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kurottsukii · 9 months

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Warning; what you're about to see involves mature scenes for 18 and up. If you're not comfortable reading any sexual scenes, please skip until its over. If you would like to read it, scroll down. Otherwise, please enjoy and don't report.

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Standford

Halloween Night

Sam was pressed up against the dorm room door, the door itself wasn't locked but certainly closed. Breathless laughter and giggles were heard as Sam and a girl that certainly wasn't his girlfriend, were undressing each other. Both being egared to get each other out their clothes.

Sam was the only one close to being naked, the only piece of clothing left was his boxers, which were currently being pulled down slowly by the girl's teeth. Who's teeth you might ask? It wasn't his girlfriend's but his bestfriend, Yasmine. The two started this little scandal a month ago after a drunken kiss was shared in a frat party. After that, the two couldn't keep their hands off each other.

After successfully pulling the boxers off the tall Winchester, Yasmine sprung up only to receive a kiss.

That one kiss, sent the best kind of electricity down her body. Without hesitation, she matched Sam's energy, their lips moving in sync hungrily.

Not a minute later, Sam was the one to pull away for a quick moment, only so he could effortesly pick up the girl by the thighs, switching places till she was now the one to be pressed up against the door.

Before Yasmine could say anything, Sam was back on her lips, attacking them once more. Sucking on the bottom lip just enough to make it swollen. Their tounge colliding, dancing around each other, both trying to gain dominance but before there could be a winner, he broke the kiss again. Watching the string of saliva stretched between their now swollen lips. Both parties huffing and puffing, trying to catch their breaths even though they were only a inch apart from one another.

"Should we take this to the bed?"

Yasmine asked, softly sucking on her swollen lip. The slight taste of blood made heat flush through her body down to her core. She knew the $300 lingerie she was wearing was about to be in shambles, but at this point she didn't give a shit. She wanted to be controlled- owned- the only way Sam could do it.

Removing herself from Sam's hold, the girl pulled the younger Winchester towards her as they fell on the bed in usion, Yasmine couldn't help but smirk at the darkened gaze staring down at her. She gently traced the length of Sam's inner thigh with her foot.

"Undress me, big boy"

Sam's tounge glid across his bottom lip, laughing at the control Yasmine had on him. But today. . . she doesn't know what she's in for.

"Your wish is is my commamd baby."

Using his strength, he tore off the other's bra within in a second, and off went her panties and whatever else was in his way.

His eyes glanced over at the flushed bottom who was now fully naked, this exact scene was familiar. It was the exact scene on when they first did it, when it was considered to be just a drunken accident. Just then, even though their minds were intoxicated, their bodies were fully aware what was going on. It was so sweet and gently at first.

But now, the man knew exactly he was doing, and what he really wanted. He knew every weak spot Yasmine had, what would make her whimper, what made her wet and what made her turn into a crying mess. I guess it was an advantage that he had, no one knew how to please Yasmine more than him.

He wasted no time pulling the girl close to him once again, biting into her neck to remind her who was in charge, the taste of her blood that now stained his lips was addicting to him, it was like an drug.

His blood boiling with need, he grabs the girl's waist as he grinds up against her, squeezing her bare waist hard, his hands fleeting to her ass, squeezing it just a bit more till he hears the sweet sounds of her whimpering.

Moving to the other side, he placed a hot heavy kiss on to her neck, smothering his lips over the skin soon after sucking onto patches sure to turn into dark hickeys, his tongue running over each mark as his hand went down to Yasmine's womanhood that was already leaking, carelessly shoving his two fingers inside as his thumb was rubbing against the clit, the sudden tighteness that surrounded his fingers made him let out a tight moan in the girl's ear.

Causing Yasmine's whole body to shudder underneath him. The way he fingerfucked her, made her want to cum right then and there, but she held back. She let out a ragged breath, while staring up at him.

"Is that the best you could do, cowboy?" Yasmine countered breathlessly, trying to keep from moaning.

The sting on her shoulder was pulsing, Deliciously painful and ever so erotically.

"Not even close." He whispered against her ear, teasingly nibbling her ear lobe as he began to leave a trail of kisses down her jawline, her breast, and stomach, all the way to her-

"Yo Yassy!" A voice was heard from behind the door, the sound of the door knob rattling caused Yasmine to go into panic mode, as Sam, who didn't really care, continued to do what he was doing, which was eating her out like she was a whole four course meal. Which puts Yasmine in a hard place, now she has to figure out how to stop her brother from coming in and seeing his best friend eating out his sister, who's not Jessica.

"For fuck christ Ronnie, I'm naked in here! Just say what you have to say out there!" Yasmine yelled, biting down her bottom lip, trying to compress her moans. Meanwhile Sam was between her legs, sucking on her clit as he aggressivly plundge his fingers inside her, continuing the motion which caused the girl to squirm.

"First of all, ew. And second, have you seen Sam? We're all looking for him, and also you, my dear sister."

"I-" The girl couldn't even form a sentence, she could feel everything closing in on her at once, the pleasure was getting a little too intense for her. "Nope! He's probably at the library, you know how much of a dork he is." She managed to blirt out, letting out soft moans here and there, trying to cover them with heavy breaths which was not helping at all. In a attempt to stop him, she trapped him between her thighs, squeezing as hard as she could for him to stop and he did stop.

