#ask-the-guardian-of-the-seas

[guardian-angel-askblog]

"Did you know that the sea bunnies come here?"

Marie is noticed from where she sits beside the door. She slithers to the front and rests her arms on the railing. A sea bunny sits on her head.

"They like to gossip about what happens in the facility."

[The angel would visibly brighten up a little]

“No, no I did not. They do?”

[ivyprism]

Guess I should follow you after reblogging all that delicious lore and stuff...

Can I ask what Archemoros' favourite pastime is?

In fact, can I extend this to your other Nightmare's as well?

I have a lot of them.

Archemoros: He likes to read. Dude spends most of his time underwater and his realm is full of books.

Hesperis: He likes to read too, but he also likes painting.

Gael: He also likes to read but he also likes to practice magic.

Elryc: He reads, but he also likes to sing.

Eclipse: Reading and writing. He's got a fun thing to do.

Noctis: Reading and practicing magic.

Valentin: Reading and dancing.

Dusk: Reading and writing.

Disaris: He enjoys a good book and being around his brothers.

Finis: Reading and writing.

--------

[bittybattybunny]

Ru but in a werewolf costume

He thinks he’s slick but she knows what’s up

[ashored]

hi ik you're still putting colour on this so the actual colours will be different but i was obsessed with the whites and greys because it made her look like a princess ( !!!!!!! ) ok this is the white chroma mwah

now i know what it feels like to be a riot artist seeing fanart of a skin before its even released

MARS THANK YOU SM FOR DRAWING HER.... her pose is sooooo cute and youve made her outfit look even MORE adorable???!? she has plastered a smile on my face and sadly there is no cure

[guardian-angle22]

Happy nice ask week! I hope you’ve had a great week!

What is your favorite book? Why do you love it?

I hope you had a good week too! 💜

I feel like this is the hardest question you could ever ask a book person because how can someone have one singular favorite book when there are so many good ones?

in fact, I have three shelves full of my favorite books (kept separate from the hundreds of other books I own):

So... I thought about your question... I stared at these shelves for a bit... had an existential crisis...

Then I decided that I would eliminate any book that is part of a series. This way I'm not choosing an entire series as my favorite because that would be answering the question of 'what is your favorite book series?'

It did help narrow it down a bit! 😂 I didn't realize how many series I've read and loved!

But anyway, now that I've over-explained my thought process: my answer for favorite fiction book (of right now) is Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. My favorite nonfiction is Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer.

The Night Circus has such atmospheric, evocative writing. I felt truly transported as a reader into the magical world of this circus. There's mystery, there's romance, but really the star of the show is the character that is the circus itself. I just read this for the first time earlier this year, so this might be recency bias happening but I could see myself re-reading it again soon and I don't re-read often.

Braiding Sweetgrass is a beautiful blend of memoir, indigenous culture, and science/nature teachings. It took me a full year to finish this book and normally that might seem like a bad thing, but it was just because I really savored each essay. I read one at a time, only when I felt called to, and was able to really contemplate the words and the lessons in the pages.

[chibinasuu]

Unexpectedly | Law x Reader

★ requested by @supernatural-hunter1

Summary: You and Law never expected to fall in love with each other. Tags: sfw, strawhat!reader, takes place from sabaody to end of wano told through drabbles, GN but written with F!reader in mind, no use of y/n

Law never believed in love at first sight.

Hell, he never expected to fall in love with anyone at all, much less a rival pirate he never even talked to.

But the moment he got a glimpse of you outside that Auction House at the Sabaody Archipelago, for the first time in his life, he felt his heart somersaulting in his chest. 

That somewhat crazy glint in your eyes as you gracefully fought your way through the throng of Marines… Well, Law nearly took a bullet to the chest, the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Law convinced himself that it couldn't have been love.

Attraction, sure, but certainly not love.

And then you disappeared without a trace. For two years. 

He tried not to think much about you.

You were nobody to him, after all.

Law focused all of his time on his goal.

He became a Warlord of the Sea, and his grand scheme was finally in motion.

You were completely out of his mind by then, but suddenly, out of nowhere, fate brought you together again. 

There you were, standing beside your Captain in your cute stolen winter coat, peering at Law disapprovingly as he extended his alliance proposition.

“I don’t trust you,” were the first words you gave him, a finger pointed accusingly in his direction.

Definitely not love, Law thought as annoyance started to rise within his chest.

“Believe me, I don’t trust you, either.” Law had scoffed in reply.

He would be a fool to immediately put his trust in you, no matter how kind and gentle you appeared to be towards your crewmates. It pissed him off to no end that he was the only one you were being hostile with. You weren't even that unfriendly toward the G-5 Marines!

Law tried to return your hostility with the same fervor, and outwardly, he seemed to have succeeded.

He would never admit that his heart still skipped a beat when you stared him down as if his Warlord title meant nothing, all the while threatening to end his life if he so much as betrayed your Captain. 

It wasn’t until the Battle of Dressrosa that you started to see Law in a different light.

His tenacity and determination moved you, and you would be lying if you said that didn’t make you curious to know more about him. 

As you sleeplessly laid—packed together with your crew and allies in Kyros’ little house on the hill—you reminded yourself that this alliance was only temporary, and there was always a chance that Law would betray the Straw Hats.

He got what he wanted all along—Doflamingo toppled and in chains. What would prevent him from just turning around on his promise to work together to defeat Kaido? 

Soft groans sounded from somewhere on your right.

In the dark night, with everyone deep in slumber, it was hard for you to identify who they belonged to, until someone suddenly jerked upright, clearly woken up from a nightmare.

Law.

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breath, a hand wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

Before you could stop yourself, and against better judgment, you whispered, “Are you alright?”

The word “yes” almost flew out of his mouth—the standard response. But somehow, he found himself unable to lie to you. 

“No.” He ended up choking out. 

The room was silent for a few moments before your voice rang out, firmly, but softly.

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

Law knew your words were mostly customary—the standard response. But his heart felt more at ease anyway.

“Are you alright?”

It was Law’s turn to ask when he found you in the woods on the outskirts of the Guardians’ residential district in Zou. 

You immediately wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, a bit embarrassed at getting caught crying. 

You smiled humorlessly up at him, “No.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

You chuckled at the way Law parroted your words from back at Dressrosa.

“Straw Hat-ya is going to get him back.”

“Oh, I know.” You said, accompanied by a more genuine smile this time, “I don’t doubt him one bit.”

Law raised his eyebrows, silently asking, why are you sobbing alone in the woods then?

“It’s just…” You sighed, “I can’t imagine what Sanji’s going through right now. What burden he must’ve been carrying this whole time.”

Law padded towards you hesitantly, like approaching a wounded animal.

You patted the ground next to you. 

He took you up on the offer and sat down, leaving a respectable distance between you.

“He’s going to be okay.” 

You didn’t know what came over you, but you leaned your head on his shoulder, finding comfort in this man you barely knew anything about, “I know.”

For a hunk of metal engulfed miles beneath the ocean’s surface, the Polar Tang felt surprisingly warm and homey. 

It had only been a few days into your journey to Wano, but you already found yourself attached to the Heart Pirates’ library. Well, it was mostly Law’s library, to be fair. 

There was no point in worrying anymore about what was going on at Whole Cake Island. There was nobody you trusted more than Luffy and your crewmates. They would get Sanji back, you were sure of it.

Now, the only thing you could do was focus on your next moves and ensure the plan to defeat Kaido was already set by the time they met up with your side at Wano in a few weeks.

As might be expected, planning for war was not what you would call fun. Everybody was exhausted, tense, and anxious about what was coming.

The library became your refuge in the evenings, a hideout after the days that were filled with meetings, and meetings, and more meetings.

You were perusing one of Law’s medical books when a voice interrupted you, “You’re interested in learning medicine?”

The Captain and Doctor of the Heart Pirates was leaning against the door, arms folded in front of his chest.

You gave him a small smile, “I’m interested in learning. Period.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his feet unsurely stepping forward, then back, before he finally decided to fully come into the room, pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“I can teach you more, if you like.”

“I’d love that.”

It wasn’t long until the library rendezvous became your solace, something to look forward to at the end of every day. 

It wasn’t long until the conversations about complicated medical procedures turned into subtle flirting.

It wasn’t long until the “accidental” touches—of your fingers as you passed a book back and forth, of your knees beneath the table—became more purposeful.

It wasn’t long until you started trading whispered stories late into the night, learning things about each other that no other people knew—the dim library a comforting haven for the unlikely pair.

“Don’t forget the fact that you doubted the loyalty of my crew.” Law coldly told Shinobu, “If we can’t trust each other in moments like this… then I can’t expect to entrust my safety to you when the fighting is fierce!”

The room was quiet as Law stormed outside, no doubt immediately heading towards the Flower Capital, where his crewmates had allegedly been detained as prisoners.

You hurried out after him, catching his arm before he could run off even further, “You know it’s a trap, right?”

Desperation dripped from his voice as he replied, “What else can I do? I can’t just leave them to be tortured by Orochi’s men.”

You knew you would've done the same if you were in his position—if it were your crewmates who had been captured. It would've been hypocritical of you to try and stop him.

You slid your hand down to grasp his, “Be careful.” 

He nodded.

He squeezed once, then you let him go.

When Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi eventually returned without him, it felt like someone had ripped your heart out and broken it into one thousand pieces.

On the day of the Fire Festival, you couldn't stop the tears of relief that ran down your face when you caught sight of that familiar yellow submarine in the distance, its Captain safe and sound, standing proudly on its hull.

It felt like a boulder had been lifted from your chest, the tightness in your heart replaced by a ferocious pounding.

The knot in your stomach loosened, and in its place, butterflies ran amok.

And there was no denying it anymore.

You had, unexpectedly, completely and unequivocally fallen in love with Trafalgar Law.

Cheers echoed throughout the Skull Dome as Luffy's victory against Kaido was confirmed.

Chopper was bandaging your arm, the skin ripped to shreds by Ulti's claws, but you could hardly feel the pain anymore.

Luffy won. Every single member of your crew was safe.

Yet, you couldn't fully relax. Not yet.

Your eyes darted across the open floor, praying for a glimpse of a fluffy spotted hat, or a blue feathered cape, or a bright yellow shirt. Anything.

You bolted from your seat the second Chopper finished tending to your injuries.

You needed to find him. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was alive.

Moving through the masses of samurai and pirates, your heart clenched tighter each second that you could not see him.

And then, among the crowd of thousands, you heard him.

Your name, shouted out with a joyous lilt that you had never heard from that deep, familiar voice.

The heat of the moment, the thrill you felt when your eyes finally found his, the exceedingly fast rhythm of your heart when you saw the huge smile on his face.

You didn't think twice as you ran over, flung your arms around his neck, and crashed your lips against his.

Law's surprise lasted but a second before he kissed you back fervently, his arms pulling you impossibly close to his body.

The gasps of the onlookers did not reach your ears—it was as if you and he were trapped in your own little bubble, oblivious to whatever was happening outside.

“People will talk, you know.” He managed to let out between kisses.

“Let them. I don't care.” You answered, feeling his smirk as you captured his lips again.

The Heart Pirates had started giggling and whispering among themselves, some even running off to find your crewmates to spread the gossip, but you and Law were too far gone to notice.

Law's steady hands moved to cup your cheeks, and you let him angle your face so he could kiss you deeper, his tongue seeking yours desperately.

Even Bepo's awkward cough wasn't enough to tear you apart, prompting the mink to tap Law's shoulder hesitantly instead to gain his attention.

Without breaking the kiss, the Captain swatted the fluffy hand away in annoyance, but Bepo was insistent.

"Excuse me!" He shouted, the sheer volume of his voice finally bringing some sense back into you.

You instantly jumped away from Law in surprise, face burning in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I really didn't want to interrupt but..." He pointed to your arm, where the fresh bandage was already soaked with red, "I just think you shouldn't… agitate the wound too much. Sorry!"

As Law redressed your wounds, you couldn't help but stare at his face, then shifted your eyes up and down his body, taking inventory of the injuries he sustained after facing off two Emperors.

"You're okay." You finally declared, letting out a relieved breath.

"We're okay." He said as he tightened the knot of your bandage, before taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Dawn never looked as beautiful as it did in Wano.

You sat with Law on top of the hill just outside the Flower Capital, watching as the first sparks of sunlight peeked out from the horizon, streaking the purplish sky with tinges of orange and yellow.

The beats of the drums and the bright melodies of the flutes and the strings continued to flow in the distance, in harmony with the cheers and laughter of the freed people of Wano.

The celebration had been going on for seven days and seven nights now, but there were no signs of it stopping just yet.

Come morning, the Straw Hat Pirates, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates would all go separate ways, each taking a different route from the log pose.

