your favourite color.

"You'll look stunning in that." Percival's voice suddenly emerged from behind you as you held the dress against your body.

Quickly your head turned back with a big smile.

"This is..."

"The wrong color? Wrong cut?" Elyan asked with an uncertain facial expression.

"Perfect! Beyond perfect!"

The boys exhaled in relief, as you thanked them. Next up was Gwaine.

You quickly unpacked his present as well; it was a new mead horn with impressive carvings on it's upper half.

"Did you do this yourself?!" you asked rather shocked. Gwaine proudly nodded and earned a tight hug in return.

"Hey Percival, have you given her your present yet?" Lancelot asked the tall knight, but he just shook his head.

"Save the best for last, huh?" you asked jokingly and leaned against Percival.

The knights laughed with you, then you looked at the dress and the mead horn again. "I did not expect this, really."

"We wanted to make this day special for you. You're supposed to remember this day with a smile on your face."

Leon answered, getting a hold of his goblet.

"Let's drink to that."

"By the way", you chimed in, "Gwaine, how much wine did you have by now?"

The man sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder, quickly glancing over to Percival.

"Not much. I wasn't allowed to get drunk before we exchange gifts."

~~~~~~

It was already late that evening when you were about to leave the party. You still hadn't exchanged gifts with Percival yet since you wanted this to be something between just you and him.

A yawn escaped your lips. The tall knight next to you placed one arm around you and asked you if you were ready to head off. As an answer, you only pointed at Gwaine, who was pretty much only able to stand since Merlin supported him.

He grinned at the sight and decided to call it a day. Both of you collected your things, said goodnight and headed to your room.

The man closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of your bed.

"As tired as I am, I still want to try this on. Would you help me?" you asked, holding the new dress in your hands.

"Of couse." He answered, so you turned your back to him and held your hair up with one arm.

He helped you to loosen your current dress before you disappeared behind the screen in your room, changing into the new dress.

"How is this?" you asked, once you were done. With slow steps you came back to him. It seemed like he couldn't take his eyes off you anymore. The color suited your eyes so perfectly, the fabric hugged your body like this dress was made for you.

"I didn't know the guys had such a good taste in fashion."

"Neither did I, you look..."

"... Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I was just... mesmerized by the sight. You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress. I mean, you also do without it. I-I mean- not like this- no, like-"

You laughed as you saw him struggling with his words.

"I actually had the impression you're good with speeches."

Soon your feet brought you closer to him and you hugged him tight.

"I was going to say that you're looking gorgeous in that dress, like you do in every dress. But this one suits you especially. I didn't mean to say-"

"Hey, it's all good. Don't worry about it."

His eyes had found yours in shame. God, how could he ever forget this.

"But before you tie a knot into your tongue, I'd like to give you your gift."

As you let go of him for a moment, you reached out to the last present you had left.

"I hope you like it. If you don't, then just give it back to me."

"(Y/N)", he started to unpack, "I would never give that away whatever it might be."

He fished the gift out of the wrapping paper and stared at it for a good while.

His expression was completely blank.

"It was a stupid idea, I'm sorry..." you mumbled, trying to take his gift away in shame, but he turned away quickly.

"... You knitted that pullover yourself?" he asked calmly.

"I did, yes. I thought, if you run around without sleeves all the time you might... catch a cold..."

For some more time he stared at the pullover blankly.

"If you really want to keep it-"

"Of course I do! I love it!"

Only now, his expression changed into a wide smile.

It felt like a stone fell off your chest as he said he liked it.

"I hope it fits. I've had Gwaine try it on. It was a bit large on him."

"Gwaine?"

"Yeah. It was a bit loose... over his shirt... and his armor..."

Percival turned towards you and laughed at the thought, so did you.

"It looked very funny, believe me."

The knight quickly took off his vest and switched into his new pullover. As he looked down on himself, his smile got even wider.

"Does it fit?"

"Perfectly. You're such a sweetheart, (Y/N)." He caught you in a gentle embrace again and you cuddled yourself into the hug. The pullover was incredibly soft, which made the hug more pleasant than usual since there was no cold metal against your skin anymore.

For a good while he kept you close like this before he let go, just to hand his present to you as well.

He gave you a silk sachet. After you looked inside, you reached in to get your gift out. It was a leather band with a pendant out of soapstone. It was shaped like the head of a fox.

