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murdrdocs · 3 months

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REARRANGE YOUR WORLD. luke castellan

description. as the daughter of the god of dreams still honing her powers, you sometimes found yourself sucked into the dreams of others. tonight, like most nights, you find yourself in the dream of luke castellan. however, his dream seems to be more pleasant than it usually is

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, she/her pronouns for r, consensual voyeurism (luke watches), dub con voyeurism (r watches luke watching…), subby!Luke, dom!reader (dream scape reader), real r and luke r just friends, cliffhanger don't be shocked; title from this must be my dream by the 1975

pt 2

wc. 1.3k+

a/n: the description and warnings makes it sound confusing but its not i swear.

Your dreamscape begins to morph.

You’re barely allowed to mourn the disappearance of the world you love so much, soft grass that acts as a cushion beneath your lax body, the distant smell of salt water and the soft sound of cascading waves just a little ways away. Nobody else in the world is there with you, yet you don’t feel lonely one bit.

And then, it’s ripped from under you and you find yourself in a bedroom instead.

It’s large, warm as if there was previously a source of heat but you don’t find one. You exist solely among furniture, a grandiose bedroom suite, a four poster bed in the center, the shape of what looks to be a couch in the corner. But nothing else is as clear as the bed.

You take a step closer, preparing for the piece of furniture to be the focus of the dream.

There’s just a few moments before the subject appears where things start to change. The changes aren’t noticeable, and if you hadn’t been forced to exist in dreams for a while now you wouldn’t have recognized them. The way the air became more humid and a little stuffier. The smell of the air becomes more pungent with a light musk that reeks of human sweat. And then you can feel a presence even before it’s there.

That’s when they appear.

One figure sits at the edge of the bed on their haunches. From what you can tell, they’re masculine presenting, the expanse of their back toned and tanned, dotted with a few sparse moles. They’re wearing nothing but dark boxer briefs.

The other figure sits towards the top of the bed. They’re lounging more so, wearing nothing but feminine undergarments. It takes you a while to notice who it is, and you spend the time analyzing their position. Leaned back on their elbows casually, legs bent and connected at the knee. They hold the position and air of a goddess, but it’s not until the dream clears you that you notice they aren’t a goddess. They’re a demigod.

They’re you.

Wearing a confident smile (bordering on a smirk) as well as she’s wearing that underwear set.

Your eyebrows furrow, you take a step closer, trying to figure out who is having a dream about you.

You step to the side of the bed and focus on the masculine figure. When your eyes land on Luke Castellan, things start to click into place.

Usually, Luke’s dreams are nightmares. Many times have you been pulled from the serenity of your dreamscape into the tortuous lands that Luke’s mind produced. You’ve fought off monsters from the deepest pits of the underworld along Luke’s side, only to wake up in the morning bearing the mental scars and smiling in Luke’s face as if you were unaware of your presence within his mind.

Your shoulders briefly start to tense as you prepare yourself for such. You wait, and wait. Anticipating the ground to open and swallow the scene. Or for a lightning bolt to strike down your surroundings. Or for something to come from somewhere to morph this brief serenity.

But the nightmare never comes.

Which leaves you to watch and see what will come. For better or for worse.

A few moments go by and then Dream You is speaking.

“Are you going to watch me, Lukey?”

Your eyebrows raise at the nickname. It’s not one you haven’t called him before, but you usually say it in an egotistical tease, used mostly during intense moments like capture the flag or during training.

Never with that tone of voice.

Dream You speaks like a temptress. Her voice is smooth, teasing, and seductive. You don’t even know if your real life voice is capable of sounding like that.

Luke nods, curly hair bouncing with the movement.

“Yes.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “If you’ll let me.”

Her grin grows and it’s not unlike the appearance of the cheshire cat.

“Of course I’ll let you, Luke. I’m not cruel.”

Dream You spreads her legs and the wet patch in the center of her panties is so vivid and emphasized. It’s only something that could exist within a dreamscape, a place where everything was emphasized. Desired or not.

With the way Luke’s breath hitches, you’re sure the sight of Dream You’s arousal is heavily desired by him.

His fingers twitch at his sides as if he wants to touch you. You notice Dream You’s eyes glancing down to his digits, but if she notices his eagerness she doesn’t say anything.

She situates herself up against the headboard and uses her now freed hands to touch her body. One hand goes to her chest and the other goes between her legs. She closes her eyes, and begins to touch over her slit.

“What do you say?” She asks Luke, her eyes still closed as she gets lost in the movements.

Luke’s reply is nearly instant.

“Thank you.”

Dream You sighs, she hums dismissively, and then she hooks her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and slides them off of her legs.

For some reason, your first instinct is to turn away. It’s only now that you’ve realized that Luke Castellan is having a wet dream about you, and you then realize that this is an intrusion. You shouldn’t be here and you should instead be working on finding your way out.

There is no reason for you to stay. Surely, Luke won’t be in any danger in this dream. There'll be no variables for you to manipulate or no reason to wake Luke up before he goes too far under.

