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profound-imagination · 3 days

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The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Azriel Shadowinger

A/N: Guess who's back? It's me! Should I be packing up to move house right now? Yes, yes I should. Am I? No, no I'm not.

I hope you enjoy this, Azriel does not come off well.

W/C: 4.2K

Azriel hated himself on a good day. Today, today he absolutely loathed himself. He knew how much she cared for him, hel, how much she loved him, that had made his job easier in the beginning, when Rhys had first sent him here as a spy. “It’ll be easy, Az,” Rhys had said, “She's already smitten with you, you’ll be able to walk right into the palace under the guise of courting her and she’ll ensure you have a room and you’re treated as an honoured guest!” Azriel had to agree, it would be easy. She had made it so painfully obvious from the day they had met.

They had grown closer over the months he’d spent on the Continent with her. She had even gone as far as to source creams for his scars. “I know they won’t be as fancy as the Fae ones you probably use, but the man at the apothecary said they were the best for burns!” She had told him bashfully with a blush crawling over her cheeks. His shadows immediately moving to soothe them without their master's permission. He smiled down at her gently, playing the part he had been assigned, “Thank you, my love, what a thoughtful gift.” He said as he lifted one of her perfect hands to his mouth. Her smile was dazzling. Little did she know he spent his nights at home, in Prythian, an arm wrapped around another woman as they slept or danced or ate with their family.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” She was breathless as she approached him in the garden. Azriel having just landed in the furthest part of it. “Here I am!” He smiled down at her, she linked their arms and continued to walk alongside him, “There’s to be a ball! For my 21st Birthday, Father has sent invites all over, even to your family in Prythian!” She beamed up at him, as if inviting his family was the best thing to ever happen. Did she really not know the depths of her father's depravity? “That’s wonderful, I’m sure they’d love to attend, Rhysand does love a party.” He told her, “I’m nervous to see them again,” she confessed, “It’s so different now than it was when I last met them.” He patted her hand gently, “You have no reason to be nervous my love, they’ll adore you as I do.” Her eyes sparkled at his comment, and she preened from the compliment. He was never going to forgive himself.

Cassian and Rhys flanked him as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for her. “You’ve told her, you’ve told Elain?” Rhys nodded, “Yes, she knows the part you are playing here and knows what to expect to see tonight.” Azriel nodded stiffly at his brother once and focused back on the staircase. She looked like an angel floating down the stairs towards him. An angel and a demon he mused to himself. “I’ve never seen a human look so beautiful.” He said to his brothers quietly, “Feyre did.” Cassian snorted a laugh at the High Lord, “Feyre was covered in worm shit and the mating bond was there.” Rhys elbowed him in response, “Both of you stop it!” Azriel hissed at his brothers, “This is her night.” Both brothers held their hands up in surrender. He took a step forward as she approached the bottom of the stairs. His shadows raced to meet her & danced around her in a way he had never seen. “You look resplendent, my love.” He told her as she took his offered hand. “Thank you, you too,” she said, a blush across her cheeks again, two shadows broke off from their dance to soothe her cheeks. “I mean, handsome! You look very handsome tonight Azriel, not that you do not always look handsome- “Cassian’s laugh cut her off and she blushed even harder.

“You remember my brothers, Rhysand and Cassian?” Azriel introduced. “Of course,” she smiled at the two males and dropped into a courtesy that Azriel quickly pulled her up from. “It is your night, you bow to no one tonight, my love.” He told her, “But Azriel,” she protested, “He’s a High Lord!” Azriel shook his head, “Not tonight, tonight, he’s just Rhysand, my brother.” Rhys met her eyes and nodded, “Okay,” she smiled at them both, “It’s lovely to see you both again, did you bring your wives? I would so love to see them again!” She rambled, “Nes and Feyre are here,” Cassian told her, “As is Mor and Lucien and Elain & I think Eris is here to somewhere.” Azriel tensed at the mention of Elain’s name, and she shot him a questioning look that he shrugged off. Rhysand sauntered forward before Cassian could continue to talk and offered her his arm, “Shall we?” He purred at her & with a reassuring nod from Azriel she took the High Lords arm and allowed him to escort her into her birthday ball. Azriel took a deep breath and followed, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

Azriel watched as Rhys spun her round the dance floor, smiling at the sight of his brother and the woman that he was supposedly courting. “She looks happy.” Elain’s words pulled him from his thoughts, his shadows abandoning him completely, in favour of the human dancing with his brother. He hummed in agreement, “Will you be coming home tonight?” She asked, Azriel met her doe eyes, the expression in them begging him to go with her. “Not tonight,” he said quietly. Elain’s face faltered and then she spoke again. “Why do they do that? Your shadows I mean? They seem to adore her but yet completely disappear when I’m around, as if they hate me.” He faced her, “I don’t know, they talk to me yes, but they don’t tell me their own motives if they don’t want too.” She searched his eyes and upon finding nothing there, she said, “You should get back to her.” And with that she vanished into the crowd.