"And I guess you made that yourself as well?" You asked in awe, seeing the polished pendant reflect the light of the candles in your room.

"Surely. Everytime I'm hunting with the others, and I see a fox, I think of you. These creatures are extremely clever, atonishing beautiful, and a sign of good luck. Any I think", you handed him the necklace while he talked so he could put it around your neck, "I'm very lucky to have a wonderful woman like you in my life. May this pendant always bring luck to you too."

Once Percival was done you turned around to him, looking down at the pendant one more.

"I'm loving it already. How do I ever thank you?"

The man glanced at the pendant, then his eyes locked with yours.

"You're spending your time with me. That's more I could ever ask for."

Your heart was beating hard and fast at the sight of his satisfied smile.

"Today was truly a magical day. I've loved every minute."

Percival gently cupped your cheeks. As you looked up to him, you noticed something over his head. You figured out that it was a mistletoe, hanging from the ceiling.

Once he saw that you noticed, he pulled you even closer.

"(Y/N), do you believe in these traditions?"

While biting down on your own lip slightly you watched his ones, then glanced up at his blue eyes again. Since he was so tall you had to stand on your toes to get even a bit closer to his face.

"This pendant ought to bring me luck, so... what could go wrong?" Both your arms found their way around his neck to support yourself.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered while leaning in even closer, brushing his nose against yours. With half lidded eyes you nodded slowly, which lead Percival to hug your waist tight and lift you off the ground.

It didn't take long until his lips crashed onto yours, passion flowing through your entire body like waves of electricity.

His lips were soft and warm, they felt so wonderful on your own ones. The knight had closed his eyes as well, enjoying this moment just as much as you before he let go of you again.

"Did you place that there?" you asked with a slight grin, to wich he nodded with the same expression.

"I hoped you would notice."

"And I hoped you'd finally make the first step."

Percival leaned down to you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "I did. But therefore you have to cuddle with me all night long."

As an answer, you just turned your back towards him and held your hair up again.

"Then let me get into my nightdress and get comfortable on my bed. I'll be with you in a second."

#bbc merlin #merlin #knights of the round table #sir leon #merlin fanfic #merlin bbc #merlin oneshot #sir gwaine #sir percival #Sir percival x reader #sir elyan #sir lancelot #christmas fluff

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danisbrainrot · 8 months

Text

queen of my heart

Morgana x female! reader

she/her pronouns and girl used

canon divergent (aka an alternate universe where morgana doesn't turn evil).

word count: 2.6k

trigger warnings: spoilers (mild), fake body.

just two lesbians mutually pining over each other (even though it's kind of forbidden)

everyone in camelot knew the king's ward, lady morgana. she was the most gorgeous lady in all of the lands.

she would never be in line for the throne. however, that still didn't mean she could ever be seen with a lowly serving girl like you. not that you were often alone with her—gwen was her servant, not you.

no, you were confined to the kitchens. your job was more or less the same everyday: clean the dishes, sweep the floors, and put away leftovers.

it was late one night, you hadn't finished all of your chores because you'd fallen asleep on the job.

it wasn't your fault, really.

nightmares plagued your mind all night last night, ensuring you didn't get a wink of sleep. you'd had half the mind to wake gaius up and beg for a sleeping draught; alas, you were too cowardly and instead suffered with the awful dreams.

now, you found yourself bent over while scrubbing the floor from where so clumsy serving boy had knocked over a large vat of soup. you had stupidly decided to save that chore for last, now you began to regret it. the soup stuck to the floor and required you to heave as hard as you could. even distracting yourself with humming didn't work as you diligently slaved away.

you were too preoccupied with the task at hand, you didn't notice the sounds of footsteps. a figure leaned against the frame of the door, debating whether or not to interrupt you and ask for a drink before bed.

"ahem," you heard from behind you. you whipped your head around and noticed lady morgana in the doorway. she wore her dainty, silk nightgown, that she no doubt had no time to change. it was obvious she had woken up abruptly and rushed down to the kitchen to drink something before going back to bed. you couldn't believe your eyes—having rarely ever saw the royal family, let alone this close. "I was hoping you could fetch me something to drink. I can't sleep tonight."