But then again … it’s your body. You look at it every single day and that shouldn’t have to change solely because you’re viewing it through someone else’s perspective. Intrigue preys on you, urging you to get closer and closer until you can feel the heat wafting off of their bodies.

You take a step closer.

Since Luke has never seen you naked (from what you know at least), there are a few things that are off. Before you can stop yourself, you’ve blinked and your dream body is as realistic as the one in reality.

She swipes her fingers through her slit, dragging them up to her clit to rub a few circles, then she goes back down to slip her fingers into her entrance, two at a time.

Her moan is instantly pornographic. She throws her head back, arches her back, spreads her legs even more as her fingers start to pump in and out of her cunt. The noises are loud and lewd and vivid. They should make you cringe, and if you weren’t starting to be affected by Luke’s dream then maybe you would have.

Instead, you notice Luke beginning to palm the very prominent shape in his briefs and you can feel yourself falling under a spell of sorts. Everything becomes dreamier. You’re losing your self control. You’re having to fight the urge to kneel on that bed with Luke.

You don’t know if you expected Luke to ask Dream You for permission to touch himself (the relationship between these two is almost as intriguing as their movements), but he doesn’t. He reaches into his briefs and pulls his cock out.

You get a glimpse of his head—red and leaking and admittedly enticing—before your moral compass knocks back into place.

You take one step back, and then another. There really is no reason for you to be in here. Luke is fine, he’s probably having the time of his life, and you no longer have to play the role of the worried friend. You can leave him to his dreamscape, and return to yours where you’ll either try to remember as many details as possible or try to forget it all.

Either way, you shouldn’t be in here.

You turn around and a door appears.

Your foot lands in front of you, and you’re about to make your way to the exit until Luke speaks.

“Stay.”

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x you #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo #luke castellan x reader

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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.

…..

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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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yenvengerberg · 3 months

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Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus. She shouted, “See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!” Cerberus looked as stunned as we were. All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated. “Sit!” Annabeth called again. I was sure that any moment she would become the world’s largest Milkbone dog biscuit. But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat. Annabeth said, “Good boy!” She threw Cerberus the ball. He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy. THE LIGHTNING THIEF: Chapter Eighteen, Annabeth Does Obedience School

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ampresandian · 1 month

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Okay so season 1 was definitely Percy's story like between the flashbacks and his development over the quest The Lightning Thief is Percy's Story. The whole series is Percy's story but the way they produced the first season of the show is especially Percy's, and I need them to continue to develop this in the rest of the seasons.

Season 2, Sea of Monsters, should definitely be Annabeth's. Percy (and the readers) get to know her better--she opens up to him about her past, not just introducing him to the world they share (the Olympians) but to Her World and How it Got to Be that Way. We see more of how who Percy is impacts her (esp with Tyson), and she takes on a lot of responsibility for saving their quest. Unlike the Arch or Crusty, Annabeth is the one that saves them from Circe and takes on Polyphemus one on one.

Season 3 I think is Thalia's. It's the only chance we really have, as readers, to get to know her--we're thrown into her relationship with Percy at the beginning of the book, after our only introduction to her being her saying her name at the end of som, but we travel with her on this quest, and I think flashbacks, etc. in this season should be about her. It's the best way to let the audience get to know her, and I think we need to get to know her to understand her choice at the end (and to be excited when we see her again later). We need that her sudden disappearance at the end, when she leaves without saying goodbye and just as suddenly as she appeared she's gone, to hurt and to feel wrong and making her the Character is the way to do that imo.

Botl in season 4 I think is tricky at first glance (esp since we've given Annabeth som already) but tbh it needs to be Grover's. Flashbacks can be about his time in schools as a protector, and his time searching for Pan. Grover's development is kind of sudden in this story, but I think showing him when he's younger and like as he's been off Doing Things it would be more dramatic and honestly Grover is a fantastic character that Rick seems to forget about/ignore a lot and he should make it up by showing us what his life is like when he's not with Percy (which is increasingly often) and letting us see his independence develop to the point that he's ready to take on his new mantle and be a leader.

Season 5 is obviously Luke's. Even the book is written like that. We need flashbacks to his life and childhood just as much as Percy does, and they need to humanize him and let us empathize with who he was and how he got to who he is by the end of the story before he dies. I think they should give us flashbacks to his quest here, too, and probably the conversation he clearly has with Hermes before he goes on it (he's obviously bitter when he talks about it in tlt, and he had to get his magic shoes, and I think they need to utilize having that conversation in person so we can see how Hermes tries and fails to relate to him and also to make LMM make very very sad eyes as Luke leaves because he knows his son is at the end of his time as a hero). They can milk this for all the comparisons between Luke and Percy. I think flashbacks to his claiming, and not having to move cabins but probably like getting a bed or something now that he's here Forever, and when he becomes the Cabin Counselor. How/when he meets up with Thalia. Him seeking out fights as they make their way to camp. The battles he fights on his quest, facing monsters he's working with now, getting the scar.