He stopped eating her out. But he wasn't exactly done. Breaking free, he slowly made his way up, kissing her jawline, as her brother continued to talk.

"Ight, well. . . let Jessica know if you see him. The girl's worried."

"Yeah! Totally! Bye!'

Once they heard footsteps fading away from the door, Sam waisted no time continuing what he was doing earlier.

He started to get handsy once again, nipping hard at her clavicle upstairs. He was doing his best to not leave a spot unmarked. Possessive and eagered to make her feel every inch of pleasure under the sun, was his motive. He had to sate the thirst.

He then plunged into her with no warning. He was never the type to go easy, but with how Yasmine was acting, he decided to do it once. Starting at a mediocore pace more than exhilaratited by the tight tunnel, suffocating his dick.

Yasmine didn't even get a chance to recover or even breathe for that matter. Her legs hooked around the younger Winchester while her hands clenched the sheets tightly. The pain seared through her lower region, which only igniting her need to chase her climax.

No one could ever pleasure her fully because no one knew how. Sam was her best friend, her teacher in sex and what felt good. The soft, sensual lovemaking had nothing on the rough, hard sex Sam gave her. It was ownership, lust, need, pleasure all wrapped into one.

Yasmine's hands clasp into Sam's back, her nails breaking the skin as she tightened her hole, trapping Sam deep inside, relishing how full she felt. His low moans mixed with her pants, creating their own special soundtrack.

"Don't pull out..." she managed to say between breathy moans.

"You know me long enough to understand that I don't take orders."

Teasingly, he slowered the thrusting, his dick moving against the tight tunnel, but even he couldn't keep up with the teasing, he wanted more. Eventually, he began to fasten the pace.

"Fuck," he breathed out as his balls tightened and the shooting pulse zinged through him. As he quickly pulled out. His abs contracted with each spurt of the hot, thick ropes shooting onto the sheets.

His body relaxed, causing his knees to spread further. As he plunged back inside. Thrusting in and out of her at a fast pace. The sight of Yasmine reaching multiple oragasms with so little force made Sam just cocky in everything he was doing. He haven't had good...no..great sex like this in a while.

He could feel the tunnel squeezing around his cock as Yasmine came which earned her a harder and deeper thrust, Sam was putting his back into in every thrust, exerting more force than he intended to put into it.

He then flipped her over, forcing her to get on all fours as he grabbed onto the locks of his lover's hair, pulling her head back as his thrusting turned into him just ramming into her tunnel, repeatingly hitting the girl's g-spot like a beast in heat. "You feel so good baby." He moaned, sweat beading on his face. His nails were now digging into the skin of Yasmine's hips as he increased the speed, bringing more ungodly force into it.

He too, like Yasmine was loosing himself to the pleasure and the skin ship noises of his hips clapping the smaller woman's cherry red ass. He was pretty sure everyone next door could now hear the two go at it like wild animals.

Letting his own head fall back, a wicked smile spread across his face, he continued to do what he said he would do, blow her back out. The clenching multipled and so did the pleasure and with aggravated breaths, despite the feeling of him soon coming if she kept suffocateing his dick.

The pleasure in his abdomen kept building up and he was still going like a mad man. He wanted to make sure She wouldn't be able to walk right after this.

Falling back on the edge of the bed, he held on to Yasmine till they was now in the backwards cowboy position, giving Yasmine better access for him to go even deeper. His pelvis collided with Yasmine's with full force, making his member hit unknown pleasure spots Yasmine didn't know she had.

Thats when Yasmine begin to move her hips, matching his thrusting which didn't last, the girl's womb has been sensitive since the last orgasms, the sheets were soaked, and her legs were trembling. She couldn't keep up, luckily Sam was close too. With a few thrusts, both parties released at the same time, on and in each other. This caused Yasmine to collapse besides him, her body still shaking from the intense release.

Sweat beamed down her face and onto the already wet sheets as she looked down at the young Winchester, who was grinning from ear to ear. "What you smiling for Winchester?" Yasmine asked between her huffs and puffs as she ran her fingers through her damped curls.

"It's just. . ." Sam paused, "you look cute while riding me, especially when you do that little shake at the end." He smirked, receiving a hard slap on the chest.

"Oh fuck off." Yasmine spat while climbing off the six foot four boy, she tried to stand so she could dress but within a second of standing, her legs gave out and down she went, earning a loud cheeky laugh for Sam.

"Fuck you man!" The girl yelled only for Sam to give a smug remark, "When?"

"Never. Anymore. Don't you have a girlfriend to get to?"

"I'm with her right now." Sam stated, causing Yasmine to snap her head towards his direction so fast, she got whiplash. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." He joked, "But I'm serious Yassy. I like you . . . a lot, and I was thinking about breaking up Jess so we can start something."

Was this man serious? Dumping Jess for her? And let the whole friend group, including her brother find out that they been fucking behind Jess' back. Was he asking for a death wish?

"No."

