#men so utterly shameless in the way they protect.

[bruciemilf]

This was Thomas Wayne if Bruce, Martha, or Alfred were insulted during pompous Galas/family gatherings, by the way. If you even care:

[kneelingshadowsalome]

your toxic könig is so perfect and the more recent posts made me think about a similar kind of au but with gromsko. like god i need this man to """force""" me into being his perfect little wife i swear.

AND IM SO SORRY but being slavic also makes this even more feral for me because i imagine the second his gf shows a bit too much independence/DARES to talk over him (yeah it's an achievement to be able to talk over him, the mf is LOUD)/etc he just. goes feral like he sees it as a challenge and he needs to show her what a slavic woman is actually supposed to be like.

but slavic or not he'll keep holding the fact that he "tamed" you over your head even when he's fucking you. talks about how this is your place, this is where you belong and how he's going to make sure you remember by breeding you full.

Omg Gromsko OMG

I'm so normal about him yes yes it's just your ask that made me this way ^^ I'm blaming you my dear anon ���

CW: Protective & possessive behavior, implied sexism

So, Gromsko. Your car broke down in the middle of the road and this absolute bear of a Pole pulls over to help you. He has a charming smile, sure, but he's also obnoxiously bold. That casual masculine bravado makes you feel weaker than it should; there's this aura of shameless pride about him, and you can't quite decide if it's annoying or sexy.

You try to tell him you can handle it, that the repair guy is already on his way. But Gromsko? Hah. He just bypasses that shit. Pops up the hood and gets to work. The car is fixed in no time, and the next thing you know is that you just said yes when "Sobieslaw Kościuszko, pleasure to meet you, miss," asked if he could take you out to dinner this evening.

And it's true that he's loud. Like, why does he have to talk by half shouting...? (Probably because he has to make it known that he's the strongest, most virile male in the area.)

Sobieslaw always sits with a wide spread, with a broad, tall chest, with a confidence that seems to come naturally to him. He never tries to make himself smaller, no matter how crammed a space is. Everyone except the elderly has to move aside when he walks because he's not going to dodge or sidestep. You're not the only one who fears he will eventually break one of those dainty little chairs in the fine dining place he brought you to; the waiter side eyes this man like he's some beast that somehow got in and should be caged, not fed.

Despite all that brass, Gromsko is a proper gentleman. Always opens the doors for you, always pays at a restaurant. And always grabs your waist and draws you closer if there are other men around. Guy looks like he's ready to get into a fist fight for you if it comes to that.

It's kind of hair-raising how he laughs at the very concept of independent woman. His woman should never have to be "independent." It would be an insult to him as a man if his wife had to go to work.

He tells you how beautiful you are with intensity and passion that seems to come from another age. That boundless adoration makes you feel drunk, and Gromsko doesn't seem to notice anyone else but you – it's like all other women have disappeared from this planet.

He lays siege to you like crusaders of old laid siege to a city. You never have to fear whether you're coming off as too interested or eager or that you'll "scare" him away: this man is always more interested and eager than you. Still, you fear that everything will come to an end once you give this man what he wants – namely, sex.

You couldn't be more wrong! He's not fucking around, and he's not dating for the sake of getting laid. He's looking for a wife and a mother for his kids.

An infuriatingly sexy, uneven smile spreads across his face everytime you meet. He's checking you out, and he's utterly shameless about it. You're being rated like cattle, and it should not send butterflies to your stomach when you notice he seems to more than just approve of your hips and breasts. Little do you know Sobieslaw Kościuszko has already decided you're to be his wife.

When you finally spread your legs for this man, you expect him to fuck you with the urgency and attentiveness of a 20-year old hockey player. But Gromsko is actually a skilled lover! You don't know why and you don't know how, but he seems to decode you and all your weaknesses in record time. Hot kisses and intense love making are his bravura. Gromsko is so attuned to you and your pussy that it should be illegal.

It's like the gods made this man to breed women and spread his seed because he has the biggest balls you've ever seen. He doesn't grow all too soft after climaxing, and continues to fuck you even after you both just came. With sloppy patience, sure, because you're practically begging for mercy under him… but the point is that he just won't stop. He continues to pump you with strong hips and infinite stamina, and groans how perfect you are as you approach your second orgasm.

He places so much trust on his cock that, perhaps surprisingly, you're the first woman he has ever put his mouth on. It's the only thing that makes that eternal shield of pride tilt aside a bit, because he hates it when he doesn't know what he's doing… but neither is he a man who backs down when faced with a challenge!

He doesn't know what he's doing, which means he takes a mental note of every single thing that makes you shiver and sigh. This Polish bear learns to please you and just you, examines how you respond to slow licks and fast laps, sucks on your nub until you cry, and when he sees how much you enjoy his treatment, this man goes crazy.

"You like that, kochanie?" He pants between your legs, drunk on your pussy, swearing in Polish and giving lewd comments about how wet you are. He only ups the pace with his tongue when you cum. You're an overstimulated mess, but he's not done. He crawls on top of you and gets down to business with his thick cock, those heavy balls start to slap against your soaked flesh until you feel like you have no brains left.

"It's easier to just stop fighting, kotku," he seems to approve of your wet, moaning state more than anything. But it's the wickedly pleased gruff of "Let's get married, Słoneczko," that sends you spiraling into another overstimulated, glorious orgasm.

You don't even know that he's already told his whole family about you. You don't yet know that his grandmother already loves you. But it starts to dawn on you that you got more than you bargained for when Gromsko informs you that he'll take you to Poland but only as his wife.

Perhaps that's where this man's charm lies! Gromsko simply knows what he wants: a good loyal wife and a nice, large family. If you can give them to him, he's not wasting any time getting you pregnant. You're knocked up before you even know it, there's a ring on your finger before you get to say Na Zdrowie. You're his little wife now, and there's nothing you can do about it ❤️

[murciafire]

Fallen Angels

Pairing: Jason Todd x f! reader

Summary: You had never expected to see him again, not when life had pulled you both apart. But there he was, and there were you—the past and the future all at once.  

Warnings: sexual assault; abuse.

Notes: Part 1 of We’ll Never Be Those Kids Again

Words: ~2.4K

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Jason felt it then, the pull.

He hadn’t felt it in years, and he hadn’t expected to feel it here, of all places, where the smoke of cigars suffocated the room, the music thrummed his body to life, and where adrenaline met danger in a shattering burst of guilty pleasure—the Iceberg Lounge. He, of course, wasn’t here for the front that the club was, but rather for the bartering of illegal information of Gotham City’s underworld. He was there for a mission, one he thought he wouldn’t stray from—knew he wouldn’t deviate from, as he was looking for a corrupted cop that had information on human trafficking. Easy in, easy out—maybe a few bloody knuckles, but those barely counted as anything (except maybe as extra points in his satisfaction meter at seeing another sick bastard go down), but then again, nothing was ever easy when emotions—fickle, terrible, distracting things—got involved.

He lifted his eyes from the drink he cradled in his hand and sought the room, his eyes taking in every detail of the club, scanning meaningless faces until he found the one that he was looking for.

You.

He hadn’t seen you since you were kids, when nothing else mattered except how the both of you were going to survive, but more importantly, when nothing mattered more than each other.  Jason certainly hadn’t forgotten his life in Crime Alley, not when it was so etched into his mind and engraved into his soul that made his being, and perhaps, he thought, the same could be said about you. He had never forgotten you, not when you were so prominent in his mind—in his heart too, if you knew where to look under the layers of grief and torment, because there, in the hollowed space of his heart he had carved out and protected, there had always been a place for that girl that made him feel loved. And he carried that with him everywhere he went.  

But it wasn’t just life in the Crime Alley, it was life before and after Bruce too. When he was Robin, and he was looking for ways to get you out. When he was Red Hood, and the only thing that kept him truly alive was you. You had been there for all his life, the good, the bad, the downright ugliness of it. Even if you weren’t there physically, he always felt like you were—carrying a piece of you in his heart that he would never let go of.

And it was odd, so extremely unnerving for him to see you, because you hadn’t changed but at the same time, you had. Your eyes, he couldn’t ever forget them, not when he had stared so unabashedly into them when he was younger, because to him, your eyes had pulled him into the earth and grounded him so steadily he felt like he could change the world—even for a second. Where he felt like he could make the world a better place for you and him.

But it was a wish he had made on a star that was dead and it had never come true, and he had never felt that be more utterly true than when he saw you in your provocative little dress, flirting with men who didn’t give two shits about you. You had always been beautiful to him—an angel, a saving grace. But now you looked like a sin he would commit for the rest of his life—and every atom in him pulled him towards you. Fuck, were you made for him.

Jason clenched his jaw, watching you as you made your rounds with a tray of drinks, letting the men graze their wandering hands on you as if you were only there for their pleasure; a body without a soul—but what had made it more sickening was that you let them. He felt his blood boil as you made your way around the Iceberg Lounge, flirting with every god damn man you walked past. Millions of questions ran through his mind, and his thoughts raced as he wondered where the hell he should even start with you.

He got up from where he sat at the bar and weaved through the bodies, feeling the pull become stronger as he neared you. You were just about to do another round when you felt a hand gently place itself on your shoulder—warm, steady, kind. Your heart stumbled as it started because no one had been this tender with you in a long time.

You turned to the man to flash him a smile, one that you knew made every man bend to your will, as you forced back your confusion at the soft touch. But when your eyes met his, you were suddenly drowning in pools of teal flecked with gold, and you felt the world gave way and your breath vanish.

“Jason?” you said, your eyes searching his urgently as emotions flitted across your face. Jason had just kept staring at you, his face void of emotion as if he was reconciling with himself that this was, in fact, his childhood best friend—and maybe you were still there, somewhere, underneath that skin-tight dress and fake smile.

“I . . .” you trailed off, stunned. You shook your head, furrowing your brows. There was too much to say, too little time. So, you opted for the most obvious question. “What are you doing here?”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “What am I doing here?” he asked in disbelief and frustration. “How about you answer my damn question, y/n. What the hell are you doing in the Iceberg Lounge?”

“Jason—” you started but was cut off as a customer shouted for you. Anger built up inside you, and it wasn’t directed at Jason, it was because of the shame that you felt because this was where you had ended up. And you thought—hoped—that Jason would never see you become the person you both hated. You had never expected to see him again, not when life had pulled you both apart. But there he was, and there were you—the past and the future all at once.  “You don’t get to do this,” you said frustratedly, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You don’t just get to walk in here and start this.”

You turned away to walk towards the customer, but Jason grabbed your arm. “I get to ask whatever the hell I want right now, y/n, ’cause you don’t get to play innocent here.”

He spun you around, so you faced him, his eyes burning as they stared into yours. “What exactly are you doing in the Iceberg Lounge?”

You tried to get out of his grip, but he held onto you tightly—as if you were the only thing he could hold onto to stay alive.

“I work here,” you spat.

“So, you decided to just throw your life away and strip?” Jason said lividly. It was beyond his belief that you could just decide to throw your life away like this.

 “This isn’t you, y/n,” he continued. “This isn’t the girl who I grew up with and spent every waking second with. What the hell happened to you over the years? Because it sure as hell wasn’t something good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let go,” you hissed, feeling customers around you begin to look at your dispute. “People are staring.”

Jason didn’t need to look around to feel the eyes on them, and he couldn’t care less. He was completely pissed off. “Let them stare, stripper,” he snapped back, anger dripping off his words, projecting the hurt he felt. “They’ve already seen everything about you anyways.”

You flinched at his words, not expecting them to sting, but they did regardless.

“Is this how you want to play?” you asked darkly, yanking your arm out of his grasp. You watched as his expression grew colder as he clenched his hands.

“It was great seeing you too, Jay,” you said sarcastically, walking away from him. You thought you could just walk away after what you had done? Absolutely not. Jason grabbed your hand again, pulling you into his chest.

“So, you’re just gonna walk away like nothing happened?” he growled. “Like I wouldn’t notice you dancing around in a slut’s dress in the Iceberg Lounge? You can’t hide your face, y/n. Not from me.”

You bit back harsher words. “I don’t know what you expect from me here, Jason,” you said frustratedly and at a loss.

“I expect you to be the y/n that I grew up with. Not some slut working in the Iceberg Lounge,” Jason snapped, not afraid to say what was on his mind. “I expected better from you, y/n. So much better.”

You kept you mouth shut, letting the seconds tick by as anger fueled by hurt burned between you. After a few moments you both used it to catch breaths, chests heaving, you glowered.

“Guess we’re both disappointed,” you said, voice low.

Jason glared at you as he kept his hold on you. You were pissing him off immensely. You were nothing like the soft-spoken and kind girl he had known growing up. You were tougher, harder, colder and he didn’t want to admit it, but you had grown to be like him.

“Is that the sort of witty comment you picked up during your night shifts?” he asked sarcastically. “Or are you really just that quick on your feet?”

You stepped closer to him, looking up to search his eyes. “Wanna find out?”

Jason felt a smirk pull at his lips. Whatever version he had of you, it was gone, and it was replaced with someone else. As much as that was disappointing, he was intrigued to see this new side of you. “Yes,” he said under his breath.

You frowned, looking for any tells if he was lying—but you found none, and perhaps that was even more frustrating. That he still wanted to be with you—in any form, even when you were like this. “I’m busy this week. Maybe you can book me for some other time?” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice dropping, eyes growing darker. “What are your rates?”

“Expensive,” you said, voice hard but tinged with subtle want. “Think you can handle me, Jay?”

Jason’s smirk widened into a devilish grin. “I can handle anything you give me. Can you handle me, sweetheart?”

You kept your mouth shut, trying to figure out what he was playing. Seeing your hesitation, he lowered his head and put his mouth to your ear. “Friday, 9pm.”

You blinked in surprise, looking at Jason’s smug face as he pulled back. “You’re booking me? Actually?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, smiling that same smile that made you want to punch it off his face and kiss him at the same time. He was still Jason, your Jason. “I’m assuming you’re the most popular girl in the club.”

“Bold of you to assume that,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“So, am I correct?” he asked, pressing his body into yours. The air was tense between you, thick with the promise of something more. Jason didn’t know what that something was, exactly. But his heart was telling him that he wanted to find out.

“I don’t remember you ever caring to ask if you were,” you said, narrowing your eyes, challenging him.

“Careful now,” Jason said, leaning down to bring his face closer to yours. “You’re going to start something with comments like that.”

Jason enjoyed this banter—he had missed it so much. He loved teasing you, knowing you would bite back every single time. He hadn’t felt so alive in a long time—and perhaps because it was game, a dangerous one. And who was he to deny himself of a little danger? You were a loaded gun, and he knew how to pull a trigger.

“Me? Careful?” you said, looking into his eyes as you leaned closer to him—his lips. “Maybe you shouldn’t have provoked me.”

“That comment right there,” he said with a smirk, “is exactly why I need more time with you, y/n.”

He let go of your hand and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. “I missed this side of you sweetheart,” he breathed, his eyes glancing down into your eyes—lips.

You searched his eyes, letting the moment simmer, letting the club disappear until it was only the two of you. “I missed you,” you whispered.

Jason caressed your sides with his thumbs in slow comforting circles, as he thought of another million things he wanted to do to you, right here, right now. None of it was holy, none of it was what you would do to your childhood best friend. But you were so goddamn tempting. He licked his lips, his gaze never wavering from yours. But he didn’t want to rush this, for god sakes he just saw you for the first time in fucking years—but there was something that still hasn’t changed for him. You were still his home.

Jason opened his mouth to say something but was caught off as someone called out for you again breaking the moment. You stepped away from him, the trance forgotten.

“I’ve got to go back to work,” you said apologetically.

Jason narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to you again, crossing that space. “You’re just going to leave me like that?”

He leaned down again, his head lowering to the crook of your neck. “What kind of woman does something like that, y/n?”

You smirked as you stepped back again, creating that push-and-pull dynamic that drove Jason foolish. “A woman who keeps you wanting more,” you smirked, as you turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

Jason watched you leave, sticking his hands in his pockets. You were still an angel to him no matter how far you’ve fallen and no matter how many more times you will. He was going to get you out of this hell because angels didn’t belong here. He was going to save you this time because you had saved him every day of his damned life.