You and Law both knew each other well enough to know that he wouldn't ask you to join his crew and that you wouldn't say yes even if he did.

Yamato had kindly made Vivre Cards for the two of you. A piece of his now belonged to you, and yours to him. That would have to be enough for now.

Although, you did have one more thing you wanted to give him.

You reached into your pocket and pulled something out. Taking Law's hand, you placed the small item on his open palm.

Law stared at the golden coin, one side engraved with a picture of a town, and the other with the name of your birth island.

You had shown it to him, at one of your library sessions, when he admitted to you that he collected coins from the various islands he visited.

Law also remembered you saying that this was the only memento you had left of your hometown. 

“I can’t—”

“Take it.” You closed his fist over it, dramatically proclaiming, “To remember me by."

Law scoffed, "It's not as if we're just never going to meet again."

"Yeah, but who knows when that'll be." You bumped your shoulder against his teasingly, "It might even be after Luffy becomes King of the Pirates." 

“Don’t be so sure.” He smirked, “I could still become the Pirate King, you know?”

You barked out a laugh, giving him a pat on the cheek, “Keep dreaming, honey.”

Law twirled the coin around between his fingers, his smile dropping into a slight frown.

“I’m going to miss you.”

The words were so softly spoken that you almost missed them.

You hugged his arm that was closest to you, snuggling into his side, “Me too.”

You felt his lips on your forehead before his head moved to rest against yours.

Fingers intertwined, you both watched as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky.

Yes, in a mere few hours, you would go your separate ways. But there was no doubt in your mind, and heart, that you would surely meet again, someday.

You knew it as sure as the ocean was blue and the grass was green.

Your story was nowhere near its end. 

a/n: guess who started writing a new law fic before finishing the part 2 of her existing one? 🙋🏻‍♀️ i can't help it, this request was too tempting. i feel like this fic is a little bit different from my usual writing style, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! <3 (i am now going to pretend law didn't get his ass beat not even a week after they parted ways shhhh that didn't happen in this timeline)

↳ masterlist

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

[nightingale-prompts]

Worship Me- DCxDP prompt

Yes, it's slightly horny. Sue me!

Was there anyone in this family that didn't attract crazy? Tim would like to say that it was some more than others but the track record is horrendous for each of them.

Don't ask him how he got here. It was a blur. Mission. Altar. Cursed Mirror.

But all that doesn't matter anymore because currently in what could only be described as an obsidian palace.

The palace floats in the void like a jagged crown. Its structure defies logic—spires twist and spiral in impossible geometries, as though grown rather than built. Every surface is carved from seamless black obsidian that drinks in the light of distant stars, causing the palace to shimmer with eerie inner reflections, like shadows trapped beneath glass.

The entrance is a colossal gate shaped like an open eye, rimmed with glowing runes that pulse with alien intent. Inside, the vast halls echo with silence too deep to be natural. The floors gleam with a mirror-sheen, reflecting not just one's image, but fragments of memories, glimpses of alternate selves, or ghostly figures passing just out of reach.

Chambers are suspended in open vacuum, tethered by bridges of crystalline light or magnetic arcs. Gravity bends strangely; a single step can carry you across entire rooms or into hidden dimensions nested within the architecture.

Tim had memorized every detail of this place in the days since he arrived. Most of the time he was allowed to go about his day staying and learning about this place. He wasn't imprisoned, he had to wait for the portal to open again in a few weeks. But Tim had caught the interest of the ruler of the palace.

Now Tim sat on the edge of the floating bed. It's heaped with a sea of plush pillows in shades of midnight blue, silver, and deep violet, each embroidered with celestial patterns.

How he got to this point—he may have...had a few conversations with who he assumed was the prince. The person who he thought was the king was actually his guardian. Tim just...flirted a little to get a bit of information on this place. Danny—the prince—had been more than receptive.

It might have gone too far but here we are.

Now he was in the bedroom of who he still assumed was the crown prince with said prince currently on his lap with his lips on Tim's neck. Tim is unable to move because he believes that if they get caught Tim might end up beheaded for putting his Richard where it does not belong. Hell, they probably already know with the all-seeing eyes everywhere and the fact that the beings in this dimension phase through walls so using the door was just a polite formality.

"Stop thinking. I can practically hear your thoughts." Danny growled nipping at Tim's neck between kisses.

"Then you can te—ll, haa. Fuck! Your hand. Too fast." Tim gasped.

Danny pulled away as he grabbed Tim by the chin and made him look into his eyes. Those hypnotizing green eyes.

"Do you want this?" Danny asked his eyes narrowed.

"...Yes," Tim couldn't lie.

"What do you want?" Danny smiled his sharp elongated incisors showing.

Tim remained silent his hand pressed against the small of the princes back.

"Good, you don't have to say a word. Focus on me. Think of me. Nothing else." His hand wrapped around Tim's throat. "Worship me as your new god."

Prince—king—these words where actually meaningless titles for Danny. He was not these petty and lowly things. He was a god and he craved worship. Even if it came in the form of a single human devoted to him. How incredibly lucky that a suitable human came here. Clockwork says it was best to let the human go back to his dimension and hopefully share his experience so that others will worship Danny. He had no interest in letting his new priest go so easily, not without a parting gift.

"I wonder how it must feel to bed your new master."

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Azul Ashengrotto

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader🐙🦐

TAGS: Fluff; a little angst; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss; Flirting

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Azul’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.390 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy🐙

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / (Azul) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

Just like in Jade's dream, you, him, Floyd, Jamil, Ortho, Silver, Sebek, Grim and Idia's tablet appeared in the dream already underwater. You check to see if everyone is there and okay, but Jade wasn't feeling well and ended up vomiting. It seems that Jade has a propensity for the dream-crossing sickness. Meanwhile both Jade and Floyd have switched to their merforms.

“Still, I must admit some surprise.” Jade says. “I wasn't expecting Azul's dream to be set under the sea.”

“And it's our home, the Coral Sea, the least novel place possible.” Floyd adds.

“I was positive Azul's dream would be about him thriving doing business on land.”

The Leeches debate among themselves what this could mean and they think that, like them, Azul got bored on land and decided to expand the Mostro Lounge at the sea. When your group finally decides to go look for Azul, you hear cheering coming from past some rocks.

You go check and see two teams of mermen playing something that looks like spelldrive. Jade and Floyd explain that it is called coral rush, the most popular underwater sport. Jade says that judging by the faces of the players, that is a match between school teams. Apparently, between the Red Pincers and the Golden Tridents. From the description, Idia says that it is impossible for someone like Azul to be part of a team in a sport like that.

But then, the commentator describes someone from the Golden Tridents team stealing the ball from the Red Pincers team.

“Who was it that swiped the ball so fast we couldn't see it...?” You hear the commentator say through the speakers. “Ah, the Golden Tridents' guardian! AZUL ASHENGROTTO!”

You see Azul on the field towards the other goal and with the dreamer's silver bird around his head. Everyone is dumbfounded, including Jade and Floyd.

“Azul, Azul, he's our man! If he can't do it, no one can!” You hear the Merfolk Cheerleaders.

“Why are you looking at them like that, (Y/N)?" Ortho asks you. “You look repulsed.”

You change the subject by saying it was just something in the water.

You continue to watch the game, with Jade and Floyd laughing because not even they believe what they are seeing, and see Azul score the winning goal with spectacular style.

“Ah! They're going somewhere else now.” Sebek points out, after the end of the game.

“We can't afford to lose them. Let's follow!” Silver says.

But unfortunately, it's really difficult for you to move around underwater and the aerospheres are so big that you have to be careful not to collide with each other.

“Squeee! Wait up, Azul!” The Merfolk Cheerleaders swim in your direction. “Hey, out of the way, people! Those jellyfish membranes around you are blocking the way. Stop taking up so much space!” And one of them bumps into you.

“Excuse me!” Azul suddenly appears. “What a terrible way to treat spectators here to offer their support. I'm so sorry how people from my school treated- Ah! (Y/N)? Why are you... what happened to your tail?” Azul looked extremely worried. “And what is this membrane around you?!”

“My... my tail...? I...” Even if you wanted to come up with something to say, you still don't have enough information about what's going on to know what to made up.

Azul carefully places one of his tentacles around your aerosphere to try to pull you with him without bursting it.

“Um... just give us a moment.” Azul tells the others with a smile as he takes you with him behind a rock.

The others let him take you because it seemed like you might be able to get some information about that dream.

“What happened?!” He whispers to you, with a concern similar to someone having a plan go wrong. “Has the potion lost its effect? You took the last dose, didn't you?”

From what you were understanding, in Azul's dream you were a land-dweller who needed to take a potion to stay in your merform. So you decide to go with it.

“Huh... Yes! I, uh, was so excited to see you play that I might have forgotten to take the potion. And, uh... Those guys, they're the ones who gave me this, uh, bubble to breathe in.”

“For the Benevolent Sea Witch's Sake!” He keeps whispering, but almost in panic. “Those guys now know that you're a land-dweller?! Why were you so careless? Good thing I always carry a spare potion with me.” He has a brown bag around his waist from which he takes a light purple glass bottle. “Deep breath.”

You take a deep breath and he bursts your aerosphere. He uses his tentacles to take off one of your shoes and sock while complaining about why you land-dwellers wear so many layers of clothing and makes a drop of the potion touch your foot. Your legs start to glow, join together and become a shrimp tail. But the strangest thing is that you start breathing through gills in your ribs. Azul puts the bottle back in the bag, holds your hands with his and with one of his tentacles he holds your tail to give you support.

“It's okay, my dear.” Azul tells you reassuringly. “You'll get used to it again in no time. And I won't leave your side anymore. I promise.” He kisses your cheek. “You can take off your clothes now.” he suggests casually. “They will only get in the way of your swimming. And the other merfolks will find it extremely suspicious.”

If you have a female body, you will notice that the scales on your tail continue up your torso, covering your chest like a bathing suit and just like the Sea Witch. So, since there is no problem in taking off your shirt and you already feel the difficulty of moving with clothes underwater, you take off the rest of your clothes.

“You are so much more beautiful without those things covering you.” He smiles fondly at you and he holds you again. “Now... let's get back to our... visitors.” He says with a sly smile. “You can hold my arm until you feel comfortable swimming again.”

You do so and hold on to Azul's arm, which is stronger than you thought. You and Azul come out from behind the rock to approach the group again and it's no surprise that everyone looks at your new merform with immense astonishment.

“(Y/N) told me what happened.” Azul tells them. “Thank you so much for helping my partner in such a time of need.”

“Your PARTNER?!”

“Yes, I know. We are such a charming couple.” Azul confirms with a proud smile. “You must have traveled a long way to get here. Please, consider yourselves welcome. My name is Azul Ashengrotto. I'm the captain of the Golden Tridents, my school's coral rush team.”

“Mr. Ashengrotto, I was quite impressed with how you were playing back there.” Jade tells him enthusiastically, or rather, feigning enthusiasm. “Could I trouble you for an autograph?”

He makes Azul sign the back of Idia's tablet, against Idia’s will.

“By the way, do our faces ring any bells for you?” Jade asks after thanking him for the autograph.

“Your faces? Hmm... Ah! Are you the Leeches? From elementary school?”

“Yes! I'm honored you remember us.”

“Oh, the memories! We were in the same class back then, weren't we? It's been ages!” Azul looks at you. “Excuse me for a second, my dear.”

He gently makes you let go of his arm, but discreetly keeps a tentacle on your tail to support you, as he and Jade do one of those complicated secret handshakes. After that, Azul swims back a little so you can lean on his arm again.

They talk about how it's been a while since they last saw each other at graduation. The Leeches tell him that they are at Night Raven College and Azul is surprised, maybe even shocked, that they are attending a school on land.

“That's... amazing. You must be quite brave.” Azul tells them. “I could never go up on land, myself...”

“Hey, Azul!” A teammate of his calls. “Come on, Let's go! Party can't start without the star of the team!”

Azul has to say goodbye, but first he invites the group to go to his team's victory party that night, saying he would like to hear more about their life on land. The venue was La Grotta, his mother's restaurant. As soon as Azul mentions food, Grim almost jumps on him with excitement. But by the way he treats him, it seems that Azul doesn't recognize Grim, even though he knows you.

“We'll be waiting! Until then.” He finally says goodbye and takes you with him.

Seeing you leave without Azul, Grim prepares to protest but is stopped by Jamil who suggests that they let you go to get more inside information that could be useful to them.

“Ahh... Azul's got such a friendly, dreamy smile!” A Golden Tridents Fan says. “I think I'm in love. What I would give to be (Y/N). They are so lucky.”