"No?" Sam looked at her like she was insane. What did she mean no? Doesn't she feel the same way?

"Yeah, no. You have a perfect girlfriend who loves you to death and a promising future in front of you, why waste that for a girl like me? I can't treat you how Jess treat you, I'm not even wife material. I'm. . . hookup material." As she explained it, her herself realized how stupid her answer was. But she knew she couldn't give Sam the life he wanted.

"Do you even love me?" He questioned, earning a blank look from Yasmine who still sat on the floor.

Her eyes searched his for a brief moment, gazing over the hopeful looking he had as he waited for her answer. God, this man was cute. She wanted so bad to give in, to say yes and just keep him for herself but deep down, she knew he wasn't hers. He couldn't ever be hers, at least not in this life.

"No." Her answer was short and quick. Like pulling off a band aid, but by just looking at her, you could tell she didn't mean it. But Sam couldn't see that, he could see the regret in her eyes, he was too blind from the hard "no" that hit him so deep in his heart. He didn't know what to think, but he knew he had to leave.

After throwing everything back on in a messy manner, he left in silence, leaving Yasmine to sit there, naked, alone, and full of regret.

Did she make a mistake? Of course she did, but why would Sam want a relationship, a life. .with the whore?

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #hunting #doja cat #fanfiction ideas #wattpad

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pwrsassy · 2 months

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gifset —STARLIGHT by -PWRSASSY

don't repost

#authors #graphics #pjo series #percy jackson #florence hunt #walker scobell #fanfics #wattpad

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entishramblings · 6 months

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Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

Everything Taglist: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @skairipakomtrikru @hemera1227 @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @mgchaser @heavenshumour @casuallyeating-blog @cheari

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Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @abandoncloud9 @aphroditesmoon @carojasmin2204 @high-sea-husbands @aheadfullofsteverogers

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#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas/reader #legolas fic #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #LOTR fic #LOTR fanfic #legolas one shot #legolas drabble #legolas love story #LOTR writer #LOTR writing

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dianawinchester03 · 29 days

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist by @dianawinchester03

In this rewrite of CW's hit TV Show 'Supernatural'.

Y/N L/N is a longtime friend of the notorious Winchester Brothers, coming from a long line of hunters herself. Growing up with them, their fathers had a goal of avenging their wives deaths. Currently on her own hunting, much to her own fathers demise, she gets a call from her childhood crush, Dean Winchester. Notifying her of his fathers disappearance, will she join the brothers on the hunt to find their father? And will she resolve her relationship with her own?

=====================================

Season One (ongoing)

Prologue - Enter Y/N L/N

Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot

Season 1, Episode 2 - Wendigo

Season 1, Episode 3 - Dead in Water

Season 1, Episode 4 - Phantom Traveler

Season 1, Episode 5 - Bloody Mary

Season 1, Episode 6 - Skin

Season 1, Episode 7 - Hook Man

Season 1, Episode 8 - Bugs

Season 1, Episode 9 - Home

Season 1, Episode 10 - Asylum

Season 1, Episode 11 - Scarecrow

Season 1, Episode 12 - Faith

Season 1, Episode 13 - Route 666

Season 1, Episode 14 - Nightmare

Season 1, Episode 15 - The Benders

Season 1, Episode 16 - Shadow

Season 1, Episode 17 - Hell House

Season 1, Episode 18 - Something Wicked

_____________________

Also available on:

📖; ao3

📖; wattpad

_____________________

Authors Note: I finally learnt how to do a Masterlist! Hallelujah now life will be easier for you guys. Hope you check out my book and enjoy🫶I’ll update the list after each chapter release

Xoxo

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Ghost w/ a Petite S/O

Warnings: 18+, mention of size kink, Reader is small, no pronouns used for Reader except 'you', mention of spooning, mentions of smut, pet names, mentions of possessiveness, abuse of strength (but it's consensual), just Ghost in love

Size kink.

He loves how much smaller than him you are. Also can’t believe how small you are.

Pulls you to sleep on top of him when you’re in bed, or cocoons himself around you, putting himself between you and potential threats.

Is always the big spoon. No compromise.

Loves comparing how large his hands are to any part of your body.

Makes you sit on his lap when others are around (given they know you’re dating) because he’s just that proud to be your boyfriend.

Also makes you sit on his lap when you’re alone.

Likes when you shift in just the right way so that you catch him.

Usually ends up in you two doing the deed.

Calls you pet names like “Doll”, “Prince/Princess,” “Tiny,” “Small,” when you’re alone.

He tries not to let you get too involved with the people he works with.

Lowkey fears that doing so will make you more accessible to whoever he’s sent to hunt down next.

Uses his immense size to shield you from the view of anyone he doesn’t want seeing you, or the weather if you’re out and about and it’s cold.

P o s s e s s i v e.

Hugs you at any given opportunity (usually in private, though).

Has a penchant for pinning you down and watching you “struggle” to escape his grip.

Definitely gets off to being way stronger than you.

And you do too, to be honest.

Loves when you come and give him back hugs because your arms are too small to fit all the way around him.

Will absolutely melt if you tell him he makes you feel safe.

Gives his life purpose.

He just loves you so much.