[gh0stswh0re]

just thinking about free use with cod guys, and how they'd treat u like a cum dumpster while also spoiling u rotten 24/7. f! reader, this deserves a real fic but i'm kinda lazy at the moment (having a tummy ache but i'm being very brave about it 😼😼 /j)

simon fucking ur brains out - holding your wrists above ur head in a tight grip and ur legs closed around his waist. absolutely no harmony in how his hips lose the steady rhythm as his pounding gets quicker, grows more primal as if all he cares about is chasing after his own pleasure, and how his kisses get rougher and his hand lets go off ur wrists - a faint bruise already appearing in the shadow of his fingers - just so he can grope at ur breasts, fingertips pinching the sensitive nubs. and then soap walks in, unbothered like it's ur normal monday-to friday activity - only when u moan, loud and shameless, begging simon to allow u to cum (whatever it took - pleas of "please, sir, 'been so good" to shallow promises of how you're gonna suck his dick first thing in the morning), johnny's eyes shot up to u, carefully watching u as pure ecstasy drowns out ur senses, and u feel bare and naked and so fucking sore. he'd simply walk over to the couch, his palm groping the bulge in his pants as he sits down. simon continues with lazy, slow thrusts - he has a habit of fucking u through his climax, up until the both of u feel his dick growing limp inside ur fluttering cunt.

sucking könig's dick (you'd do it under the table - the sight of u hidden from all the other men, only the wet noises of ur mouth betraying ur sinful activities - but since the man's like 6'10 his legs don't rlly comfortably fit under the table), his hand gently petting ur head, as he drowns in u praise - thanking u for being such a good girl slut, taking him all in - deep in ur throat - despite the struggle being obvious as tears fall down from the corners of ur eyes, snot running down ur chin as u nearly sob. apart from that, all the other men in the room seem to ignore u - occasionally readjusting the tight fabric of their pants, smirking as they listen to ur pathetic whimpers.

after a while, after every guy's been sucked dry, they get bored of their tiring discussions of the ten new ways of making things go kaboom - and they all start paying their full fucking attention to u. laying u down the wooden table, watching u hiss as the cold surface hits the hot skin of ur back. and for a moment, the whole room goes silent, as they all admire ur fully naked body - ur chest rising with every breath (filled with pure anticipation), the hickeys and bruises down ur ribcage slowly fading, the bitemark on ur hip being price's handiwork (and fuck, he's damn proud of it, too) and how ur pretty little cunt glistens with the wetness of ur arousal - u are utterly perfect, but that doesn't protect u from them ruining u - physically, mentally, spiritually cuz there's no way u are seeing the gates of heaven after tonight; too many sins committed, far too many stutters of lord's name in vain. gaz would be the first one to touch u, slowly gliding his hands up and down ur sides, quietly hushing u "i know, doll, i know" bringing his hand down ur tummy, ghosting over ur cunt "-'s gonna be alright". a minute or two pass by, and he already has two fingers inside u, hitting that spot inside u perfectly before he's given the clear orders - "flip her around, on her belly" price muffled under his breath, groaning as he sees a perfect view of ur perfect ass. "small circles, she loves those" ghost jumps in, his dick already in his hand, his thumb swirling around the leaky tip.

alejandro eating u out fucking u with his tongue, his needy mouth swallowing ur arousal as his fingers pump in and out of ur clenching cunt. ur hand entangled in his hair, as soap forces two fingers inside ur mouth - slapping ur cheek lightly each time the pressure becomes too much and u can't help but bite down on his digits.

thigh riding with ghost - sitting down on his lap, and him noticing u growing impatient, restlessly switching positions and unintentionally bumping ur ass back onto him. one hand grips ur hip, his knuckles turning white, as he flexes the thigh muscles, encouraging u to move. he'd watch u picking up a higher speed, and u could have sworn ur wetness already leaked through ur panties, soaking the fabric on his clothed thigh. feeling his erection borderlining on pain, he'd place both hands on u, stopping ur movement altogether - "off, now" ordering u to sink down to ur knees and to hump his boots - like a bitch in heat. he'd be genuinely scared of bumping his hand against his dick, of cumming right then and there - just the sight of u grabbing at his leg for the smallest bit of support, while quietly begging him is enough to make him fold.

stealing hoodies but make it 5x or 6x lol. no complaints from any of the guys, except simon who playfully pulls on the strings, teasing u. könig just sighs the moment he sees how his large shirts hang off ur small frame.

nothing but utter respect and adoration for their princess, their queen - rarely anyone ever dares direspecting u. but if that creepy drunk guy at the back of the bar grabs ur ass as u walk by him ... he's a dead man, long time goner, before the morning sets.

[sonnet009]

Wilder: Jamal’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides to flee Ziya alone. A rotund wine merchant named Barlow offers her a timely rescue, smuggling her out in one of the wagons in his caravan. On their journey across the Shining Sands MC learns that Barlow is a wealthy and ambitious man who can afford not only a team of djinn guards but even a pleasure slave. It is this pleasure slave who warns MC that Barlow intends to ransom her back to Ziya and urges her to leave the caravan. Though afraid, MC chooses to stay rather than risk facing the desert alone. Jamal is not pleased at the prospect of continuing to share his wagon.

CHAPTER I:

The caravan stops so Barlow can take his dinner out under the stars. MC joins him and Jamal while the djinn guards keep watch. Barlow is very blatant about his sexual relationship with Jamal and Jamal for his part fawns over Barlow in return. MC has never seen anything like it. Left alone for a few moments, Jamal teases MC that she can't keep her eyes off him.

During the next day's travel the caravan is attacked by a raiding group of djinn come down from the Western Hills. The djinn guards rally around Barlow to protect him but change their minds when the leader of the wild djinn offers them a free life with the tribe. Barlow and MC are pushed onto their knees, faces in the sand, and Barlow is beheaded. MC hears Jamal's horrified gasp.

MC does not share Barlow's fate. She is restrained and brought back to the Hills with the tribe and their new recruits. She is not sure why, but feels in her heart that this is no salvation.

CHAPTER II:

While the new djinn are welcomed into the tribe, Jamal sneaks over to where MC has been tied. He probes her about her rich, important family and muses that she must have connections in Umar. Though he knew she was fleeing Ziya he doesn't seem to have the full story – he certainly doesn't know that MC is an accused murderer and therefore utterly without connections or power.

After a ritual in which each new djinn must eat a piece of a raw deer heart, the disgusted Jamal has had enough. In the dead of night he frees MC in return for her promise to take him to Umar. They catch their breath by the river but are soon discovered by one of the ex-guards whose disdain for Jamal the pleasure slave is obvious. He calls out for the rest of the tribe and MC and Jamal run.

The tribe pursues them far, all the way to the base of the mountainous Knives. With little other choice, MC and Jamal head up – away from the Hills but only into more danger.

CHAPTER III:

MC offers condolences for Barlow's death. Jamal is dismissive and MC realises that though he appeared to adore the man it was all just an act. He doesn't miss Barlow, just the security that being his personal slave offered. Jamal insists that MC is his master now, though MC insists that she is not. Jamal reveals his intention for MC to sell him to a famous pleasure house in Umar, and for that she has to be his master.

Jamal whines and gripes the whole way up the mountain path. In contrast, MC finds a fortitude within herself she never knew she had. In the night he attempts to seduce her though she rebuffs him, saying, “I told you, you don't need to do that.” The next day they stumble into the path of a mountain lion. Jamal hides behind MC while she scares it away.

They come across a hot spring and MC spends most of her time trying to avoid looking at Jamal's naked and shameless displays designed to get her attention. But when he asks her to wash his hair it is with genuine, vulnerable wanting so she does so. It is the most intimate moment MC has ever shared with anyone.

CHAPTER IV:

In the sprawling farmland on the other side of the mountains, MC and Jamal are caught in a sudden downpour. Sheltering in an old barn, they share a sweet, quiet moment that turns into an argument when she once again refuses to claim him as her slave. MC is secretly very drawn to Jamal, but fears that his affection is all a lie and that she will be taking advantage of their positions if she lets herself believe him. He accuses her of looking down on him and gives her the cold shoulder. This means that MC has missed another chance to confess that she is not the connected noblewoman he believes her to be.

As they continue on their journey in strained silence, a group of bandits appear and block their path. MC is afraid but not as afraid as Jamal. However, when one of the men grabs MC and makes lewd comments, Jamal exclaims, “Hey!” surprising no one more than himself. As the scene turns to violence, MC and Jamal learn that even a light slap from a djinn whose claws have been growing for weeks can be devastating to a human body. MC thanks Jamal for his protection while he desperately tries to get the blood out from under his nails.

They finally make it to Dijarah, a port town where MC intends to board a ship sailing for Umar. The one problem? She has no money.

CHAPTER V:

To earn money in Dijarah, an innkeeper agrees to hire MC and Jamal to work in the kitchen. Jamal is aghast at the prospect, especially when he meets the old battleaxe of a cook on whom his charms utterly fail. Jamal is terrible at every practical task put before him and, after only a few days, is utterly miserable.

MC is gentle and encouraging with Jamal, and he eventually is able to put aside his pride (a little) and improve. He finds it amusing to think of a world in which he worked here instead of as a pleasure slave. But when MC takes this question seriously he balks and insists that he would never want an unglamorous life like this. “I know what I am,” he says quietly.

As the two grow closer, Jamal tells MC the story of his life. Bred illegally and born sick, Jamal was passed under the table from master to master, role to role, failing at all of them. Finally dumped in a pleasure house as an insult, Jamal actually flourished there – able to put his natural charm and artistic talents to use. That is why he cannot even consider another life. MC asks if he would choose the same life if he were a free man. Jamal goes quiet and does not answer.

CHAPTER VI:

One day MC walks into the kitchen to see Jamal scrubbing pots with all his might then absent mindedly tidying up some things – not as part of his assigned task but just because it needs doing. MC announces herself and they compare their palm callouses and growing arm muscle. One night Jamal is asked to perform for the inn's patrons by playing the lute – he is giddy with excitement to be the centre of attention once more, though the audience is not his usual clientele. He plays and sings beautifully and MC sets off a standing ovation that nearly makes him cry.

An evening shift turns tense when a group of drunkards start causing trouble. Jamal shocks everyone by taking charge of the situation and intimidating them into leaving. Though, as soon as they are gone, his legs turn to liquid and he slides to the floor declaring how terrifying the whole thing was. The innkeeper draws him a hot bath in thanks. Jamal asks MC to wash his hair again. Though she won't join him in the tub – despite his persistence – Jamal does wash and style her hair for her in return.

Finally MC and Jamal have enough money to book passage on a ship. As they are boarding MC catches sight of Hamza in the crowded street. She drags Jamal away to avoid getting caught, though now she is less afraid of being arrested than she is being exposed to Jamal who still doesn't know that she is a fugitive. She resolves that she must tell him soon, even if it ruins the... friendship... that seems to finally be blossoming between them.

CHAPTER VII:

Hamza has also boarded so MC spends most of her time hiding in her cabin – and Jamal has no objections to passing the days relaxing on a soft bed. She tries many times to broach his misconceptions about her but is consistently thwarted by interruptions and her own cowardice. A rich passenger tries to buy some time with Jamal from MC but she staunchly refuses. Jamal is delighted by this, then confused as to why he is so delighted.

One night they lie side by side on the bed and MC asks Jamal why he is so set on being sold to this particular brothel. He explains that, not only is it a famous venue, but if they purchase him then by Umar’s laws he will no longer be a slave but an indentured servant. MC says that isn’t good enough – she wants to free him. Jamal is dismissive of such an impossible idea but MC insists that Lord Yasir, the most powerful man in Umar, could surely help them. Jamal asks why MC would be seeking Yasir’s help for herself and she prepares to finally tell him the truth when– the ship’s bell rings. They have arrived.

Hamza catches sight of MC at just the wrong moment. She drags Jamal off the ship, pushing past everyone else, and manages to lose Hamza in the moonlit streets of Umar. They come to Minerva’s Pleasure House. Inside is a whole new world to MC but Jamal is in his element. Then he goes quiet. “I don’t want you to leave me here. I want to stay with you. I want to be–”. The madam interrupts, realises exactly who MC is, and throws her and Jamal out of the place, calling MC a murderer and threatening to tell the authorities if either of them ever return.

CHAPTER VIII:

MC hurries to Yasir’s estate, a confused and suspicious Jamal with her, and fortunately finds the merchant-turned-lord to be very welcoming and willing to provide sanctuary. Jamal confronts MC and she finally admits everything. Jamal is devastated. He accuses her of using him, of dragging him through danger and hardship just for the amusement of it, of being just as rotten as Barlow and the others. “You think so little of me. You think nothing of me.” MC cannot explain her actions without admitting – to Jamal and to herself – that she has been falling in love with him. Jamal is stunned. Then he turns and leaves the manor.

He returns in the morning and apologises for leaving, kissing MC on the cheek and saying that he understands she was only doing what she had to do – she’s a survivor. He turns down MC’s attempts to make him a free man and instead asks Yasir to use his influence to place him in the pleasure house. “No more pretending,” he says in response to MC’s protestations. “I know what I am.” Yasir arranges for the madam to accept him as an indentured servant.

MC and Jamal say a fraught goodbye in the gaudy room that is to be Jamal’s from now on. Jamal kisses MC and, at his soft declaration that he has fallen in love with her too, she gives in to her passion and they come together in a tangle of flesh and emotion. After, as they lie in bed, the door is kicked down and in bursts Hamza to arrest MC. Jamal is remarkably unsurprised. “I should’ve known it was all a lie from the beginning. All those things you said about my potential. Trying to make me doubt who I am; what I am. But you know something, mistress?” There is nothing but cold resolve in his eyes. “I’m a survivor too.”

CHAPTER IX:

MC is transported back to Ziya to face her execution. She spends the journey thinking on Jamal. That night he left the manor he must have gone to Hamza to arrange the ambush. Anger and betrayal come in cycles but always give way to regret and the knowledge that she brought this on herself. MC’s execution is a public event on the steps of the shah’s palace, but the proceedings are suddenly interrupted by Jamal and Yasir’s right-hand-djinn Royo. Since MC was under Umar’s protection, Ziya’s actions in abducting her have been taken as a hostile act. Hamza takes justice into his own hands and attacks MC with his sword. Jamal tries to protect her but she pushes him away, taking the blade in her chest.

MC wakes in her old bedroom in her Aunt and Uncle’s villa. The blade missed her heart and, though badly wounded, she will live. Jamal is by her bedside. He asserts that he hasn’t forgiven her, and he’ll never forgive himself, but he wants her to know that Hamza was the one who caught and pressured him into the betrayal that night, and Jamal convinced himself that she deserved it. But he regretted it immediately and went running to Yasir for help. He confesses that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d fallen in love with her. He thinks that’s their shared fatal flaw – they’re dreamers.

When MC next wakes quite a lot of time has passed. This time it is Royo who comes to see her, informing her that the political pressure from Umar – and Yasir specifically – has worked. To avoid trouble between the two cities, Ziya has agreed not to execute MC but to exile her. Royo must return to Umar now but says that MC is welcome there once she is well enough to travel. MC asks after Jamal but Royo shakes her head. He is waiting by the carriage to leave and will not return to the villa. MC asks Royo to take something with her when she goes – a letter addressed to the madam of Minerva’s.

BITTER END:

Two years have passed since the almost-execution and MC has been travelling ever since, working tirelessly in whatever jobs she can in order to save money and send it periodically to Minerva’s to bit by bit pay off Jamal’s “debt” to the pleasure house. Finally with enough to complete the contract she returns to Umar.

When Jamal sees her in Minerva’s he covers his shock by asking if she is there to taste him once again. They go to his room and MC interrupts his cold, emotionless seduction with the last of the money he needs to truly be free. He insists at first to not want it then finally cracks open, tears spilling down his cheeks. “But where would I go?” MC says he can go with her if he likes. He doesn’t answer, conflicted, still so afraid to trust. MC backs off and says he can go wherever he wants to go; anywhere in the world. She leaves the pleasure house but lingers outside, hoping that when Jamal comes out a free man he will choose to go with her after all.

SWEET END:

Two years have passed since the almost-execution and MC has been travelling ever since, working tirelessly in whatever jobs she can in order to save money and send it periodically to Minerva’s to bit by bit pay off Jamal’s “debt” to the pleasure house. However when she journeys to Umar with the final payment she is informed by the madam that Jamal has already been freed from his contract and left months ago. MC turns to Royo for help, who informs her that Jamal had also been working hard to pay for his freedom – taking on extra chores and responsibilities at Minerva's – and that last she knew he was heading for Dijarah.

MC sets sail immediately. When she disembarks at Dijarah’s docks she is stunned to find Jamal waiting, Royo having sent word ahead. There is a tense moment of uncertainty then Jamal launches himself at her, catching her in a tight embrace. He thanks her for contributing so much to buying his freedom and says he’s never worked so hard for anything before – for the chance to live a free life. To stand before MC as an equal. To say he loves her and for it to be the simple truth. Hand-in-hand, Jamal escorts MC to his new place of employment – the inn in which they spent so much time before. He winks. “I hear they're hiring. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Unintentionally black widow Wei Wuxian? Where anyone who tries to court him ends up disappearing or dead, not by his hands but by his overprotective friends/family. Jiang Cheng - accidental, tried to scare them by 'losing them' on a night hunt but actually did (feels very guilty), Nie Huaisang - a convoluted set of actions which resulted in a death two months later and 100 miles away, Wen Qing - poison, not overly subtle but no proof, Jiang Yanli - 'did not realise' about allergies, Madame Yu...

Having a suspected bastard around caused all sorts of problems, including those that weren’t the immediate obvious ones: the damage to the reputation of both Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan; the effect on her marriage; the inevitable factionalism that began to creep up when there were two potential heirs, especially the Sect Leader so obviously favored the more talented one over the trueborn one.

No, in addition to those, there were also the more – unexpected ones.

Women, mostly. Sometimes men.

After all, the Jiang bloodline wasn’t nothing, and neither were their deep pockets. Wei Wuxian, as the suspected heir to both, was suddenly a target – and since Jiang Fengmian was foolish enough to think that the truth alone was sufficient response, it fell to Yu Ziyuan to take care of the threats.

The most shameless women came to Yu Ziyuan directly, claiming Wei Wuxian had impregnated them and demanding money – Yu Ziyuan preferred those, really. She laughed in their faces and send them running out the door with Zidian’s whip at their back; Wei Wuxian might be a notorious flirt, but she was very much aware that he hadn’t so much as touched a woman – he’d never be able to keep himself from bragging to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng would have told her.

The real trouble was with the patient ones, the ones who set their minds on the long-term. The ones who flattered themselves to think they could use Wei Wuxian as a path to grasp the family treasures, that they could scheme to grasp his heart, and use it to let them leap up and become phoenixes.

Not while Yu Ziyuan was around, they wouldn’t.

No one was going to play around with the heart of anyone in her household.

Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were excellent agents in this regard. Jiang Yanli would never lift a sword, but her smiling face could hide fierce anger, especially when allowed to “accidentally” overhear someone boasting about their plan to use drugged wine to seduce Wei Wuxian and force him into a marriage; jointly planning out that woman’s equally “accidental” poisoning was probably the best bonding activity Yu Ziyuan had had with her daughter in years. Jiang Cheng was a vigilant guard, too soft at heart to ever plan out an outright murder but more than happy to lead Wei Wuxian away, leaving the lecherous men and the ambitious women who joined in on their night-hunts in order to play tricks in the dust – and once they’d been left all alone, out in the forest on a dangerous night-hunt where anything and everything could be blamed for their untimely demise, Yu Zuyuan could handle the rest.