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reiniesainyo · 3 months

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IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

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12triceratops · 6 days

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Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

#taylor swift #karlie kloss #the tortured poets department #matty healy #gaylor #kaylor #jack antonoff #aaron dessner #1989 era #the eras tour

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itsmealaiah · 1 month

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Dollface

TW: p in v sex, unprotected sex, clit rubbing, profanity, AFAB reader, dirty talk, bdsm, use of blindfold and a whip, ass smacking, degradation kink

Request: 2013 bill x female readerWhile a hot and steamy make out session bill asks yn if she wants to try being sub (she's always been dom) turns out she actually loves it and they try some light bdsm (blindfold and a whip ) he makes her squirt

Rating: 18+, mdni

WC: 1.8k

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the landscape. It was one of those nights where everything seemed to whisper of passion and desire. The air was thick with anticipation as you found yourselves alone in his cozy living room. You'd been making out like there was no tomorrow, your bodies pressed tightly together, their hearts racing in tandem. Your lips locked in a heated embrace, your tongues tangling and twisting, exploring every inch of each other's mouths. In this moment, you were lost in each other, oblivious to everything around you.

And then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck you both at the same time, Bill whispered the words that sent a shiver down your spine: "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to try being submissive?" You froze, his words echoing in your head. You'd always been the one in control, the one calling the shots. The thought of giving up that power, even for just a little while, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure if you should even consider his offer. But something in his eyes told you that he knew exactly what he was doing. That he would take care of you, guide you through this uncharted territory. So, with a deep breath, you nodded. "Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. "Let's do it."

Bill's smile was slow and sensual, and it lit up his entire face. "Good girl," he murmured, tracing a finger along your jawline. He stood up, then, and disappeared into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a small black bag. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully undid your shirt, revealing your lacy black bra. His fingers danced over your skin as he unclasped it, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Once your bra was off, he reached into the bag and produced a blindfold. "This might be a bit overwhelming at first," he said, his voice low and soothing. "But I want you to trust me. I want you to give yourself over to it completely." You nodded, feeling a mix of fear and excitement as he gently folded the blindfold and placed it over your eyes. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, his breath hot against your ear. "Are you ready to let go?"

The feel of the soft material pressing against your eyelids was almost intoxicating. It heightened your other senses, making you more aware of the warmth of his body against yours, the way his breath brushed over your skin, the slight tension in his muscles as he waited for your answer. "I am," you whispered, your voice shaking just a little. "I trust you."

And then, before you could even process what was happening, you felt the sting of the whip against your bare skin. It wasn't painful, not really. But it was definitely an unexpected sensation. You let out a soft gasp, and the sound seemed to fill the room, making your body tingle with anticipation. "That's it," Bill murmured, guiding your hands to where he wanted them. "Give in to it." And as you did, as you allowed yourself to be led by his gentle guidance, you felt a delicious heat building inside you, spreading through your core until it reached a crescendo that left you shaking and breathless.

He moved his hands expertly, teasing you with the whip, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could hear the soft rustle of the leather against your skin, the occasional thud as it connected, and the steady rhythm of his breath in your ear. It was a dance, a beautiful and intimate dance between the two of you, and you found yourself lost in the moment, lost in the sensations that coursed through your body.

And then, just as you were sure you couldn't take another second of this exquisite torment, he pressed his fingers against you, guiding you over the edge. You screamed out his name as your body convulsed with pleasure, waves of intense sensation washing over you in a powerful surge. You could feel the warmth spreading through your core, the tightness in your belly, the tingling in your fingertips and toes.

When the waves finally subsided, Bill knelt down beside you, his hands gentle as they removed the blindfold. You blinked in the sudden brightness, your vision swimming as you looked up at him, still trying to catch your breath. "Did you like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Did you enjoy being my little fucktoy baby?" You nodded, unable to form words as your heart continued to race and your body hummed with satisfaction.

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire. "Good girl," he murmured, reaching down to run his fingers through your wetness. "I think it's time for you to return the favor." He helped you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed. As you climbed onto it, he knelt between your spread legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, still wet and swollen from your orgasm.

He lowered his head, taking your clit into his mouth harshly, eliciting a gasp from you as he began to suck and tease. His hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he worked his magic, expertly driving you towards another climax. You arched your back, moaning his name as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as he continued to feast on you, his tongue dancing over your sensitive flesh, his teeth scrapping lightly against your skin. You felt your body tense, ready to explode again, and just as you were certain you couldn't take another second of this exquisite torture, you felt your orgasm crash over you in waves of pure bliss. You cried out his name as your body convulsed, your inner walls milking his tongue as you were carried away on a tide of ecstasy.

When you finally came back to earth, you looked up at him, breathless and spent. He smiled, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Give yourself completely to me." And you did. You gave him everything you had, knowing that in his hands, you were safe and cherished and completely, utterly loved.