As you swim past the fans of Azul’s team, or rather, Azul’s fans with him, you look sideways at some of these merfolks.

“What is it?” He asks you with a smug smile. “Don't tell me you're getting a little jealous of my... I mean, the Golden Tridents fans.”

You don't hide your slightly sullen lips, which makes him chuckle.

“Oh, my pearl, I thought you already knew that you don't need to worry. No one's voice will divert my gaze from you.” And what a loving gaze he was directing at you.

He took you straight to La Grotta, his mother's restaurant, and he left you in one of the VIP rooms while he went to talk to the staff and his teammates, which gave you time to think about what was going on and what you could do next.

So, to recap: he knows you, but he doesn't know Grim or Night Raven College. And Azul knows you're a land-dweller. But now the question is: How did you two meet if he's never been to Night Raven College? However, you couldn't just ask him. What excuse would you use to not remember your relationship? Amnesia? No, that wouldn't fly.

Luckily, Azul gave you one of those waist bags where you could put your cell phone and you were discussing ideas with the others via messages.

Thinking about the fact that Azul was part of the Board Game Club, just like Idia, he suggested one of those quiz games for couples. Idia could manipulate the questions if necessary, so that you would receive questions that you knew how to answer and Azul’s would be more specific to learn more about his dream. But maybe that wasn't necessary, because in a quick search Ortho discovered quizzes like “Who is the most...”, where the answers are just “Me”, “You” or “Both”. And there's no problem with the answers being different. In fact, it's even better if they're different because then you both would talk about it.

By messing with the dream code a little, Idia makes one of those teen magazines with silly quizzes appear next to you, where the quiz for you to use with Azul is.

When Azul comes back, he brings with him a bunch of your favorite dishes that can be prepared underwater, and places them on the table with a smile. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet just for the two of you, especially for you. You tell him that you found that magazine somewhere and that you would like to take a couples quiz it had. Azul chuckles and accepts for the fun.

“Who is most likely to go to land?” You read the first question, and you both agree that it would be you. Even though Azul commented that none of you would go.

“Who gives more gifts?”

You look at all those dishes that are your favorites and you agree with Azul himself that is him.

“Fine, fine, I admit it.” Azul sighs with a smile. “I may or may not spoil you a little too much.” You feel one of his tentacles caress your tail fins.

“Who is more jealous?” You continue with the questions.

“Hmm... I would say you.” Azul smirks.

“ME?!”

“Are you going to deny the way you were looking at those cheerleaders? Fu fu.”

Something tells you that in real life Azul would be at least a little jealous, but of course his dream wouldn't put him in a position to make him feel jealousy. So you end up agreeing.

“Who is most likely to forget how you met?”

“That would be you, for sure.” Azul says, with an amused smile.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, technically you were unconscious when we actually met.”

“I was?!” You couldn't contain your surprise.

“Ha ha, I understand. It was a traumatic situation despite everything.” Azul explains. “I usually avoid going too far to the surface, but it was on a night of... um... I think they're called fireworks. The merfolks also enjoy their sight. But then a storm started to form and we went back underwater. I noticed a big... boat? Ship! A big ship struggling on the surface and that's when I saw something fall into the water. I wouldn't have turned back, but I realized it was the silhouette of a land-dweller. And I... I don't know why... Curiosity? I honestly don't know, but I came to your aid. When I caught you, you were already unconscious but still alive. The storm was too dangerous to carry you above the surface, so I used magic to create a bubble of air for you to breathe. When I arrived at the beach the sea was already calmer. Only then did you open your eyes. But I didn't stay with you for long because I heard a lot of people coming looking for you, so I went back to the sea. So technically, you would be the most likely to forget that day. If you remember anything at all.” He finishes with a reassuring smile.

“So, you saved me.”

“Well, yes. And that's why you kept going to the beach looking for me for days, wasn't it? You wanted to know who saved you.”

And how did you end up underwater with him? You look back at the questions and the next one changes without Azul noticing.

“Who is most likely to give up their world to live in their loved one's.” You read. “Well, clearly me too.” You smile at him.

“But of course. You yourself told me that you hated the land. You said you would do anything to be with me.” He smiles, more smugly than lovingly.

“And do you remember when we really met?” You ask. “You know, when I met you consciously?”

“Naturally. After all, you were after me. You even asked the naval authorities of Sunshine Lands for help. And of course this reached my dad since he is a lawyer. I would almost have felt like a wanted criminal if it weren't for the thanks for saving you. And so we arranged to meet on the beach the next night.”

You hear someone knocking at the door. Azul says they can come in and one of the staff members appears saying that the time for the victory party to start was approaching. Azul tells you it was a fun game to bring back good memories, you finish eating and get ready to go to the party and receive the guests.

“We have some... special guests today.” He comments with a smug smile that gives you a bad feeling.

“DJ, surely you can play something with more energy than this!” Azul says as the outgoing host of the party. “We can't exactly dance to outdated jazz.” The DJ does what he says. “Is everyone having fun?”

“Wooo! Yeeeah!” The party-goers enthusiastically confirm.

“Whoa, are those land-dwellers?” You hear one of the mermen say near the entrance. “What're they doing at our party?”

“Hm? ...Oh! Those are my guests.” Azul says approaching the group with you holding on to his arm. “I can't believe you actually came. You all must be quite brave.” He says with that weird smile. “Welcome to La Grotta. Oh, dear... I completely forgot to tell you - this party has a dress code for land-dwellers.”

“What? Why didn't you say so?” Sebek questions.

“Required attire for undersea parties is...” Azul continues. “This!” he makes those anemones you recognize appear on Sebek's head.

“Whoa! What is this?!”

“Under the sea, that's a hair accessory regarded as highly formal. Isn't it lovely the way it sways back and forth with the current?” Azul smiles charismatically. “Wearing these will elevate even the drabbest attire. You'll be the centerpieces of the party! Here's one for each of you!

He made those anemones appear on everyone's head, except Jade and Floyd's, with the excuse that they were for land-dweller and that merfolks didn't need them.

“Now come on in, everyone.” Azul invites them. “There's no sense blocking the doorway!”

The group enters and Azul lets them move a little away from you two.

“Azul.” You whisper to him. “That dress code...”

“Of course it's a lie.” He confesses to you with that mocking smile. “Let's have some fun with those... poor unfortunate souls, shall we, my dear?” He laughs and takes you with him back to the group.

“Hm? The merfolk all seem to be starting at us.” Silver notices. “Have we committed some faux pas?”

“Didn't I tell you that you'd be the centerpieces of the party with those accessories? Their gazes are all riveted to you because you cut such dashing figures.”

This convinces Grim, whose ego continues to be inflated by the other merfolks. And they convince him to go on stage and dance. Grim accepts, but drags Sebek and Ortho with him. You had a bad feeling as big as Idia, Jamil, Jade and Floyd. A hunch that turned out to be true when Grim, Ortho and Sebek fell off the stage and the three of them's aerospheres came together, making them look like idiots. All the merfolks started laughing, including Azul.

“What sad, pathetic creatures land-dwellers are.” Azul mocks. “It's hard to believe ANY merfolk would actually go up there. There's no place like under the sea!”

They admit that Azul only invited them to use them as entertainment and reveal that those anemones on their heads were just part of their humiliation.

“Azul, I can't believe you can lie with such a straight face." A merman says. "You're the man!”

“Ahahaha! Aren't they the perfect accessory for such silly-looking land-dwellers? Ahh, good times! What a delightful diversion this has been. But the rest of the party is for us merfolk. The goofy opening act can exit the stage now. Off you go! Goodbye!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” You shout, abruptly letting go of Azul's arm. Everyone looks at you in shock, especially Azul. “You're not like this! Well, yes, you take advantage of other people's naivety, that's true, but not like this. And what's your problem with land-dwellers? You're dating me, aren't you? And I AM A LAND-DWELLER!”

The other merfolks are shocked, apparently this was a secret.

“What? Azul Ashengrotto dating a land-dweller?”

“Wha- NO! They...” Azul looks at the other merfolks. “They WERE land-dweller, but they hated it, they wanted to be merfolks and I granted them that wish.”

“What? I don't hate being a land-dweller!” You defend yourself. “Why are you being a bully? Why do you want to be like the people who made fun of you when you were little?!”

“What? What are you talking about? I never... Argh!” He has a vision of one of the times he was made fun of as a child. “What? No! This never happened!”

“I like you, Azul.” You confess. “But not you, the real Azul!”

“Yeah, this Azul is reeealy boooring” Floyd complains. “Hey, Koebi-chan~ , leave that guy and come back to us.”

“K-koebi-chan?” Azul looks at Floyd strangely.

You start swimming towards Floyd and the others, but that's when you feel something wrap around your tail, preventing you from keep swimming.

“NO! YOU WON'T LEAVE ME! YOU'RE MINE!” Azul pulls you back to him and holds your arms to your torso with two other tentacles around you.

Of course this makes the group attack Azul and whoever gets in the way to save you. Azul tries to swim away and let the mermen fight for him, but the Leeches stop him from escaping.

“Swimming away instead of fighting your own battles?” Jade says. “How pathetic.”

“Pathetic?! ...Hrk!” Azul has a vision of Jade and Floyd looking at him, disappointed, wearing their dorm uniforms.

“Yeah, you're so pitiful that to make Koebi-chan stay with you, you have to force them.” Floyd attacks him. “Let go of them!” He scratches Azul's tentacles making him release you, and Floyd pulls you to take you with him and Jade.

“Let's move on to the next dream, everyone.” Jade says.

This makes Azul have another memory: ‘Ooohhh, is that a fact? I'm just a silly little octo-twerp who can't do anything on his own.’

“Hrgh! What is this?!” Azul’s dream world begins to distort. “Is that... me, in clothes? What is this memory?! Urgh... Head... hurts...!”

The other mermen approached him to make sure he was okay and to do their job of convincing him to stay in that dream, telling him not to believe in land-dweller, that nothing good can come from associating with them. All merfolk transform into that goopy darkness around Azul and you all, but a new figure forms in the midst of the darkness, and when this figure reveals itself, it is a copy of you in your merform.

“Don't let them fool you Azul.” Your copy tells him. “You saved me from that messed up place. And I fell in love with you so much that I would give anything to be part of your world. This wonderful world. Under the sea. With you. Loving you just the way you are.”

“Yes... Nothing beats life... under the sea...”

“Right. Even if you went onto land, you'd be working nonstop from sun-up to sundown.” A merman says.

“Stay here, and you can spend your days dancing and singing!” Another merman corroborates. “Every day's a blast!”

“Life under the sea is as good as it gets... Isn't that right, Azul?”

“Yes... I would never... go onto land...” Azul lets himself be swallowed by darkness.

“Jade, Floyd, let's follow him!” Ortho says.

But... they explain that personal responsibility is the rule in Octavinelle. Immersing himself in pleasant dreams was Azul’s decision. If someone doesn't want step up, leave them, That's their rule.

“You two are going to jump on that thing with us and help save Azul or I'll put you back to sleep myself!” You threaten them, a more emotional than logical reaction derived from your feelings for Azul.

Everyone looks at you in surprise that you even have the courage to threaten those two. But Jade and Floyd smile at you with amusement. They find your reaction interesting and that's why they thought it would be fun to help you while you had such strong motivation.

You appear in Octavinelle's hallway You, Jade and Floyd change your human forms again and you all peek through the door into the interior of Mostro Lounge to see Azul and the Jade and Floyd NPCs talking. You see Azul burning that school photo he wanted you to steal from the Atlantica Memorial Museum.

“Now my wretched past is all squared away.” You hear Azul saying. “And I get Ramshackle dorm from that sucker (Y/N) in the bargain.”

It seems that, from all indications, he was no longer dreaming that he was dating you. You find out he was dreaming of a scenario where Leona didn't turn all of his contracts to sand. This dream likely takes place shortly after midterms. The real-world Azul lost most of the powers he'd taken from others after those midterms, but in this dream, he never lost his contracts, and he's even managed to acquire the powers of multiple housewardens. Just from what you overheard, he's taken the signature spells of Riddle and Leona, at least.

You conclude that you need to find the contracts and destroy them yourselves. You go to the VIP Room but when you open the safe, it's empty. It was most likely that Azul had hidden the contracts somewhere else. But the only people, besides Azul, who could know where the safe was were Jade and Floyd, or rather, their NPCs. The plan now was to draw Jade and Floyd's NPCs away from Azul, distract or even destroy Floyd's NPC and use Jade's signature spell on his own NPC to tell him where the safe was.