If the sequence of accidents and misfortunes designed to protect him ended up giving Wei Wuxian something of a reputation – that was fine. If anyone ever truly had affection for him, they would have the dignity to do approach Wei Wuxian the right way.

Yu Ziyuan tapped the letter on her desk thoughtfully.

The second young master of the Lan sect had dropped it off before returning to his sect, face solemn as always, and in it he had offered both to take responsibility for previous actions – Yu Ziyuan personally didn’t think spending three nights alone in a cave, injured and half-dead with a murderous turtle as a chaperone, was really ‘taking advantage’, but the Lan sect had always been special in this regard – and expressed his most sincere desire to start the formal courtship process once an elder of his clan, ideally his elder brother, could be located and approval obtained. The perfect calligraphy and stiff, formal language utterly failed conceal the rough emotions that had swirled in the boy’s eyes before he’d left, which he’d done before Wei Wuxian had even properly woken up, though he’d waited until there was confirmation that he would, and anyway she was pretty sure that the thought of the Jiang inheritance hadn’t so much as crossed Lan Wangji’s mind.

Besides, if she trusted literal hours of narration she’d rather unwillingly heard about the Second Jade, it seemed like Wei Wuxian might not object to such an arrangement, might even be happy with it, and it pleased her to think she could ensure her children’s happiness as well as their well-being and the Sect’s, even if the latter trumped the former.  

She’d bring it up with him later tonight, she decided. After dinner –

“Madame Yu!” one of the servants cried out, bursting in through her door. “One of the disciples has been captured – the Wens are here – they’re demanding an immediate audience –!”

[thehierophage]

Holy Day Meditation for 4/10/21 e.v. - The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

April 10, 2021 æ.v. Dies Saturnii, 

☉︎ 20° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 4° ♈︎ : ♄ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ 

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. 

The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law, The Greater Feast of Saint Swinburne, The Day of Aleph, The Day of the Fool 

Hebrew Letter: Aleph 

Numerical Value as Letter: 1 

Numerical Value as Word: 111/831 (Aleph+Lamed+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Peh [fin.]) or 117/837 (Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh [fin.]) 

Meaning: Ox. 

Thoth Card: The Fool (Atu 0) 

Alternate Title: The Spirit of Aethyr. 

Image: 

Correspondences: 

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 11 - Chokmah to Kether (from Sephira 2-1) 

Astrological Sign: - 

Element: Air 

Egyptian Godforms: Hoor-pa-kraat, Mout, Shu, Tefnut 

Geomantic Figure: Those of Airy Triplicity 

Gemstones: Topaz, Chalcedony 

Perfumes: Galbanum, Pinus, Gum Arabic, Mastic, Anise and all fresh odors. 

Plants: Aspen, Peppermint, Lime, Linden, Pennyroyal 

Animals: Eagle, Man (Cherub of Air), Ox 

Colors: 

King Scale – Bright pale yellow 

Queen Scale – Sky blue 

Prince Scale – Blue emerald green 

Princess Scale – Emerald, flecked gold 

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Know Naught! All ways are lawful to Innocence. Pure folly is the Key to Initiation. Silence breaks into Rapture. Be neither man nor woman, but both in one. Be silent, Babe in the Egg of Blue, that thou mayest grow to bear the Lance and Graal! Wander alone, and sing! In the King's Palace his daughter awaits thee.

Mnemonic:

Truth, laughter, lust: Wine's Holy Fool! Veil rent, Lewd madness is sublime enlightenment.

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX, Cap. 3

The Book of the Law Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX

as delivered by XCIII = 418 to DCLXVI

III

1. Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

2. There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

3. Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

4. Choose ye an island!

5. Fortify it!

6. Dung it about with enginery of war!

7. I will give you a war-engine.

8. With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

9. Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

10. Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple -- and that temple is already aright disposed -- & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

11. This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

12. Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

13. But not now.

14. Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

15. Ye shall be sad thereof.

16. Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

17. Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

18. Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!

19. That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

20. Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

21. Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

22. The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

23. For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

24. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

25. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

26. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

27. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

28. Also ye shall be strong in war.

29. Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

30. My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

31. There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

32. From gold forge steel!

33. Be ready to fly or to smite!

34. But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awakethe lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

35. The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

36. Then said the prophet unto the God:

37. I adore thee in the song -- I am the Lord of Thebes, and I The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu; For me unveils the veiled sky, The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Unity uttermost showed! I adore the might of Thy breath, Supreme and terrible God, Who makest the gods and death To tremble before Thee: -- I, I adore thee!

Appear on the throne of Ra! Open the ways of the Khu! Lighten the ways of the Ka! The ways of the Khabs run through To stir me or still me! Aum! let it fill me!

38. So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume Me: I have made a secret door Into the House of Ra and Tum, Of Khephra and of Ahathoor. I am thy Theban, O Mentu, The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat; By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell. Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit! Bid me within thine House to dwell, O winged snake of light, Hadit! Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

39. All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever -- for in it is the word secret & not only in the English -- and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

40. But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

41. Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

42. The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

43. Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

44. But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

45. Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

46. I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

47. This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

48. Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

49. I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

50. Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

51. With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

52. I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

53. With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

54. Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

55. Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

56. Also for beauty's sake and love's!

57. Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

58. But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

59. As brothers fight ye!

60. There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

61. There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

62. To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

63. The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

64. Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

65. Through the second, gold.

66. Through the third, stones of precious water.

67. Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

68. Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

69. There is success.

70. I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

71. Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

72. I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia--but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

73. Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

74. There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.

The Book of the Law is Written

and Concealed.

Aum. Ha.

Love is the law, love under will.

[all-things-mlqc]

What do you think Shaw's fairytale could have been, had he been included in the "Wonderland after Dark" event?

First and foremost, now that I’ve written my response, I went way over the top with this idea. Was originally going to just summarize this idea and maybe slap Shaw’s face on Disney’s “Robin Hood” fox as a shit edit for funsies yet here we are with a whole HC. Anywho, I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment what other fairytale stories you guys think Shaw would’ve been good for!

Honestly my first thought was Aladdin or Robin Hood. I’m trying to think what best goes with his personality and how you could twist those stories into something new like they have with the other boys. I honestly feel like Robin Hood fits his personality especially with his latest event where he basically pulls a Robin Hood move, stealing from an antique store that was trying to sell fakes for the price of authentic pieces. He “took care” of the owner and people who were involved with this shameless exchange and by took care I mean beat them to a pulp in the alley, stole the items, and even got the shop closed down. While he didn’t necessarily steal valuable items and distribute the wealth to others like what our known Robin Hood does, what he did still protected many people without them knowing. Shaw has that sly, fun way of living life and really does help others without their knowledge. Even if it’s in his own dumbass way which can be selfish at times, I think he could’ve had a pretty good Robin Hood story in this event.

Robin Hood Shaw

Here’s your shit edit that took a total of 4.6 minutes to make

I imagine it would’ve gone something like this:

Shaw as Robin Hood would never settle in one place for too long. He enjoys adventuring around and would often be found visiting many different villages.

There were rumors in nearby villages of a vigilante who would supposedly ambush criminals, bandits, and even rich folks in the nearby villages who were involved with some sort of dirty business.

While he is a stubborn moron who does stupid things and can be selfish at times, he’s never once harmed or stolen from innocent people. He finds it thrilling when he’s able to let loose and be on the verge of getting caught, so fighting criminals/bandits/bad people within the village was how he enjoyed living life.

While most of his reasoning behind it may be selfish, the people of the nearby villages still considered him a hero.

He enjoyed taking out the rumored bandits outside of the village, getaway criminals within the village, and most of all, he enjoyed stealing from tactless, arrogant “royals” is what these people call themselves who used dirty tactics to gain the wealth they had.

Shaw loved the thrill of sneaking in and stealing their valuable belongings that were acquired unjustly with the chance of getting caught. And what he loved more was seeing their infuriated expressions after realizing they had been robbed.

To cover up his tracks, he would distribute the wealth among the good people of the village. He insists his good deeds are nothing more than him wanting some good entertainment and only gives the villages the wealth to cover up his tracks but we all know he’s secretly soft. Under all that bitchassness ofc

He would, however, always keep one item for himself. Whatever seemed to have caught his eye in that moment. The items he collected varied. He didn’t always care about their worth and would often take whatever seemed interesting to him.

Most of the money he used to provide food, clothing, and shelter came from the bandits and criminals. He had plenty of money to get around.

So in this date, I imagine MC going around village to village looking for this vigilante so called “Robin Hood” to help her village. Similar to Disney’s “Robin Hood” film, the people of the village are forced to pay an unfair amount of taxes to the people in control who then use those taxes for their own selfish desires, leaving the people of the village to suffer.

MC uses Robin Hood’s latest sightings from different villages as clues to where she may be able to find him, but many villagers tell her it’s hopeless, that he never shows himself as Robin Hood in public.

While asking around in a nearby village, Shaw overhears her conversation and catches her outside the village during her departure back home.

He asks why she’s looking for Robin Hood so she explains her village’s current situation vaguely to him.

Without explaining himself, he joins her on her journey back to her village.

She was uncertain about him tagging along without an explanation but soon had some friendly banter I say friendly but this man is just annoying as hell and we love it with one another. Y’all know how friendly Shaw is. Annoying but good at making conversation. Ya know... like his usual self.

Anywho, they come across some bandits on the way back where *enter Robin Hood Shaw*.

While Shaw fends off the bandits, MC also joins in and surprises him with some fighting skills of her own which ya’ll know damn well he’s gonna like.

MC was able to piece things together after seeing his fighting style and capability in which she asks if he’s Robin Hood.

He chuckles and responds with a simple “let’s go” as he continues towards the direction of her village.

She follows suit with way too many questions like mood mc, I wanna know what life is like as a bitch vigilante too but you also gotta remember he’s an annoying asshat

To be honest, her first impression after realizing he was Robin Hood was something like “wow wasn’t expecting him to be a dumb bitch” after all that friendly banter. But then again what do you expect from a man who purposely gets himself into danger?

Her questions included those as such: Why did you become Robin Hood? Have you ever been caught? Why do you always keep one stolen item from each place you rob?

His response was a question of his own “Why do you need the help of Robin Hood when you are capable of fighting, yourself?”

She pauses and explains she isn’t capable of helping the village all by herself and thought if she could find Robin Hood, the village would have hope.

Shaw pauses and states his own desires, “I’m not the person people make me out to be. I don’t do these things for the people, I do them for myself. Whether or not you want to believe I help people, in the end, I’m only doing this for myself.”

With that being said, MC suddenly felt a wall being built between them. Not that they had a well developed relationship beforehand

Still, MC explains her village’s situation in much more detail in hope of coming up with a plan.

MC throws out a few ideas while Shaw asks questions about her village and the men in control and then offers his own ideas.

After a lifetime of teasing and bickering, they come to a conclusion.

Once again bringing in Disney’s classic “Robin Hood” film, I thought it would be fun to include a fox in this story and even did some research on Chinese mythological creatures.

Huli jings are fox like mythological creatures that have the capability to shapeshift.

So to add a little twist in this story like the rest of the boys, MC’s village just so happened to be guarded by a huli jing spirit, or so the legends within the village say.

Shaw, with his sly, sneaky Robin Hood persona decided to use this to his advantage.

For days after returning to MC’s village, they gathered materials for their plan for the next time taxes would be collected.

With Shaw’s skills, he would dress as the huli jing spirit shapeshifted as a human wearing a fox mask and fight those who come by to collect taxes, threatening them to leave the village and never return while MC was in charge of special effects to make the “performance” seem more realistic.

He thought the idea of these awful villagers being frightened half to death by a “spirit” was rather entertaining and would make this mission much more satisfying in the end after everything going according to plan. Basically his thought process was “imagine pulling something off so ridiculous yet so incredible”

Slowly driving one by one out of the village, Shaw continued to “haunt” and threaten anyone involved.

However, it was only a matter of time when one of them realized it was all staged after finding MC off to the side, helping Shaw with his “performance”.

MC was then taken to the person in charge and held captive.

Once Shaw realized she had gone missing, he suspected the remaining few caught on and had her as a hostage so he finished his job more quickly and efficiently. Mr. iM dOiNg ThiS fOr mYsELf

Being stuck with the man in charge who was responsible for the village’s suffering, MC began asking why he did everything he had done, why he doesn’t help the village like one should. Oh MC, sweet sweet MC, there are some terrible people in the world and you should know this

After talking with the man for some time, there was a loud crash following the man being knocked to the ground by a powerful force.

“I’ve come to steal you away” is all MC hears before being swept up into Shaw’s arms.

With the man on the ground letting out painful cries, Shaw reveals himself as Robin Hood, receiving an appalled gasp from the man lying on the floor as he demands him to leave the village for good and never return.

The man refuses to give up, calling for backup only to be met with silence.

Shaw: Oh? You haven’t heard? They all fled the village. The remaining ones have been dealt with as well. It’s best you do the same if you value your life.

With this being said, the man got up and frantically stumbled out of the building.

As Shaw carries MC outside, the villagers thank him as they distribute the wealth found within the mans home among everyone, now safe from their continued suffering.

Enjoying her embarrassed expression, Shaw quietly teases MC while continuing to carry her away from others.

MC: You can put me down now, Mr. Every man for himself.

Shaw: Oh? I guess I found that time spent with you is utterly amusing and would be a shame to lose such entertainment.

MC: Well if you don’t go back soon, everything will be taken and you won’t be able to get your reward.

Shaw: And what reward would that be?

MC: The one item you choose to keep from every theft you’ve ever done.

Shaw chuckles while leaning close, whispering in her ear, “I’ve already taken my reward”.

Bye, I’ll be suffering while wishing we actually had Shaw in this event because he would’ve been 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

[prettyblfan]

Coffee Shop Boy

Chapter Two

~

Just as he thought by the time he had finished his shift and set off for school Sorawit managed to completely forget about his encounter with very mysterious That.

~

As he walked into his classroom he instantly locked eyes with his best friend Nam. Despite only being in Viangpa Mork for only 3 months him and Nam seemed to connect instantly, she practically took Sorawit under her wing because he was too gullible for his own good. During his first week of school some boys in their class convinced him that the girls toilet was actually the boys toilet, ever since then she's felt very protective over him. However, this was practically the same for Sorawit after all Nam was pretty, popular and funny a complete package so he felt like if was his job to protect from all the shameless creeps that through themselves at her.

Sorawit pulled out his seat next to Nam and smiled,

"Have you done the maths homework" he cheekily asked putting on his sweetest voice. He plan to do it this morning but all the customers decided to pack in all at once so in the end he didn't have any time to finish it.

"No, I though you would do it! that's why I didn't bother" Nam said pulling a pout while she flopped onto the desk in front of her.

"Ahh, why don't you ask one of the multiple guys who have a crush on you" Sorawit responded, despite how calm they both seemed the end result of not handing in homework was quite harsh. They'd get one or two whole weeks of detention. As they went to a very high ranked and respected school it was only natural that standards were set to such a high level, but regardless they couldn't help but think it was stupid.

"No way, they always end up expecting soo much more in return, i can't handle the entitlement." Nam said dryly her voice dripping with disgust.

Sorawit knew exactly what she meant, whenever she'd show the smallest bit of kindest or even ask for a favour they always seemed to think that they deserved something in return. And that something was her body. In alot of situations although Sorawit couldn't fight he'd end up stepping in and trying to protect her.

"Umm, I guess we'll just have to settle for one week of detention then." Sorawit laughed after all his friend's safety was his top priority.

Just as both Nam and Sorawit were prepared to accept their fate one of the girls in their class came in yelling,

"Miss Jane isn't in."

It was this one line that seemed to save their lives, miss Jane was their maths and foreign language teacher as well as a tutor at the school. She was only strict because wanted the best for them but sometimes she could really be too ruthless.

As they no longer had a teacher for two of their lesson both Nam and Sorawit messed about, joking and talking the entire time.

For Sorawit the rest of the day went by without a hitch.

~

By the end of school Sorawit felt like death, maybe waking up at 3 am wasn't going to work for him. As he almost feel asleep against his bike Nam flicked his head.

"Are you gonna give me a ride home today or not" Nam said impatiently as she hopped onto the back of his bike (Sorawit is too much of a soft boy to be riding round on a motorbike, so he has a bicycle a yellow one at that).

Before Sorawit could respond the most obnoxious sounding voice echoed out.

"Nam!"

Standing at the gate was a couple of boys probably a year older than them. They were all in Sorawit's eyes dressed like gangsters, their pants were unnecessarily low and they all opted for darker colours (yes this is what gangsters look like in Sorawit's mind, maybe mine too). The one that called out to Nam was tall but not that handsome the only thing that stood out about him was the polished black motorcycle next to him.

Sorawit looked at Nam puzzled.

"It's a long story, just ignore them." Nam said urging Sorawit to hurry up.

Sorawit despite being known for not being very quick witted caught on quite fast, this must be one of Nam's countless admirers.

He pulled Nam along on his adorable yellow bike and although others may not not agree with him, Nam in fact said it was too girly. Regardless Sorawit didn't see anything wrong with it. It was just the right amount of cute, the yellow made it stand out and the small daisies dotted about the bike made it even more pefect in Sorawit's eyes.

As they approached the gates they were quickly blocked, just as Sorawit had expected. However, Sorawit knew for a fact they wouldn't try anything as long as they were on school property, but unfortunately he couldn't say the same for when they had left.

"Nam let's hang out today, on me" he said eying her up and down.

"Pong, I remember telling you I was busy when you asked me yesterday." She replied obviously not interested in hanging out with him at all.

"What, busy hanging out with this loser instead." The guy now known as Pong spoke sizing up Sorawit. Eventhough he was tall Sorawit was indeed 100% bone.

"Pong." Nam warned, it was quite clear that she had enough, half because she knew that this would end alot worse for Sorawit than for her. And the other half was tired of guys constantly thinking she was interested in them.