He took your weight as you leaned into him, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rhythm of his heart as it beat against your ear. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of being so intimately connected to him, of knowing that in this moment, you were his and he was yours.

As your breathing slowed and you began to find your footing again, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're such a good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I love how you give yourself to me, how you let me take control." His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want more?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, the movement jerky and eager. He pulled you closer, guiding your hips between his legs. You could feel the hardness of him pressed against your stomach, and you ached to feel him inside you again. "Oh yeah," he breathed, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. "That's it."

He lifted you effortlessly, positioning your legs around his hips as he thrust. You cried out at the intense sensation of being filled by him, your body meeting his in a perfect, familiar rhythm. He began to move, his hips thrusting deep and hard, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you.

Your nails dug into his back, scratching the skin as your clit rubbed his lower abdomen, making you shudder. "Ah! please..please" you begged.

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "Please what, little one?" He whispered, as he pressed his tongue harder against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body arched up off the bed, your hips rocking into his hand, seeking more contact.

The feel of his fingers on your ass, squeezing and massaging, sent a rush of pleasure through you. You moaned his name, the sound muffled by the pillow beneath your head. "Please…make me…come…" you managed to choke out between gasps for air.

His tongue moved faster, circling your clit in tiny, tight circles as he thrust two fingers deep inside you, finding your G-spot and massaging it expertly. You felt the pressure building inside you, the need to release growing more and more urgent.

With one final, sharp thrust of his tongue, you felt your body convulse, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of bliss. Your inner walls clamped down on his fingers and tongue, milking him for every last drop of pleasure as you cried out his name and arched your back off the bed.

As your orgasm began to fade, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. "That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Give yourself to me." You could feel the wetness between your legs as he pulled his fingers free, licking them clean with a wicked grin.

He positioned himself at your entrance, pushing slowly inside you, feeling your body stretch to accommodate his size. "Ahhh…" you breathed out, feeling him fill you completely. "So full…" He began to move, slowly at first, his hips thrusting in a gentle rhythm that had you moaning with pleasure.

His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples as he took you deeper, harder. You felt your orgasm building again, the anticipation making every touch, every movement more intense.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on as he picked up the pace, your bodies moving in perfect sync. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving little red lines in their wake as you came apart beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in wave after wave of bliss. He followed you over the edge, his body tense as he released deep inside you, his hot cum filling you up.

As your breathing slowed, he rolled off you, pulling you into his embrace. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. "You're amazing," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "And so damn sexy." You smiled, feeling content and satisfied in his arms.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as you reveled in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, he began to nibble on your earlobe, his voice low and husky as he whispered, "Want more?" You nodded eagerly, feeling the familiar ache begin to build between your legs once again. "Good girl," he murmured, rolling you onto your stomach. "I'll take care of you."

Taglist: @madzandmore @mamitortaa @20doozers

Side note: hey guys! just wanted to say please be kind and respectful to others, i'm not going to name anyone, but there's been some disrespect in recent days, so please be mindful and respectful. Think before you speak. love you all 🩵🩵🩵

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader smut #itsmealaiah

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maple-tree-hills · 2 months

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Percy Jackson AU where instead of Poseidon being absent in Percy’s life, he helps raise him. But Percy doesn’t know his dad is Poseidon. He thinks Peter Johnson is a marine biologist and a fisherman who is frequently on long business trips for his job. Maybe Sally and Poseidon are divorced, and she marries Smelly Gabe or maybe they’re still together, who knows.

Just, instead of Percy being in anger at the gods for neglecting their children he’s in disbelief that his very normal father is Poseidon. They go on fishing trips together all the time and he dresses like a tacky Hawaiian tourist. Not a god. He refuses to believe this despite Grover being a satyr, and Mr. Brunner being a centaur.

I’m not sure if Percy should know all of the gods or not. Maybe he knows Mr. D already as Cousin Dexter. Cousin Dexter has shown up a couple of times in his life. He’s a devil for the drink and a known alcoholic, so why is he at this weird camp playing cards with Grover and Mr. Brunner? And they start talking about the gods and demigods again. And Mr. D calls him ‘mortal.’ And Percy’s like yeah, no Cousin Dexter has had a bit too much to drink despite the fact that he can’t smell any alcohol on him, and he’s only been drinking Diet Coke. Percy switches subjects as to why Mr. D isn’t drinking any alcohol. Apparently, his father won’t let him drink alcohol anymore and is forcing him to work at this summer camp. Percy is happy to hear this because at least someone isn’t having Cousin Dexter’s shit anymore.

Then they switch gears back into the conversion about gods existing and he’s sure Grover, or Mr. Brunner, or Mr. D will say sike, but none of them do. They all seriously believe in the gods. Well Percy is stubborn and won’t be convinced this easily.