While Floyd, Jamil and Ortho took care of Floyd's NPC, you and the rest took care of Jade's NPC. After you go to the Alchemy Workshop, have Idia unlock the door to the storage room, and Jade breaking practically every glass case in sight to take a few super rare magic mushrooms, he puts all the mushrooms in a large container and tells you and Grim to go to Mostro Lounge and make an offer for them. The others don't believe that Azul will fall for that, but the plan is not for Azul, but for Jade’s NPC. Before you go, Jade makes anemones appear on your head and Grim's so that Azul doesn't get suspicious since, according to the logic of the dream, you both should be under his control at that moment.

As Jade predicted, Azul had no interest in the mushrooms, but Jade's NPC had every interest. Jade’s NPC asks Azul to go with you to investigate the place where you and Grim allegedly found the mushrooms and he lets him go, but before Jade's NPC leaves with you and Grim:

“(Y/N).” Azul calls you. “Could you stay and let Grim show Jade the way? There are some matters I would like to discuss with you.”

You decide to accept, because being close to Azul can help with the mission. He asks you to go with him to the VIP Room and tells you to sit on one of the sofas and make yourself comfortable. You do so and he sits next to you instead of sitting in his armchair behind the desk.

“I'm so sorry you lost your dorm.” He says with false pity. “But a deal is a deal.” He crosses one leg. “I heard you moved to Savanaclaw. Is it true?” You confirm. “I'm surprised that the students in that dorm would be so... agreeable as to find you a room. What is it like? I hope it's not too uncomfortable.”

You tell him that you are staying in the Houseworden room with Leona, and this makes Azul's expression change. Maybe as you already expected it to happen knowing now that he probably has a crush on you.

“You are sharing a room with Leona?!” He says in a slightly squeaky voice before clearing his throat and regaining his posture. “But the housewardens' rooms are solo rooms. Let me guess, he's making you sleep on the floor?”

In reality, that's more or less what happened. But... what if... you changed the story a little and saw what happened? You tell Azul that at first, yes, you slept on the floor, but that over time you got closer to Leona and one night, seeing that you had started to suffer from back pain, he started to let you sleep with him in his huge bed. Azul's face doesn't change much, but if you pay attention to his hands they were starting to form fists.

“Well, that's good. But... It must be hard to live in that dorm. After all, you're living in the most... wild dorm in Night Raven College. If you could be transferred to another dorm, is there one you would like to move to?

You know the answer he wants to hear, but you say another dorm on purpose to mess with him. You respond with Heartslabyul, because your closest friends, Ace and Deuce are there. And you also know Riddle, Trey and Cater well.

“It makes sense.” Azul admits a little displeased. “But unfortunately, I heard that they have no free rooms, not even free beds.”

“Well, that's what they told me too.” You tell him. “Ace and Deuce said that both they and Riddle would be happy to take me in, but there was that problem. Ace even suggested that I share a bed with him or Deuce.”

“Really?” Azul whispers to himself, with that look of someone who wants to have a little chat with him later.

“That's why I ended up going to Savanaclaw. I wasn't... I'm not close to anyone from other dorms.”

“And what would you say if you could stay in Octavinelle?”

You didn't know if it was the mood of the room, the decor, the soft jazz in the background, but something was making you want to mess with him through those deals of his.

“And why would that be a better deal than staying with Leona? Since I'm now even sleeping in a Houseworden's bed.”

“Is that what you want?” He says seductively and getting a little closer to you. “To sleep in the Housewarden's bed? What if I told you that I would allow you to do the same here?” He smiles with satisfaction when he sees you looking a little flustered.

“Besides that...” He straightens up on the couch. “I can only imagine how much you suffer from those brutes whose strength is valued more than intellect. Here, you would be treated with much more respect, for sure. Especially...” With his index finger on your chin he makes you look at him. “If you were the Housewarden’s partner. That connection alone would give you all the respect in the school. And who knows...” He reaches out his arm to poke the anemone on your head. “Maybe I'll free you from this.” His hand returns to your face, this time grabbing you by the cheeks. “It really doesn't look good on such a pretty face.”

“What if I don't accept the deal?” You ask, taking your face out of his hand.

Azul's smile faded slightly, clearly dissatisfied.

“In that case... I will have to force you to leave Savanaclaw.” He grabs the anemone on your head and pulls it, bringing your face closer to his. “And bring you here myself.” He whispers. “Willingly or not... you are already mine.”

Someone knocks on the door before you can say anything else. Azul lets go of your anemone, asks you to excuse him, gets up and goes to open the door to find an Octavinelle student asking him to go with him because something came up that needed his evaluation.

“I'll be right there, give me just a second.” Azul closes the door and walks towards you again. “I'll leave you to ponder.” He tells you with his charismatic smile. “You can join Octavinelle of your own free will. Or you can continue to be one of my... forced collaborators. Either way...” He tilts your head with his fingers on your chin. “I'll get what I want..." He leans in to bring his face closer to yours. "And and I want you.” He straightens up, lets go of your chin and turns to leave the room.

You stayed in the VIP Room and shortly after you heard Jade and Floyd arrive at Mostro Lounge and start talking with Azul.

“Jade, that large attaché case you're carrying...” You hear Azul say worriedly. “Is that the one with my contracts?”

They talk about some miscreant wanting to steal Azul's contracts and that's why they went to get the case from under his bed.

“Anyway, hand over the case.” Azul tells them. “I need to hide it elsewhere for now.”

You take the opportunity to discreetly open the VIP Room door and take a peek at what was going on.

“Didn't you hear me? Hand it over, quickly.”

“Azul. Have you truly forgotten?” Jade asks. “In reality, you lost those contracts months ago.”

“In... reality? I lost them? What are you saying? I haven't lost anything. I've gained everything! You've seen it for yourselves, haven't you?”

Jade and Floyd remain silent.

“What's with those looks? You know there's no one left at school who opposes me. Even the headmage does as I say! They all bow before me! And you know what happens to any who dare go against my will.”

“Oh, Azul... You really must stop disappointing us like this.”

“Disappointing you? If anyone here is disappointed, it's me!”

Things escalate and Azul attacks the twins for their insubordination, but Floyd uses his signature spell to bounce Azul's attack. Azul calls all students with anemones in their heads that he controls to fight them. They surround Jade and Floyd. Among them you see Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Leona, Kalim and even Idia. It is at this time that Silver, Sebek, Jamil, Ortho and Grim enter to fight alongside the twins. And you also join them.

“Here, Koebi-chan. You hold the case.” Floyd throws you the attaché case with the contracts.

They fight until the right opportunity arises, which is when Azul uses Leona's signature spell, Kings Roar, to attack Floyd. He uses his signature spell to bounce the attack towards you. You quickly position the attaché case and the attack hits it, destroying it and all the contracts inside.

“No, no, no! My poor little contracts... With my own spell...! They're all... sand... HRK!” The world begins to distort as Azul remembers. “What's happening?! My head feels... like it's about to split open... Urgh! That's right... Back on that day, I... Ah... Aaah... AAAAAAGH!”

Azul remembers and the dream breaks.

“How could I have forgotten something so vital?” He laughs. “I swore I'd never commit a blunder that bad again, and yet... Here I am, reliving the experience of losing all my contracts. What a nightmare!”

Azul, Jade and Floyd don't get to exchange many words before the dream world starts shaking like an earthquake because, now that the contracts have been destroyed, that dream can no longer reach a happy ending. While everyone tried to escape, the darkness caught Azul by the leg. Jade and Floyd held him and tried to stop him from sinking back into the darkness, but the others explained that everyone needed to get out of there quickly and that Azul, as was his dream, could still save himself. The twins let go of him, with Azul's own consent and agreement, and you all left that dream while Azul was taken away by the darkness.

When you were able to return to the dream, you found Azul in his human form and wearing his Octavinelle Housewarden uniform, despite being in his mother's restaurant under the sea.

After the explanations and Ortho showing Azul the explanatory video of what was happening, Azul immediately worries about Mostro Lounge, the possibly spoiled food, and the public's image of seeing them close without warning. But after that, there was another concern.

“Wait. From what I understand, you arrived during the Coral rush game. Which means...” Azul looks at you, but then immediately looks away, embarrassed and blushing.

Jade and Floyd laugh, but Jade still asks if you two wouldn't like to have a private conversation. You accept, even to Azul’s surprise, who ends up accepting after you. Jade and Floyd take charge of taking everyone away from you, probably as a way for you and Azul to later be indebted to them. But since you're at Azul's mother's restaurant, he knows where the VIP rooms are, and he takes you there.

“I...” He was so embarrassed that it seemed like he wanted to hide in a hole. “I-I-I I am SO sorry!” He can't even look you in the eyes. “I swear I would never do that to you! I don't know why I... I didn't know what I was doing. I-”

You get closer to him to calm him down and tell him that you understand. You have seen many other dreams and have noticed that what happens does not always correspond to what the dreamer would do in reality.

 “What can I do to make you forgive me? And forget what happened?” He asks you, struggling to look at your face.

“So it's true that you like me?” You ask back.

“Wha- hm... I thought it would be obvious by now.” He sighs. “I... think so.” He looks away, unable to develop a better response than that.

When you admit that you like him too, he looks at you dumbfounded. The more you tell him about how much and why you like him, the more his eyes will shine. If you tell him that, from a different perspective, you even enjoyed the way he liked having you ‘all to himself’, he will blush even more.

After internalizing everything you've told him, he needs a moment to compose himself. But once he does, he looks at you with a smile and perhaps a little too much confidence.

“So... will you forgive me for my lack of manners towards you?”

You say yes, because you know he wasn't like that anymore.

“I'm glad to have your forgiveness and understanding. But...” He gets closer to you, slowly. “I'm still in debt to you. I treated you like you were my possession and that is simply unacceptable. So, tell me...” He caresses your cheek, brings his face close to yours and whispers to you. “What can I do to pay off my debt?”

“Despite everything...” You look at his lips. “You never kissed me.”

“Should we start there, then?”

You start by kissing slowly. You feel his hands sliding to your back and waist and pulling you closer to him. Gradually the kiss become more needy, and you can feel his tendency to be a little possessive. But this time, with your consent.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[venusjeon]

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro��� she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

[sunsburns]

GONE GONE / THANK YOU — variant!mark grayson

⟢ synopsis. you’ve never wanted to fight mark grayson, but the universe has a way of twisting your arm, and now you're forced to reckon with it.

⟢ contains. 18+, mark grayson x reader, evil variant!mark grayson x reader (but not the way you think), serious injury, death, gore, violence, major angst, no happy endings here, oliver locks tf in.

⟢ wc: 5.6k+

⟢ author’s note. do not be fooled, this is a tragedy. there is no romance here.

You remember, vaguely, back when he still worked for Cecil and trained with the Guardians. When you were teammates, rookies with too much adrenaline and not enough experience. Mark Grayson used to ask you to spar like it was a game.

You always turned him down.

It was always him asking, too—never Cecil. Sometimes, Rex would try to coax you into it, just for fun, by placing bets with Bulletproof like it was a pay-per-view event. “Come on, just once,” he’d say, “I got twenty bucks on you getting tossed into a wall.”

It wasn’t like you’d stand much of a chance—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You weren’t helpless, sure. You could fly, move faster than most. You had telekinesis, strength just barely above the average hero’s. You could throw a car without touching it and take a punch that would hospitalize most people. But you couldn’t split the sky open with a single blow. You couldn’t level a building by accident.

Mark could.

He was much stronger than you. You knew that. But he always swore you were the only one on the team he’d ever have a fair fight with.

You remember him saying it once, voice all boyish and sincere as he watched you hurl a semi-truck into a monster that crawled out of Hell with nothing but a wave of your arm. Or that time you tackled him midair to shield him from a laser blast—one that left you burned and stumbling, but still standing.

Back then, he was new to this. Sloppy. Hopeful. Moved like he was wearing his dad’s boots and still trying to grow into them.

Maybe back then, you could’ve taken him.

Maybe it would’ve been fair.

You’d always brushed off the sparring sessions he suggested, hiding your nerves behind a smirk. He’d flash that stupid grin, eyes too bright to take seriously, and you’d wave him off like it was nothing. “What, so I can lose in front of you? No thanks.”

You never said what you really meant: I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even want to know how to.

Looking back, it was kind of embarrassing how quickly you’d grown fond of the new superhero.

“Oh, c’mon,” he’d beg, hovering beside you in the sky, similar to some overeager golden retriever, “it’ll be fun! I’ll go easy on you.”

You remembered the way he’d grin when he said that, like he meant it. You remembered the way he used to chase after you mid-flight on your off days, shouting challenges through the wind when all you wanted was to fly in peace. You’d mentioned craving Caribbean food in the Caribbean once—offhand, totally casual—and next thing you knew, you were midair, scrolling your maps app while Mark kept pace beside you, claiming he just wanted to “smell the sea air or whatever.”