Would do anything for you.

Except put everything out of your reach on a lower shelf.

He adores the way you have to come and ask him to pass you things because you’re too small to reach them.

Half does it because he likes you being reliant on him, half because he finds great pleasure in the way your body rubs against his when he’s stood behind you, pressing you into the counter as he reaches above you to pass you whatever it is you were asking for.

This also usually leads to very long nights.

Sometimes you do this just to get him hot and bothered lol.

Speaking of, he gets off on how big his cock is compared to you.

Lives for the way your stomach bulges when he’s inside you.

Always gentle with you (unless you ask him not to be, but even then he’ll hold back until he’s seen how well you can take his full strength).

Worries that you’d be vulnerable when he’s not around, though.

Teaches you how to defend yourself in his absence.

All in all, would tear the stars from the sky for you if you asked him to.

Loves you unconditionally and unfathomably.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 #mw2 smut #simon riley smut

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purenovembersoul · 2 months

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#cinematv #moviegifs #wattpad gif hunt #perioddramaedit #movie gifs #perioddramagif #periodeditdrama #my ediit #emily dickinson #dickinson apple tv #dickinson #aestethic #xix century #letters #sadness

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storiez0 · 10 months

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Luna Blaise as Olive Stone gif hunt (manifest season four)

#gif pack #gif hunt #Wattpad #face claim #unpopular face claim #olive stone #manifest spoilers #luna blaise #gifs

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

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Lovers and Love.

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pregnancy (if you don't like don't read), descriptions of morning sickness, anxiety, angst, illusions to sex

a/n back to your regularly scheduled program i dont wanna hear it i don’t write pregnancy stories often (i say this with a modern day au pregnancy joel fic in my drafts). literally my third in a year (back during my wattpad days I would solely write pregnancy stories. ew). i really like how this turned out though, the length is good

summary Y/N tries to hide that she is pregnant and Joel finds out

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 mins 47 seconds

“What’s filling that pretty head of yours lately?” Joel asked between each chop of the wood.

“Oh, nothing.” you lied.

“You looked mighty focused on that rock just a minute ago.”

“Better than looking at you chopping wood,” you scoffed sarcastically, getting Joel’s scent off your trail.

What you were really thinking about? The last time you got your period.

Each swing of the axe made you cringe. You begged to think of something different, but the thought had filled your mind for the past few days when your expected period didn’t arrive.

You and Ellie had swept out an old convenience store about a month ago. Ellie found some period products and gave some to you and it made you think.

When was the last time you got your period?

Ever since you were a child you dreamed of being a mother. Raising a family with someone you loved. But when the world fell to cordyceps, that idea was quickly left in the past with every other hope and dream you ever had.

This was no environment for an adult, let alone a child. A baby was an absolute no. The constant crying would attract any creature in a mile radius. It wouldn’t get the proper nutrition babies needed to grow. And giving birth in this world was a borderline death sentence.

And your baby’s daddy? The man you had been hooking up with on the low.

He was meant to move the cargo. You assisted the cargo and made sure it behaved.

It wasn’t your fault when Ellie was captured by David and you and Joel had to hide out in a shed one night alone.

Or maybe that time Ellie went out hunting.

Or the time Joel had to cover your mouth and tell you to shut up because she was asleep in the next room.

You knew Ellie wasn’t a dumb kid, but you were just praying she wasn’t that smart.

But pregnancy tests were nonexistent. Most of them you assumed would be expired. Can pregnancy tests even expire? And condoms, come on. It would honestly be funny if Joel pulled one out as a joke. There was no way any of those were still in use at least five years after the breakout.

“Y/N!” Joel yelled, catching your attention. The volume of his voice caught you off guard. “What’s wrong with you, seriously?” he scoffed, flipping his axe in his hand.

Brushing him off, you helped him carry wood into the small abandoned cabin you had found for the night.

Ellie was sitting on the matted couch with her leg resting on top of the coffee table in what was left of the living room. If you squinted, it looked almost normal. No clickers, no cannibals, just a normal world, a normal Ellie sitting in a normal house.

You needed to quickly get the idea of a normal world out of your head. It wasn’t here anymore. You couldn’t hope and dream like you used to. It wasn’t the time for fantasy land anymore. This was serious shit.

“Thank god, I am fucking freezing!” Ellie announced, rubbing her hands together.

Joel dropped his few planks of wood on the ground. “I’m gonna go look for some blankets and supplies upstairs. Ellie, help Y/N with the fire.”

Ellie groaned and slammed her feet on the floor one by one from the coffee table dramatically. You could already imagine the eye roll she had just given him.

You began arranging the logs into a nice stack. Joel had cut enough to easily last you through the night and maybe into the morning.

“You doin’ okay?” Ellie asked, searching through her backpack for the matches. “Mhm,” you lied, watching her scratch the match and throw it in the dry fireplace.

“Joel said something about-” “It doesn’t matter what Joel said.” you cut her off. Ellie rested back on her legs. She was very obviously disappointed you wouldn’t tell her what was wrong.

Was it really that obvious?

“What did I say now?” Joel asked from the banister. He was carrying blankets in his hands he found in the bedrooms. He had a big smile plastered on his face that only widened when your eyes met his.