Azriel forced a smile onto his face as he approached them and bowed to Rhysand, “Mind if I cut in?” He asked, Rhys smirked at him, enjoying Azriel’s display more than he should. Azriel took a note to give him shit for that later as Rhys passed her hand into Azriel’s ruined one. He pulled her into his chest as he began to dance to the song, he knew Feyre had ensured would play and she beamed up at him. “You’re a wonderful dancer.” She said quietly, “I just have a wonderful partner.” He replied without missing a beat as he spun her. “Azriel?” He hummed at her to continue, “Will you leave here soon?” She asked bashfully, “Why do you ask, my love?” He spun her again as the song was reaching its end, “I just, you must miss your family, and despite your smiles and efforts, this is not your home, is it? It never will feel like your home, will it?” Gods, she was setting him up perfectly for what was coming next, and she didn’t even know it. The song ended and Azriel could hear Rhysand in his head telling him it was time as he dropped to one knee in front of her. She gasped but he started talking, “My love, my wonderful little human, my home is wherever you are, I would be the luckiest male on any continent if you would do me the greatest honour of being my wife?” He asked as gently as he could, looking in her eyes the entire time and he hated himself as he watched them fill with tears. He knew all she had ever wanted was someone to sweep her off her feet and that is exactly what he had done. She sniffled, once, twice, then let out a watery laugh as she threw herself towards him. “Of course I will! Yes Azriel, I will marry you!” He stood, bringing her with him wrapped in his arms as he spun them in a circle & over her head, he watched Elain slip from the party.

Feyre was fawning over the ring he had given her, despite it being one that came from Feyre’s own jewellery box. Azriel stood with his brothers, “She’s never going to forgive this.” He told them both. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, “Which beautiful lady are we talking about?” Azriel sighed, “Y/N.” He said, “Elain knew what was coming tonight, but we need to find her, I saw her leave.” Cassian put a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, “Go, we can keep Y/N busy while you find her.” Azriel smiled gratefully at his brother as Rhysand called Eris over. “Congratulations, Shadowsinger.” The newly crowned High Lord of Autumn crooned, “Not that you deserve her, I see right through this plan, Rhysand, so what do you need me for, I wonder?” Eris had always been too smart for his own good. Azriel was sure Eris was where Lucien got it from. “Right now,” Rhysand gritted out, “I need you to dance with her, keep her busy for a little while.” Eris nodded once, “I can do that, but for the record, I am against using a woman like this, especially one so young and clearly smitten, she's innocent and she doesn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like this.” Rhys nodded back, “Noted.”

“I still find it hard to believe he wants me, boring human me!” You gushed to Feyre who beamed at you, “Why wouldn’t he?” She laughed. “Why wouldn’t he indeed?” A voice crooned from behind you, and you turned and then let out a squeak, dropping into a courtesy, “High Lord, how lovely to see you again!” He smiled and pulled a small, wrapped box out of his pocket, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He said, taking your hand and placing the box in it. “Thank you, High Lord, it is very kind of you to get me a gift when your presence here is honour enough.” He smiled gently, “It’s just Eris, and it is me who is honoured to be able to share in not only your birthday celebration, but it would seem your engagement as well, now open your present and honour me with a dance?” You giggled and opened the parcel and, in the box, sat a beautiful silver necklace with a teardrop pendant hanging from it, the size of your thumb nail. Contained in the pendant, a singular flame.

“I do not know if you remember your father bringing you to visit Autumn when you were a child, but I remember your visit. You were captivated by the forests, the trees, and the wildlife, so much so you wondered off one evening and I, knowing my father would blame me for you being missing, frantically came after you. When I found you, you’d been cornered by one of our nastier creatures and in my panic I sent my flames straight towards it, well that was it, you weren’t phased by nearly being eaten by a monster, you just wanted to know more about my fire so I sat in that clearing with you and I showed you and I told you-,” you cut him off “Even the smallest flame can start a blaze.” Eris smiled and nodded, and then you gasped. “Is this? Is this one of your flames?” He nodded again, “To keep you safe and to guide your way if you’re ever lost in the darkness.” You grinned at him, “Thank you, Eris, this is the most thoughtful and wonderful gift I’ve ever been given!” He snorted a laugh, “Remind me to rub it in the Shadowsingers face that he proposed but my gift was still better. You rolled your eyes at him, “Would you like to dance?” he almost purred, “I would love to!” You grinned and allowed him to sweep you into a dance.