morgana looked out of place. even down to her nightgown, she had a royal glow to her. yet here she was, in the kitchen where anyone BUT royalty would typically be. you nod swiftly, getting up and hurrying to appease the lady—all thoughts of your chores long banished from your mind. lady morgana was your first priority.

"here you go, m'lady. will this do?" you offer her the goblet; she accepts it graciously. she nods her head—answering your question—taking a sip. her eyes never leaving you. however, you keep your eyes trained on the floor—like how you were instructed to do when in the presence of royalty.

morgana places the goblet on the table and tilts her head, trying to get a better look at you. "are you new here? I don't believe I've seen you around before," she comments.

"I never leave the kitchen. . .m'lady," you answer deliberately. you debate lifting your head, daring to look her in the eyes. but you knew you could. it would be a stupid move to risk offending morgana—she may not be the king's daughter, but she was still his ward. insulting her would be like insulting prince arthur.

morgana's gaze lingered on you for a long minute, before she spoke again. "you can look at me, you know. I'm not like arthur," she joked. you meekly raised your head. immediately, you were captivated by her gorgeous green eyes that shone like emeralds. her luscious, black hair—although, unruly—framed her face perfectly. her lips were slightly parted, as she also took in your looks. even in that moment—where she was still in a groggy haze of sleep—morgana was the image of perfection. "that's better," she praised, making your insides swoon.

"will that be all, m'lady?" you ask again, not in a rush to get rid of her, but rather conscious of the fact she made your insides burn. she seemed startled as you said that—leading you to wonder if maybe she felt the same. . .

"thank you, for your help," you bowed as she gracefully exited, before turning to face the mess still on the floor. you fought back the urge to groan aloud.

you awoke to someone forcibly shaking you. "get up. the king wishes to speak to you," they whispered.

dread filled your stomach. it wasn't often that the king wished to speak to a lowly servant, so whatever it was, it couldn't be good. you trembled as you made your bed. perhaps he found out about your chance meeting with morgana. or that you sometimes fall asleep on the job. or maybe—a horrible thought entered your mind—maybe someone accused you of witchcraft. you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your mind—whatever it was, no matter how bad, you would handle the situation with dignity.

you were accompanied into the throne room by two guards. the majestic doors slowly opened, revealing king uther, prince arthur, lady morgana all standing in anticipation. had you kept the king waiting? no you were really in trouble.

"good, we would like to speak to you about your duties," the king announced. your hands began to fidget with your apron as your eyes remained on the floor. "you work in the kitchen, am I correct?" you looked up, but no voice came out. taking a deep breath in, you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"yes, sire," you replied meekly.

"how long have you worked at the palace for, now?" he asked, you felt the hot gaze from morgana, but tried to keep your focus on uther.

"four years now, sire," you reply, slightly louder now—but not to loud to seem rebellious. he nodded in understanding, before turning to face morgana. she nodded as well. your confusion reached heights you never thought imaginable, as you tried to read the room.

"well, then. a spot has recently opened up, since lady morgana's last serving girl has taken up a higher position," he cleared his throat. you looked to your right and saw that gwen wasn't there. arthur's serving boy, merlin, stood alone. "morgana has requested that you fill her position," he proposed. you sighed in relief; all anxiety left your body. you already felt lighter.

"I would like that very much, sire," you replied, a smile etched on your face.

"good. now that affair has been settled, merlin will escort you to the lady morgana's chambers," arthur announced. merlin looked at him in shock, before turning to face you. it was clear he had not been informed of arthur's plan.

you bow to uther, before turning to face merlin. a million thoughts raced through your head as merlin gestured for you to follow him. why did morgana want you to become her serving girl? what happened to gwen? or worse, did she fire gwen to hire you?

your eyes flickered nervously towards merlin, "do you know what happened to gwen?" his head snapped back to face you, but he didn't stop moving.

"she's no longer lady morgana's serving girl," he replied.

"yes, well that much is obvious. but why did she stop?" you asked hastily.

"I'm not sure. I'll make sure to ask gaius when I see him next." merlin lead you down a few more halls before you finally reached morgana's chambers.