Just imagine how he would be. Carrying down blankets for you and your child to make a fort together. Making popcorn and watching a movie as the sky became dark. The child would fall asleep in your arms and the two of you would stare at each other and appreciate the world, the life you made together.

You broke eye contact with him and shook your head.

How could you let yourself think like that?

“That I was the best clicker killer in the group.” Ellie made up, lightening the mood. “Oh really now?” Joel chuckled, throwing all of the sheets down on Ellie.

“Oh thank god, warmth.” she sighed, wrapping herself in as many blankets as she could hold.

You snatched a blanket from Ellie with a smirk and moved in front of the fire. You saw the sun setting from one of the still intact windows. Joel made the bold move of laying directly next to you. Normally you would have been so touched by this little bit of public affection (even though the definition of public, for now, was just Ellie), but you were so exhausted by your mind games from the day that you couldn’t care less.

Ellie curled up next to you. She moved into your chest, wrapping her arms around one of yours. Poor Joel, Ellie got all your affection tonight after all.

After a few minutes, she was asleep.

“You wanna meet upstairs in a bit? Tell her your takin’ a piss or something.” Joel whispered in your ear. His wide hand touched your back, making you tense. He was craving your touch you could tell. It had been a few weeks since your last hookup. “No. Not tonight,” you whispered back, pulling Ellie closer.

“Hey,” he said in a low tone. You turned your head to look at him. “What’s really goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “I know when your lying.” he sighed. “Joel, drop it.” you hissed.

Ellie’s head looked up at yours. You felt the movement and immediately reacted.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. Go back to sleep now,” you said sweetly to her, brushing her hair to the side of her face. You could tell Joel noticed how you called her baby girl. That’s what he called her.

“What’s happening?” she asked groggily. “Nothing important. Now back to sleep. We need our energy for tomorrow.” You gave her a reassuring kiss on the top of her head.

Ellie nodded and resumed back to her sleeping spot in your arms.

Joel now sat against the couch, watching the two of you interact.

After a moment of silence to make sure Ellie was asleep again, he spoke.

“You would make a great mother one day.”

Your head whipped around and the look on your face said it all.

“With Ellie ‘n stuff. Sorry,” Joel muttered, rubbing his hands down the front of his jeans nervously. The man never usually let his guard down and say vulnerable things like that and you could tell he was disappointed by your reaction.

“Good night Joel,” you said sincerely. He was right. Ellie was like a little sister to you.

On the brink of sleep, you heard him throw another log on the fire. Blankets shuffled and there was a defining silence. Then the thought hit you.

There was no way he knew, right?

The faces matched so perfectly but yet were so different. Joel stood in a kitchen, the kitchen in the house you grew up in. You followed the scent of some sort of food and wandered into the kitchen. Your balance seemed off to you. Looking down, you were met by a large bump. No toes could be seen.

“Mama!” you heard. Your head whipped around to the kitchen table. It was the same oak as you remembered it. A baby sat in a high chair. It had curly (your color hair) and Joel’s eyes. It scared you how fast you recognized his features. Unremarkably, they were copied onto the baby's face. “Come on now, eat your breakfast,” Ellie said, encouraging the child. She appeared next to them with a spoon in her hand, making airplane noises as the child laughed.

“Ellie! Did you finish your homework?” Joel asked her. The oh-so-familiar groan escaped from her lips.

“Yes… maybe…” she began to say as the dream began to fade.

You shot upright, breathing heavily. Then the feeling arose from your stomach.

“Y/N?” Joel asked, shielding his face from the sun rays displaying over his eyes. He watched you run to the kitchen that was left of the living room.

The kitchen sink was the victim of your vomit.

Joel quickly stood up and went to your side. His hand returned to its spot from the previous night.

“It’s okay,” he said. You could tell he was trying to calm you, but it also sounded like he was trying to calm himself.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks as the vomiting came to an end.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping your mouth on your sleeve. “No, no. Stop, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Joel… please,” you stuttered. You embraced him. His surprisingly warm figure held yours tightly. “It’s okay,” he said again.

“You want to try to go back to sleep?” he asked you. Hesitantly, you shook your head yes.

Thank god Ellie was a deep sleeper when she had been asleep for a while. You could just imagine her putting the puzzle pieces together and announcing it without a second thought. She is a smart girl.

Joel held you on the wood floor. The two of you didn’t care if Ellie woke up to find your embrace. Sleep didn’t return to you, but a sense of peace did. You forgot about the world, the pregnancy, the cold, and the anger for just a moment. It was just you and Joel. The way it should be.

“Good morning Mom and Dad,” Ellie said, poking her foot into your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open from their relaxed state. “Go find some breakfast and shut it.” you hissed at her. Joel adjusted his hold on you, sighing in your ear.

“Some kid, huh?” he whispered.

“Tell me about-”

“Eugh! What the hell happened here?” Ellie yelled from the kitchen.

“I got food poisoning. Leave it,” you yelled to the kitchen, coming up with your best lie.

“Before we leave you should look upstairs. I thought I saw some clothes you might like. Warmer for the winter too,” Joel grunted, sitting up straight and stretching his arms behind his back.