Yeah, right.

You knew better. He just liked being near you. (Or at least that’s what Eve told you later, when you brought it up and she rolled her eyes like you were the last person on Earth to get the hint.) And when it came time to carry the food back, he always helped without you asking.

He was kind like that. Earnest. The kind of guy who matched your pace, who never minded when you stopped flying to rest on a rooftop or circle over a new city just to take it all in. He kept you company. Slowed down for you.

But he also liked to annoy the hell out of you.

He had a talent for pushing your buttons—prodding, teasing, egging you on just enough to make you want to hit him. Not in the playful, shoulder-shove kind of way either. You’re talking a real punch. One that might actually break his nose.

He’d say stuff like, “What if you just threw stuff at me?”

You blinked at him, mid-hover. “Throw stuff at you?”

“Yeah. Like, I don’t know—trucks? Cars? Big, heavy stuff. No combat. Just toss things.”

You’d laughed. “No combat? Why? You think I’d beat you in a real fight?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Probably, yeah.”

And he meant it.

You were better at combat than Mark. Everyone knew it. He had raw power, sure, but he fought like he was still learning where his limbs ended. He was always a little too reckless, too eager to win fast, to fight them and leave, always charging in when he should’ve taken a second to think or hear out whoever he was fighting this time. He always let his opponent push him onto the back foot. Unfortunate because Mark only knew how to block with his face.

Which sucked, because he had a very pretty face.

“I don’t want to fight you, Mark.” You said it because it was true. Because even if it was just a playful team match, even if the stakes had only ever been bragging rights, you’d seen what he could do. Just a glimpse of it—enough to leave you rattled for days.

You didn’t want to feel helpless under him. You didn’t want to see him like that.

“Train with me,” he corrected you.

You arch a brow. “We already train together.”

“Spar with me, then.” He rolled his eyes, like you’re being deliberately difficult.

It made you laugh, escaped before you could stop it. It almost makes you cave. His voice, the slight pout in his tone, the way he gets when he wants you to meet him in the middle.

“What would I gain from this if we do?”

“You’d know my weaknesses.”

“I already do.”

“Fine. You’d know what to do in a fight with me. A real fight.”

That made you pause.

You glanced at him, really glanced, and saw the honesty in his eyes. It sobered you.

“If I ever try to fight you, Mark,” you murmured, “I must be the craziest person on the planet.”

And maybe that was the problem.

Somewhere, in the quiet corners of your mind, the part of you that didn’t speak often, you understood what he meant. You saw the logic. It wasn’t about wanting to fight. It was about being prepared for the possibility. That one day, something might happen—someone might twist his arm, or his mind, or the world might just break wrong—and you’d be the only one left to stop him.

Just like he was the only one who could stop his dad.

But it was Mark.

You couldn’t picture it. Couldn’t even begin to shape that version of reality in your head. A Viltrumite? Sure. Maybe. But not Mark. Not the one who flew slower just to stay beside you. Not the one who remembered where you liked your food from or made you laugh just to hear the sound.

A Viltrumite, sure. But never Mark.

It always surprised you that Cecil never forced the issue. That he never pulled you aside, never handed you a file full of fail-safes and protocols for some contingency plan. Never demanded you run a one-on-one simulation, just in case. Not even after Anissa.

Maybe he was too busy moulding Mark into a weapon. Focused on teaching him how to dodge the hit instead of what it would mean to land one. Maybe no one really wanted to imagine a world where Mark Grayson needed to be stopped.

But now?

Now you wish you’d said yes.

You wish you’d tested yourself. Learned his rhythms, his tempo, the way his shoulders moved before a strike. You wish you’d paid closer attention. Memorized every tell. Every blink. Every breath. Every violent twitch in his body.

Should’ve known what it’d feel like when one punch hit you for real.

When he hits you for real.

“Why won’t you fucking die?!”

The voice is his, but wrong.

It curdles in your ears: guttural, unhinged, warped by something deeper than rage.

You’re weightless—thrown midair like a ragdoll. For a single, surreal moment, there’s a strange comfort in it. Suspended high above the wreckage, the sun kisses your skin, and a breeze slips across your face.

Up here, the sky is still beautiful. A stretch of blue that hasn’t yet been stained by smoke or scorched by heat. Far enough from the screaming and all the noise. Far enough to forget what’s happening on the ground.

But you can’t breathe.

Your lungs seize, your eyes snap open, pupils blown wide as your body remembers the pain.

You barely register your own gasp before a blur of blue and black cuts through your vision. Fast and close.

Your body shudders violently. Instinct claws at your nerves as the blur sharpens.

He’s coming. Again.

Faster than before.

Faster than you can think.

Gravity slowly claws you back down. You’re dropping.

You don’t even get the chance to scream before two boots slam into your stomach.

Your body folds inwards with a crunch—sick, absolute. Something inside you gives way. Ribs, maybe. Or your will.

The air vanishes from your lungs.

And then you’re falling.

Plunging faster than you can think to pull yourself up again.

The wind whips past your ears, colder now, biting at torn fabric and skin. Your suit peels away in places, edges fused with blood and grime. It soaks through the fabric, your blood. It clings like glue.

You hit the ground like a meteor and concrete craters beneath you.

Your spine strikes first, a bolt of blinding white-hot pain rippling through every inch of you, from the tips of your ears to your toes. And then your body goes limp, twitching in the dust.

You heave; a short, broken breath. Once.

Twice.

Then blood rises up your throat like a tide. It fills your mouth, thick and choking. You cough, gag. Swallow a bit without meaning to. The taste is iron and fire and fear.

Your nose is shattered, and has been since the second time he hit you; it’s not getting any better—just a wet, twisted mess that sends pain knifing through your face with every shallow breath. Blood seeps from the split at the bridge of it, more of it rolls out to coat your lips. You try inhaling through it, and it’s like dragging air through broken glass.

Your vision pulses. Static edges. Fireflies at the corners of your eyes. The sunlight above you flickers like it’s behind dirty windows.

Everything burns.

You’re vaguely, bitterly grateful to discover that you can take a punch or two from a Viltrumite.

Even more grateful to realize he still gets frustrated when a fight drags on longer than he wants.

He’s always had a temper. That little crack in his armour. That flicker of impatience just before he stubbornly decides to end things.

Funny how that trait sticks. Across dimensions. Across versions.

Across Marks.

You try to move.

You know he’s coming again.

You fight to make sense of where you’ve landed—what part of the city this is, how far the damage might’ve spread. The world tilts wildly when you try to sit up. Every muscle screams. Every joint trembles under the weight of your own body.

Your fingers dig into dust and rubble. Arms shaking, elbows buckling when you roll over.

Somewhere past the ringing in your ears, a footstep echoes.

Not his. Too light. You freeze. Your body goes rigid with fear.

Then you see a child.

Shit.

A girl runs past, tripping over debris, breath coming in broken sobs. Your heart lurches.

She stumbles toward a crumbled wall, where a hand reaches out from a narrow crack in the broken concrete. A voice calls softly, a little desperately. She throws herself into someone’s arms, and the space swallows her whole. Hidden. Safe.

You meet someone’s eyes inside the dark. Just a flash. Then a whisper.

“Is she okay?”

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

However, your blood goes cold because you don’t hear him land. You feel it.

A tremor shocks the ground beneath you. Dust kicks up into your throat. Something inside you screams at you to run. But your legs won’t listen. Your body doesn’t move.

A shadow twists along the edge of the crater, slow and crawling, swallowing the light around it. You watch, frozen, as the figure nears, closer with every heartbeat, every rasping breath that burns your lungs. Your chest is caving in under the weight of fear, the panic a raw, wild thing clawing up your throat and getting stuck. You barely move.

Your instincts take over before your mind catches up—what little you can summon lurches to life, and a thin, violet barrier flares to life around you.

It glows dimly, trembling in the air like it’s afraid too.

Then, the first strike lands.

You flinch as a violent crack echoes through your shield. His fist hits it again, harder this time—shockwaves rippling outward, shaking the ground beneath your knees. You collapse backwards, knees buckling beneath you, your limbs no longer listening.

And now, you see him.

The colours of the suit are the same. Black and blue. Familiar. Too familiar. It’s his jawline, his mouth, the slight crookedness in his lips—only this time, there’s no smile at all. No warmth. Just something brutal and cold in the lines of his face. It’s haunting, how much he looks like your Mark.

His fists don’t hesitate. They don’t tremble. They don’t stop. He slams them again and again into the shield, and you know it’s not to knock you out. He’s trying to kill you.

Your vision blurs, not from the impact, but from the emotion cracking inside your chest. It’s like looking into a mirror, someone shattered and glued back together in all the wrong ways. His jaw clenches, tighter than you’ve ever seen on Mark. And he shouts and screams at you like rage has him by the throat.

His suit is covered in blood. Not just stained. Soaked. You know Mark bleeds more often than not and carries his wounds to prove it. This isn’t that. This isn’t his blood. These are other people’s. It drips from his fists. Smears across his shoulder. There’s a tacky smear along his jaw.

And then you notice the difference: his hair is tucked beneath a tight, blue cowl, pulled back out of reach. It’s smart, almost too smart. You’ve seen people grab Mark by the hair mid-fight, use it to throw him off balance. This version, this thing pretending to be him, has made sure that won’t happen. Even so, a few strands of inky black hair have broken free, fluttering in the wind, familiar enough to steal your breath.

It’s that hint of recognition that almost costs you everything.

His fist crashes into your barrier again, and this time, it shatters and you feel it crack down your spine.

There’s no time to think. You throw yourself upward with a burst of raw energy, launching into the air, limbs screaming in protest. You don’t look at him. You look past him toward the building where the civilians are hiding, where you felt their fear.

Get away from them. Get him away from them. That’s all that matters now.

You’re gasping, your lungs pulling in air like they’re drowning. Your hands are trembling so hard you can barely summon the force again. Your vision is swimming. Blood sticks to your side, to your lashes, to the inside of your mouth.

And you’re scared.

You barely make it a few feet into the air, just high enough to feel the wind stir through your hair, when he grabs you by the throat.

The momentum dies instantly.

His hand clamps around your neck like a vice, fingers cold and unyielding, and you’re yanked backward through the sky with brutal force. Your body jerks in the air, and you choke on a scream as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. A ragdoll. A thing.

You claw at his wrist, nails scraping, scrabbling, legs kicking beneath you, wild and useless, searching for something, anything, to find leverage. But there’s nothing. Your lungs seize, scream for air, and your chest caves in with the effort.

“M-mm…” It slips out, a little pathetic. A strangled, broken moan choked on blood and bile, laced with panic you can’t swallow down.

Tears finally break. They spill hot and fast over the curve of your cheeks, over the cuts already weeping there. You can’t stop crying—it hurts too much to cry, but your body doesn’t care. Everything is on fire. Your ribs ache where they’re cracked. Blood drips down your chin from your split lip. Your shoulder pulses where you hit the ground earlier. It all bleeds together in one screaming pulse of pain.

The variant grins. Wide. Delighted. His teeth are strangely white, and there’s something sickening in the shine of his eyes you can see through his goggles. He brings you closer, so close you can smell the blood caked beneath his collar. So close your lips brush the edge of his ear.

“Sorry, what was that?” he murmurs. His voice is casual, almost amused, like he’s not slowly squeezing the life out of you. Like he’s enjoying this.

You try to speak again. Try to push past the pressure in your throat, the blood in your mouth, the trembling of your jaw.

“Mmar—muh—”

He laughs. Laughs.

“Muh-muh—come on, you can do it. You know my name. Say it.” He’s mocking you, voice all sweetness and cruelty. His grip tightens just slightly, and it sends a new spike of agony ripping down your spine.

Your face crumples.

You’re sobbing now, really sobbing, even though it hurts. Even though every broken breath feels like it’s digging your grave faster. You collapse inward, deeper into his grip, your weight sagging against his hold as your feet dangle uselessly beneath you. Blood smears down your neck, thick and warm, mixing with the salt of your tears. It leaves tracks on your cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever been this afraid.

He shakes you once, sharp and jarring.

A cry slips out of you, louder this time.

“Say it,” he demands again. “C’mon. At least beg a little.”

Your lips part. It hurts. But you do it.

“Mark—please. Please.”

He hums like he’s enjoying it, cocking his head.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“Please, Mark. I don’t—I don’t wanna…”

Your voice breaks again. Trails off into something too small to hear. You meant to say die. But it catches in your throat, and you’re not even sure if that’s the truth.

Because you don’t want to die at his hands.

You don’t want to die looking at his face.

You don’t want to die thinking this is the last version of him you’ll ever see.