Eris was the best dance partner you had ever had. He was graceful and accurate in his movements as he guided you around the floor. You couldn’t help the smile that was spread across your face as he span and dipped you. His gentle laughter filling your ears. “Do you all move so gracefully?” You asked as he span you back into his chest, he grinned, “I’m 538, I've had years to practice.” He said and your smile fell a little, “I, I don’t have that kind of lifespan, I’ll be lucky to see 100. Why would he put himself through that?” You asked quietly, thinking about how many of your lifetimes Azriel had already lived. Eris’s thumb came up and soothed the frown in your brow. “Because you’re the most captivating little human I’ve ever met, he is an incredibly lucky bastard to get to call you, his wife. If I was him, I’d be honoured to spend whatever time we had together.” Your face softened, “Really?” He smiled again, “I’m positively green with jealousy.” His words poured over you like honey, smooth and sweet and you snorted a laugh quietly. “I think I need a drink.” You told him and Eris nodded, leading you from the dance floor, “I’ll be right back with that drink.” He said and you nodded your thanks at him, looking around the room for your fiancé who was nowhere to be seen.

You did however see Feyre and Rhysand having some kind of discussion in the corner, Rhys’ nod towards the door was enough to tell you where Azriel had gone. He had left the party and you moved across the room to go and check on him, you knew these events were loud and often overwhelming for not only him but his shadows as well. You slipped out of the room unseen. You wandered down hallways a love drunk smile on your face. You weren't sure how a plain human such as yourself had caught the eye of the elusive Shadowsinger but you had, and you wouldn’t ever take it for granted. A singular little shadow raced towards you, you smiled at it, raising your hand so it could dance between your fingers as you had learned they liked to do. It danced through your fingers happily for a moment or two before racing down the hallway again and waiting for you at the end. You laughed quietly to yourself, never understanding how anyone could ever fear the shadows that had never been anything but playful towards you. You caught up with it, allowing it to hide itself on your shoulder, tangled in your hair and you continued to walk, it seemed your little friend had been sent to bring you somewhere and you grinned at Azriel’s thoughtfulness.

You turned a final corner, your grin making your cheeks ache and then your world imploded. Azriel had his back to you, his wings splayed out behind him, but you spotted the arms around his neck and the legs wrapped around his waist, feet locked at the base of his wings. The shoes that were discarded behind him you recognised, you had been gushing to their owner earlier about how beautiful they were, and they had promised to send you a pair as a birthday gift. “I love you.” He was murmering between kisses as you watched, frozen in place, his hips moving in lazy thrusts. “I love you so much, Elain.” She was clawing at his back; one had moving up and down the apex of his left wing as he shuddered. A majority of his shadows were nowhere to be seen, a handful had remained and were hissing at the one hidden in your hair, that lone little shadow had picked you to be loyal to rather than its master. Tears spilled out of your eyes just as a hand wrapped over your mouth and another around your stomach and pulled you backwards into a warm solid chest. Darkness filled the hallway, and those hands span you and pressed you into the wall, their chest pressing into your back.

“Azriel!” Rhsyand growled and you watched as High Lord pulled his brother away from Elain. “Right yourself!” Nesta hissed at her sister. It was Eris who had you pressed against the wall, and he gently pulled you away from it but didn’t move more than a step away from you. Wildfire danced in his eyes as he stared at the Shadowsinger with contempt. You took a deep breath and turned to face what was behind you. “Y/N,” Azriel said quietly, taking a step towards you and you took a step backwards, as did Eris in turn. “No.” You said your voice not as strong as you wanted it to be. The pendant warmed on your clavicle. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” It seemed to say. “Why?” Was all you asked. Azriel looked to Rhysand, the two of them having a silent conversation. “Out loud.” Eris ground out. “The lady has been hurt enough don’t you think?” Rhysand levelled him with a look before he began to speak. “We received word, your father has a plot, one that endangers our people, not just those of the Night Court but all Courts, I know this is hard to believe for you, but your father, he’s-” You cut him off. “You think I don’t know what kind of man my father is?!” You hissed and Rhys continued talking, explaining your fathers plot. Your stomach turned and the tears continued to fall. You couldn't hear much over the thumping of your crumbling heart. “Was any of it true?” You asked Azriel, interrupting Rhys again. He shook his head, “I’m so sorry, I-” You didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as you turned and ran. “Why didn’t you stop her?!” Rhys snapped at who you assumed was Eris. “I told you; I don’t stand for using innocents like this.” He said coldly, absentmindedly pressing a hand to his chest to alleviate the tightness that had appeared there in the last few moments.

You ran, and ran, and ran. You had headed straight for the lawns and the forest beyond. Your shoes had been lost long ago but you barely registered your bleeding feet or the forest floor that was cutting into them. Your head was spinning, none of it was real. Azriel had played you and played you well. You didn’t see it coming, just like you didn’t see the slope before you plunged down it. Branches and thorns scraped at your body and face as you tumbled. All air hit your lungs as you collided with an ancient oak tree, your teeth rattling as you came to a stop and your vision blurred. It was only then you realised how cold it was and how hurt you were, your ankle sitting at an awkward angle. Whimpering as you tried to stand you realised the gravity of the situation you were in but still, compared to going back to the Manor you were more than content to sit there and grieve your short-lived engagement. You weren’t sure how long you had sat against that tree, staring at the beautiful ring Azriel had given you, the ring that rightly belonged to Elain you supposed.