you stood at the door frame in awe. it was more magnificent than anything you had ever seen. a dark green canopy—to match her eyes—with emerald silk sheets, a matching rug sprawled across the floor. windows the size of dragons overlooked the entrance to the castle, while the deep green curtains were pulled to the side. the wardrobe stood mighty and proud. inside were exquisite gowns galore, in various different shades and colours—each more beautiful than the last.

"I'll leave you to it," merlin said, awkwardly leaving.

you waited patiently for morgana. you felt yourself growing antsy the longer she took. the door softly opened, alerting you to morgana's presence. you stood up immediately, curtsying as she smiled softly at you.

"it's a beautiful day outside, don't you think? I should like to change into my riding outfit," she announced. you nodded eagerly, racing to the wardrobe. your fingers combed through her various gowns, before landing on her desired outfit.

"untie me, please," she turned around. you bit your lip, as your fingers grazed her back—she shivered slightly. you took a deep breath in; you couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to run your fingers along the ridges of her back. your hands dropped to your side as you realized what your thought meant. she swiftly turned to face you, startling you slightly. her eyes flickered towards your parted lips as you felt her chest pressed up against yours.

her head tilted towards you; her breath fanning on your face. her grip on her dress softened, as the fabric fell elegantly to the floor. before you could lose yourself, you took a preemptive step back. this was lady morgana you were too close to.

her hand reached for your forearm, but pulled back when she realised what she was doing. the suggestion lingered in the air. she accepted the outfit in your hand and hid herself behind the divider. you breathed in harshly as you realised that you'd seen her almost naked. you could see her silhouette through the divider, turning away to give her more privacy. what were you doing? this wasn't allowed.

"are you still there?" she called out.

"yes, m'lady," you replied. she smiled gently, stepping out from behind the divider. she looked stunning. all the dresses in that wardrobe looked absolutely ravishing on her—but nothing could match the sheer beauty she carried herself in this moment.

to distract yourself, you rushed downstairs to ready the horses downstairs. it wasn't something you've ever done before, so merlin guided you through the process. it seemed arthur had given him the day off to teach you the ways of serving a royal member.

before morgana left, she turned to face you, offering you gratitude. "thank you," there was a pregnant pause as you debated whether or not to ask. temptation over took you—you need to know what happened to gwen.

"what happened to your last serving girl? gwen—i mean," morgana paused, focusing her gaze towards arthur and it clicked. "did she become a noble so that arthur could court her?" morgana flexed an index finger in front of her lips and nodded. "they. . .can do that?"

"apparently," she replied. there was another pause, before she clicked at the horse and rode away. you jump back, startled and the abrupt exit.

later that afternoon, you watched out the window as she strode into the citadel on her beautiful, auburn horse. you watched her swing her leg off it's side, flick her hair out of the way and offered it a sugar cube. you were transfixed by her.

a soft knock drew you from your daydream, as you hurried yourself to look busy while inviting whoever was at the door in. the door gently creaked open to reveal gwen—an awkward smile on her face. "I just have to grab something," she mumbled. you nodded, getting out of her way.

you clutched at the flowers you had collected while on a walk earlier that day. you'd gotten it as a thoughtful present for morgana, but after that morning, you began to double guess yourself. "is that for morgana?" gwen asked sweetly. you nodded. "she'll love it," you smiled back at her, the question ebbing away at you. gwen stopped before the door, turning to face you, "you'll really love working here. I already miss morgana—she treats you like a friend," gwen promised.

morgana entered soon after. the day's ride had soothed her mind and she'd thought a lot about what had happened that morning with you. however, all her plans flew out the window when she saw you standing there with a handful of wild flowers. her smile widened. "are those for me?" she asked.

you nodded, holding them out to her, "it's a thank you. for getting me out of the kitchen," you explained—although, it was much more than that and, subconsciously, you both knew it.

morgana accepted the flowers graciously, bringing them close to her nose to smell. "they're beautiful, thank you," she couldn't believe your kindness. you went to grab a vase, filling it with water. morgana placed the flowers by her bedside table, for when she went to sleep that night—she hoped they would soothe the nightmares that plagued her.

"do you want me to help you change for dinner?" you asked, she nodded, running to change behind the divider.

you brought the dress over to her, the fabric to pooled at her feet, allowing her to easily step into it and for you to pull it up. sweeping her hair to the side again—her neck, deliciously exposed—she gave you room to tie her up.