And then he finds out that Hades stole the master bolt and has his mother, and he’s like uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is a god of the underworld? And he has my mother and stole Zeus’s lightning bolt? No way. Uncle Hector lives in LA and works at a music producing studio. He is not the god of the underworld. He is not Hades, this is insane and Percy does not appreciate being punked. He’ll admit some supernatural stuff is real because a minatur killed his mom, but being a demigod no way.

And they keep telling Percy about the family drama and he’s still in disbelief. All he knows about uncle Zane is that his father is not on good terms with him. There’s no way uncle Zane who his father HATES, who works in the Empire State Building is Zeus. There’s just no way.

And then he finds out about the Big Three and forbidden children thing. And he goes ‘That can’t be true uncle Hector has two kids: cousin Bianca and cousin Nico.’ And he just accidentally spoils to everyone that Hades has not kept his end of the pact about fathering more mortal children.

And then they’re on the road going through quests fighting against Alecto again, Echidna, and Medusa and Percy still can’t believe the gods are real.

It isn’t until he gets to the underworld that he starts believing. There seated on a dark throne surrounded by skeletons is Uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is actually Hades? He’s freaking out he’s never seen his uncle this way before. He’s terrifying and keeps demanding this Helm of Darkness thing in exchange for his mother. Where’s Nico he wants to hang out with his cousin?

And maybe Percy sasses him because what the heck uncle Hector sending furies after your nephew and holding your sister-in-law hostage and accusing your nephew of theft is not cool. And things for the most part will proceed like they do in the book for the most part. I could see Hades when he’s pretending to be a human behaving similarly to Jay Duplass’s portrayal of him in the TV show. Just a comical uncle who is most certainly not lord of the underworld.

(I’ve only seen the TV and I’ve almost finished the first book so far, but I do know Hades has two kids named Bianca and Nico)

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histarean · 9 months

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barracks bunny

könig x fem reader

summ: you're known as the barracks bunny while you and könig are dating

word count: 1.8k

content/warnings: angst, comfort

a/n: i love könig and writing angst so why not combine them? this is my first cod "fic" so i'm pretty excited! i know my account has been primarily aot but i hope this reaches the cod fandom. love you all

Rumors spread fast in the military. Everyone on the base knew that, especially you.

König and you had been together for a while now and while all the guys knew you were his, there were still whispers floating around. Whispers soon turned to stares, stares to quiet laughing and eventually, the whole base knew you as the barracks bunny.

Now, König’s not stupid, of course he heard what the other cadets were saying and to say he was not happy was an understatement. He knew he had to do something but with three warnings racked up (for beating up other soldiers who were talking shit about you) he couldn’t just fight everyone on the entire base. The next best option was to confront you about it.

His footsteps down the hall sounded like thunder and his breathing was lightning. Each step he took was filled with anger and everyone he passed could hear it. How could these people say those things about his schatz?

“You know she’s slept with half of us already?”

“She’s such a slut”

“I wonder if I’ve ever got a chance with her”

It's so cruel. His precious lover being reduced to a “slut” a “whore” a “barracks bunny” it was all too much. König was trained to keep cool during battle, to withstand weeks of torture, to take stabs to the chest and bullets in the leg but this? No. This was unacceptable.

He’s closer to your room now. Closer to finding out the truth and his thoughts are racing. What if it is true? Has this whole relationship been a sham? Rumors don't come from nowhere, there has to be some validity behind it. He hopes it’s not true. He really, really does because what would be left for him without you? What would he be fighting for?

König stands outside your door. Just standing. His hand is on the doorknob but he can’t bring himself to open it. He can hear you laughing on the other side with someone else. So it was true. König could feel his heart break and shatter into a million pieces. The already faint talking started sounding like gibberish as he slowly let his hand fall from the door to his side. It felt like time had stopped and everything around him faded away into oblivion. Maybe he had been there for 30 seconds, a minute, 5 minutes, who could say. Nothing mattered anymore.

Thoughts of leaving KorTac crossed his mind since..what was left for him here? You had lied to him. You promised it was all a joke and nothing happened. That you were his one and only.

The trance was suddenly broken when the door opened and a hand pressed against his chest.

“König, what are you doing?” your familiar voice brought him to his senses.

He couldn’t look you in the eyes. His head bowed, eyes settling on the ground.

You tried shaking his arm but he barely budged.

So tense, you thought.

“Hey talk to me big guy” you brought your fingers to his chin lifting his head. It’s a reach. “Please”

König let you lift his head but averted his gaze to the room in front of him. It was Ghost.

Ghost was the one in your room. Why him of all people?

“You lied to me” , his accent thick.

He felt betrayed. His only love had gone behind his back and stabbed him in the heart. This hurt more than any wound he’d ever had. Bullet holes were nothing compared to this. No knife could cut deep enough to produce the same pain he was feeling.

“When were you going to tell me? That there were others in your life” he struggled to get the words out of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” you were audibly confused. “Is this about those rumors you’ve heard? I told you they were all fake”

König mustered up the courage to look you in the face. You were so beautiful. Even though he was angry, he couldn’t get enough of you. He could look at you forever if he wanted. Your eyes seemed to suck him in like a black hole. Once you’re in, you can’t get back out. No matter how hard you try. No matter how hard he tried.