You couldn’t pinpoint when you fell asleep, but you’d never forget waking up. Surrounded by men. Swallowing thickly you took them in, all much bigger than you and staring down at you like you were prey. “Ello darling, nice sleep?” The ringleader questioned. You didn’t answer him. “He asked you a question.” His second in command sneered. “I fell.” Was all you said. “You fell?” The third laughed, “Figured with your pretty dress you’d be at the party.” The leader spoke again. “Thank them for checking on you and leave.” You gasped at Eris’ voice filled your head. The three men studied you in turn. “I was, I should be getting back, thank you for checking on me.” You said, much stronger than you felt. “What’s the hurry?” The third asked. “Seems like a boring political party if you ask me.” The second added on. You tried to push to your feet and winced at the pain that shot through your ankle. “Hurt yourself?” The leader smirked. “Break the necklace.” Eris’ voice again, “I just twisted my ankle, I’m fine.” You said, “Y/N!” Eris was beginning to get louder in your head. The leader smirked at his companions, stepping towards you. “What are you holding there?” He asked, you hadn't realised that you were subconsciously holding the necklace Eris had given you. “Tell them it’s nothing, just a silly heirloom.” Eris sounded panicked now. “Just a silly little heirloom.” You rushed out. “Let me see?” He said, it wasn’t really a question. He knocked your hand out of the way and pulled the necklace from your neck. Eris growled in your head as you flinched. The leader observed the necklace with distain and launched it towards the trunk of a nearby tree where the pendant shattered, the small flame igniting from it. The men paid it no mind.

The leader stepped towards you and you whimpered as you retreated a step. “I need you to fight.” Eris spoke clearly. “Scratch, bite, kick, just fight Y/N.” Eris told you, but you had already made a mistake, you were pinned. The leader's hands pawed at you. “Please, don’t.” You begged, he just laughed. Ripping the bodice of your dress as his companions closed in. “Such a pretty little thing, out here all alone.” The second crooned, “Lucky for us.” The third added. “What makes you think she’s alone?” Eris’ voice filled the tree, the leaves rustling around. “I suggest you back away and unhand the lady before I kill you where you stand.” He said, his voice full of authority. The leader shoved you backwards as he turned. “You’re just one man.” He sneered at Eris, who laughed. “I’m no man.” He said, you could see nothing but the wildfire in his eyes shining in the darkness as he stepped out of the trees. “I’m a male and you do not want to fight me. I’m trying to do you a favour, one that you do not deserve but I don’t want to frighten the lady.” The leader nodded to his companions, who drew their swords. “She was asking for someone to find her.” The leader scoffed. “Out here all alone, dressed like that.” Eris seemed to grow taller at his words. “No female ever asks for a male like you to touch her against her will.” He growled. “Where I’m from you’d lose a hand or worse for that. Leave or you will die.” The leader drew his sword and his companions advanced on Eris. “Death it is then.” Eris said with a humourless laugh. He wasted no time; he didn’t even engage them in sword play. He simply winnowed behind each one and slit their throats before wiping his dagger on the leader's trousers and sheathed it on this thigh.

“Are you okay?” He asked coming towards you slowly as to not scare you. “My necklace.” You said sadly, “They broke my beautiful necklace.” He smiled at you soft, “Don’t worry about the necklace. I’ll get you another one.” He said, his tone gentle as he removed his jacket and wrapped it around you to cover where they had ripped your dress. You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed. “But the little flame-” He cut you off, “Will be more than happy to go back into a pendant around your throat.” He said, showing you the little flame dancing through his fingers. You smiled at it sadly. “I’m sorry you got thrown at a tree.” You told it quietly and without Eris commanding the little flame to or before he could even stop it, the flame had jumped from his fingers and was gently brushing against your cheek. It wasn’t hot, nor did it burn, it was warm, comforting even and it removed the sadness from your smile. “Can you walk?” He asked and you shook your head no. “Okay, I’m going to carry you, is that alright?” He asked “Yes,” you said quietly. “That’s okay.” He swept you up into his arms and began walking back to the Manor. “I don’t want to face him, I’m so embarrassed, I was such a fool.” You told Eris. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He told you. “If he says anything to you or even so much as approaches you, I’ll turn him to ash.” You giggled at his words. “I don’t want to stay here, not with my father.” You admitted, the first time you had said such words to anyone. “Then we’ll see about you coming to Autumn with me.” He said and you gasped quietly, “Really?” He nodded, “If it is where you want to go, then yes, I will take you back with me.” You curled further into his chest. “I would very much like to come with you.” You muttered, his natural heat making you sleepy. “Then it shall be done, but let's get your ankle looked at and healed first.”