"Nam, what does he have that I dont." Pong paused briefly looking at Sorawit before bring his eyes back to Nam.

"Now don't be stupid."

It was that line that made Sorawit snap.

"Her not wanting to hang out with you isn't being stupid." He said standing tall trying to make himself appear as tough as possible.

"What?" Pong replied before laughing along with the rest of his friends, they all looked completely amused.

Nam quickly sensed things were going to take a turn for the worst if things continued going the way that they were.

"Pong I'm seriously busy today I have a bunch of work to catch up on, I have alot more time on the weekend let's hang out then" she spoke alot softer.

"Huh, fine." Pond said a lot calmer now maybe because Nam was being a lot more docile or because a teacher was approaching.

~

The whole situation was over rather quickly after that, Pong and his group of friends had left before the teacher arrived and Nam had explained to that said teacher that the whole thing was a misunderstanding.

Sorawit was now sitting in the Pink Lilly attempting to complete his homework as the staff around him began to prepare for the evening shift. He was thinking about the conversation that he had with Nam while he was taking her home.

She said playing along was always the safer options especially with guys like that.

It made him worry to the point he had to convince her not to go and see him on the weekend.

"What's wrong you're pulling a pout." Ploy said squeezing his cheeks with a soft smile.

Ploy was a University student in her 20s that worked at the Pink Lily part time, she was kind and energetic but she was always in other peoples business.

"Umm I'm fine" Sorawit mumbled out before resuming his homework that he had been neglecting for the past half hour.

Before Ploy could prod for more information, Bun had stormed and was clearly in a mood. A way worse one than usual.

"Who does he think he is?" Fuming Bun slammed his hand down on the front counter.

"Why do handsome men think its okay to be so arrogant" Bun continued to rant furiously.

"P'Bun????" Sorawit called utterly confused, who could have made him so angry.

"Bun, what's wrong?" Ploy also questioned after all seeing her boss this angry was rare.

"Huh, what's wrong. You won't believe what happened today!" Bun responded quickly pulling out a seat. Finally seeming to calm down he recited what took place earlier today.

Bun had gone into work for his regular morning shift at 3am hence why he wasn't there to help ease Sorawit into his first shift. But the real trouble began after his long lunch break around 4ish when a young man was rushed in with a bullet wound, Bun was assigned to treat him. So naturally once he heard the man was accompanied by two other men he had quickly gone to question them after all bullet wounds weren't very common in Viangpa Mork. When he had confronted them he was ridiculed and mocked (more so softly teased, but okay Bun. I'll have to make a special chapter about their first meeting after all this is a That x Sorawit centered story) by a tall well dressed handsome man which only pissed him off more. He'd come to know that the arrogantly handsome man was Tan.

In his 3 months in Viangpa Mork he had only heard from other residents that Tan was one of the many sons of a very affluent family that owned multiple business in the city, and he had been doing a lot of work out here recently.

But the icing on the cake for Bun was that everyone loved him, not the police nor a single soul had come to question them or see what was going on. The whole situation was perfectly swept under the rug.

Bun had finished his story with a huff, just retelling it had seemed to annoy him.

"Wow, i mean it is expected after all rumour is that their family does dabble in..." Ploy trailed off unsure if she should finish her sentence. Tan and his family were doing way more for Viangpa Mork than the governor, in the past couple years their investments had gotten them things they never thought they'd see. Like new school buildings and more focus placed on education. They had even gotten Ploy into university through their Helping the Youth fund before that she never thought she would even have the opportunity to go.

"In what?" Sorawit asked, he hadn't been able to catch onto what she was implying like Bun had.

"Never you mind, my shift starts now so I'll see you later" Ploy wore a light smile before returning to work.

Bun had assumed it would have been something like that but he really thought Viangpa Mork was a quite and unproblematic town.

"Ah, Sorawit how was your shift this morning" Bun asked realising that he had been to caught up in himself to ask.

"It was fine but," it was at this moment that Sorawit had remembered his encounter with That.

"But what?" Bun said urging him to continue.

So, for the remainder of the evening shift until the start of the late evening shift Sorawit proceed to tell Bun about the oh so mysterious That. Although he sub consciously left out his heart pains and stomach twists that he felt around the boy, the rest of the story was relayed exactly as it happened.

After he had finished Bun had agreed the boy was strange and that in future he should try to keep his distance.

~

Sorawit had quickly retired for the night after he had finished talking to Bun feeling completely exhausted.

As he laid in bed,

When he was just about to fall asleep for a split second the very mysterious That flashed across his mind.

Regardless of what Bun had said earlier a part of him couldn't help but hope that just maybe he would see him again.

~

At last I have done, I hope you like this chapter. Cause i really do.

Oof my hate for men really showed at Nam's part, but do not worry I shall not allow for creepy old men or men at that to get their hands on her.

Any way onto the next chapter! That visiting his favourite coffee boy once again.

Again not proof read cause I live on the edge.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Big Damn Heroes

A Supernatural / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover! 

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Buffy, Willow, Spike, Xander, Giles, Anya, Faith

Word Count: ~4930

Warnings: Flirting, play-fighting... it’s sexy but not smutty. 75% banter, 20% geeky references. (No, seriously, SO MANY. If anyone can spot all the easter eggs/quotes from Supernatural, the Whedonverse, and beyond, I’ll give you a cookie.) 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer​ and @deanwanddamons​, and the I Do Understand That Reference Challenge! I’ve been wanting to write a SPN/BtVS crossover since I first started watching Supernatural; I’ve been imagining some of these character interactions for a while. Thanks for giving me an excuse to finally do it! 

Major thanks to @stunudo​ and @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for the reading and cheerleading. This was the most excited I’ve been about writing in a hot minute and I was so happy that you guys were excited to read it. 

This bears very little resemblance to either show’s canon/timeline. No Dawn, no Tara. Just go with it. 

“Okay, stand super still for me?” Charlie asks apprehensively. She twiddles a few knobs on the gadget she’d built, and a little fan of laser beams shoots out one end. She points it at Dean, who grimaces and shields his junk protectively as the lights sweep up and down his body. 

Sam rubs at the tension headache that’s developing between his eyes. “You sure about this?” 

“No?” Charlie says, voice squeaking slightly, and Sam’s headache throbs again. “But… I think so. It should work. I don’t think you understand how ridiculously complicated this whole thing is.” 

“You are bringing their alternate selves here from an entirely different universe,” Cas says skeptically, arms crossed as he looks critically at the scene. “There are a lot of variables at work.” 

Charlie points the device at Sam and scans him as she nods firmly. “Yes. Thank you. What Cas said. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” 

Sam raises his eyebrows and sees Dean and Cas making near-identical expressions of disbelief. 

“Right. Probably not a good thing to ask around here, huh? You guys are like the living embodiment of Murphy’s Law. I don’t think I’m gonna, like, blow anything up though, so that’s something!” Charlie cuts off her own nervous babbling and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” 

Sam's ears start to ring, and he feels a tug somewhere in his chest. The bunker fuzzes and fades around them. 

The last thing Sam hears is Cas saying flatly, “Well that can’t be good.” 

***

Dean’s drawing his gun before the room even comes into focus, fighting a dizzying surge of nausea. He looks around wildly, turning to scan his surroundings. There’s a redhead in an eye-poppingly colorful sweater sitting on the couch, looking at him open-mouthed; a cute, tiny blonde at her side; a cozy, utterly suburban living room; and most importantly, a total lack of Sam, as far as he can see, and that’s a problem. 

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” the blonde says sharply. “Drop the gun.” She’s standing, coming toward him with her hands raised, and she’s clearly not a threat, but Dean’s not letting his guard down yet. He eases his finger off the safety but keeps it pointed at her. 

“Where’s my brother?” Dean snaps. 

“You just Apparated into the middle of my house, buddy, how ‘bout I ask the questions?” she says, unfazed. Which. Fair. Dean lowers the gun slightly. 

The second he starts to relax, the blonde is whipping around like a goddamn ninja and kicking the gun out of his hand. She settles back into a fighting stance, looking way more serious than anyone wearing sparkly lip gloss has any right to look. Dean’s so stunned he doesn’t even try to fight back; he stares for a second, torn between the urge to pull his other gun out of the back of his pants, just to make a point, and the urge to propose on the spot, because wow. 

“Um, hi, answers now?” the redhead says, still sitting on the couch, staring incredulously. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m pretty sure this was a fuckup of gigantic proportions. Where am I? Who are you? How did you…” 

“Sunnydale, Buffy, and mystical forces-of-evil-fighting Slayer powers,” she rattles off, with a little smile at the look of astonishment on his face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“Buffy?” Dean says, smirking, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s really not the part most people fixate on,” she says bemusedly. There’s a phone ringing somewhere in the next room, and Buffy shouts without taking her eyes off Dean: “Xander? Would you get that?” 

“I’m not most people.” 

***

“Yes, quite. We’ll be right over,” Giles says, and he hangs up before turning back to Sam with a long-suffering expression. “Your brother is safe and sound. I’ll take you to him and we can try to sort this mess out.” 

Sam lets out a long sigh of relief, following Giles to the door. He looks down at his phone again as Giles locks up, but it still displays “no signal.” Sam frowns. 

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“Sunnydale, California.” Giles leads the way to a tiny European car. Sam has to fold up like a pretzel to get in the passenger seat. 

He watches out the window as Giles drives, frowning to himself as he tries to figure out why they’re here of all places. He’d been so busy with the whole Apparition thing that he didn’t question Giles’s initial reaction to a stranger materializing in the middle of his living room, but his expression had definitely been more resigned and exasperated than astonished, like maybe this sort of thing happened to him a little too often. 

“Is there such a thing as magic in this world?” Sam says, with a sneaking suspicion that he already knows the answer. “Or… ghosts? Demons?” 

Giles blinks a few times. “Magic, yes. Demons, quite. Ghosts… not that I’m aware of, but stranger things have happened on a Hellmouth, I’m sure.” 

“A what?” 

“Hellmouth. Sunnydale sits on top of a literal gate to hell, and as such, there is a convergence of mystical energy here. It tends to draw monsters and… well, general disaster.” Giles sounds like he’s repeated this little speech a few times before. 

“Averted any apocalypses lately?” Sam asks wryly, and that does get him a very polite, British expression of surprise. 

“Well, yes. A few, as a matter of fact. Buffy does stay busy.” 

“Buffy?” 

“Yes, the friend I called when you arrived. The Slayer. Do they have one of those in whatever world you’re from?” 

“In my world, Slayer is a band,” Sam says with a shrug. “So… you’ve never heard of me? Or my brother? Dean Winchester?” 

Giles gives him a skeptical sideways look. “Should I have?” 

“I think I have a theory.” 

“It’s not bunnies.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Go on.” 

***

“This is where you live?” Dean asks, looking around at the big windows and unlocked door. “Are there protective spells or anything, at least?” 

“No. And thus, the neverending construction,” Xander says mournfully, nodding toward an unfinished window frame. 

Dean’s still processing how normal it is. They’re all sitting around in the incredibly ordinary living room on comfortably mismatched couches, and the coffee table in front of him has a copy of Cosmo on it, for fuck’s sake. He’s never met a hunter of any kind who’d be reading about “Why Wet Kisses Make Men Horny.” 

He looks up hopefully when he hears the door, but it’s not Sam; there’s a bleach-blonde guy coming in, shaking off the ratty blanket he’d been wearing like a cape. 

“Oh, great, you’re back,” Willow grumbles. 

Buffy gives him a look that’s borderline murderous, which would be about as threatening as a newborn kitten if Dean didn’t know what she’s capable of. “Why, exactly, are you back?” 

“Bored. Not much to do in a crypt.” The guy shrugs, looking Dean up and down with an appraising gleam in his eye. “Who’s the pretty boy?” 

Dean’s still processing “crypt.” Before he can decide how he feels about the flirtatious tone, Buffy answers for him: “Spike, this is Dean. Dean, this is Spike. Spike, you can fuck right off now. Dean, you want a glass of water or something? Sorry, all the alternate universe talk made me forget my manners.” 

“Got anything stronger?” 

“If by stronger you mean orange juice?” Buffy offers apologetically, but Spike pulls a flask out of the inside of his long coat and passes it to Dean with a smug half-smile. Then he makes himself at home in one of the armchairs, raising an eyebrow at Buffy as if to make it extra clear that he has no plans to “fuck right off” any time soon. 

“Cheers,” Dean says gratefully. 

Spike winks at him, obvious and shameless, and drawls, “You just let me know if you need anything else.” 

Buffy’s got her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Spike, and Dean can tell there’s something going on there, but he can’t really resist flashing his most charming grin in Spike’s direction.  

The front door opens again, and Dean breathes a long sigh of relief when he sees Sam. 

***

“What makes you think there’s a version of you in this universe, anyway?” Willow asks, and everybody pauses to think about that one for a second. “I mean, if there are all these different worlds, why are you guys the heroes in every single one?” 

“Bit bloody full of yourselves,” Spike says. There’s no reason for that sentence to sound as suggestive as it does, but that seems to be his default tone. Sam tries not to notice the way Spike’s staring at his brother. Not like Dean is aware of it; he’s too busy staring at Buffy. 

“There’s a world with nothing but shrimp,” Xander chips in unhelpfully. Sam shakes his head like that might clear his ears. 

“Chuck said -” Dean starts, and Sam cuts him off with a gesture before anyone can ask who “Chuck” is. That seems like a surefire way to derail this barely-coherent conversation, and Sam wants to figure out how to get the hell home. 

“It’s not a bad point,” he says. “So if Charlie programmed the thing -” Willow opens her mouth like she really wants to interrupt, but Sam plows on, “- to bring us from a world that didn’t have an us, maybe that’s what made it glitch. It couldn’t bring anyone to us, so it brought us here instead.” 

“But why would it drop you with us?” Buffy asks. 

“You guys seem to be the ones who deal with the apocalypses around here,” Dean says, shrugging. 

“We are the local experts at the saving people and the hunting things,” Buffy agrees. 

Spike smirks. “Big damn heroes, is what we are.” 

Buffy shoots him a withering glare. “You are not included in this.” 

“But why split us up?” Sam muses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His headache has not improved in the slightest. When he looks up, Dean’s eyes are darting between Sam and Giles, who has his glasses off and is pinching his own nose in the exact same spot. 

“Wow, Sammy,” Dean says, an infuriating grin spreading over his face. 

“What?”  

Dean turns to Buffy. “So this whole Slayer thing. Kind of a birthright? Destiny?” 

She shrugs. “I guess so. There was this whole group of old British guys with sticks up their asses, but... ” 

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to see where Dean’s heading with this, and asks Buffy, “Ever died, by any chance?” 

“Twice, actually,” she replies, without batting an eye. She looks back and forth between them. “Wait, have either of you -” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Dean says ruefully. “Sacrificed yourself to save someone, I’m guessing?” 

“That’s me, self-sacrificey girl,” Buffy says, matter-of-fact and borderline chipper. “Kind of my specialty. That and the quipping.” 

“Let me guess, you handle the research,” Sam says to Giles. 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Although I’m not exactly helpless in a fight. I do know a bit of magic as well.”  

Sam buries his face in his hands for a second. 

“So when the program couldn’t find a match for either of us, it sent us to… someone as much like us as it could find,” Dean says. 

Willow jumps in quickly. “What sort of computer -” 

“What was that about shrimp?” Dean asks at the same time. Everybody starts talking at once, and Sam sighs heavily. He almost rubs his forehead again, but he stops himself when he notices Giles doing the same thing.

***

Dean’s trying to explain the whole Chuck situation when he sees the distortion in the middle of the room, and he trails off in the middle of the sentence, watching anxiously as Charlie blurs in and out a few times before solidifying in front of them. 

“Okay, weird,” she blurts out, looking around wide-eyed and overwhelmed. 

“Holy fuck am I glad to see you,” Dean says fervently. 

“Right back atcha,” Charlie says. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“Ooh, are you the one who beamed them up?” Willow asks excitedly. “Actually… you look weirdly familiar, have we met before?” 

Charlie blinks at her a few times, a smile spreading across her face, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’d remember you.” 

“This is Charlie, she’s our resident computer genius,” Dean says, and they make the rounds of introductions yet again. 

Charlie gives everyone an awkward little wave. “Charlie. Um. I like LARPing, pretty women, and long walks on the beach.” 

Dean doesn’t miss the way Willow perks up at that, and he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter. 

“Hey, where’s Cas?” Charlie asks, finally tearing her eyes away from Willow long enough to look around the room, as if Cas might’ve hid behind the bookshelf when he arrived. 

Dean’s stomach sinks. “He came with you?”

“Yeah, we -” Charlie starts, but she’s interrupted by the door opening, and much to Dean’s relief, Cas is walking through it next to a frazzled-looking girl. 

“I’m hoping one of you can explain why this man materialized in my car?” the girl asks irritably. “As if parallel parking wasn’t hard enough without surprises.” 

“Hi to you too, Anya,” Buffy chirps. “Glad everybody could join us for what was supposed to be my relaxing day of solitude.” 

“I’m not a man, exactly,” Cas interjects. 

Anya tilts her head to the side inquisitively, glancing very blatantly down at Cas’s crotch for a second, and Dean snorts. 

“Would it be rude if I asked -” Anya starts. 

Giles answers before she can finish: “Yes, it undoubtedly would be.” 

“I’m an angel,” Cas says nonchalantly. 

“Judging by everyone’s faces, Anya’s not an angel, then?” Sam asks, looking between the two of them. 

“Only that one time, for Xander’s birthday,” Anya volunteers, and Xander splutters an incoherent protest. “But that was a sexy angel, not a real angel. I don’t think we have those here.”  

“She used to be a revenge demon,” Buffy explains. 

“Used to be?” Cas asks. 

“Oh, I’m human now,” Anya reassures him.

Spike adds, “Not that you’d know it, talking to her.” 

“Considering how primitive and strange humans are considered to be by most of the known universe, I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Cas says mildly. “Some of your customs are utterly incomprehensible to an outsider.” 