But past all that, he couldn’t find a hint of deception in your face. You looked genuinely lost.

“Why is Ghost in your room?” König glanced up to him.

Ghost wasn’t doing anything. Not hurriedly pulling up his pants, not putting his shirt back on, nothing that would point to them being interrupted. He was calmly sitting on a chair, observing a rifle. Fully clothed, mask and all. You, on the other hand, were still dressed in cargo pants and a creme tank top that hugged your chest. So what the hell were you two doing?

“He was showing me how to load ammo more efficiently” you turned back to Ghost, he was completely unbothered. Not even looking up.

Everyone knew you had a hard time loading ammo quickly and were often stuck using knives and other weapons in place of guns. Price was even close to discharging you because of this.

Lovers quarrel, he thought. It was a ridiculous argument and Ghost wanted no part of it. He got up to leave, tossing your AUG on the bed. He casually walked out, ignoring a stare from König that could burn cities.

“Good luck” he whispered to you, passing the door and disappearing into the hallway.

Now you are alone. With König. This would usually be ideal but now it was scary. You know he would never ever lay a hand on you but maybe it was different this time? You hadn’t done anything but he didn’t know that. All he knew was another man was in your room while he wasn’t. This would make anyone angry. The whole situation was just a huge misunderstanding.

“I don’t want to have this conversation in the doorway. Can you please come in?” you reached for his arm but he pulled away before you could touch him.

You were dirty to him. Tainted. He was aware you weren’t a virgin before you met him, but when you’re in a relationship, sex is sacred. At least to König.

He walked in the room first, scanning it for any disturbances or abnormalities. None. There wasn’t anything out of place: sheets tucked tightly under the corners of the bed, clothes hung up in the small closet, everything was in order.

He took a seat on the same chair Ghost was occupying minutes earlier. It was still warm. You sat on the bed facing across from him. König’s leg was bouncing so fast it made the chair shake and his hands were fidgeting with themselves.

You slowly got up and kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. He looked down at your interlocked fingers then to your eyes. You looked sad. He never wanted to make you feel this way but what you did was unforgivable.

“Believe me König, I would never do anything to hurt you” you had a slight smile on your face, trying to comfort him.

He didn’t smile back. What he needed was the truth. Where the rumors were coming from, why you got weird stares, and how long this has been going on. If you couldn't tell him, or if he thought you were lying, he might just have to end this. He doesn’t want to but how can he be with a liar, a cheater, someone unfaithful.

“Tell me everything,” he said in a deep voice. Eyes fixated on you, unmoving.

“There is no everything, König. Just stupid boys trying to start something out of nothing” you explained, “I promise”

His leg had slowed down to a steady pace, still bouncing, but more controlled. You rubbed your thumb along his knuckles. Soothing. Like a mother’s touch. Except he could never remember his mother touching him like this. Like anything. You were the first one in his life to show any affection. Romantically or platonically.

“Do you promise?” he squeezed your hands.

Please don’t lie to me schatz. You’re all I have.

“I promise”

That’s all König needed to hear. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. It was awkward. He wasn’t used to hugging people. It was suffocating but warm. His large frame surrounding your small body made you feel at home. He was your home. And you were his.

“Ich liebe dich Engel. Bitte bleib für immer bei mir” he muttered into your neck.

“Ich liebe dich auch” you replied through broken German.

He had taught you some of his native tongue when you had spare time. Simple phrases like “I love you” “cuddle me” “please” and so on. You wrote down all the things he taught you in a little notebook and often referred back to them when you had the chance. In your opinion, it was a pointless language with long words that made no sense and unnecessary diacritics, but you’d do anything for your king.

You held each other for a while, slightly rocking back and forth. He breathed in the scent of your hair and you rubbed his back, stopping for a moment then continuing.

You felt your body begin to lift, feet dangling in the air. You wrapped your legs around König’s waist for support as he carried you to the bed. He slowly lays you down, stepping back for a minute.

“Aren’t you coming?” you patted the space next to you.

Of course König was coming, he just didn’t want to hurt you. Lying down directly on top you would surely suffocate you and he couldn’t do that to his little Maus. You were so small compared to him, so fragile. He’d seen you kill countless men, but in his eyes you were still his delicate Blume.

“Yes my dear, I need to know you are comfortable though” he looked down at you.

Your safety and needs always came before his. In the bedroom, on the battlefield, and anywhere else you might be. You were his whole world and he wanted to make sure you knew that. You did. He told you everyday. Constantly showering you with compliments and praises.

“I am”

König’s gentle climbing in next to you, careful not to crush you. He lays on his side as you snuggle into him, face in his chest. So warm. You could hear his heartbeat, such a steady and comforting sound. A slight smile forms on his lips as he wraps you in his arms engulfing your torso. You stayed there for what felt like forever, savoring this sweet moment. Who knows how many more of these you would get. Your jobs were dangerous to say the least. Living to see another day was a gift, not a promise. But being with him made it all worth it. He’s the love of your life. You would never want to be with anyone else. Only him.