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar

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bpmiranda · 2 days

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The Bodyguard II |l. howlett|

A/N: slow burn, friends to lovers, angst, 21y/o f!character, bodyguard!logan x original character, flirtationship, drug use, depictions of violence, mentions of organized crime

The Bodyguard

Mercedes had imagined a proposition like this would occur when Emilio had begun to pay for her to go to nursing school, but she was far too excited at the time to question it. As she was nearing her graduation, it was beginning to sink in that this might be the life she was stuck with and it didn’t sit well with her.

“You would basically be on retainer for the cartel.” Logan concluded.

“Yeah, some dream job,” She muttered as she set her empty coffee cup down in front of her to run her fingers through her hair. “Logan, I had plans to leave Tijuana. I wanted to go to the States and start my own thing over there. If I get caught up in Emilio’s business…” She trailed off, fidgeting nervously with her cuticles. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“You won’t get hurt,” Logan reassured her as he placed a comforting hand on her knee and squeezed it. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if you did. And you could still go anywhere you want to go.” He said with a shrug as he leaned back in his chair and watched her shake her head.

Mercedes gave him a doubtful look, those deep brown eyes looking at him sadly and he hated to see her like that. “No one says no to the cartel, or my brother. Do you really think it’ll be that easy for me?”

Logan couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards her. Maybe it was the years that they had known each other that made him grow soft for her. Maybe it was that little pout on her lips as she confided in him, trusted him entirely with her issues. Maybe he just enjoyed being useful to her. “I’ll help you figure something out, sugar.”

Over time, and with a lot of effort, Logan had earned a certain amount of authority within the Vasquez cartel, mainly over issues of security, but Emilio had come to trust him as a confidante. Especially when it came to anything dealing with his sister. After dropping Mercedes off at the clinic where she worked part-time one morning, Logan arranged to meet with her brother.

Emilio was having breakfast with his wife at her family’s restaurant which Logan knew well. Her name was Clara Espinoza, the Espinozas’ were old family friends of the Vasquez’ and she was a long time lover of Emilio’s. “Logan!” The drug lord greeted him with a strong handshake and a hug. “Come, eat with us.” Logan was guided into a chair across from the couple and he thanked them for the invitation. “What to drink? Un café? Una cerveza? (A coffee? A beer?) Whatever you want, amigo.” Emilio gestured at the waiter standing over Logan.

“Beer’s fine.” Logan said gruffly and the waiter nodded before retreating. “Thanks for meeting me. I won’t take too much of your time.” Logan returned his attention to his boss who waved him off as he sipped his coffee.

“No, no, you’ve caught me at a good time,” Emilio said with a grin and Clara chuckled softly beside him. He smiled, kissed her cheek and gestured to her. “How can I be in a rush when my lovely wife is sharing this wonderful meal with me?” Clara blushed, scoffing lightly at her husband as she shook her head. “Dime, Logan, que sucede con Mercedes?” (Tell me, Logan, what’s going on with Mercedes?) Emilio asked as he sat back and wrapped an arm around his wife.

“Seems like she’s got different plans than those that have been made for her,” Logan said to which Emilio gave him an understanding nod and he continued. “She told me she’d rather find work in the States after she’s graduated nursing school.”

“Hm,” Emilio nodded as he took in a deep breath, rubbing his chin with his free hand that wasn’t caressing his wife’s shoulder. “That puts me in quite a predicament. You see,” Emilio set both his arms on the table as he gestured with both hands. “My men cannot heal as quickly as you, am I right?” Logan nodded, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading, but not daring interrupt, not because Logan couldn’t hold his own in a fight with Emilio - it was a matter of respect. “And more often than not, I cannot have my men checking into a hospital after getting shot in the arm or the leg or wherever. Too many questions.” Emilio thanked the waiter who suddenly appeared and placed Logan’s beer in front of him. Logan took a long swig as his boss continued talking. “And so, I need a nurse available to my men. You see my predicament, don’t you, Logan?”

“Sure.” Logan said.

“What is she really worried about?” Emilio asked.

Logan clicked his tongue as he shrugged. “She’s scared of getting hurt, and I can’t blame her. With all due respect, I’ve tangled with some of your men. They’re not exactly the picture of chivalry.”

“Lo sé, lo se,” (I know, I know,) Emilio sighed, rubbing his jaw pensively and he turned to his wife. “What would you advise me, amor mío (love of mine)?”

Clara smiled appreciatively at her husband and she looked at Logan. “Mercedes wants to pursue her career in the United States?” Logan nodded. “Would you go with her? To protect her?” Another more eager nod. “So then my Emilio must fund a trip for two across the border without her being seen because everyone knows who she is and in turn who her brother is, which will not come cheap.” She explains, looking over at Emilio who nods, following his wife’s train of thought. “Then if you make it across the border, we pay for housing, supplies, maybe Emilio sends an extra man for the love he has for Mercedes. However, we have already lost you, Logan, and you are worth twenty men and she cannot very well live on her own in a country where we have no strings to pull. Does this make sense?” Logan nods, his jaw tight and his hold tighter on the beer bottle.