you knew that yearning for the king's ward was a bad idea. everything about it was forbidden. morgana was the king's ward and you were her serving girl.

your fingers made quick work of tying her corset up, tightening it—not so much that she'd suffocate—to enhance her figure. you were in awe of her; she was truly the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. "done," you whispered. she let go of her hair as it cascaded down her back. she took a seat at her vanity table, slowly brushing her hair, "would you like me to put it up for you?" you asked. she nodded.

delicately twisting sections of her hair, playing with strands so they would frame her face, and pinning parts up—you finally finished. she looked in the mirror and smiled, twirling a strand around her finger. "it's marvellous, thank you," you nodded and watched her leave for dinner.

morgana's screams echoed through her room. you woke up abruptly, running into her room to see what had happened; you found her sat up straight, sobbing into her hands. she looked up at you with glassy eyes and puffy cheeks. you embraced her as she sobbed into your shoulder, "it's these dreams. I've been having them for months now—gaius' sleeping draughts aren't working," she lamented.

you held her until she finally calmed down. she looked up at you, teary-eyed as her lips parted. a pregnant pause overtook them before morgana couldn't hold it in anymore. gently, she pressed her lips against yours. she took her time, giving you an opportunity to shut her down—but was pleasantly surprised to find that you were more than willing to return the kiss.

she cupped your face—desperate to hold you closer. slowly, you pulled away, "morgana, you need to sleep," you whispered.

"stay with me until I fall asleep? please?" she begged. you hesitated—someone could stumble into you two and tell uther what was happening. finally, you relinquished, nodding your head in agreement. she smiled in relief, before snuggling into you.

you made yourself more comfortable as you covered the two of you in a blanket.

it didn't matter—after all these years of admiring her, you had never imagined that you would be in her bed while she fell asleep in your warm embrace.

it was still hard to believe that merely twenty-four hours ago you were just some servant in the kitchens and now. . .? you weren't courting, you were hardly anything. it could have been that morgana needed comfort right now and you were there, but whatever this was. . .you didn't mind seeing where it could lead. if arthur and gwen could have their fairytale love story, why couldn't you and morgana?

she may never be in line for the throne, but one thing was for sure—after tonight—she was the queen of your heart.

#morgana #bbc merlin #lady morgana #lesbian romance #forbidden romance #romance #mutual pining #canon divergence #x reader #fluff

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friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn · 2 years

Note

Could u write something a Merlin x reader “Your enthusiasm is infectious.”

Please ?????

Absolutely, anon!

Warnings: some swearing, but this is pure fluff :)

You couldn’t help but smile at the way Merlin seemed to light up as he talked about the destiny he and Arthur shared. And you couldn’t deny that it sounded amazing: a world in which those with magic, like Merlin and yourself, wouldn’t have to fear for their lives.

You were so lost in thoughts about what a world like that might look like, that you don’t realise Merlin had stopped talking until he waved his hand in front of your face.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N).”

“What?”

He crouched in front of the log you were sitting on and absently reached for one of your hands. “I asked what you were smiling about.”

Said smile only widened when you answered: “You.”

Merlin looked surprise by that admittance. “Me?”

“Yeah. Your enthusiasm is infectious, Merlin.”

He traced a finger over your knuckles. “Well, I believe in Arthur.”

You almost rolled your eyes at the mention of the crown prince, but barely refrained. “And I believe in you. Arthur was a stuck-up little shit before he met you.”

At that, Merlin grinned up at you. “What makes you think he isn’t still?”

“Fair enough,” you admitted. “You would know. Speaking of which, didn’t he require you to help him prepare for the feast that’s set to start in… about an hour, give or take?”

Merlin’s eyes widened in horror. “Shit.”

#drabble #oneshot #merlin #merlin bbc #merlin drabble #merlin oneshot #merlin bbc drabble #merlin bbc oneshot #reader insert #merlin x reader #fluff

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anika-ann · 10 months

Text

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all?

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him; your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

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

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #medieval au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #lemons #pomiluj me #anika ann

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