“That’s what I keep saying!” Anya exclaims. “I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly which reproductive habits are acceptable for public discussion?” 

“They do have some very arbitrary rules about appropriate behavior,” Cas says. Dean notices Sam and Giles rubbing their foreheads in tandem again. 

***

By the time they finish asking all their questions and comparing apocalypses, Sam’s actually kind of having fun, but he knows it’s time to get back to work. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks Dean, during the next lull in the conversation. Dean looks more than a little put out as he sneaks a glance at Buffy, but he shrugs. 

“Probably should. Charlie? Hey, Earth to Charlie.” 

Charlie looks pretty dazed as she turns to face them. “Hmm?” 

“We should probably get home,” Sam says apologetically. 

Charlie’s face falls. “Really?” 

Dean gives her a sympathetic look. “Worlds to save, and stuff. Still need to find a way to warn all those other Sams and Deans. Sorry, kiddo.” 

“Maybe you can come back sometime, if you… y’know, survive the apocalypse?” Willow says, with a hopeful smile. Charlie grins at her. 

“We also have places to be,” Anya says cheerfully. “Very important things to do.” 

“Subtle,” Xander mutters. They wave their goodbyes and head for the door, followed by a somewhat sulky-looking Spike. Then again, that might just be Spike’s face; Sam can’t really tell. 

Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Dean huddle in the middle of the living room, and Charlie says resignedly, “Strap yourselves in, I’m gonna make the jump to lightspeed.” 

“You don’t have to scan us again, do you?” Dean asks, eyeing the gadget with some mistrust. 

“Nope. We’re all saved in the system. Ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean says, with one last half-smile in Buffy’s direction. Charlie hits the button. 

Nothing happens. Charlie frowns and hits it again. 

“Charlie?” Sam says hesitantly. 

“No, obviously that’s not supposed to be happening,” she retorts. She fiddles with a couple knobs. “I think I know what it is, though. There are all sorts of parameters for, like, which Earth you’re coming from and which Earth you’re going to, and I think the weird glitchy thingy might’ve scrambled the algorithm.” 

Dean leans in to look. “Did you try hitting it?” 

“It’s quantum physics, Dean, you can’t just keymash until it works,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes and holding it away from him. “Unless you want to be stuck in shrimp-world or something.” 

“How long do you think it’ll take to fix it?” Sam asks. 

Charlie shrugs. “Could be a couple hours, could be a day or two.” 

“I could help you,” Willow offers. Charlie looks like Christmas came early. 

“You guys are welcome to stay, it’s no biggie,” Buffy offers. “Not like you’re the strangest thing that’s ended up in my living room.” 

“I’m flattered,” Dean says with a grin. 

Sam sighs, but he can think of worse worlds to be in for a day or two. At least they’re not surrounded by shrimp. 

***

“So this is what you do every night?” Dean asks, as Buffy hops the fence with zero visible effort. He might have actual hearts in his eyes. 

“Pretty much,” she says cheerfully. Dean follows her. He does okay, even if he doesn’t stick the landing like a Russian gymnast. 

Sam had stayed home, after some silent pleading in eyebrow-speak, so it’s just the two of them, and it’s nice, for a graveyard. There’s something about the idea of “patrolling” that Dean likes. He imagines coming here night after night, recognizing the mausoleums, getting familiar with all the paths. It sounds stable.

“Do you like it?” Dean asks. “The whole Slayer thing.” 

Buffy wrinkles her nose adorably at him. “I’m not sure like is the word I’d choose. What else would I do, though? Not like I could just walk away from it. I tried, once. The weird follows me wherever I go.” 

“Sorry, if you don’t want me to follow you any more I can just…” 

She laughs at that. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach, like he’s just a middle schooler with a crush. It’s been a minute since he put actual effort into flirting with somebody, beyond the easy one-liners. Dean fiddles with the stake she gave him, twirling it in his fingers, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings instead of just staring at Buffy. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” she says softly. “Y’know? Like, why me?” 

“You’re basically a superhero,” Dean says. She can probably tell how hard he’s geeking out about it. “That’s what heroes do.” 

“It’s not just that, though! Like… I was bored out of my mind trying to be normal.” 

Dean laughs. “Normal was a disaster.” 

“So even if the weird wasn’t following me, I’d go find the monsters myself. Who does that?” 

“Crazy people,” Dean agrees. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, though. Never gonna have a normal job, never gonna have a normal relationship, and yet.” 

“So you’re not - there’s no relationship?” she asks, exaggeratedly casual.  

“Nah.” Dean tries to hide his grin, and then he asks cautiously, “What’s up with you and Spike?” 

She stops dead, mouth open, staring at him. “Wait. Oh god. Please don’t tell me Faith is already running her mouth, I told her -” 

“No, it’s cool, I just… guessed, earlier,” Dean says sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody else noticed.” 

Buffy makes a face and rolls her eyes, and they start walking again. “It’s complicated, the… thing with Spike. It’s definitely not a relationship though.” She stresses that last bit, and Dean really shouldn’t feel relieved, at that, but he does. 

“Isn’t it always complicated?” 

Buffy sighs. “There’s the whole undead creature of the night thing, for starters, which. Oddly enough, seems to be a type for me?” 

“Yeah?” 

Something must show on his face, because Buffy frowns. “Oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re some sort of demon too.” 

“Would that help my chances?” Dean asks wryly. “Cause I kinda used to be.” 

She stares for a second. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Really not.” 

There’s a moment where she’s clearly deciding whether she wants to go there, but then a familiar voice rings out behind them and interrupts: “Thought you were heading home, pretty boy.” 

Dean turns, grinning in spite of himself. “Change of plans.”  

“Lucky us,” Spike drawls. “Mind if I join you for a walk, pet?” 

“No,” Dean answers, just as Buffy lets out a resigned, “Kinda.”  

Spike catches up to them and slings an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him against his side. Buffy lets out a huff, but she’s laughing too. 

“Are you really trying to make me jealous?” she asks Spike.  

“Is it working?” 

Dean disentangles himself and looks back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah, this is obviously healthy.” 

Buffy laughs, but Spike just retorts, “Like you would know a healthy attachment pattern if it bit you in the ass.” 

Dean considers protesting, but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on there. 

“Guess it’s in the job description. Are we gonna go fight some monsters, or what?” 

“Yeah, let’s go find the monsters,” Buffy says, grinning at Dean. “That’s what heroes do, right?”  

***

Sam zones out of the discussion around the time Cas and Giles start talking comparative theology through the millennia. He slouches back on the couch and watches them fondly as Cas answers question after question. His eyelids feel heavy and he’s comfortable, and even though he knows he should take the opportunity to learn more about this totally new Earth, all he really wants to do is sit, and breathe, and rest. 

Cas and Giles end up heading back to Giles’s house for tea and… something about an old book of etchings? Sam can’t really follow Giles’s breathless, excited rambling. He waves them off, thinking that he might actually go to sleep early, for once. 

Sam goes to the kitchen, chugs a glass of water and then fills another, and he just stands there for a moment, one hip leaning against the counter as he looks around. It’s such a normal house. Even on their most domestic days, they’re still in a bunker. Must be nice to have a little bit of normalcy, no matter how crazy life gets. There’s faint music and the occasional giggle from upstairs, but otherwise, the house is quiet. 

Of course, just as he has that thought, the front door slams open and someone shouts, “Yo, B! Ready to go?” 

“She went out already,” Sam says, bemused. 

He gets an impression of red lips, dark hair, and leather as the girl closes the door behind herself, moving whirlwind-quick. She plants her feet (loudly, in big stompy combat boots) and crosses her arms, looking at Sam suspiciously. Neither of them move for a second.  

“I’m Faith,” she announces eventually. “Who the fuck are you, why the fuck are you in B’s kitchen, and where the fuck is she?” 

“Sam, and… it’s a long story. She’s out patrolling with my brother, they left about an hour ago.” 

Faith seems to make some sort of decision about him, and suspicion turns to mischief as she gives him a broad grin. “If your brother looks anything like you, can’t blame the girl for ditchin’ me.” 

Sam’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a smile, and he takes a sip of water to cover it. 

“Aww, you shy?” Faith teases. Her voice is low and raspy, kind of absurdly sexy, and she clearly knows it. “Must be one of those nice guys I’ve heard so much about.” 

Sam doesn’t answer. He watches Faith stalk toward him. 

She’s a fucking force of nature, Sam can already tell, all aggression and attitude as she comes at him with a challenge in her eyes. He doesn’t move when she gets up in his space, looking Sam up and down like she’s inspecting him. He has a feeling she’s used to people backing away before they let her get this close. 

“Sam, huh? What brings you to Sunnydale?” 

“Just passing through,” Sam says calmly. “What about you?” 

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” she asks, looking up at him coyly. 

Sam doesn’t dignify that with a response, just smirks and waits. She takes a step back and leans against the counter, mirroring his pose. Her eyes are sparkling. 

“Fair enough. I’m a Slayer, figured I’d stick around in Sunnydale and help B for a while. Always seems to be somethin’ around here that needs its ass kicked.” 

Sam cocks his head to the side, considering her. “So you fight vampires?” 

“And whatever else is askin’ for a fight,” she retorts. “Why, is your brother a vampire?” 

“What?” 

“Buffy’s got a type. A demonic kinda type, if you know what I’m sayin’. Don’t worry, I won’t stake him.” 

Sam laughs. Figures. “I wasn’t worried. Just curious if the superpowers are all they’re cracked up to be.” 

“You better believe it,” Faith says proudly. “Strength, speed… stamina.” She says the last with a sly, unsubtle smirk, watching Sam to gauge his reaction. 

“Show me,” he challenges. He doesn’t specify which one he means, and Faith raises one eyebrow. 

“Right here? I figured you’d be the candlelight and Al Green type.” 

Sam smiles. She’s not the first person to make that assumption. 

The first punch is light, and he lets her see it coming; she dodges it easily, without so much as blinking. Sam’s left hand snakes out, lightning-fast this time, and she sidesteps neatly, grabbing his wrist instead and holding his arm in place. She’s stronger than he expected, and she’s grinning like this is the most fun she’s had all week. 

“Sure about this? I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she says, sugary-sweet. 

The next punch is in earnest. She blocks it, throws one of her own, and then it’s a blur for a moment, a flurry of blows one after another, none of them landing. Neither of them are moving their feet much, trapped in the narrow space between the counter and the kitchen table; they’re just testing each other. 

“Not bad,” Sam admits. 

“Right back atcha.” 

She takes a couple steps backward, out into the open space, and Sam follows, watching closely. This time she lets loose with a flashy spin-jump-kick thing like something out of a cheesy action movie, and Sam’s laughing as he ducks. 

“Points for style, but not for substance,” he teases. 

She comes back at him twice as hard and almost gets him this time, but then he snatches her wrists and slams her back against the wall with a thunk that’s a whole lot louder than he expected. They both wince and freeze. 

“Everything okay?” Willow yells from upstairs.

Charlie’s pissy voice adds, “Please don’t tell me that was a monster.” 

“Just tripped,” Sam shouts back. He looks down at Faith, taking a half-step closer so that there’s maybe an inch of space between their bodies. He’s still got her wrists pinned over her head. She’s definitely not trying to get away. He has a feeling she could, easily, if she wanted to. 

“Not so nice after all, then,” she purrs, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Sam shakes his head slightly. “Not so much. You giving up, then?” 

“Not a fuckin’ chance. Just thinkin’ maybe we should have the rematch back at my place. You know, in case you ‘trip’ again.” 

“Sounds like a good idea.” 

***

Probably good they only stayed for a day, Dean thinks, looking around the room. Nobody, from either world, looks particularly happy about the departure, but they’ve all said goodbye often enough that they don’t draw it out. Charlie gives Willow one last little wave, and then she hits the button. Everything goes fuzzy. 

It’s disorienting, for a moment, but the bunker comes into focus around them. After the dizziness has passed, Dean gives Charlie a wordless hug. 

“I’m gonna go read a book with pictures in it,” she says glumly, and shuffles away. “And eat ice cream.” 

“Research time, I guess,” Sam says. “Back to work.” 

Cas heads to the kitchen to make some coffee as Sam starts flipping through his notes. Dean settles down at the table and looks at the nearest book without really seeing it. He feels fucking off, almost sad, as if he could’ve possibly gotten attached to that other world in less than twenty-four hours. 

“That was… kinda a nice universe, right?” he says. “I dunno. There was something about it.” 

Sam gives him a knowing look. “Yeah.” 

“Ever wish we could just… stay somewhere else?” Dean says, and he can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. “I mean, why do we keep coming back to this world? What’s so great about it?” 

“It’s ours,” Sam says, with a shrug. “I mean, the other one wasn’t our responsibility, you know? Of course it was nice, not having to worry, but… this one’s ours. Gotta take care of it.” 

Dean twirls a pencil between his fingers and wishes it was a stake. He smiles, slightly, as he remembers. 

That’s what heroes do. 

.

.

.

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[doctorgerth]

Resubmitting my ask - nsfw scenario with a jealous Marco and his Fem! crush- Marco and company are at a shady bar on an island, crush has been flirting heavily w/ another man... as they get up to leave, clearly to take things somewhere more private Marco has had enough and intervenes, playing it off as he’s being protective and she shouldn’t be wandering off with strangers. (Part 1/2)

(Part 2/2) They argue a bit, and when she won’t give in to his demand, he just picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder, marching her back to the ship where he promptly dumps her on deck. She then gives him the what-for “you’re not my dad and you’re not my man. You don’t get a say in who I decide to fuck, and if you’re so worked up about it, maybe you should have found your balls and fucked me yourself!” Before she can storm off, of course Marco grabs her, kisses her, and then nsfw 😉

Whew this was actually really fun to write! I don’t write a whole lot for Marco I feel like, and he might be a little ooc in this but oh well 😂😂 I tried my hardest at sexy Marco! I really hope you enjoy it, Alice! 💖

warnings: cursing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dom!Marco, jealous!Marco, foreplay, potentially ooc Marco content, sinful Marco content

Man Up (Marco)

Word Count: 3228

The bar was lively, perhaps a little too lively for Marco’s taste. He sipped lightly on his drink, visibly flinching at each exaggerated chuckle of (Name)’s that echoed throughout the entire bar. Normally, her laughter would make his heart flutter, a happiness filling his tummy as he swore he only wanted to hear her laughter forever. But here, under these circumstances, her sweet giggles were like nails on a chalkboard.

He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching her intensely. Eyeing every tuck of her hair, her every playful push on the strange man’s shoulder, the way he whispered in her ear causing her to smile brightly and laugh against his neck. It was sickening.

Marco could feel the tension in his fingers from grasping onto his glass so tightly; he had to continuously stop himself from shattering it to pieces. How could she be so shameless? Mindlessly flirting with an utter stranger? The guy was a total ass, holding her in his lap, arms secured around her waists with hands on her thighs, right where Marco’s should be.

He desperately wanted to steal her from the loser’s embrace, but Marco respected her above all else. He also knew better than to make a scene. She was a grown woman after all, and she surely wasn’t his woman. No matter how many times he’s imagined her to be. What right did he have to be so protective over her?

All sensible thoughts left his brain, however, as he noticed movement. The pair arose from their seats with the man placing his hand at the small of her back as he led her towards the door. Flashes of red seemed to cloud Marco’s mind as he hardly felt or realized how quickly he left his own seat to trail right behind them.

“50 beri says Marco makes a fool of himself and (Name) ends up hating his guts.” Haruta smiled devilishly at his friends.

“Oh yeah? 100 beri says Marco kicks the guy’s ass.” Vista waved the bill in his hand with a challenging and confident stare, “But you’re probably right. I don’t see (Name) liking him much afterwards either way it goes.”

“Not a chance.” Whitey Bay interjected, swigging her drink with a playful smirk, “You men don’t know anything. (Name) definitely has the hots for Marco and they’re totally about to smash. Right after Marco kicks the douche’s ass.”

Marco heard none of it as he could feel the steam pouring out of his ears as he sped walked towards the handsy couple. Without thinking, Marco reached out and snatched her hand, pulling her back into the bar by her wrist.

“Ouch, what the hell, Marco?!” (Name) stared up at him, face contorted with annoyance and confusion.

“Where do you think you’re going-yoi? You can’t just go off with strangers like this!”

“You can’t tell me what to do? You’re not my captain!” She was shooting daggers at him now, never ceasing in pulling away from him.

“I’m your commander and I think it’s best if you come back to our table where you’re safe, (Name)-yoi.” Marco tugged her back.

“Marco, seriously! Let go of me right now!”

“Hey man, just let the girl go! She doesn’t want to be with you obviously!” The man intervened as he stood before Marco. Though he wasn’t taller than Marco, his build was much thicker in contrast towards Marco’s slimmer frame.

“Oh, and you think she wants to be with you?”

“Considering she hasn’t kept her hands off of me all night and hasn’t paid a single bit of attention to you, I’d say there’s really no contest now is there?” A cocky smirk graced his lips as he placed a hand on Marco’s forearm, “Let the girl have some fun, old man. She needs to see what a real man can do to a woman like her.”

Marco was at a loss for words. Usually he’d have a quick quip ready for response, or simply ignore the asshole’s comment all together. But rage fueled his veins at hearing that boor talk so crudely about (Name). He didn’t even flinch in the slightest when his fist connected with the guy’s jaw.

As the man was attempting to recover, (Name) gasped and began screaming at Marco. He would hear none of it as he wasted no time in grabbing her, lifting her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and carrying her out of the bar. Her previous partner tried to reach for Marco, but Jozu and Vista quickly appeared and blocked the man’s attack.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, guy. Go find yourself another lady, that one’s taken.”

* * *

The walk to the ship was hazy. Marco had mixed feelings about everything as (Name) never ceased in her complaining, accentuating her defiance towards Marco’s suddenly brash actions with some light kicks and balled fists against his back.