Suddenly, Emilio clapped, laughing lightly while he looked at Clara as if the problem had solved itself. “Ah, pues ahí esta!” (Ah, well, there it is!) He exclaimed happily and Logan stared at his beer bottle, wondering how Mercedes would react to him giving her the bad news that she’s already got the job she doesn’t want. “(My sister) Mi hermana has nothing to worry about because she has you, amigo. You will be with her the twenty-four hours of the day, seven days of the week. Twenty-four, seven, si?” Logan nodded. “She comes in to patch somebody up, you come in with her. I send her to one of my safehouses, you go with her. Easy peasy, done.” Emilio dusted off his hands and raised them up. “Algo más?” (Anything else?)

“Nothing.”

While Logan was waiting outside of the clinic later that day for Mercedes, he smoked a cigar and wondered how he would break the news to her that she did not in fact have a choice. It felt awful to bring her bad news, but there wasn’t much he could do short of running away with her. Running off would mean she would be hurt, and staying would mean only possibly getting hurt. Logan felt more comfortable with possibilities than playing around with her safety across the border.

“Hey,” Mercedes suddenly greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she slid into the passenger seat and she buckled her belt. “Did you talk to Emilio?” Her eyes were wide and expectant and Logan sighed.

“I did.” He said as he started the car.

From his tone alone, she knew he didn’t have good news for her. It wasn’t like she expected anything different, at least not the realist part of her. The dreamer side of her had held onto a little bit of hope, however. “But he said you’ll be with me the whole time?” She asked after he had explained how the conversation had gone.

“Twenty-four, seven.” Logan nodded, looking over at her as they stopped at red light. “Is that a little more comforting?” He asked with a smirk and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“I guess.” She teased and he chuckled. “Was Clara there?” Her foot was tapping anxiously in the air as she had her legs crossed. Logan hesitated, but he nodded, keeping his eyes on the stoplight and hoping it would turn green before she asked him a more uncomfortable question - which she did anyway. “What did she say?” Mercedes asked in a bitter tone because she knew Clara would always put in her two cents simply because Emilio couldn’t live without them. Logan cleared his throat and looked over at her with a little shake of his head. “Tell me. I won’t be upset.” She lied.

Mercedes and Clara did not get along, this was a fact Logan knew and he’d be a fool to add fuel to that fire. It began with some dispute not long after the wedding about some items in her father’s home, the home Clara was now living in which Mercedes couldn’t stand. Another reason she decided to move to the other side of town.

“Sweetheart, just know Emilio’s keeping you around, okay?” Logan almost sighed in relief when the light turned green and he pressed on the gas to get her home as quickly as possible. Her hand suddenly rested on his thigh and she lightly drummed her fingers on his strong muscle. “Stop that.” He barked and she only continued, lightly rubbing his knee as she gave him a doe eyed look. “‘Cedes, I’d take a bullet for you, but I’m not getting between you and her.” Logan said firmly, a sad attempt at saying no to her.

“Was it her idea to keep me here?” She asked and he sighed, her grip tightened on his leg at this and he nodded. “Mierda!” (Shit!) She punched his thigh which made him chuckle and she crossed her arms furiously. “That bitch.”

While she stewed in the passenger seat, Logan finally parked outside of her apartment building and he walked her inside, up to her door where he leaned against the frame and watched her angrily fight her key into the lock of her doorknob. “Don’t think about it too much, alright, kid?” He told her as she finally got the door open. Mercedes turned to him with an unamused expression. “The guys your brother’s got running for him are professionals. What are the chances you’ll have to patch someone up very often anyway?”

It was more often than either of them thought and being on retainer for her brother had worsened Mercedes’ attitude. Logan noticed she seemed to hide in her apartment aside from going to work or school. It concerned him, but she kept pushing him away, telling him everything was fine when he had come to know her so well that he knew she was lying. But what more could he do if she didn’t want to talk to him about it? There was still a job to get done.

“‘Cedes!” Logan was pounding on her door, glancing at the time on his wristwatch as he continued knocking until she appeared in front of him with an annoyed expression.

“Logan!” Mercedes scolded, her brows furrowed as she stared up at him in disbelief. “I have neighbors.” She said as she pulled him into her apartment and shut the door behind him. “What the hell’s going on?” She asked him, crossing her arms over herself and it was then that he realized she was wearing only a tank top and some panties. Her hair was frizzy as if she were just getting up and he chuckled.

“You’re sleeping in now?” He asked, sounding more like a father figure than he intended to and she rolled her eyes as she walked into her kitchen. His eyes fell on her ass, not failing to notice how it moved with every step and he found himself following her.

“Is that what this is?” She asked as she filled a glass with water from the faucet and turned back around to watch him as she drank it. “A wake up call?” She asked as she set the glass down. Logan shook his head, not necessarily in a big rush now as he was looking at her. Mercedes suddenly snapped her fingers at him and his eyes met her deep brown ones. “Que paso, Logan?” (What happened, Logan?) She urged in an irritated tone.