“You are everything to me, Meine Liebe” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His Liebe. Forever and always.

#konig x reader #konig x fem reader #konig x female reader #konig x you #konig fanfic #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #konig imagine #konig angst #konig comfort #konig fanfiction

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bones4thecats · 1 month

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Beelzebub, Poseidon, Jack and Nikola with a s/o that's like 10X stronger than they are, like reader doesn't look like it at all but they can just pick them up and throw them over their shoulder with not even a little bit of their power wasted, reader is also known all around like a powerful and authority figure, they're a head god/goddess (kinda like Zeus and Odin)

Them With a Head God and Strong! S/O

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Beelzebub, Poseidon, Jack the Ripper, and Nikola Tesla Name: Them With a Head God and Strong! S/O Requester: Anonymous

A/N: These readers are all from different FAKE Pantheons, so you won’t be able to find any information out. But, they are all slightly inspired by the Bible, the Sinto, and the Greek Pantheon. By the way, here are the four different regions the FAKE Pantheons are from/set; Hierarchie - Germany ║ Hiérarchie - France ║ Jiēcéng - China ║ Ierarhie - Romania. By the way, these all mean ‘Hierarchy’ just so you guys know

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🪰 You had met Beelzebub back in 2000 B.C.E. at one of your first Gods’ Council Meetings as the leader of your Pantheon, Hierarchie

🪰 He was a very quiet person, and that interested you, due to being a fairly quiet person yourself. And the only reason that Beelzebub actually looked up from his hands was when someone tried to offend him, resulting in you sending a lightning bolt to strike them directly in the head

🪰 When you guys first met, Beelzebub had tried to keep his distance from you, as he didn’t want your Pantheon on his ass if you were to be harmed by this God-forsaken curse he was born with

🪰 Surprisingly, despite his obvious care for you, this curse had never harmed you, it was as if Satan had seen you as worthy of the affections of Beelzebub’s, which made him nearly cry tears of joy

🪰 Now, when it was decided that Ragnarok would have to produce 13 Gods for fighting, it was decided that there would be a Head of Pantheon fighting against a well-respected member of Humanity fighting

(Ignore the Beelzebub and Nikola Tesla fight)

🪰 It was you who was chosen to fight against Humanity’s representatives, the Greatest Warrior in History and by-far the most Successful Military Commander in History, Alexander the Great

🪰 The man had readied his Völundr sarissa as you stood there as he claimed the care that Humanity had and how they could better themselves if given the chance, your husband softly chuckled at your comeback to the pledge

" Let me guess, Brunhilde has been filling your heads with that nonsense? How fitting. She’s always been such a blood-thirsty and crude woman, I wouldn't put it behind her to lie to her assets. Though, despite the ignorant comment, you are not the dumbest man I’ve met, though, you better pray that he doesn’t die, mortal. "

🪰 The Gods erupted in laughter at your insult, and hearing Brunhilde’s swears only made it even better

🪰 Due to being well-known for your barbaric actions in battle and that you loved working your opponents up so they lost due to anger made your Pantheon cheer as Heimdall called out the starting word for Round 8 of Ragnarok

🪰 Now the only thing your husband could do is watch and hope that you come out of this unscathed, if a human could take down the likes of Poseidon, Heracles, and Hades, who knows if they can get you

🔱 As a new head to your Pantheon, Hiérarchie, that originated in the northern land of Gaul, now known as France, by the migratory people

🔱 Poseidon was not amused when Hades had sent him a letter explaining that he was required to come to a meeting between the most powerful members of the multitude of Pantheons across the world

🔱 He had only been there a few minutes when you appeared in complete smoke, covering your feet as you strode in as your right-hand, the God of Life, Vie (life), appeared next to you, spreading light whereas you spread darkness

🔱 During that meeting, Poseidon had snuck quick glaces at you, and the only one to even come lose to noticing was Hades and Vie, who only glanced at you both and shrugged their shoulders

🔱 As you and Poseidon began to speak more and more over the next few thousand years, your relationship grew into a full-on marriage, settling a union between two of the most powerful Pantheons in mythology

🔱 Now, when Ragnarok was proposed by Brunhilde, you were chosen by Zeus to represent the Gods in the third round against an unknown human contestant

(Ignore the Poseidon vs Sasakii Kojiro fight)

🔱 You were set to go against the well-known Greek physician, Hippocrates, also known as the 'Father of Modern Medicine', who had written many different things he had discovered about illnesses, which helped Humanity grow in healing one another

🔱 Staring at the middle-aged man, despite the fact he (supposedly) lived to a very old age, that being 90 years, you scoffed lightly. This action made the physician cock and eyebrow and ask you what the matter was

" You. You are the matter. I'm the head of a Pantheon, a Supreme Deity, and I have to battle against some old man? How repulsive. " " You sound quite arrogant, ma'am/sir. " " Arrogant? Y'know, I was going to be nice and allow you the win so I can get back to doing my real job and handling my people, but now? Forget it. Grab your weapon and ready yourself, human. Because I'm not as nice as some say I am. "

🔱 Gripping his trident tighter as the second passed in the battle, Poseidon was interrupted in his thoughts by his nephew, Ares', screams of support to you as Heracles smiled and cheered for you more quietly

🔱 You were stronger than him... and if he knew he could defeat a human in battle, you definitely would. Right?