Using the coffee table to help you up, you trotted across the cold floor and made your way upstairs.

The first bedroom was empty. The second had a few long sleeve tee shirts and a pair of jeans that would fit you. At least for now. You picked up a sweatshirt for Ellie and a book she might like.

The third bedroom seemed to be a children’s room. You were going to look for something smaller for Ellie, but when you opened the first drawer you were met with rows of baby clothes.

Your hands ran over the patterns on the onesies. A baby girl had lived here. Your heart ached as you tried not to think about what her fate had possibly been.

You opened another drawer and it was filled with baby shoes. The memories of swooning over the baby shoes at the store when you were younger filled your mind. The memory of little Y/N mentally picking out which shoes her baby would wear one day warmed your heart.

Opening the top drawer again, you looked through the clothes. You let yourself choose four, one for each season. Easy enough to keep hidden in your backpack. You were too busy looking at the clothes to notice Joel leaning against the doorframe.

You only noticed him when you turned to put the clothes into your backpack.

Audibly gasping, you dropped your bag on the ground along with the onesies.

“I… I-”

“Don’t,” Joel sighed. He bent down and grabbed your bag along with the baby clothes.

“You really thought I didn’t know?” he chuckled, slowly opening the zipper to your backpack.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, face burning red. It’s all you could manage to say. Your brain felt numb.

“No, Y/N. It takes two, remember?” he smiled, holding up a onesie in front of him.

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” he chuckled, beginning to fold the clothes. You stared at him astonished.

He was taking this news surprisingly well. You expected him to leave you somewhere, or even worse. The fact that he was smiling and folding clothes for a baby in this world was shocking.

“How did you know?” you asked him. He gave you the side eye and smirked. “I know your body like the back of my hand. I just have to close my eyes and…”

Joel closed his eyes and the stupidest grin grew on his face.

“Stop it!” you blushed, giving him a playful slap on the arm. “I notice things, darling,” he said, assuring you everything was right.

“How long have you known?” you asked him. You nervously dragged your finger across the dresser’s carved pattern. “Week maybe. Figured it was either that or you were hidin’ a bite. I prayed you were pregnant instead of bitten.”

“You also were avoiding me as much as you could,”

You looked at your shoes. “I really just didn’t want to think about… you. This.” you admitted.

“I’m not mad, sweetheart. Pick a few more, I have room in my bag.”

You opened the drawer again and went for your second pics.

“Your not mad?” you asked him. “I’m not thrilled. When I figured it out it wasn’t fun. But now…”

“What about now?” you asked him. Joel sighed.

“If I heard right…” he began.

“My shithead little brother has started a settlement up in Jackson.”

“Tommy?” you asked, folding a pair of baby shorts. “Get ‘sum them shoes too,” Joel muttered, pulling at the handle of the drawer.

“Jackson’s about a few day ride from here. I can't guarantee he’ll be happy to see me but it’s our best hope.” he assured you, placing his hand back on your back. This time you accepted his touch and pushed back on it.

You both agreed that would be the next step in your journey.

“Any name suggestions?” he asked you, handing you back your backpack.

“Jesus Joel, I haven’t even thought about that.” you said, swinging it on your back.

“What about Ellie Junior?” you heard her ask from the hall.

You and Joel made quick eye contact and then looked back at Ellie. Your mouth fell slightly open. The fear expressed over your face, you were basically a deer in headlights.

She walked into the bedroom with a shameful look on her face. “I wasn’t trying to listen I promise. This house seems to echo.”

The t

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randomshyperson · 4 months

Text

One For The Road - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Wanda's first mission as an Avenger was also marked by the first time she met you.

Warnings: typical canon violence, fluff and Avengers working together but nothing major | Words: 2.501k

A/N-> This is an extra chapter (can be read separately and doesn't impact the current plot of the fic). It's just about delving a little deeper into what happened before the main story and I plan three of them in total (the other two will be their first kiss and their first time). Good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

They were there to observe. After all, what criminal in their right mind would let the Avengers attend an event where half the guests were wanted by Shield?

But even on the outside, and accompanied by Barton, Steve and Natasha who were basically the most protective members over her, Wanda was nervous.

It was her first official Avengers mission. Not only that, but she had what they called a perfect disguise consisting of an old American football team cap and sunglasses, and Wanda was having a hard time thinking that it would work. Maybe so, because she had only appeared a few times on television, and wasn't exactly the most popular Avenger among them.

But there was also Captain America in all of his glory of an enchanted big body wearing the same outfit. So ignoring Steve's warning about keeping it on the down low, she was forced to use her skills when she noticed that the waitresses were whispering about him - One peek and Wanda could read their suspicion. The blonde among them was sure of who he was, but a little influence from the witch and that certainty vanished. She could go back to serving coffee without further doubts.

Steve could thank her later for that.

Wanda's first mission was simple. To observe, to provide support. It was more about seeing Steve in action than anything else. Learning how the more experienced ones acted or something. She knew that Clint was somewhere high up, perhaps in one of the buildings away from the main square.