“Emilio needs you. Someone’s been cut up pretty bad and they need stitches.” Logan answered and her eyes widened.

“You’re fucking kidding.” She groaned in disbelief as she hurriedly ran to her room to get dressed and Logan took his sunglasses off to rub a hand over his face. Pull it together, he thought to himself as he refilled the glass she had used and chugged down some cold water.

At the safe house, Logan kept her shielded behind him while guiding her into the rundown, empty home which sat in the middle of a sketchy neighborhood. His gaze seared every guy that watched them come through, protectively holding onto her waist as he led her into the bedroom where a young boy was sobbing and wincing from the pain of some deep slashes he received in an arm and a leg. “Oh, shit.” Mercedes breathed out as she quickly knelt beside him on the makeshift cot.

“Oye, amigo, para fuera!” (Hey, buddy, get out!) Another guy in the room tried to shove Logan out and he simply punched him in the face, his knuckles didn’t even bruise while the guy now had blood spurting out of his nose. Mercedes looked over her shoulder at them and Logan shrugged it off, leaning against the door and crossing his arms.

“He might need you to take a look at that when you’re done.” Logan said and she only gave him a little incredulous head shake before returning her attention to the boy bleeding out.

No one tried to tell Logan anything once he made it clear he wasn’t leaving the room while she was still in there. Logan watched her easily calm the young boy down with chit chat and explained what she was doing before she did it. It seemed second nature to her to care for others and he wondered if she was like this at the clinic as well. This was the Mercedes he had come to know, sweet and gentle. It confirmed for him that there was something else going on with her that made her turn to smoking and lacking in the general upkeep of her space.

After about an hour, she finished stitching the kid up. “Ahí está,” (There you go) Mercedes said as she snipped the thread in the boy’s arm and wrapped a bandage around the wounds. “Change them every two hours and keep them clean, okay?” She said and the boy nodded, thanking her in Spanish and squeezing her hand gratefully as he rested back on the cot, sighing in relief that he wouldn’t be bleeding out today.

The guy whom Logan had punched approached them suddenly and Mercedes quickly placed a hand on Logan’s chest as he made a move towards him. “Wait,” She told him as she dug in her medical bag and pulled out an ice pack. “No está rota,” (It’s not broken,) She told the guy as she inspected his bleeding nose while she shook the pack before handing it to him. “But next time it might be if you try anything like that again.” She warned and he nodded as he backed up.

Mercedes then turned to Logan with a little smile as she zipped up her bag. “Ready?” He asked her with a bit of a proud smirk, stepping away from the door as she nodded and he guided her back out. The guy running this safe house stopped them at the front door and he looked Mercedes up and down quizzically before taking her hand and sticking a wad of money in her palm. “Gracias, doctora.” (Thanks, doctor.) He said and then he looked at Logan and nodded towards his car parked in front. “Now get outta here.”

The car ride was silent and Logan was curious as to what was going on in her mind. “Wanna get a drink?” He asked, looking over at her and she nodded with a small smile.

The bar they stop at is one on Emilio’s payroll and Mercedes is immediately greeted and tended to when they walk in. Logan follows behind her as he eyes the other patrons, making sure there isn’t an unfamiliar or unwelcomed face in the bar. Once seated in a corner booth, they order their drinks, and Logan notices her mood is more uplifted than before they arrived at the safe house. “Thanks for staying with me.” She says suddenly, her hands folded in her lap as she looks at him across the round table.

Logan lights a cigar while he shrugs. “Just part of the agreement with Emilio.” He says and she only smirks. “What?” He asked her with a raised brow as he closed his zippo lighter and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Was part of the agreement to punch anyone that tried to keep you from me?” She asked and Logan chuckled as he blew out a cloud of smoke above them.

It wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. “Would you have preferred that I left you alone in there with him?” He asked and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head, still smirking as she knew he was avoiding the obvious.

The way he stared at her this morning was no slip up. “I’ve seen how you look at me, Lo.” She said, resting her hands on the table in front of her and he moistened his lips as he waited for her to continue. “I look at you sometimes.” She said with a nonchalant shrug, and he felt a connection between his pelvis and his heart, aching for the girl across from him.

“Sugar,” Logan said with a sigh as he ashed his cigar in the ashtray sitting on the table. “You don’t want to go down that road with me.”

A small frown turned her lips and she asked, “Don’t you think it’d be fun?” Her elbow propped up on the table and she rested her chin on her palm as she gazed at the handsome features of his face, wondering what his lips might feel like on hers or on her neck or somewhere else. The adrenaline is this afternoon was still pumping through her and she desperately needed a way to release it.

Logan wasn’t sure what her game was, but he figured he’d play along. “Say we fuck tonight when I drop you off,” He says and she bites her lip at the thought, closing her eyes as she makes a show of really thinking about it. The thought aroused her and Logan pretended not to notice, pretended his mouth didn’t water from her scent. “What happens in the morning when I pick you up?”