You squint through the blood stinging your eyes, searching—anything. A broken pipe, a shard of metal, a loose brick. Something you could use before he chooses to tear your head from your body or snap your neck like a twig. But your brain blanks. He could do anything to you. You’ve seen him do worse.

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head like you’re a puzzle he already solved. He pushes you away, just slightly. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight—”

A jagged chunk of broken concrete comes hurtling through the air behind him. It slams into his back and crumbles instantly, like dirt hitting steel. It doesn’t hurt him, but it makes him falter. Just for a second.

It’s enough.

You land a shaky kick to his stomach. It barely moves him—he grunts, more annoyed than wounded—but it’s enough to loosen his grip on your throat. His hand slips, and you drop like dead weight, gasping as air stabs back into your lungs.

You’re in the air again before you hit the ground, desperate to put distance between him and the civilians hiding in the building nearby. You knew you wouldn’t get far. You just needed space.

But he’s faster.

His hand snatches your ankle mid-flight, yanking you down so hard the air tears from your lungs again. Panic hits like ice in your chest, he could rip your leg clean off. You brace for it. But it doesn’t happen. You’re more durable than you give yourself credit for.

He must realize that too because he pauses. And in that pause, a car slams into him from the side with a scream of twisted metal, sending him skidding across the air. The vehicle shatters around him like glass against a god.

You hover in the air, staggering, breath ragged. Run. You burst away. But it’s like he never left. A blur of movement, and he’s on you again. The wind trembles around you as he grabs the back of your suit, lifts, and throws.

You crash through a concrete wall like a bullet, debris exploding in every direction. The force slams you into the tiled floor of the building behind it, breaking the ground beneath you as you skid across it. Each bounce against the cracked floor sends more shards of pain ripping through your ribs, your spine—until your body then slams into another wall, cratering the surface.

Your ears ring.

You blink rapidly through the haze and spot them. Movement. Figures, crouched in the corner of the room. Wide eyes. Shaking hands. Trying to stay quiet. Shit, you need to get out of here.

Then you feel him.

“—You little shit.” His voice is right there. Hot. Furious. His goggles have broken, and you can see his eyes. You feel sick when he looks at you, and you realize he has the exact same eyes as the Mark you know.

Hands seize you, claws in your skin, and you flinch, scrambling weakly, but there’s no time. Icy fingers dig into your face like meat hooks, one thumb gouging dangerously close to your eye as he yanks your head forward and smashes it back against the wall.

Once.

Twice.

He does it again. And again.

Your skull slams into the concrete until the plaster splits—until the wall peels back like wet paper and your head strikes the raw metal beam embedded beneath it. The sound is sharp. Hollow. Like a bell rung for the dead. The metal dents and bends to the shape of your skull.

“Fight back,” he snarls, saliva spraying across your cheek. His grip tightens. “Fight back, coward.”

The building groans around you. Cracks crawl like veins across the walls. Dust sifts down from the ceiling like ash from a burning sky.

Still, you don’t move.

Because your hands, shaking and soaked in your own blood, remain limp next to you. Fingers splayed, twitching, and glowing with desperate violet light. Your force field is fragile now—no longer the confident, humming barrier you’ve conjured in countless fights. This one sputters. Fractures along the edges. It buzzes with instability, as if your own heartbeat is the only thing keeping it alive.

Through it, the civilians cower in the corner. A young girl sobs into her mother’s chest. An older man clutches his chest, gasping. Blood trickles down someone’s temple. One of them meets your eyes—just for a second.

They’re depending on you.

You’re the wall between them and a god gone mad.

Even as blood pours freely from your nose, leaks from your ears, and chokes your throat, you hold the shield.

And he sees it.

His gaze flicks from your face to the trembling light shielding the survivors. Then he turns. Slowly. The glow reflects in his eyes like a glint off polished glass.

He sees them. The people you’re breaking yourself to protect. The reason you’re not fighting him back.

“Oh,” he breathes, realization flooding his face like bile. “That’s what you’re doing.”

There’s no humour in it. No mockery. He stands up. Steps back just enough to leer down at you. Then he nudges your leg with his foot, light, almost lazy.

“Am I not worth your full attention?” he spits, voice low and venomous.

You manage to lift your head just slightly, breath rattling in your chest.

That’s when you see it—the sudden flick of movement. His leg tensing, rising, snapping downward.

The stomp hits your knee. Hard.

A flash of pain rips up your thigh. Your force field flickers. Cracks splinter across its surface.

He sees that too.

And then he lifts off the ground. Just slightly. Hovering. Charging his weight.

“No—” you croak.

But it’s already too late.

He comes down full force, heel slamming directly into the joint of your knee. You hear the wet pop before your body processes it.

“Wait—”

Crunch.

The sound is sickening—like splintering wood wrapped in muscle. Your femur caves, bone shearing beneath his strength.

You scream. It rips from your throat with raw, animalistic agony. A sound born from every nerve in your body, catching fire.

But he doesn’t stop.

He stomps again.

Your leg gives entirely. Another crunch—louder this time. Bone bursts through skin, blood pooling fast and dark across the tile. Flesh torn. Tendons snapped.

You try to crawl away, sobbing, your fingers scraping uselessly against rubble, but he pins you with a single hand, heavy and uncaring. Whimpers slip past your lips. Your body trembles. Tears return—hot, relentless.

Still… you hold the shield.

Or try to.

Your hands flutter now, weak and slow. The violet glow dims, sputters, and flickers. You feel it dying.

You let out a choked sob. “No— please—don’t—”

He doesn’t even look at you.

Just kicks your side and shoves you down to the floor with a dull, wet thud. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs. You taste blood again. You bite your tongue to keep from blacking out. Your world is sideways.

He steps over your body, shadow stretching across the floor.

“You wanna play hero?” he says, voice thick with disdain. “Then try and stop me.”

The force field fails.

The whine that comes with it is soft. Pathetic. Like a dying heartbeat. The light vanishes.

And then he moves forward.

You hear it first. The civilians scream. A cacophony of fear and hopelessness, and panic. Feet scramble across the floor, slapping and slipping in the dust. Bodies scatter like bugs when a rock is lifted, rushing to corners that won’t save them.

You try to look away. But you can’t.

Tears stream down your bloodied face, your vision blurring, every nerve screaming.

“No—please—stop—”

You watch as he grabs one by the throat, fingers sinking into flesh with a sickening wet crunch, and slams them into the ground hard enough to collapse the tile and crater the concrete beneath.

Bone shatters. The body twitches once. Then doesn’t move again.

Another screams before she’s hurled across the room and hits a concrete column so hard her spine snaps with a sound like cracking ice. Blood sprays in a wide arc, painting the pillar in a bright red fan. What’s left of her folds in on itself like meat dropped from a rooftop.

A third runs. Tries, anyway.

They don’t make it two steps before the variant is on him, driving his fist into the back of their skull like a sledgehammer. The head doesn’t just break. It bursts. A wet, explosive noise followed by silence.

You cry again. All you can do is cry, helpless and shaking. Because you can’t do anything. Can’t crawl. Can’t protect them. Can’t stop it.

All you can do is lie there, twitching, crying, blood in your mouth and dust in your eyes, your own leg bent backwards beneath you like a snapped twig, ribs stabbing sharp into your lungs every time you breathe.

The room shakes. Then goes still.

The screams stop. The begging stops. Everything stops. Except you. You’re still breathing. Barely.

And he sees that.

The Mark who isn’t yours. Who wears his face but none of his soul.

He turns, eyes raking over the ruined bodies, the cracked walls, the crimson streaks painted across your cheeks and neck and chest.

Then he walks away.

He doesn’t even kill you.

He doesn’t even care enough to anymore.

He just leaves you here. A pile of meat and power and broken promises. Like you aren’t even worth finishing off.

The world sways. Tilts. Cracks. You’re not sure if it’s the building or your skull. Everything blurs at the edges, the colours too red, too dark. The air is too hot.

Your ears ring—sharp, high-pitched, like a scream still echoing inside your skull. You can’t tell if it’s someone else’s or your own.

The walls are split open like ruptured flesh. The ground is thick with dust and blood and the sickly stench of offal. Light flickers from a shattered fixture above—rapid, dizzying pulses that make your stomach lurch.

What’s left of your forcefield gutters across the floor like dying embers. Violet flickers catch the blood, the bone, the ruin. Cast soft light on glassy eyes staring up from broken faces.

Some of them look like they were trying to run. Some tried to hide. One looks like they were shielding another.

None of them made it.

You should move. Should crawl to the window. Should drag yourself somewhere someone might see you. Maybe he’ll see you. The real Mark. If he’s out there.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Your leg’s twisted beneath you, a grotesque knot of blood and shattered bone. One arm lies limp across your stomach, fingers twitching without purpose. You think something’s wrong with your ribs—sharp edges press against your insides every time you try to draw in a full breath. So you don’t.

The sun begins to sneak through the crumbled wall, golden light stretching over the carnage like a lie. It touches the broken bodies. The cooling blood. Your face.

And you lie there. Unmoving. Unseeing.

Because what’s the point?

Your hands are burned from your own force field. Still faintly glowing. Still trying.

You’re alone in the ruins of hope.

The concrete groans once more, something shifting far above. A soft cascade of dust falls like snow.

But otherwise—nothing.

No rescue. No sound. No light.

Just the stench of blood. The sting of smoke. And you, barely holding onto the thought of staying awake. Not because you want to. But because something in you still refuses to close your eyes.

Even now.

Even when there’s nothing left to save.

And help arrives too late; a sound, distant, frantic, pierces the silence.

Footsteps. Heavy. Rushed. A younger voice screaming, raw with something deeper than rage: “Die! Die! Die!”

Your heart clenches. That voice. You know it. That high, stubborn pitch. That little face, purple and wide-eyed and brave in a way only a child could be.

Oliver.

But then… silence again.

That silence terrifies you more than anything. He was here. You heard him. And now you don’t.

You start to cry again. Weak little sobs, more breath than sound. It hurts too much to make noise. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe your brain, desperate and failing, conjured him to spare you from dying alone.

Then at first, it’s just a crunch. Soft. Careful. The sound of wind shifting through broken glass. Your ears twitch—what’s left of your hearing, catching the shift in air, the gentle thud of shoes landing on broken tile.

Your ears twitch, catching it through the sharp ringing that’s made a home in your skull. Another crunch. The delicate movement against the air.

Approaching.

Your vision swims in red and static. But you see it—a blur of violet streaking in from the jagged hole in the wall. It flies crooked, clumsy, like it’s too fast for its own balance. It shouts your name.

Not your hero name.

Your real name.

The sound cracks through your chest. A sob tears up your throat.

He lands too hard. Hits the ground with a gust that kicks up glass and bloodstained dust. Then he’s on his knees beside you.

“Oliver?” you whisper, the name catching on something wet in your lungs. The word barely makes it out. A cough wracks through you, sharp and tearing. But it’s something.

Your eyes flicker toward him. He’s breathing hard. Shaking. His fists are covered in blood—not just his, you think dimly—and there’s a long scratch across his cheek that’s already scabbing over. His eyes go wide when he sees you. So wide they look like they might spill over.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” you croak.

Oliver stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. His mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again, trembling.

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he says.

You try to breathe, but it’s shallow. The weight in your chest doesn’t budge.

He reaches out, but doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t know where he can.

“I saw him,” Oliver whispers, “I saw what he did. I thought you were holding him off—I thought—then I couldn’t see you anymore, and I—I stopped him. I got rid of him—”

His voice cuts off. He blinks too fast.

You try to move. Your fingers twitch, scraping weakly against the rubble. You don’t know if you’re reaching for him… or for the people you couldn’t save.

Oliver sees it. And he starts to cry.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, urgently, scooting closer. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. Just—just stay awake, alright? Stay with me. Please.”

He’s a child. Still a child. And he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t see this.

“You have to go,” you rasp, barely audible. “Mark... he’ll be looking for you.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Mark’s fine. You’re not. I’m getting you out of here. I’ll take you to Mom. You’ll be safe with her. She’ll know what to do.”

He says it like it’s a promise. Like it’s fact. But you know better. You feel it in your bones—what’s left of them. You’re not going to make it that far.

You close your eyes for a moment. Just a blink. Just to rest them.

You let the words settle into you like warmth in a cold room.

Maybe that’s enough.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Did kook Ford ever meet the twins. Sorry If you already answered this.

He does eventually! No worries, I haven't answered this before, and this ask is a perfect opportunity to talk about the mystery twins' lore while we're at it :)

Mabel and Dipper were put into foster care at a young age due to their parent's divorce; neither party being willing to take custody of the twins. Since there were no close friends of relatives who were available to take care of the twins (I'm going to put Sherman and his wife out of the picture for now since I'm not sure how to get around that plot hole), Stanley pulled some strings to adopt the twins, making him a legal guardian to them :) As far as the twins know, though, Stanley is not related to them in any way.