In any case, they were all surrounding the large Italian-style mansion on the edge of the island. And Tony in his iron armor was taking care of the offshore area, in case the targets escaped by water.

Everything was going well, and almost tedious to be honest, for hours on end. The gala party was happening loud and clear into the night, but Wanda and the others had the excuse of dinner time to stay at the tables in the cheap corner restaurant.

"We have our first celebrity guest, Captain." Clint's warning over the communicator almost took her by surprise - but Wanda was paying attention to the mansion's large iron door, where she could see the movement in and out of the party. The equally bored security guards finally got something to do - Opening the door to the visually drunk man heading towards the limo waiting for him.

Steve left some cash on the table, standing up before the drunk man had even finished insulting the staff for taking so long to open the door for him. She knew the captain was heading towards the parked motorcycle to follow the car since that was the plan. But she noticed - felt - something different.

The target was an Italian mobster who had attracted Shield's attention by being quoted in a human experimentation scheme. All those involved in the Hydra project, which created people like her and Pietro, were being hunted down one by one. It was an Avengers-level operation because little was known about how far Hydra had managed to go. How many superhumans they manage to create? It wouldn't be smart to send ordinary agents who would probably be up against people as powerful as Wanda.

And well, there was another detail about the target; he had two daughters. According to the files, the girls didn't take part in their father's work. They just enjoyed the money from a crime like two foolish socialites.

Although the two figures were identical to the photographs in the files, something in Wanda clicked when she looked at what was supposed to be the mobster's youngest daughter.

"Steve, there's something wrong." She gasped into the communicator. The waiter looked surprised - he thought she was talking to him.

"Mi dispiace, signorina, cosa ha detto? (Excuse me, what did you say, miss?)" But Wanda muttered excuse me in a very bad accent and got up. At her warning, Steve hesitated and instead of going to the motorcycle, he stopped at the bar.

The mobster didn't leave the scene either, confirming Wanda's suspicions that things were very wrong.

From inside the mansion, two security guards ran out - they shouted that something had been stolen from the sale. And the gate was closed again.

The man, drunk and confused, was searched. The presence of a pearl necklace hidden in his jacket was enough for him to be dragged back by the thugs, who ignored the foaming protests of him and his eldest daughter, who ran inside after her father.

"What's the saying again, thief who steals thief...?" Clint joked over the communicator, clearly from wherever he was, he had witnessed the whole scene.

Although he laughed, Steve began to move forward. "Change of plans, guys. Let's break up the party." He announced, and it was no surprise that the positions of the remaining team members quickly began to reveal themselves.

Everyone left their hiding place to invade the party - Tony's armor was the first to act to hack open the iron gates. Most of the security corps surrendered on seeing the Avengers there, but there was still conflict. Steve just wanted to act quickly before the mobster they had come to capture was executed for stealing a pearl necklace.

And Wanda, well, she followed her instincts.

The mobster's daughter fled the scene - She was supposed to go after her father, but she snuck into the parking lot. Wanda had to run a little to avoid losing sight of her.

The confusion of the party invaded by the Avengers was loud enough to drown out her footsteps, and Wanda managed to hide behind some pillars when the figure reached a parked car. She thought she was about to discover that the mobster's daughter was actually more aware of her father's business than she let on when something much more shocking happened.

Before her eyes, Wanda watched the figure change completely. From the original appearance, only the coat and expensive dress remained.

A shapeshifter? What an incredible thing to witness, Wanda thought. She had only heard stories about Loki and had never seen anything other than Natasha's tools of disguise. This here was truly remarkable.

You hummed low, pulling out a closed suitcase from your coat. The Italian mafia symbol made Wanda understand the whole thing quickly - The necklace was just a distraction. The real theft was what you were carrying.

The coat was discarded on the pavement in the parking lot, but before you could stow it in the trunk, you froze. Wanda had half a second to hide behind the pillar, holding her breath and hoping you hadn't seen her.

Well, worst case scenario, she'd use magic on you.

She risked a peek, but you were no longer near the car. Gone, like the suitcase.

Wanda sighed in defeat, feeling pathetic. Her first mission would be marked with the escape of an enemy. How embarrassing.

But then she was suddenly grabbed and restrained. Wanda gasped in shock, imagining that it was one of the building's security guards. Her magic acted faster than the panic in her system - it went through her body and hit the attacker in the chest, who was thrown to the ground.

"Wow, how did you do that?" The voice that came out was definitely not that of a brute like the party security guards. Wanda turned around panting, ready for another attack, but you were sitting on the floor, back to your original appearance, looking at her as if you had just seen the most incredible creature in the world.

Wanda opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. She was sure she had been grabbed by a security guard, but then she understood: You had changed to look like one. But her magic forced you to return to your real appearance, and Wanda had to convince herself that the way her heart raced and her stomach did two flips was because of the fright, and nothing more.

Her lack of reaction didn't intimidate you. You tilted your head gently. "You're the new one."

You started to get up, Wanda swallowed dryly, taking another step away. Her hands glowed as red as her eyes. "Stay back."

But you looked at her carefully, as if you were studying her. And you didn't seem afraid of your powers, even though a minute ago you'd been thrown to the ground for it.