" Please be safe, my love... "

🩸 Jack knows for certain that you're powerful, far more powerful than him. Even if he had a clone of himself, you would still win against both, no doubt. You are a Supreme Deity for a reason, after all

🩸 As your Pantheon was made many centuries before England was, you would normally curse people out underneath your breath in severely ancient Chinese, and whenever Jack asked you about your travels back home, you would rather he call it 'Zhongguo', as that is what it was called when you were made

🩸 When Ragnarok was hailed and you walked out of the Council with your smaller-Pantheon following you and the Valkyrie sisters, you were worried... what if Brunhilde chose your husband?

🩸 Unfortunately, Brunhilde had asked if your husband would be willing to participate in the battle to the death. And, being a protective spouse, you shut it down and said you would take his place

🩸 Hearing that news made Jack nearly spit out his tea, he knew you didn't want him to die again and all, but why would you sacrifice yourself like this?

" My love, I am truly sorry for not notifying you about this issue. But, I must admit, I do not wish to see you get thrown around by some punk-God who just wants Humanity destroyed. Unlike them, I know for certain that Humanity is worth fighting for, and I- I don't want you possibly dying for that cause. I'd rather die than live without you for the rest of my life. " " As your husband, I admit the same. An afterlife without you would be like living on Earth without oxygen, I would not be able to handle it. " " How about this; we fight together? After all, neither of us can live without the other, right? " " You always find the most crafty ways of getting out of this accidents, am I correct, Y/N? " " Yes you are, dearest. "

(Ignore that his original opponent was Heracles, he deserves to live U-U)

🩸 Humanity was not happy to hear that they were being represented by a killer duo, that being the supposed Jack the Ripper, a man who killed multiple women throughout the year 1888, and a Deity of Blood-lust and War, one that had tortured many in their conquest to rid the world of threats against your people

🩸 The Gods chosen to fight you both was the twins of Egyptian Mythology, Geb, the God of the Earth, and Nut, Goddess of the Sky. You just so happened to be close to Nut, which resulted in you and her going apart from one another as the battle commenced

🩸 When you and Geb looked into one another's eyes as Jack and Nut looked into their opponent's, Brunhilde looked over you all and clenched her fists

🩸 You both better come out of this alive; she doesn't need to lose someone she holds very dear to her again

🧪 As the Supreme God of the Ierarhie Pantheon, which hailed from the European Country of Romania, you knew of many people coming from nearby lands, including the famous Nikola Tesla, who migrated from his home village in Smijan, Croatia, to North America

🧪 When you both first met, you were speaking to one of your close human friends, Marie Curie, and he noticed how your eyes lit up with amazement as she explained the suit's mechanisms

🧪 He hasn't seen anyone other than his fellow scientists look so gleefully at a piece of machinery before

🧪 As you stood and listened, Nikola had looked at you every once and a while before he was called by Marie, making him turn around and officially meet you

🧪 And he had to admit, you were one of the most gorgeous beings he has ever laid eyes upon. You were even more beautiful than the first invention he ever made

🧪 Ever since that day, you had always come in on your free-days away from Supreme-Deity duties and you would assist the many scientists on what they could do to improve the giant suit for Ragnarok

🧪 Speaking of Ragnarok, when you found out that the man you had grown close to was fighting Beelzebub, one of the most ruthless and mysterious Gods in the entire mixture of Pantheons, you had put your foot down and begun to speak with him about it, resulting in Brunhilde and Zeus making the exception for you to help out during the round, like a fight happening during a fight

🧪 When it was announced that you and Nikola were needed on the battlefield, you had hugged him tightly as he and his Valkyrie, Göndul, prepared and performed their Völundr

🧪 As you gripped your weapon, he looked down on you, gifting you the most gorgeous smile you had ever seen in your entire life of millions of years, and hearing the love-sick words pour out of his mouth made you nearly cry and kiss him for the possible first and last time

" Ljubavi (my love, I think?), I must confess this to you before we make an ultimate sacrifice. I love you, I have ever since I had laid my eyes upon your darling form. And I must do this if we do not make it out alive. "

🧪 When you felt him kiss you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making him sigh contently as you kissed him right back. His and your shared fears leaving your minds for a while as the moment continued, the only thing snapping you away is the sound of Heimdall beginning your introductions

" I love you, Y/N. " " And I love you, Nikola Tesla. "

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