Stan tries his best to not to involve the kids in his mafia business, although, the twins are still aware on some level that their "uncle" is not exactly a saint, and neither is his "work". But they love him nonetheless.

Anyways, the twins get actually introduced to the lore way later. The adoption happened a while ago, and several years later the twins are 11 and bored during the summer holidays. Which is perfect timing for Stan, because he needs them out of the house and away for the time being while he's busy taking care of his "work". He doesn't want them to go stir crazy and start causing trouble, so he decides to send them away to some remote town in Oregon called "Gravity Falls", where there is the least amount of violent gang activity and is far, far away from anywhere under enemy mafia dominion (other than his).

Stan lets them go their merry way with a chaperone (Soos) to stay over at his Abuelita's house. He double makes sure the twins are looked after by hiring one of the locals who owe him a favor (Manly Dan's family) to watch over them. This is how Wendy comes into the picture (she doesn't play that big of a role but still) :)

The twins are understandably a little put off by the fact that their uncle just sent them away to the middle of nowhere, but they manage to befriend some of the townsfolk and even find a strange journal in the woods.

They eventually meet Stanford, the unstable old "town kook" that everyone in town has warned them about and adviced to stay away from, and befriend him. He's amicable enough, but he always seems as though he knows more than he himself realizes.

And you'd think this is all there is that Gravity Falls has to offer. Just some strange anomalies and even stranger townsfolk.

But, Dipper wishes to learn more about the anomalies in town, to which Wendy off handedly mentions how her father used to talk about an anomaly researcher that once lived in town. When they all go ask Manly Dan for more information, he refuses to elaborate on it, calling it "nasty business" that they shouldn't be getting involved with.

Obviously, being kids, they decide to get involved in it.

Dipper and Mabel go looking for signs of this so-called "scientist" around town, picking up more clues from what the townsfolk tell them. Until eventually, their investigation leads them to a shack on the edge of town, nestled deep within the dense woods.

The house where the researcher supposedly once resided is abandonned and decrepit. They explore its ruins, but end up finding more questions than answers in the endless sea of indecipherable notes; strange books; rotted specimens and morbid bloody stains. However, the biggest mystery of them all had to be what was hidden beneath the shack. Behind innocuous doors and rickety elevators that brought them down, down, down to a massive structure buried deep underground; the mystery behind this strange researcher seemed to grow ever more.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 12

Y'all are getting two chapters today because a little silly someone, won't @ because they haven't asked to be tagged in the tag list and Idk if they'd like the call out but they know who they are, liked every chapter and I loved your little comments so I finished chapter 13 so I can post this chapter only fueled by your excitement 🥰🥹

CW: people are getting their ass beat, so mention of blood and decapitation.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 12 >>next

With Nolan completely refusing to face anyone lately, and the announcement that the guardians are dead, you had to get away. You couldn’t sit and wait for him, couldn’t cry over the guardians, couldn’t sit by and watch how worried Debbie was every morning when he’d left. You just couldn’t.

So, while Mark went to university with Amber and William, you cashed in your vacation days and let the shadows lead you away over the seas to Romania. Softly landing in the Hoia-Baciu Forest felt—surprisingly—like home.

The whispers of the shadows nudged you around the forest, deeper and deeper, past the oddly shaped trees straight to a burnt circle of land where dried trees grew. Walking past the circle changed the scenery, from gloomy grey trunks to moss-covered, flourishing weeping willows circling a little lake.

Walking back to the edge of the circle, you stuck half of your body out and back observing the change happening right before your eyes. It seemed to be a Midnight City magic dome thing. Inside the dome, it was quite beautiful, the astilbes and the Japanese irises giving some color to the landscape. Your hands softly traced the taller flora as you got closer to the lake, lifting off the ground to move towards the center where a small piece of rock was.

This was a great place for an altar and the shadows greatly approved, too. Sitting on your ass, crisscross apple sauce, you placed your hands on the smooth surface, transfiguring it to expand and even out a bit more.

By the time you were done setting wards so no one could find the place and adding the actual altar and the statues for Lady Gotham and Death it was already so late.

With a small sigh, you place yourself in front of the altar once more. You were never religious, your biological mother didn’t care, Bruce didn’t, the Graysons didn’t- it felt awkward to pray to them. Constantine mentioned that praying to them could just be talking to them, they’re not Yahweh, they’re not Allah, they don’t abide by those rules.

So, you didn’t either. You thanked them for the blessings they gave you, hoped they were well, and told them about your day, leaving them with a bowl of sliced apples and some flowers, deciding to visit the rest of the country while you still had a few days of vacation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Went to Mars, almost got killed by Martians, got the shit beaten out of me for trying to help the Titan, got half of Teen Team- er… the new Guardians in hospital. Also, his one guy in the college was kidnapping male students he saw as peak alpha males and modifying them to essentially turn them into robocops wannabes consisting of no free will and mech bodies, including William’s boyfriend, for the betterment of the human race.” Marks sighs tiredly. “Amber and I broke up and made up again. Told her I’m Invincible… she knew.”

Debbie just looked at her son, before turning to look at you. Maybe she should stop asking how everyone’s day was. “Don’t look at me like that, ma. For once I had a normal day. Visited a lot of places in Romania after finding a little nook for my altar and got some presents for you two and our friends.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “How was your day?”

Your mother smiles. Well, maybe she shouldn’t, it was the little normality she had in her life. “Sold a penthouse to a billionaire who had a set of all gold teeth.” You snort at that. “That’s one way to show off.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Since sunrise Mark has been searching for his dad and once he did, he immediately tackled him, rolling through the air for a bit before stopping. “Where have you been?! Why haven’t you said anything?” Nolan didn’t get to respond Mark continued. “Are you cheating on mom? Do you have a second family or something?”

“What?! Of course not! Why would you-“ Nolan stutters at the audacity. “Because one day you just decided to up and disappear! You barely come home anymore- Do you even love us anymore? I need you to think about it before you answer- really consider it, because I want you to mean it truthfully- Do you love us?”

The older Viltrumite couldn’t hide the shock, the anguish as he actually thought about it. Loving them meant going against his mission- to a small degree, sure, he could still finish it- but- “Yes... I-I do. I truly love your mother and you deeply. I love your sister just as much. You three are very important to me.”

“Then stop this- nonsense!” Mark waved his arms around. “You’ve been missing for almost two months, barely come home to sleep- You know how paranoid my sister is, she’s making plans over plans on how to take you down because she thinks you snapped and are trying to conquer the planet.”

“She thinks I plan to conquer Earth?” Nolan asks softly, hands clenching at his side. “Yes! She thinks me and mom don’t know but I found her encrypted files- she thinks now that you know the Viltrumites can create offsprings that have powers with humans, you have started making plans to take over. She thinks you killed the Guardians because they could have slowed you down, maybe even stopped you- she thinks you’ll come to me and ask me to help- that you’ll come clean and confess that the Viltrumites are- are these-“

Mark couldn’t finish… How could he? You didn’t come up with these ideas out of thin air- you had evidence. Circumstantial evidence- but it still was so compelling, too many coincidences to be just nothing. “She made plans that could take me down, too. Just in case I would accept to help you- she’s gone mad, dad. And- and I started to believe it too.”

Mark looks at his father, straight in his eyes. “So I need you to come home, to talk to us- I don’t want to believe it- I don’t want to think that you’d ask me to do such bullshit.” The young man clenched his fist. “Please tell me she’s wrong- because if she isn’t- I won’t help you. I’ll do anything to stop yo-“ Mark didn’t finish as Nolan threw a punch, breaking his mask and making him bite his cheek.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Honestly, Eve, I can’t believe you didn’t dump Rex the first time he cheated.” You sipped on your soft drink as you walked with Eve. “I know- It’s just- we both-“ She tried to come up with a reason, just a tiny one to try and keep her pride. “You both got your powers in a lab- yes. I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the respect of a man. And I can’t believe Kat jumped at the first opportunity- is the ‘not your bestie’s ex’ not in the girl rulebook anymore?”

As Eve opened her mouth to respond to that, what came out was a gasp of shock as her eyes caught the fight happening on the news. “What? Are the news more import-“ As you tuned to look behind you at the TVs in the electronics shop your mouth dropped with the drink you were holding.

The flashing pictures of Mark and the Immortal fighting furiously against Nolan make your blood run cold. The robot cameras that were flying around the men managed to pick up some of the conversation, mostly Immortal furiously yelling but- “This isn’t you! You don’t want to do this! You just feel like you have no choice, but you do!” they caught Mark too.

“Is your dad being mind-controlled?” Eve asks, clearly worried as she looks at you. “No…” Is all you say before you disappear with a breeze of air. It wasn’t a good idea to travel via magic right now. Eve caught a glimpse of Omni-man decapitating The Immortal before she changed into her costume and tried to keep up with you.

Somewhere in space, the League of Justice and Laughing Magician could only watch in terror as the news kept up with the man and his son. “Please don’t… Please don’t try and stop him.” John’s whispered payers were met only with Batman’s suspicious glare. “We should go and help!” Superman’s worried pleas was quickly shut down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark couldn’t register everything his father yelled at him as they fought through the air, and he definitely could not after being thrown into the ground and punched twice. But he could answer one question. “You and her… I’d still have you and my sister, dad.” And Nolan hesitated on his third punch. But you didn’t.

Your hit threw Nolan off Mark, making the older man crash into a crater of his own. You didn’t let him get a break. “I trusted you! We all did!” Punch after punch, the ground beneath his head created a bigger and bigger hole. “Mom and Mark love you! I love you! And you go and chose them?!”

You didn’t even notice when John Constantine popped in, almost stumbling through the portal as he ran to your brother, racking his brain for every healing spell he could use. He didn’t care that Bruce would corner him when he went back and interrogate him about this, not when you needed him.

“What is so important about them that we didn’t give you?! You haven’t seen them in years-“ Your yelling cracked as you sobbed, your tears mixing with the blood of the man. Why didn’t he choose you? “Why not us? Why them?! Why are you letting me beat the shit out of you?!” As your hands clenched above your head in a double axe handle motion, ready to turn his face into mush, you’re stopped by your brother’s voice calling your name.

Your fury turns to fear and worry as you look towards him, getting up just to stumble towards him and John. Your tears clouded your vision as you fell to your knees by Mark, gently holding his hand as you inquired about him. “I’m fine- just like, five punches to the head and a throw to the ground.” He croaked out, flinching slightly as his nose set back into place while John continued doing his best to heal the young man.

“In other universes, you either die or get the snot and spline beaten outta ya- this is so much better kid.” Constantine immediately cringes at his words, his eyes meeting yours as he instantly apologizes. “- I should have told you, hen-“

The sound of the sonic boom doesn’t even make you flinch. If Nolan wanted to run away, that was fine by you. “I knew. Nobody is that kind just to help out of the goodness of their hearts.” You said softly, reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. “I should have done more. Should have told the Guardians or someone about my suspicions, my plans on how to deal with him-”

“You made contingency plans?” At your stutter and confused look, Mark could only laugh, immediately getting what the man meant. The rumors of Batman’s paranoia were true after all. “She even made a few for me in case I accepted.” John huffed in amusement at that. “Well- then we better keep you away from the Bat, he may just adopt you.” Some of the League’s members couldn’t hold in their laughs at the utter disgust your face showed. “With my track record of father figures you better keep the furry as far away from me as possible.” Constantine could hear Hal's laughter from where he sat as she finished speaking.

“We should get going before Cecil shows up.” You sigh while helping Mark get up. “We’re moving again? I just got here…” Eve said as she finally landed, getting Mark’s other side. “You both were hard to find, and I missed everything.”

“No need- I can help with that.” John groans as he gets up, brushing his pants off before he opens a portal to Mark’s home. “Alright, let’s get the lad home.” He lets the kids through first, and before he steps in too, he makes sure to flip off the robot cameras, just for Bruce.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[windvexer]

Building walls as a part of protection

I truly believe that when most witches fall short of success, it's not necessarily a failure of power or spellcrafting but rather a failure of strategy.

Witches can raise power and cast spells just fine and still not be able to accomplish goals. So when it comes to protection here are things I've learned, take what you like and leave the rest behind:

Do you actually have a magical wall or boundary that stops unwanted things from reaching you?

For this post, ward = protective wall; a division that creates discrete, defensible spaces

Conjuring good energies is not a ward

Cleansing negative energy is not a ward

Binding behaviors is not a ward

Banishing unwanted beings is not a ward

Calling guardians is not a ward

Cursing your enemies is not a ward

Asking gods for blessings is not a ward

A good place to start any protection is to BUILD A WALL.