What was he doing? Why was he even taking her to the ship? What was his plan?

He couldn’t answer any of these questions, and neither (Name) had any clue, even when Marco dropped her off in her cabin, slamming the door behind him with a swift kick.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight!” She demanded answers as she wasn’t shy to get in his face.

“You can’t just go off with other men, (Name)-yoi! It’s not safe and we’re not here for you to sleep around with all the men in town!” His accusations were brutal and highly exaggerated, but the images of her all over another guy clouding his mind could hardly help in producing practical thoughts and responses.

“All the men in town? Are you even listening to yourself? It was one guy and he was actually very nice to me!” (Name) was very hurt to think her trusted friend would accuse her of such a thing. This was so unlike Marco, she had never seen him like this. He never acted this brash when Thatch would bring women to the ship.

“He was a total imbecile and you know it-yoi! You were just letting your lust get the best of you!”

“So what if I was? I’m a grown woman Marco!” (Name) shoved past him to reach for her doorknob, wanting to leave this annoying situation, but not before she had her last say so, “And last I checked, you’re not my dad and you’re not my man! You don’t get a say in who I decide to fuck, and if you’re so worked up about it, maybe you should have found your balls and fucked me yourself!”

Just as she tried to open the door, Marco slammed it shut again, this time with her body pinned against it. Her words were permissive enough for him to plaster his lips onto hers, dizzying both their minds as they couldn’t even attempt to make sense of the situation.

(Name) couldn’t even kiss back at first, though Marco tried desperately to elicit some kind of reaction out of her. Her eyes were wide open as all of her senses came alive and every bit of anger she was feeling only moments ago slowly dissipated. She could feel one of his hands roaming her body, gripping roughly at her waist while the other hand pinned both her wrists above her. His toned chest was flush against hers and having her commander randomly lusting after her was exciting to say the least, even if she was previously pissed at him. She was probably still pissed at him.

Either way, she couldn’t stop herself from melting under his touch. She knew Marco, though laid back as he usually was, had a bit of dominance in him that would show itself from time to time; particularly when giving orders and when he entertained his commander role. She just hadn’t expected him to use it on her in such intimate ways.

“Fuck you myself, huh? Is that really what you want, (Name)-yoi?” he whispered, looking down at her, searching for any kind of confirmation.

“I-I meant…”

“No, no, don’t act all shy now. You said it yourself and if you really want me to fuck you then that’s what I’m gonna do.” His fingers trailed down the side of her face, running down her lips and pulling her bottom lip down with them, “Now tell me again. What exactly is it that you desire-yoi?”

Seeing Marco like this, so possessive, so demanding, was truly intoxicating. And (Name) was well aware of how drunk off his touch she already was. She had imagined Marco in this way many a times, but having him actually here, staring down at her with those seductive eyes, made her feel utterly nervous and unprepared.

“You.” was all she could muster.

“Not good enough-yoi.” He tsked, pulling her body even closer to his, causing his lips to be just mere inches from her own, “Tell your commander what you want before I change my mind.”

They both knew there was no way in hell Marco could possibly change his mind right now. He was whipped for her after all, and though he was acting all domineering now, he had full intention of giving her whatever she wanted tonight regardless of anything else.  

Though flustered as she was, she gained the courage to look him right in the eyes, giving him a response he could never be prepared for, “Commander, I want you to fuck me.”

That was nearly enough to break Marco, but with a satisfied groan, he recovered by attacking her lips once again. Hands roamed each other’s bodies in desperation as they fumbled around towards the bed, removing any and all clothing in the process. It didn’t take long before they were both nude and intertwined on her bed.

The sensation of lips, tongues, and teeth against bare flesh, leaving markings that would be visible for days, fueled the desire between the two as they claimed one another in heated passions. Marco pulled away to creep two fingers towards her, trailing them around her plump, bruised lips, subtly begging for entrance. Her eyes fluttered as her mouth opened to invite them in, instantly suckling at his fingers while she watched him bite his lip.

As soon as he pulled away from her mouth, he traveled down south towards a different entrance. Curious digits circled around her throbbing cunt, toying shamelessly with her nub before plunging deep into her. Paired with her saliva, Marco’s fingers were soaked from her juices, making it all the more easy to slide in and out of her.

(Name)’s claws scratched against his scalp at the sensation. He was relentless already, pumping in and out with haste, diving in knuckle-deep each time he entered her. The way he curled his fingers with each exit had her back arching towards him, inspiring him to latch his hungry lips onto her perked nipple.

“Marco!” she cried out, instantly overwhelmed by his eagerness and the pleasure he was granting her body. Her head was spinning, body aflame as he continued fingering her and sucking at her breasts with total adoration. He only wanted to hear her like this for an eternity, so he was willing to do whatever to elicit those heavenly calls and praises from her over and over.

Marco was a selfless lover, so much so, that he didn’t stop finger fucking her until she wailed out repeatedly, body writhing as she came hard against his hand. Her body shook with indescribable pleasure and she whined at the over stimulation of his fingers sliding out of her. Marco smiled to himself, proud with his work on her, but he was far from done. Rubbing at his cock, he watched her heaving chest.

“Don’t give up on me yet-yoi. There’s still so much I wanna do to you.” Her heart flipped, near the verge of an attack at his devilish smile, “Don’t you still want your commander to fuck you?”

With a tired nod, (Name) spread her sensitive legs open for him. But Marco refused, instead flipping onto his back, “Guess you’ll have to work for it-yoi.”

(Name) pouted, “Haven’t I been good, commander?”

Marco stilled. He was cool with delivering the overly confident dirty talk, but every time she responded with that naughty intent, he had to stop himself from melting right then and there. Gaining his composure, he casually rested his arms behind his head, “We’ll see about that.”

Thrilled and slowly gaining all feeling in her body, (Name) crawled on top of Marco, straddling his left leg. She rested her sensitive pussy against his leg, coating his skin with her mess instantly. Desperate for friction, she rubbed herself against his leg.

He moaned lightly at the sensation, enjoying just how continuously needy she was for him. He bucked his hips in surprise when she grasped onto his cock with a firmness he didn’t quite expect. She began squeezing and pumping him, more than eager to give him a taste of his own medicine. A curious tongue circled his head while she continued rubbing him.

Marco’s head flew back against the headboard as she slowly started taking him into her mouth. The slick heat was mind-numbing and absolutely exhilarating. His toes curled with each swipe of her tongue, breath hitching in his throat and lower body tensing up as her mouth was already bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

As she began deepthroating him, he could no longer hold back his cries of pleasure, calling out her name in praises as his hand on the back of her head encouraged her movements. She was utterly pleased to have her commander as putty under hands, but she wasn’t fully content just yet.

Sucking hard on his head, she used both hands to twist and pump his member, the saliva and precum aiding in her jerking him off. Marco’s eyes were clenched tight as his grip on her hair tightened as well, as if he were holding on for dear life. Her hands and mouth were pure magic as they easily brought him to the edge within minutes; his seed spilling into her greedy mouth.

He was the one to breathe heavy now, eyeing her as she arose from her position on top of him. Licking her lips and gazing down at him with hungry eyes, she used the back of her wrist to wipe away the cum trickling down her chin, “Do I get my reward, commander?”

In any other instance, Marco would have to wait hours, if not the next day for another round. But the eagerness and stamina (Name) was eliciting from him was mind-boggling and inspiring. He didn’t think to question it as he swiftly swapped positions with her, slamming her down onto her back as he spread her legs open for him.

He entered her in one harsh thrust, hissing at the overstimulatoin on his sensitive cock, but tried to pay it no mind as he gritted his teeth and focused on the overwhelming pleasure that her tight cunt was offering him.

“Oh my god!” she cried out as her nails clamped down onto his body. The sensation of being filled up so fully and so quickly caused her to be a writhing mess instantly.

“This is what you wanted-yoi.” He panted, raising his torso and gripping at her ankles to spread her legs further, “So take it.”

(Name) cried out as Marco relentlessly fucked her over and over into the mattress, spreading and stretching her legs higher and further apart, sure to make them absolutely sore the next day. Her nails clawed at his tattooed chest, then eventually his back, leaving small wounds that he didn’t even flinch at as his pace never faltered.

The sloshing sound of Marco abusing her sex and the equal amounts of pleasurable moans from both lovers filled the room, instantly feeling as if they were the only people left in the world. But even the delicious tightness of (Name)’s pussy as he pounded into her wasn’t enough to make Marco forget why they were in this precarious position in the first place.

“Trying to fuck some stranger, huh? You really think that guy could make you whine with pleasure like this-yoi?” Marco whispered in her ear, pace now slow and deep. His hips slammed into her, jolting her body with each agonizingly slow thrust.

“N-no.” She whimpered as she clawed at his tattered skin, “Only you, Marco. Commander…”

She could practically feel the pleased smile on his face, “What was that-yoi? Tell me, who’s making you feel this good? Me or him?”

“You, commander! Only you can make me feel this good!” She wailed, pulling him into her body and gyrating her hips as she was desperate for release. His changes of pace and sultry voice was bringing her on the brink of ecstasy, she could feel it and she needed it, “Let me come, please!”

“Such a needy little thing. As you wish.” He grins, picking up his pace, once again drilling her into the mattress.

It didn’t take much longer until she came undone all over his cock, and he followed suit soon after, pulling out to release on her tits and stomach with a low call of her name. He collapsed beside her, nearly too tired to keep his eyes open any longer from cumming so hard twice in one night.

Yet he still arose from the bed and made his way out the door, entirely in the nude. Even in her state of exhaustion, she still had an anxious feeling in her stomach. How could he leave her just like that? And why the hell did he leave without his clothes?

All fears subsided as he returned however, a small wet rag in hand. He approached her body and began wiping away the mess he made on her, then the mess on himself before discarding it to the corner of her room. He began pulling on his shorts while (Name) watched him get dressed, not even bothering to get dressed herself. The gentle and casual Marco she was so familiar with had returned, making her feel all giddy inside.

“That was nice.” she stated, breaking the silence. Marco stilled, surprised by her statement. He didn’t look at her as he continued dressing himself.

“Yeah, it really was.” He reassured. Nice didn’t even begin to describe it for him, however. He was convinced no words ever could.

“You can stay, if you want. You don’t have to leave just yet…”

Marco turned and smiled at her, “As long as you’re okay with it-yoi.”

She smiled back, opening up her comforter as an invitation for him. Marco slid in with ease and it didn’t take long for (Name) to sling her arms around him in an embrace. He was cautious to return the affection, but decided to wrap an arm around her neck anyway. Though he was calm and confident during sex, he was a nervous mess to have her so close and intimate in this moment. Yet he’s wanted this for so long, so he decided not to waste a single moment. They could face the repercussions in the morning.

Just as sleep was about to claim him, (Name) broke the silence yet again, “Hey, Marco?”

“What is it-yoi?”

“I’m really glad you manned up.”

A low, tired chuckle reverberated in his chest as he squeezed her tighter into him, “Me too.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bonus:

Whitey Bay earned hella money from the bet and Marco wishes he could never be called Commander again since the crew heard e v e r y t h i n g and constantly teases him about it lmao ( he still likes to be called commander in bed tho 🤷🏼‍♀️ )

[whumping-every-day]

Gabriel: Nightmare

I could work on my preexisting projects, you say?? I could finish my unfinished drabbles? Nah. Let’s have a new thing I threw together with no planning or editing instead, bc in this house we die like men. 

My eternal thanks to the Gabriel Gang, y’all have been so patient with me! 

@robinshouseofwhump @pepperonyscience @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee   @what-huh-imconfused @vickytokio @captivity-whump @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @adventuresofacreesty @kyra-plays @whumpywhumper @blue-flare10 @whumptywhumpdump   @whumpywhumper @maybeawhumpblog  @fallingstormphoenix  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @infreidel @shadowicepuma @justanothermaltesegirl @whump-in-the-night @theawesomeawkward @promptnations @ whumpity--whump--whump @maraudersmarvelwhump @haro-whumps @whumposaurus @deluxewhump @nervous-writer  @thebluejayswhump @cagefreebirds @doublebubblebitchqueen @promptnations

Masterlist

-- 

Gabriel doesn’t know where he is.

The world feels fuzzy at the edges, like he’s seeing everything through a fog. Then abruptly, he’s on his knees – had he been pushed? Where is he? Gabriel’s head lolls against his chest, but he lifts it with difficulty, whining his confusion.

He’s outside. There’s the smell of pavement, motor oil, cigarette smoke. It’s cold; he’s shivering.

Gabriel squints up at the person above him, and his heart leaps when he sees his Master – not the first two men to own him, not the ones who had beat him and tormented him with no purpose. This is his Master, and beside him is Gabriel’s Mistress. Her jaw is set and her eyes are cold.

Tires sound on gravel, and the realization starts to sink in that something is wrong.

“Is this him?”

The words ring with memory, but they’re in the wrong voice, and they don’t bring him a sense of comfort, but of fear.

“This is him,” Stefan answers, and Gabriel’s heart sinks.

There’s a stranger approaching from the parked car, and his face is difficult to distinguish. He’s tall, and frightening, and Gabriel shrinks down against his Master’s legs. Master will protect him, surely--?

“God, that’s disgusting.” His Mistress’s voice is so full of disdain, it’s almost unrecognizable. “Look at it, clinging like that. Come on, Stefan, shake it off so we can go home.”

What?

Gabriel’s breath is starting to come faster, panic and terror overloading his senses.

They couldn’t be – they wouldn’t.

Were they selling him?

“Hand over the money, then,” Master says, and Gabriel lets out a terrified sob.

“Please, no, no, Mast-nng-!” Stefan silences his begging with a vicious backhand, and Gabriel reels, tasting blood.

“I’ve got the money right here,” the stranger says, as if nothing had happened. Something gets passed across over his head, and then Mistress lays a hand on his head. Gabriel looks up to her with a piteous whine, begging wordlessly for any scrap of her usual gentleness. But she only purses her lips and shakes her head.

“Go on now,” she tells him. “Go be good for him. We’re done with you.”

When Gabriel whimpers and hesitates, he gets a kick to the ribs with one of Mistress’s sharp heels.  

He goes sprawling in the gravel, and the stranger bends down and reaches for him, a sharp grin painted across his features.

“No!” Everyone looks as surprised as Gabriel feels, but his throat stings with how loudly he’d screamed it, and even the stranger has halted his approach.

Gabriel flings himself away, and then claws his way back to Mistress and Master’s feet.

“P-please, please,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t make me go with him, please – I’ll do better! I’ll do, I’ll do anything you want, please, Master, a-and, and – Mistress, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I’ll be, please keep me, please-!”

Something slams down on Gabriel’s fingers, and it takes a long moment for the pain to register.

When it does, his keen of pain is nearly drowned out by the stranger’s laughter.

“Well, boy, I gotta say, that was real pretty.” The man crouches over him. “But we’ll be getting to that on our own time.” Mistress removes her heel from Gabriel’s hand, and his stomach twists viciously at the sight of his broken, twisted fingers.

The stranger grabs him by the collar and hauls him upright, and Gabriel chokes on his cry of pain.

“Please,” he mouths, but only the first half gets air. His eyes are turned pleadingly to his Masters – the only Masters he’s ever loved, even if he feared them too. Please, he tries again, but their faces are impassive. Mistress just shakes her head, and Master holds Gabriel’s eyes for a long, cold moment, before they both turn away.

“NO!” Gabriel shrieks, and he goes wild in the stranger’s arms. “No! Master! Please, no- Mistress, don’t leave me here, Mistress-! Please, don’t leave me here-”

He’s screaming his voice raw, and it hurts, in a way that everything up until then hasn’t. It’s strange enough to give him pause – his fingers hurt too, but it’s muted, far away. But he’s screaming, loud and hard, and he can feel that, tearing out of his throat like something living.

He’s being shaken, Gabriel realizes. The stranger, the man they’d sold him to, he’s shaking him – but Gabriel blinks, and suddenly the surroundings have changed.

“Gabriel? Gabriel, sweetheart, you’ve got to wake up. Wake up, honey, it’s just a dream.” Gabriel blinks again, utterly bewildered. That’s Mistress’s voice, but he’d just seen her turn him away… his side still hurts from her heel. “Come on, sweet boy. You’re dreaming. You’re right here with Stefan and I, you’re safe.”

Gabriel scrunches up his face in a frown, and everything dissolves around him.

The hands shaking him seem to change, somehow, and then it’s his Mistress gripping his shoulder, features drawn in concern.

“Gabe? Buddy?” Gabriel turns his head, and there’s Master, hovering beside the bed.

The bed? Where—what?

“You had a nightmare, sweetheart,” Mistress is murmuring. “It wasn’t real, none of it.”

Gabriel tries to pull in a breath, and it turns into a hiccuping sob.

“Please,” he cries. It’s so easy to keep begging, because even if he’s awake the terror hasn’t gone away, the dream seems so real, so close, and one of these days they might decide they’ve had enough of him—“Please, I d-don’t, I don’t want to go,” he sobs. “I’ll be better, I p-promise, please, please, l-let me stay.” He’s crying, and it comes in big, ugly gasps.

“Hey, hey,” Master says softly. “Easy, sweetheart, it wasn’t real…”

And then Mistress; “We’re not sending you away, little one. But you’ve got to breathe.”

Is he not breathing? The words barely penetrate the fog, but everything gets a little clearer when he drags a breath into his lungs and then lets it out. He’s trembling, and he takes in another breath, trying to still the shaking in his core.

“Please,” he whimpers one last time. His head feels like it’s spinning, and the dream is lurking so nearby, hanging over his head like it could rise from the shadows of the room. It would be so easy for his Masters to get rid of him – and they have so little reason to keep him. What has Gabriel even done since they’d bought him to deserve to stay?

A weight settles on the bed next to him, and then he’s being gently guided into Master’s arms. Gabriel folds into it like paper, and he whimpers and clings back when he feels Mistress take his hand. The mattress dips as she joins them, and she pets through his hair and rubs his back as he cries into Master’s shoulder.