"Oh, I remember you from television." You suddenly declare, a glint of recognition in your eyes. "The girl from the country who fell from the sky."

Wanda tried to steady her trembling hands. "I'll take you into custody. I know you stole something."

But you didn't pay any attention to the statement - You advanced against her and she backed away instinctively until Wanda was pressed to the pillar again. One hand against your stomach and the other on your shoulder, keeping you at a safe distance.

She could have just hit you with the magic, but she didn't. Just like you, she didn't attack.

"What... are you doing?" She gasped in a mixture of curiosity and fear, both hands controlling your distance were expelling her power. One of your hands moved up and grabbed her face gently - Wanda had to bite the inside of her cheek at the way her skin burned at your touch. Was it attraction she was feeling? No, it couldn't be. You were a complete stranger. She had to convince herself that this was fear.

You turned her face to one side and then the other, your eyes so focused that you seemed to be trying to memorize every aspect of her appearance.

"I've never met another one of us before." You say, and Wanda frowns in confusion. Your hand remains on her chin, and she swallows dryly before taking a chance:

"Us? Like... another Baron Strucker experiment?" She deduces, and you nod softly before letting go of her face.

You move your hand down and hold the one she has against your stomach. "It's so warm. What is it?" You ask tenderly about her magic.

Wanda can feel her cheeks burning but she managed to stammer: "Hm... it’s a form of energy, I think." Jesus, Wanda pull yourself together. Well, who could really blame her for feeling out of place about the whole thing? She was literally on her first mission, being pinned against a pillar in the parking lot of a mafia party by some random thief, blushing under the worshipful gaze of that same shape-shifter while her team blew stuff up in the background. It was too much for anyone.

She tries to gain a little control when she evades your touch, slipping to the side and putting distance between your bodies again. She also ignores how her hand is tingling, as if she was missing your touch from seconds ago.

"How did the Baron manage to give you energy?" You asked curiously but frowned in a worried way.

Wanda sighed. She really was having a conversation with a jewelry thief.

"It was a stone... um, a special kind. It may sound ridiculous, but it was a magic one. It came from outer space, the Avengers actually have a lot of work protecting them. And well, it now sits on the head of one of us and-"

But you suddenly moved - You lifted the hem of your dress just above your thigh, and pulled out a small, hidden pistol. Wanda's heart leaped to her throat. She barely had time to think about reacting, and you had already pulled the trigger.

There was still an arc of magic protecting her when she risked opening her eyes again. You were both out of breath, staring at each other before you lowered the gun.

The shot wasn't aimed at her, as Wanda realized the next second. But behind her, to one of the party guests who was trying to escape the Avengers by running into the parking lot. And well, catching one of them, off guard was quite an opportunity. The man now was writhing in pain on the ground, bleeding from the shot to the neck that you had hit him with. His own gun, loaded to shoot Wanda, rolled off his hand to the grass next to his body.

Wanda should move. Criminal or not, trying to murder her or not, he needed help.

You raised an eyebrow at the magical protection disappearing around her. "You’re full of tricks aren’t, you?” You teased while hiding your gun again, now on your belt. “This was fun, Wanda Maximoff. Unfortunately, I must leave."

She shallows, knowing she really should move her feet. "You can't go... I have- I should arrest you."

You glance towards the man on the ground, practically unconscious now before looking at the girl again. "But he needs your help, and what kind of superhero doesn't help a bleeding victim?"

Her body reacts to your sarcastic words; she rushes to reach the assaulter and stop the bleeding. You don’t miss the opportunity to walk away to your motorcycle.

Wanda is too busy with the guest to notice you are escaping - Her magic do the hard part to patch up the bleeding and she’s stuck there with this man, at least for the necessary time for you to escape.

Wanda bites her tongue when she sees your motorcycle flee out the back exit, hoping none of her colleagues saw her letting you escape.

It doesn't even take five minutes for Natasha to find her, worried about where she was hiding during the shooting.

“What the hell happened here?” Asked the widow but as soon as she saw the gun on the floor, she assumed that Wanda was defending herself. She sighs before the witch can come up with an explanation. “Fuck, I’m just glad you’re okay, Maximoff. Pretty hardcore for your first mission, huh?” Nat jokes, and somehow, she manages a little chuckle from Wanda. The redhead gives her shoulder a soft tug. "Come on, witchy, i’ll take care of this one. Go find the others."

Natasha offered her a hand to help her up, but Wanda didn't want to take it. Her own were stained with blood.

"I think I'll go back to the quinjet." Said the brunette with a sour stomach. A lot had happened in a very short period of time. Natasha nodded quickly.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." Said the widow, forcing a smile when she noticed the way the witch was shaking with adrenaline. "And Wanda. You did alright, okay? More than that, to be honest. You caught the hint that something was wrong very quickly. I’m proud of you.”

Wanda just nodded, taking the opposite path from all the confusion. Completely unaware that a few kilometers away, at high speed, a shapeshifter left the motorcycle's handlebars to press against their own chest. Trying to understand why their heart was racing so much and the feeling of doing something wrong if the robbery had been a success.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff series #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff fics #elizabeth olsen x reader

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