This should be understood as a literal magical wall that is built within the spirit worlds that overlay our physical worlds.

Physical boundaries make the best anchor points for magical walls: the boundaries of your property, your house, the walls of the room, fences, cairns or markers, or encapsulating objects (your whole bed, your whole body)

Wall building spellcrafting and correspondences post

You can build walls by:

Making container spells with correspondences like stones, nails, wood, shells (sea creatures, nuts, eggs).

Making sigils that define the existence of the barrier

Going around physical boundaries and raising and fixing energies

Placing magically potent amulets or symbols along the boundary line, including symbols drawn with energy

Enchanting a candle or incense and carrying it along the boundary line to establish the boundary

Asking spiritual helpers to assist you in any of the above

You can have multiple walls. If you are under serious spiritual attack, you should probably have multiple walls.

Suit of armor: personal protection

Inner chamber: ward on your bed/sleeping space to protect your sleep

Room: ward on you bedroom or private area where you work magic and divination; a place where you can get a break and rest

Home: ward on entire home; more rooms may be individually warded as desired

Homestead: ward on entire property; can still be done on your building/nearby property if you live in apartments

Avoid splitting focus when you build walls.

Focus on BUILDING A STRONG WALL.

You can place 'aggressive protections' down later, this is like waiting to add spikes and boiling oil until after you've built the wall.

Do not siphon off your wall's strength and power by also having the wall do cute tricksy things ('this wall cleanses what is within!' NO, why are you redirecting power to provide passive cleansing?! You need to prioritize your actions, stop trying to mop while there's a hole in the side of the ship.)

Plan a point of ingress/egress and retain complete control over it.

"This wall is an immovable object. This wall is a mountain that existed before the rings of Saturn. This wall has only one gate, and I hold the key."

A physical key works very well to control this magical gateway.

DO NOT BUILD IN LOOPHOLES TO PROVIDE GRACE TO HARMFUL SPIRITS.

"This wall protects me from all spirits, unless I misunderstood their intentions, unless they apologize to me, unless they agree to be nice to me, even if they really dislike me but they just agree to not actively harm me-" like why are you doing this to yourself. Do you not think you deserve a greater degree of protection? You are not the 'mom friend' to spirits who needs to give them chance after chance for their mental health. You are not the 'group glue' that is holding the spirit community together. It is not your job to sacrifice your sense of security and wellbeing so random spirits have a game night to attend. Please choose yourself and your own safety.

Once your wall is built, assign guardians to it.

Pray and petition that powerful protectors assign angels, elementals, or spirits to patrol the gate in your wall. Contract with spirits yourself (such as your familiars or helper spirits). Build watchful and protective energy constructs.

If you've wisely placed the gateway to your wall to align with a physical gateway (such as the front gate or front door), see if a nearby plant, tree, stone, &etc. can be contracted to watch the gate for you.

Energy construct vessels (an amulet where the construct lives) and spirit vessels can be placed near the physical gateway to greatly empower their work.

Assign guardians in this order: First the gateway, to oversee who approaches and tries to pass through - the guardians should reinforce your rules, and protect against anything that isn't allowed to pass. Secondly, other guardians may patrol around the wall.

Planets can assign elementals, making Mars an excellent planetary power to petition for protection

Ask your spirits to introduce you to guardians who can help you with this task

A second protection spell can function as a guardian by utilizing protective correspondences and assigning the second spell to guard the gateway of the first.

When searching for guardians or creating constructs, keep in mind that keen eyesight and discernment are of great use; therefore correspondences that also benefit Second Sight and clarity are well employed (give wormwood or star anise a spin).

Once guardians are assigned, build any fancy extras you want - these are your aggressive or illusory protections.

Work with your guardians and ask them what tools would best help them protect the wall. They may give answers that aren't exactly about fortifying the wall (like, 'the wall is fine but we could use a resting place nearby').

If you aren't working with guardians or otherwise ready to proceed, now at this point add the spikes, the boiling oil, the invisibility shields, and anything else you want to fortify your defenses.

Add these by creating additional protection spells that 'drape over' the wall. Once the boundary of the wall has been established you may find it to be much easier to lay down additional protections along the same line.

Finally, deal with conditions inside of the wall.

Once protection work is done, things like cleansing, adjusting the vibes, etc., are a separate and IMO unrelated process.

[two-bees-poetry]

welcome!

I'm Alex, my main blog is @alex-bumble-bee. Like it says in my bio, I'm 21, I'm a butch lesbian, and I write poetry- lots of it is in reference to classic literature or mythology. I feel like I'm slowly growing a little community on here, and I couldn't be happier, so please reach out! I love getting asks and I love meeting new people <3

My linktree to find me on other platforms is here!

My Redbubble shop is here, if you'd like to get some merch :)

My Ko-Fi is here, if you'd like to support me directly (I only make 20% of what items actually cost on Redbubble).

You can find all of my poetry under #mine, all of my asks under #asks, and all of my thoughts and bloggings under #musings.

Under the cut is a sporadically-updated masterlist of my work, sorted in various ways, to help you find what you're looking for :)

forms

contrapuntal poems -> twenty years across the sea, this has to be enough, can i come home?, sister i, sister ii, the guardian and the searcher, my voice is in my sword, so soft it hurts, my brother, my brother

blackout poems (?) -> are you hungry (medea, alone), i have no words for this (macduff, a girl)

villanelles -> village girl's villanelle, elkha's villanelle

sonnets -> i am become

sestinas -> SESTINA FOR A HEALED WOUND

shakespeare

macbeth -> my voice is in my sword, so soft it hurts, i have no words for this (macduff, a girl), i am become, lady macbeth grants you an interview, there are three witches and they are teenage girls

king lear -> can i come home?, stages of a king waging war on his daughters, my brother, my brother

hamlet -> horatio's epilogue

mythology

the odyssey -> twenty years across the sea

antigone -> antigone was right

house of atreus -> a house tour from electra

medea -> this has to be enough, are you hungry? (medea, alone)

poems about

being a lesbian -> boyish girl, once a month, my main character is a teenage lesbian, i have no words for this (macduff, a girl), a sailor and a siren, in moonlight, breathing (hold, hold), SESTINA FOR A HEALED WOUND

other stuff -> middle, what i was looking for, village girl's villanelle, tesselation, war of attrition, motherhood ismene, elkha's villanelle,

[2-dsimp]

☏Monster Hunter Hotline!☏

Cw: suggestive, MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI, CYOA in progress.fem monster hunter

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

You’ve chosen: The Dragon Assignment!

【Mission details】 Serve as a negotiator between the rampant dragon and the kingdom it threatens to befall!

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

You began your trek to the first kingdom of Zaon, a quaint place with mages and whatnot. It seemed that there was a heated discussion taking place within the plaza.

“You’re being so incorrigible!” The king declared shaking a ringed finger at the massive metallic silver dragon its size trampled that of the castle.

“You’re our guardian deity! Have been for centuries now!” You had rushed in closer to the scene, trying to maneuver your way through the bustling crowd. That was filled with anxiety, distraught, and confusion.

“So why all of a sudden are you trying to step down from our pledged brotherhood to one another? This is outrageous!”

The Silver dragon merely rolled its eyes at the king, unbothered as its talons casually pricked at its sharp maw.

Digging for the scraps of gore it had for dinner. “Not enough gold.” It stated bluntly, looking completely uninterested.

“Not enough? But we’re in a delicate situation! What shall we do without your presence to ward off the orcs threatening to overtake us!”

Damn, the situation was dire.

You sweat dropped trying to figure out how the hell you were to mend this predicament. You thought it was gonna be a typical save the princess from the dragon type thing but no.

You were in charge of the lives and possible deaths of a whole fucking kingdom housing well over 100,000 towns folk.

If that wasn’t enough you were shocked by desperate displays of fellow subjects falling to their knees.

Before the Sliver dragon’s imminent mass taking up the entire interior of the open space. “Please have mercy, Oh Great Sliver Diety!” Their pleas echoed throughout the plaza.

“Oh you’ve finally arrived Hunter! Come now there’s no time to waste!” The king urged, once he spotted you from a distance. It seemed as if he was the one who requested you.

It’s a bit odd considering how low ranked you were for a job of this caliber, but this could be an opportunity to make a proper name for yourself.

Though you couldn’t help but curse the old man for putting you on the spot, all these stares you were getting weren’t helping your nerves at all.

“Ah yup Monster Hunter at your assistance what seems to be the problem here exactly?” You asked casually, despite looking like a hot mess from being thrusted into this shit show. You’re trying your best to be professional damnit!

The king opened his mouth only to be interrupted by a stark snort from the dragon. A broad toothy grin forming upon it’s pointed snout. “Ignore the coward, what’s important is that you’re here before me hunter. So focus on me and nobody else got it?”

You could barely manage a scream before you were snatched up entirely by the dragons claws and taken up to new heights.

His powerful wings flapped. Leaving everyone below screaming in terror and knocked about from the air pressure. Meanwhile, he cut through the air flying over the seas to a nearby mountain top.

Unceremoniously, he had perched upon a cliff showcasing a giant cave perfect for hoarding a dragons nest. He stalked inside with you captive in his iron grip, before plopping you down on a pile of gold.

Eyeing you with intrigue, he circled around before laying down curled around where you sat utterly speechless. “I heard about you, human. And I wanna see if you match up to what the others described you to be.”

Gods he looks like he could swallow you whole. His body was pure muscle alone. His scales were like stainless steel, glinting like diamonds in the rough.

He was fucking majestic.

His head leveled down to where it towered above your body. His milky eyes trained solely on you, gleamed from within the darkness of the cave.

“Well go on, entertain me. I don’t like being kept waiting pretty hunter.” You blinked, your skin heating up a bit from his voice alone. Despite your predicament you can’t deny you found his dark gravelly voice to be magnetic.

Attractive enough to make you drop your panties and spread your legs wide open like a whore—You inhaled deeply, trying to get your head out of the gutter.

Your brain couldn’t help but backtrack to a singular thought you said out loud. “You think I’m pretty? Are you trying to flirt with me? Or do you do that to all your victims?”

It was the dragons turn to be stunned, tilting its head he laughed in your face. The sheer velocity of his baritone pitch echoed off the walls making the cave shake. Rubble falling from the above.

“Oh they were right to say you don’t disappoint! Haha not bad, not bad at all little hunter. And for the record…” He leaned in close his one singular talon lightly caressing the skin of your cheek “As cute as your babbling is I’d rather you ask one question at a time. I’d like to get acquainted with you my dear.”

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

※Mission objective※: You must convince the Silver dragon to remain aligned with the Zaon kingdom. To complete your first assignment.

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Mission failure: if the silver dragon is left unsatisfied with your company. The Zoan kingdom and its townsfolk will be enslaved by their neighboring orcs. And potentially getting wiped off the map.

Additionally you may die as collateral

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Choose your actions wisely.

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➪A̺͆s̺͆k̺͆ w̺͆h̺͆y̺͆ h̺͆e̺͆ w̺͆a̺͆n̺͆t̺͆s̺͆ t̺͆o̺͆ f̺͆o̺͆r̺͆s̺͆a̺͆k̺͆e̺͆ t̺͆h̺͆e̺͆ k̺͆i̺͆n̺͆g̺͆d̺͆o̺͆m̺͆

➪A̺͆s̺͆k̺͆ h̺͆i̺͆m̺͆ p̺͆e̺͆r̺͆s̺͆o̺͆n̺͆a̺͆l̺͆ q̺͆u̺͆e̺͆s̺͆t̺͆i̺͆o̺͆n̺͆s̺͆ a̺͆b̺͆o̺͆u̺͆t̺͆ h̺͆i̺͆m̺͆s̺͆e̺͆l̺͆f̺͆

➪F̺͆l̺͆i̺͆r̺͆t̺͆ w̺͆i̺͆t̺͆h̺͆ h̺͆i̺͆m̺͆

➪G̺͆r̺͆a̺͆b̺͆ a̺͆t̺͆ h̺͆i̺͆s̺͆ t̺͆a̺͆l̺͆o̺͆n̺͆ a̺͆n̺͆d̺͆ k̺͆i̺͆s̺͆s̺͆ it̺͆

➪A̺͆s̺͆k̺͆ w̺͆h̺͆o̺͆ h̺͆e̺͆ r̺͆e̺͆f̺͆e̺͆r̺͆s̺͆ t̺͆o̺͆ a̺͆s̺͆ t̺͆h̺͆e̺͆y̺͆/̺͆O̺͆t̺͆h̺͆e̺͆r̺͆

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

A/n: why was there a mass majority of yall voting for dragon? I’m dead. Lmao XD