“Please, I’ll be good,” he sobs, over and over. “Please k-keep me, please.”

It’s late; the clock on the nightstand reads three in the morning, and Gabriel’s tears come faster when he realizes that he must have woken them both up. But their touch is gentle while they soothe him, and Gabriel latches onto it selfishly.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he’s calm enough to articulate the source of his distress.

“Oh, sweet boy,” Mistress says sadly after he tells them about his dream. Gabriel sniffles and doesn’t meet her eyes. He feels so small in Master’s arms, and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling of safety. He’s so tired of being afraid… and he’s so tired of not knowing if he’s been good enough, not knowing if he’s been well-behaved enough to stay.

“We would never do that to you,” Master mutters, and there’s conviction in his voice. The man gently brushes a bit of hair out of Gabriel’s eyes, then cups the boy’s cheek, and Gabriel leans into it shamelessly. There’s still so much fear in his eyes, and Stefan knows that it may never fully go away. There’s too much pain there, too much trauma. But this, at least, is something the two of them can help with.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Maria murmurs. To anyone else, the words could easily be threatening – but Gabriel has a way of showing raw gratitude with just his eyes.

“Tha-ank you Mistress,” he whispers wetly. “I want, want to be g-good, please…” The boy is tired; it’s obvious in the bags under his eyes, and the way he struggles to remain present in the moment. “Want to be good so, s-so you’ll keep me…”

The two siblings exchange a look over his head, and they both carry the same sadness.

“We’re always going to keep you, little one,” Maria murmurs, and Gabriel whimpers softly and clings to her.

They settle down on the bed after that, Mistress on one side and Master on the other, and Gabriel half on top of Master’s lap, leaning against his Mistress’s side. Everything is warm and sleepy and soft, but Gabriel can’t sleep yet, not with the memory of his dream so close. He’s still holding on too tight, like if he lets go, all the kindness will be ripped away.

He sniffles again at the thought, and Mistress presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy, sweetheart.” Master’s voice is quiet, but it still rumbles under Gabriel’s ear, and he can feel it all the way in his bones. He draws in a quavery breath.

“We know this is a lot,” Mistress adds softly. “But you’re doing wonderfully.” She gives him a gentle squeeze, and something fragile and terrified stirs in Gabriel’s chest.

He wants to believe them. He wants to stay.

“Nnn, hnm, n-not gonna, not gonna s-send me away…?” It’s timid, like asking the question might be enough to decide the answer. Gabriel’s eyes are big and scared when he lifts them to Maria’s, then over to Stefan’s, and the naked desperation there is like a kick to the gut. “ ’m still, still yours?”

There’s hope in his eyes now, too, fragile as glass.

“Yeah, bud,” Master murmurs, after just a beat’s hesitation. “Still ours.”

It’s vaguely reassuring, but Gabriel seeks out his Mistress too, waiting for her answer.

“Of course, sweetheart.” There’s sadness in her expression again, but Mistress smiles at him and kisses his cheek, pets her fingers through his hair. “You’re our good boy,” she murmurs. She gently wipes a stray tear away with her thumb, holds his eyes for a moment. “I want you to feel safe and secure with us,” she says firmly. “So if you need to… if you need to know that you’re ours. To feel safe.” Her hand settles on the side of Gabriel’s neck, traces her thumb over the fluttering of his pulse. “If you need that, then we can remind you.” She gives the gentlest little squeeze, and Gabriel whines softly and slumps against Stefan.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and his expression is awed. “Th-thank you, Mistress, and, and Master, thank you.” It’s for more than just the comfort, and he hopes that they understand. Gabriel’s not good, he’s never been good - but they are so patient with him, so gentle... and he wonders if maybe this time he could be. 

The space around his throat still feels empty, like it has ever since his former Master cut the collar off. His new owners haven’t given him one of their own yet, and Gabriel wonders if that should frighten him. But the memory of Mistress’s palm covering that same skin is fresh in his memory, and oddly enough it settles him.

He was never good enough for his former masters. But maybe this time, if they help him, maybe he can be.

Gabriel drifts off to sleep like that, curled up in their arms, and the nightmares do not return.

[chershare]

Snippet from Discord 17

Normally he waited outside the tea shop for the owner's son to bring out the bags of tea leaves. While one would think that it would be easier to get such things directly from a spice shop, the owner had traded talismans for his overstock. This way he wasn't throwing out older leaves that could still be used, and the people of the Burial Mound benefited.

Despite what the rumor mongers from out of town liked to say, the people of Yiling actually quite liked the Wen and their Patriarch.

Having left Wei Wuxian with Yuan, he'd much expected the same only to be ushered inside. Mo Xuanyu had stepped to the side of the doorway to keep himself out of the way, staring at the floor.

Despite everything, he wasn't used to crowds anymore. Being around so many people after years of isolation was... Overwhelming.

He wasn't surprised by the men talking badly of his - friend. People always liked to tell tales of drama and evil without truly knowing of what they spoke.

A burning flash of white swept passed him quickly, but Mo Xuanyu did not look up.

"Tourists," tsked the young man as he stepped forward to press the carefully wrapped bag into Mo Xuanyu's hands. "Talking like they know anything about our Yiling Laozu."

Smiling slightly at the sentiment, Xuanyu bowed politely.

"Thank you again, young master," the shopkeeper flushed slightly at the words, as he always did. "The grandmothers will be pleased."

"Let me know if there are any requests next time, cultivator!"

Stepping out of the shop, he was surprised to see a tall figure in white standing opposite Wei Wuxian. And... Was Yuan attached to that Lan's leg?

Oh dear.

Even if he'd been a child when the Yiling Patriarch had died, he knew enough to know that the Sects had mixed feelings for him prior to the Jin setup.

"A-Yuan!" slid quietly from his lips as he glanced nervously up at the stranger. "Come here please."

"Yu-ge!" The boy was delighted at the sight of him in the way that brought that too sharp warmth to his chest. "You were lost but I found you!"

He knelt carefully to scoop the toddler into his arms, feeling some of the weariness fall from his too thin face at the weight and warmth of Yuan. A very real but not quite conscious fear was put to rest with the boy away from this cultivator that Xuanyu didn’t know. Standing, he blinked at the sudden appearance of Wei Wuxian at his side taking the package of tea from his side.

Well, it let him hold Yuan better, so he'd let this bit of coddling slide.

It was reassuring to have him there next to him, willing to protect them with all of his frightful strength against this person.

"Was I lost indeed?" he asked with raised brows, absently brushing free hairs out of his face. "How brave of A-Yuan to come looking for me all alone."

As the boy screwed up his face trying to decide if he wanted to admit to breaking the rules and following Mo Xuanyu alone, the Lan spoke.

"Wei Ying," the deep, sedate voice spoke and Mo Xuanyu suddenly realized who this was. “Who?”

Why was Hanguang-Jun looking for the Yiling Patriarch and speaking to him so familiarly?

"Oh, Lan Zhan this is my pretty Mo Xuanyu!"

Exasperated with the unneeded addition to his introduction, he wryly made a silly face at Yuan, who smiled brightly and giggled. That Wei Wuxian spoke Hanguang-Jun's personal name so blatantly was to be expected, but it was still almost embarrassing to hear it. This man, his friend, was so utterly shameless like no one else he’d ever met; even Xue Yang had played at manners most of the time.

Glancing up from under his lashes at the tall Lan, Xuanyu felt something in his stomach lurch at the sudden upset in normally placid features. Something that Wei Wuxian had said had caused the honorable Second Jade pain and that brought another realization.

Absently sticking a still pointy elbow in the Yiling Patriarch's side so that he yelped, Mo Xuanyu bowed slightly as he tried to figure out how to salvage this.

This explained the years of seclusion that the Second Jade had undergone after the death of the man he loved. While he was pretty sure he’d never been in love like that, never grieved for someone even if he’d lamented what could have been with his brothers. Jin Zixuan had died before he’d gotten the chance to know him, and Jin Guangyao had never felt familial towards him, no matter how he’d acted.

Now… now Mo Xuanyu felt something for Wei Wuxian, who was so kind and ridiculous, who was free with affection and conversation. Looking at the two of them, there was something fragile and beautiful there that even dreadful, hopeless Mo Xuanyu wished to protect.

He’d failed to even die properly, but maybe he could do more than let himself be taken care of, now. This was – this was maybe something he could save, by saving Wei Wuxian. It was another thought towards keeping the impossible man alive, and he doubled his determination to find someone who he could steal a golden core from.

"This one was saved by the Yiling Laozu, Hanguang-Jun," voice quiet, he easily shifted his meager weight to one leg so that he was farther away from Wei Wuxian. "He has been most kind in taking care of this one."

"Wei Ying is kind," the man agreed, something relaxing at the corners of his golden eyes. "Mo Xuanyu is deserving of kindness, if Wei Ying has given it."

"Hey, you guys are being embarrassing! And boring," whined the Yiling Patriarch at Mo Xuanyu's side. "If we're going to talk we should get something to eat! Lan Zhan can pay, because we're very poor."

Sighing at this shameless man, Xuanyu gratefully received the comforting pat on the cheek from Yuan. He was a bright boy, and getting quite skilled at reading the mood of whoever held him.

"If Yiling Laozu will allow, this one will take A-Yuan back home. I'm sure Hanguang-Jun has much to discuss with you."

"No."

His head jerked up as Lan Wangji spoke with implacable finality. The upset he'd noticed before was completely wiped free from that beautiful face, even as Wei Wuxian threw a casual arm over Mo Xuanyu's shoulders. The hurt and almost jealousy was nowhere to be seen, and instead intense golden eyes slid over thin, still faintly bruised features and then traveled Wei Wuxian's arm back to the man himself.

"Lan Zhan's right, pretty stranger," his friend said as if it were the most normal thing in the world to eat lunch with legends. "Feeding you and A-Yuan is also important."

"Food?" at the mention of his near favorite thing, the toddler turned wide eyes on his Xian-gege. "Food? Yu-ge, Xian-gege, we’re getting food?"

“Yup! No arguing, either, pretty!”

“I – Yiling Laozu, please. I can walk unaided.”

[dangermousie]

So, I watched 15 episodes of Ever Night in one day

That is sort of cheating because since this is a rewatch, I skipped through most of Ning Que and MSS’s neverending camping trip. I got a NOTP, y’all.

These puppies though:

Though this is still mega long and cap heavy and thus behind read more,

Here because I am into blood on flctional men’s faces. Maybe Ning Que should be hanging out with My Country boys.

OMG, I’d forgotten the annoying evil hag was also in the first season. Whenever she appears, she’s always after a non-insane character. Is it a hobby? But NQ giving no fucks and getting into her face and actually terrifying her was delicious. I love it when he’s a bastard to people who deserve it.

This literally made me laugh because he is so shameless in his pragmatism and poor conceited Long Qing is so lost:

And that should have been the end of it but LQ doesn’t know when to stop and the moment he brought Sang Sang up, he got way more of a reaction he bargained for because nobody even hints at messing with SS - NQ will end you. His customary pragmatism deserts NQ utterly.

And that is how you end up with an arrow through you very fancily attired chest.

Oh, Ning Que. That is the most romantic thing I’ve heard in ages and you don’t even realize you love her that way. But honestly, the two have been together and each other’s everything for so long, I don’t think there is room for another person there unless one of them dies. (Also, I cracked up at MSS during this because boy, the lady just realized she might have quite an uphill climb into NQ’s affections.)

This is here because it’s patented NQ - I mean who says that to a demon-possessed super powerful evil dude doing his best to murder you - and it cracked me up.

Nobody throws a pity party like Long Qing, who is clearly a creature of extremes, and having deservedly lost his cultivation powers thanks to NQ, has decided instead of going home to be a boring royal prince or marrying a sugar mama princess who seems to want him no matter what, that wandering around barefoot in the snow and declaiming he is the lowest of the low and unworthy of his fiancee’s love and how dare she crash his pity party for one, is superior. I mean, you do you, LQ, you do you. His girlfriend must really be into the drama, fabulous hair, or the qi-enhanced D, because otherwise sticking with him is - would not be my choice, much as it’s fun to watch.

As I said, girl lives for drama because she follows him to his hovel and offers sex, but why would LQ want sex when he can have a good wallow instead? If NQ and SS are pragmatic, LQ is the opposite, probably because he never had to be practical in his life. Though he’s gone from I am the bestest prettiest child of light to I will be the most wretched person ever in record speed - so I think absolutism and exceptionalism (I will be wretched in a way nobody ever has been before) are perhaps even more of a thing for him.

And more of this. Dude, give it a rest!

I love this bit. I love whenever NQ gets all righteously angry and revenge-driven because honestly, he deserves to get it. And I love his fear that his targets would die through other means while he trains and just that deep-seated burning rage under the surface. I love it.

Meanwhile SS got a master (who, if she knew, is the one who wiped out NQ’s family and other horrid stuff) but also found her birth parents. I love that she has no idea how to react to this because the notion is so alien to her.

And finally, NQ is back and I love everything about it - how SS’ joy falls when she sees the beautiful and elegant MSS he brought back (such a contrast to SS’ shabby clothes and stuffed mouth) and MSS is sizing up the competition and NQ, so oblivious, the dumb boy, only knowing how glad he is to see SS and basically shining around her and asking for a hug and being so puzzled by why SS is being stand-offish (I am not sure SS herself realizes; they are such dummies) and being hurt his homecoming not what he thought and just my puppies!!!!!!

His cajoling her like a kid until she gives him a hug, as she desperately resists because she’s so angry even though I don’t think she realiy realizes why she is angry is just the most adorable amazing thing.

And then she finally does and I love it because it really comes across as the two of them being able to breathe again (and I crack up because she’s so tiny, she can’t even make a headrest for him haha and he still has to bend down to even put his chin on top of her head.)

I think this is the crux of their roadblock though - because his remembering she wanted a particular toy as a small kid and buying it when he saw it again in the middle of all the fighting and God knows what else he was involved in is astonishingly sweet but I think it’s also a sign of his failing to consciously realize what his subconscious has figured out - neither one of them is a kid any longer.

Only in wuxia, would a couple time involve burying their separate enemy wuxia masters next to each other.

That was so painful because I get them both - I get why he hates her master but I get why she liked him - she doesn’t remember any massacre and it’s all abstract to her and the old man was loving and protective.

But guess what. They seem to back off and cool down except something much worse happens in terms of potential stumbling block. You know you are watching wuxia when the OTP’s issues involve “ummm, I am suddenly a demon, still wanna date?”

(ahhh, the irony!)

(hahahahaha)

This is mega long and you get a prize (the prize is that you are not a demonist) for reading this epic thing.

[konako]

I WANT SUM SHEPARD AND THE WOLF- I STAN THAT 3 LITTLE PIGS WHY DIDNT YOU WRITE FOR OUAT DA HECK

BECAUSE IT WOULD BECOME A RUBY CENTRIC SHOW AND I WOULD TURN IT INTO A SHAMELESS HAREM

The Shepard and The Wolf – should have been  a blossoming bromance born of brooding bloated b… jealousy.

This is a blanket story for the dynamic of David and Ruby. It starts when they first meet, and ends with their ends, much like Snow and Regina’s grand narrative.

But the core of it (and the moral of the story) takes place in FTL, before the Dark Curse.

Snow White meets Red first, and it’s Red who introduces her to this wild world of survival, living in the forest, fighting with her fists, fending for herself. Snow White before Red was a hopeless runaway princess, hiding in strangers cabins and stealing eggs – nothing like the Snow White that met Charming, years later.

Point is, Snow White and Red share a history together. We know Red owes her life to Snow; she stood by Red through the worst of her wolf, through the loss of Peter, Anita, her identity, everything. But – Snow wouldn’t have survived without Red’s teachings, Red’s guidance, Red’s wild spirit. Snow White, too, owes her life to Red.

And, in this story, Charming has a hard time understanding that at first.

Charming meets an independent, strong, fierce Snow White. Fearless and so smart… Charming falls in love. Deeply. And so does Snow. It’s True Love, after all. Buuuuut, things start to get complicated.

Aside from Charming’s whole thing of pretending to be his twin brother, a Prince, and having to marry King Midas’ daughter, we have the bigger problem: Regina is after Snow White. And after all of the issues are solves in Charming’s end, the great obstacle, and the reason they need all of their forces, is the Evil Queen and the War that is brewing.

Charming knows Snow White has some strange friends. Fairies, dwarves, huntsmen… she’s had a long and tough journey before she met Charming, and he understands she’s made some curious friendships, but – when a werewolf comes through their door, Charming is genuinely afraid.

He’s learned how to fight – he had to be a convincing Prince, and his previous life as a Shepard taught him one thing or two. Most importantly, he learned what to be cautious of. The sheep knew, and so did he. A Wolf is not good company.

And wan’t that the kind that turned during a full moon? Large teeth, paws eight inches across, big long claws…? Those were dangerous, right?

I mean, fairies and dwarves are one thing, but…. werewolves? There has never been a sign of a friendly werewolf! There were always human-hating monsters. Sure, fairies are light and good and grant wishes, that’s cute. Dwarves can be rude and inappropriate, but nothing too serious. But a werewolf? Is Snow serious? Has her hopefulness gone too far? Isn’t she being too trusting, too kind, too… blind?

It’s immediately clear: Charming doesn’t trust Red.

Snow tries her best to convince him that he has nothing to be scared of; that Red has the kindest heart she has ever seen; that Red saved her life; that there isn’t an evil bone in Red’s body – but Charming is smarter than that. Red is a wolf in woman’s clothing.

And it’s not like she’s not a good person. She tries to befriend him. There’s a stiffness to her, though. She stares at him for too long, when he’s with Snow. Her smiles seem weak and falter when he puts his arms around Snow’s shoulder. Her eyes lose some of their color, when he kisses Snow. And he can swear he once heard her growl low in her throat in her sleep.

Wolves are territorial creatures, and Red was once Snow’s once friend. And Charming believes he was discovered the problem: Red is threathened by his presence. Somehow, she’s claimed Snow for herself (like a werewolf does), and will not allow Charming near. But he is Snow White’s true love and he isn’t going anywhere – so she is pissed. And he knows an angry werewolf cannot be trusted. So he doesn’t. Not even a little. Not even once.

Not when they’re running from King George’s men. Not when they’re fighting the Dark Knights of the Queen. Not when they’re huddling together for warmth in a cold night – Snow in the middle as a buffer. Always in the middle, as a buffer.

Charming always keeps an eye on her. He never lets his guard down. When they fight, he never turns his back to her, in case the Wolf bloods takes over in the heat of battle. He always keeps his hands on his sword longer than necessary, long after the fight is over and they are regrouping and Red comes join them, blood on her lips, eyes slightly golden and a little breathless.

It takes Snow putting her hand on his, to calm him down.

But he doesn’t trust Red. And he is vocal about it. To Snow, at least. He cries danger.

“Snow, be careful. Snow, don’t get too close. Snow, please, she’s dangerous. Snow, no. Snow, come back. Snow”

Snow doesn’t listen, but he keeps on crying.

Until the day Snow is not there, to act as a buffer.

She’s kidnapped. A vicious bounty hunter that has been tracking them for months – that slipped through the cracks of mistrust and inner conflicts – he gets to them and takes Snow, in the middle of the night. A night when Red is off running and Charming was supposed to keep a loo -out, but Snow had insisted that he joined her in bed – that Red would howl if there was any danger.

But she doesn’t. And Charming doesn’t see it coming. The man takes Snow in the middle of the night, as she leaves bed to use the bathroom. He just takes her, and Charming wakes up to her screaming.

He runs to them, fast enough to see them taking off on a horse, disappearing into the dark forest. He sees the details on the man’s bag, and he knows who the stranger is (insert coincidental backstory here idk). But he is not fast enough to catch them, and falls to his knees, crying.

Red appears behind him, after his tears have dried and his already up, gathering his weapons.

“Where were you?! Why didn’t you sound off the alarm? He took her!”

Red fights to have a word in.

“You were the one with her! Why didn’t you do anything?!”

“We trusted you would protect us-”

“You never trusted me!”

“And now I know why!”

Red can’t keep fighting like this. She once was used to arguing – with Granny and Peter, but it was always about pointless things, never… never her very existence, her nature, her… worthlessness. She can’t argue, because she agrees with him.

But Charming doesn’t mind that he’s hurt Red. He’s blinded with rage, and he’s putting on his armor.

“Where are you going?” Red asks.

“Where do you think? After them!”

Red nods. “If I turn, I can catch them–”

“No! I will find them! Snow’s my responsibility, not yours”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean–! Oh, you know what I mean. I have to find her.”

Red bites her lips. “I’m faster than you. I’m faster than a horse. I can find them. I’ll track Snow’s scent.” She starts getting ready, too. Her hands are on her cloak, again “It’s not far. I can still smell her. If I go now–”

Charming grabs her by her forearm, and it startles her. Green eyes are wide, staring at him. “No. I’ll go.”

“This is not the time for a competition” Red easily pulls her arm out of his grip. Her temper is getting worse. It’s a full moon, and Charming has a way of getting under her skin. “I’m going. You can stay here, and resent me, all you want”

Red turns to leave again, but Charming runs in front of her and gets in her way. He has his sword drawn, and it takes a moment for Red to register the offense fully. Honestly, she didn’t expect things to get this far.

“Red. I’m not asking you.” His voice is a warning.

“What do you think I’ll do, Charming?” She mocks the nickname. “Snow White is my friend. I will get her back, that’s it” She finishes, but makes no attempt to move.

Charming is silent, but his eyes say everything. “Why didn’t you warm us?”

Red suppresses a snarl at the implication. “I didn’t hear him coming. I was busy”

Charming presses his finger harder around the hilt of the sword. “Doing what?”

Red breathes. “What do you think?” It’s a challenge. One Charming doesn’t accept. “What do you expect of me?”

“I expected a look-out”

“That’s a lie. You never trusted me.” Red steps closer, until the tip of the sword touches her chest. It’s not silver, so it’s not a problem. “And now, they are getting away, because you can’t trust me to bring her back”

Charming doesn’t have a response, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. “I don’t trust you to keep her safe. Not like this” He runs his eyes over her entire body, and Red realizes what he means – her temper and the full moon above their heads. “You were running to stay away from us, right? To keep us safe from the Wolf? So stay away. Please”

His pleading is hollow, and Red is pissed. She breathes in. “I was running to clear my head. I’m not a danger. I’ve got my wolf under control”

Charming is breathing heavily now. It’s his tell, that he’s scared. “It doesn’t seem like that to me”

“You are the one pointing the sword at me”

Charming seems self-conscious, but it’s not enough to get his guard down. “I’m going after Snow–”

“I’m the best at this! I can run faster, I can track her scent, I can get her back safely to your arms. She’ll still love you more, don’t worry–”

Red stops herself, but it’s too late. She’s already said it. Fuck. She bites at her lips. Fucking full moon.

“I’m not…” She tries again. “I’m not going to run away with her, Charming,” She sounds utterly tired, now. “I’ll bring her back to you.”

Charming is not backing down. “I shouldn’t need you”

“But you do,” Red tries not to growl. “You’ve waited too long, now I’m our best chance at getting her back, okay?”

“You should have sounded the alarm–”

“I didn’t hear anything–!”

“She shouldn’t have been taken–!”

“I was running, I thought you were taking care of her–!”

“I should have been!”

It echoes.

Now Charming messed up. Nice. “… I should have been. From the start. I shouldn’t… need you.”

Red frowns. She doesn’t know what to say. “You don’t need me. Snow does.” A moment. “Or… Snow did. Up until…” She motions her hand to Charming, but says nothing. “I helped her when she needed me, and she helped me back. We’re friends. We’re at War. Help is needed. That’s all it is…”

Charming watches her for a moment. She’s got a point. But, still, there’s… something about her. Confusing energy and rough breathing. A full moon. 

He put his sword back, yet somehow it does little to defuse the tension.

“It’s a full moon,” he says, simply, as if it’s enough of an argument.

“Good. It means I’ll be at my fastest” Red’s answer is nervous.

“It means a close confrontation is dangerous. One thing is a vast army in an open field. Another is a one-to-one fight in a dense forest – with Snow held hostage”

It takes a second for the insult to reach Red. “You’re kidding.”

Charming switches to his commanding voice, and Red’s skin itches.

“Let me find Snow. Keep clearing your head. Stay”

Ooooh, that word does something to Red.

Stay.

Like a dog. Like the countless comments she pretends not to hear from afar. Like the jokes Grumpy tells and Charming sometimes smiles at. Like the tail between our legs.

It does it, for Red. She just pushes forward, past him, into the forest. He yells at her back to stay. But she’s done listening to him. He runs after her and grabs at her cloak to hold her back. There’s a resistance at first, but then the knot is undone, and Charming falls back.

Shit gets real. The cloak is ripped off of Red’s shoulders, and just like that, the Wolf is out.

Charming falls on his ass, and the Wolf stops in its track. Oh, shit, shit.

Charming stumbles up to his feet again, as the Wolf turns to him, the dark fur almost indistinguishable from the night around.

“Red…” He whispers, hand held in front of his body.

The Wolf steps towards him, then stops. They stare at each other. Golden eyes fall down to the blade, then up at Charming again. It’s a question. Will you use it?

Charming gulps. “Please. I have to get her back.”

A huge paw stumps on the ground, and Charming almost jumps back. Almost.

“Please…”

The Wolf steps even closer, and Charming fights to stand his ground. Slowly, the Wolf turn back, towards the depths of the forest, and looks over its shoulder, to Charming.

It’s an invitation.

The Wolf lowers its head, then its body. Charming finally understands the command. Come on.

It takes a lot for him to move. His mind races, as he considers the danger, the leap of faith. The man getting rapidly getting away with Snow, and the only chance Charming’s got to reach them and save her.

It truly takes a lot, but, slowly, his hand lets go of the sword. 

On shaky feet, he gets closer, and with even shakier hands, he grabs onto the thick mane around the Wolf’s neck, swinging his leg over the beast’s back, and sitting on top of it.

He can feel the vibrations of a silent growl under his body, but before his fear can permanently set it, the Wolf is already taking off at full speed, into the forest.

Charming’s never been so fast in his life. The tree pass him in a blur, and he has no idea where they are going. The strong strides barely touch the ground, but shake his entire body with a force he’s sure will bruise him.

It’s strangely empowering. His fears are quickly dulled in comparison to this. This speed and strength. He’s never felt so strong before. Never so sure of his chances. This is the most powerful he has ever been. 

It doesn’t take a minute for them to catch up to the man. Never was a horse so slow and a chase so short.

The Wolf jumps over them, and lands in front of their path, blocking their way. Charming struggles to keep his balance on top of the Wolf, as he takes his sword out once again.

“Red! Charming!” Snow cries for them, a huge smile on her wet cheeks. “What…?”

The horse is startled by the Wolf, and the man can’t keep it still. They fall off of it, and Snow falls to the side. Charming gets off the Wolf and runs to her, helping her up.

Meanwhile, the man is getting up, rubbing at his head. The Wolf growls a loud, terrifying sound and the horse runs away, leaving the hunter alone, without his weapons.

Charming hugs Snow close to his body, and they join the Wolf’s side, facing the man. Bared teeth and a sharp sword, pointed at him. He’s caught, he can’t outrun a wolf or fight a Prince. He surrenders, getting on his knees and raising his hands above his head.

The heroic moment is savored.

Charming, the Wolf and Snow, standing side by side, a good team. The silence of victory is sweet and all, but Snow has to comment. She looks over at them, one on each side of her.

“Took you two long enough”

And it has more than one meaning.

And so they stand there. Snow rubs behind the Wolf’s ears and pull its head close against her body, hugging the fluffy mane. With her other hand, she hold Charming’s arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

The Wolf grunts and huffs at the proximity, and Charming is still stiff and sweaty, but it’s a start… 

It’s a start.

[ofregiums]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth, ISABELA HASLER, has arrived. being twenty-five years old, she is currently on the throne. many around the court call her the siren by virtue of her being ambitious and charismatic, while also being cunning and hot-headed.  —played by chloe bridges

— THE BASICS

full name: isabela anne hasler nee lopez known in history as: the commoner queen date of birth: november 20th age: twenty-five star sign: scorpio profession: stay at home mom ( modern verse ) / queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth  ( canon verse ) loyalty: house hasler, house de trastamara alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: intj spoken languages: spanish ( first ), english ( fluent ), german ( beginner ), polish ( beginner ) mother’s name: eleanor fry ( deceased in both verses ) father’s name: andrés lopez ( deceased in both verses ) siblings, if any: maria lopez ( older ) children: augustus hasler, helena hasler height: 5′5″ hair colour: black. eye colour: dark brown

— CANON VERSE

ambition is the word that follows isabela’s entire existence and it started from the very moment she was brought into this world. a product of a desperately conniving farmer of a father and a naive teacher of a mother, she was born in valencia, spain as a product of an affair. you see, her father was already married with a young child. but once eleanor came into his line of sight, he knew he had to haver her.

eleanor did not live long enough to bear the shame of being an unwed mother for she perished during childbirth. andrés took little isabela and brought her to his wife luisa to be raised alongside her older half-sister maria, who was only four at the time.

from a very early age, andrés suffered from a great rage that he took out on his wife and daughters. it was a bit of a vicious circle, really. maria did all that she could to protect isabela but luisa -- still bitter that she was a product of infidelity -- looked the other way if the rage was directed at the young girl. words, hands. . . it did not matter. it was simply the way he got his point across.

as isabela grew into her own, andrés and luisa began to notice her great beauty and began to scheme how best to utilize it to benefit their own wealth and status. it was beaten into isabela’s head that she would need to make something of herself for the sake of the family if she wanted to be considered useful. growing up, her parents only really noticed her for her looks and how that would benefit their wealth and status. it was beaten into her head that she needed to make something of herself.

maria ran away from home when she was seventeen, leaving a thirteen year old isabela heartbroken and completely alone to their parents’ mercy. the fact that her sister did not think to take her with her is something that the young woman carries with her to this very day. it was the beginning of learning not to trust anyone.

at the age of sixteen, isabela and a few friends snuck away to madrid for the weekend. it was there that she met the duke of galisteo -- handsome, nearly twice her age, incredibly rich, and very very married. the man was absolutely no match for isabela’s charms and took to her instantly. it was an utterly volatile relationship: she always feared the worst from him and he could never offer all himself to her. still, no amount of distance kept the duke away from isabela. it wasn’t before long before he was offering her an opportunity to attend the spanish royal court by his side. of course, isabela said yes. as she packed away for her new adventure, her father gripped his wrist and reminded her of her purpose on this earth.

isabela utterly thrived at the spanish court, making friends as high as the duke of huéscar and foreign princess of spain. darkly seductive and yet charming, she dazzled people after a conversation despite the clear insinuations of why she was there at court. behind those doe eyes and an innocent smile is a serpent. she cannot be trusted by most and people are only shown facades of her. 

tirelessly, isabela tried to wear the duke down to divorce his wife and marry her instead. however, the news that his wife was finally pregnant -- a point of contention between the two -- the duke broke off things with isabela and shattered the heart she never knew she even had.

she no longer had any remote standing at court. but as she was packing up to return to her wretched home, the queen of spain ( the former, not the current ) requested her to be a lady-in-waiting for her. it was a proper title to cover up what she really did for the queen, which was seduce rich and powerful people for information and secrets. it was exactly what she needed to ensure that she would not go home.

everything grew quite chaotic in spain afterwards. first, the crown prince died, causing the princess she considered a friend to flee to her home country with the no-more heir. not so soon afterwards, the king of spain joined his son beyond the grave. suddenly, the queen she worked for was simply an old widow and the next in line -- a woman -- took her place as the spanish monarch. isabela was then assigned to do the same for her as her mother before her.

under the command of the new queen, isabela was sent to bern with the instruction of collecting information of enemy countries. upon her arrival, she met the crown prince anton and was intrigued by him immediately. what started as nothing more than physical began to bloom into authentic feelings. isabela tried with all her might to deny that she was in love with him -- she couldn’t trust again, she couldn’t -- but eventually, she relented to them. after anton’s father was killed in the bern explosions, he proposed to isabela and she readily accepted. this made her not only a wife, but a queen.

her father and step-mother tried to return in isabela’s life, wanting to reap the benefits that she had sown. but no longer living in fear of them, she was a willing participant in having them both executed for “crimes against the queen”. the night after they died was the first night isabela had slept peacefully in all of her nights.

isabela’s reign, so far, is not a smooth one. following in the opinion of their former king, she is not particularly liked by the court or the common people at whole. while the nobles within the castle considered her to be nothing more than a witch that put the king under a spell, the common people found her shameless social climbing to be utterly revolting and hard to connect with. for the most part, isabela tries not to let it get to her but even she has feelings ( no matter how difficult it was to admit ). putting herself under much stress has made her more aloof and made things like having a baby difficult, as made clear by a miscarriage.

she now supports her husband in versailles where the peace talks have resumed after months of rebuilding. recently, she has learned that she is with child once again and while she is normally not one to waste silly time on hope, isabela prays with all of her that this will be a new beginning. for real, this time.

— MODERN VERSE

born in santa fe, isabela was marked by misfortunes from the day she was born. her mother died giving her life – a fact that her father has resented her for from day one. he returned the favor by drinking entirely too much and even going as far to harm the young girl out of anger. 

upon noticing a massive bruise on her arm at the age of nine, isabela’s elementary school counselor alerted the local authorities and she was swiftly taken out of the home and into foster care. she never saw her father again.

unfortunately, foster care proved to be just as bad at times. isabela bounced from home to home. some were okay, others were only in it for the money, and the rest were just as terrible as her father. because of this, she grew up incredibly distrustful and angry towards the world. she isolated herself at school and never had any friends. she didn’t mind it that much and perhaps even preferred it that way.

isabela ran away from home at the age of sixteen and never fucking looked back. after hitchhiking throughout the country, she realized she would need to find a way to keep herself afloat. it was when she found herself in los angeles where she met beau. at first thinking he was an unassuming man with a soft spot of saving her, isabela quickly realized that he wanted to recruit her into his business – a club. with no other options, she accepted.

she began working as a stripper as a way to pay her bills. eventually, she garnered enough popularity with the clients for her mysteriously dark and seductive ways. she was an enigma that no man could put their finger on and yet had such delight in trying. because of that, men would pay thousands a night to see her.

once she was nineteen, a more professional and high-in club offered her a spot in their den. isabela was promised more safety, more money, and more freedom. naturally, she accepted.

beau was not happy. he felt that she owed him her entire career. she obviously didn’t agree. an altercation occurred late one night on the sunset strip when beau waited for isabela’s shift to end and attacked her. the altercation landed isabela in the hospital where it would take her weeks to recover and months for her to heal and get back to work. it was only then that beau considered her free. but at what cost ?

she made a promise to herself that day to stop allowing men like her father, beau, her exes, anyone to treat her like an object. if another man laid his hands on isabela, she’d cut them off.

isabela worked at the club for years, a veteran among a sea of girls who come in and out. since she now has risen through the ranks, she entertains the likes of ceos and the rest of the 1% of california. one night, anton entered the club -- and the rest is history. if anyone would have once told isabela that she would not only fall in love with one of her patrons, but eventually marry and have a child with him too ??? well, she certainly would have laughed in their face.

she quit the job once she officially started dating anton and never once looked back. at times, isabela feels a bit unsure of the completely new life that she is living but she also relished in the feeling of being treated well after so long of the opposite. the only thing that matters to her at this point is her new family and that opinion is unlikely to ever change.