“So you wouldn’t spend the night with me?” She asked, her eyes opening and feigning to be hurt as she placed her hand over her heart to which Logan rolled his eyes.

“Forget it.” He smirked, thanking the waitress as she dropped off their drinks and he noticed she gave him a flirty look as she mumbled a soft ‘my pleasure’ while also setting down a napkin in front of him with her phone number.

Mercedes noticed too and she couldn’t help the light scoff that left her lips. Logan downed his shot of whiskey and he avoided looking at her as he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Clearly you’ve got choices.” She said as she sipped her drink, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. Logan could’ve sworn he detected a hint of jealousy, but he decided not to pull at the thread. He had to remain professional, had to get her home at the end of the day without fucking her, or he risked everything he had built.

They had a few more drinks over which they talked about the general stuff which they usually do; her schooling, their work, Emilio’s work. It interested her more than anything, however, to know more about his life before her, the centuries he had spent wandering around, and how things had changed. Meanwhile, everything before meeting her was slowly beginning to matter less and less to Logan.

“When exactly did you get into that stuff?” He asked as he watched her roll up after he swallowed his fourth shot of whiskey.

Mercedes shrugged as she finished sealing the joint with the moisture of her tongue and she slid around the table towards him, holding the spliff between her lips while Logan lit it for her. As she was about to slide back around to her seat, his arm came down around her shoulders and he kept her there beside him. She smiled to herself and rested against him. “This girl at college always had some and we would smoke from time to time.” She said after blowing out a cloud and ashing in the same tray he was using.

“Is that the friend that’s got you behaving differently?” He asked as his thumb gently caressed her bare shoulder and she looked up at him.

“Different how?” She asked, hitting her joint again.

Logan shrugged as he toked on his cigar, doing another scan of the patrons in the bar around them before ashing. “Your room’s messy which isn’t normal for you, you’re smoking weed and drinking which isn’t something you’ve shown interest in before recently, you said you were scared of working for the cartel, but I seem to remember you didn’t want to let fear control your life. Something changed.” He pointed out.

Mercedes was quiet for a moment before saying, “You’re the first person that‘s asked.” She said softly. Logan looked down at her and leaned away from her a little bit. “I’m not a normal college student, Logan.” She sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her head in her hand as she turned her body towards him. “I just want to be a normal girl with friends who do drugs and has a messy room and doesn’t care so much about trying to please someone who isn’t even paying attention.” Logan realizes she’s talking about Emilio and he frowns when her eyes water threateningly. “My dad used to call me everyday and talk to me. We’d have conversations that normal fathers and daughters have, you know?” Logan nodded even though he didn’t. “I just miss that. I miss just being his daughter and him telling me how much he loved me; he was the only one that unconditionally supported me.”

Logan should’ve realized she had not properly processed her father’s death. It was quite sudden and tragic, and he recalled now that she had been away at college when it happened. Mercedes didn’t get to say goodbye like Emilio did and that was clearly taking its toll on her now. “Wanna go home and talk about it?” He asked and she gave him a little playful look.

“Don’t you have a waitress to see about?” Logan smirked and glanced over at the waitress who was already smiling sweetly at him.

“I’ve got her number. I can just call and apologize later.” He said as he nudged the young girl and she smiled bashfully, nodding as he guided her out of the booth. He set some cash down on the table before her leading her out to his car - forgetting the napkin with the waitress’s number.

At a stoplight, Logan looked over Mercedes having gotten the feeling that something was on her mind and he placed a hand on her knee. Her sweet face looked over at him and he gave her a nod. Her eyes moved away from him and onto the stoplights. “Are you going to leave me someday?” She asked quietly. Logan raised an eyebrow curiously as she picked at her cuticles. “My dad passed away, Emilio got married and stopped calling me all together,” Her teary eyes looked over at him and she gave him a sad smile. “You’re the only person I’ve got left.”

Logan’s heart ached as he heard her confess that she felt abandoned, cast aside, and her attempt at distancing herself was beginning to make sense now. “I’m not going to leave you, ‘Cedes.” He told her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “You’re mine to take care of, aren’t you?” He teased and she couldn’t fight the smile on her face.

In her apartment, Logan was sitting at the kitchen table while she paced around and talked about how it felt to have missed the funeral, to not have been at her father’s deathbed to share her last words to him. Slowly, through the night, he could see her coming back to him. That sweet girl he had first met five years ago, every tear seemed to be washing away this new persona of hers that pretended not to care when in reality, she cared a lot.

“You know what the weirdest part is though?”

They were on her couch now. She was sitting with her legs criss crossed, facing him while he sat back on the other end, smoking his cigar, his thighs spread out as he sat comfortably. “Tell me.” Logan said, looking at her as she picked at her cuticles.

Mercedes looked back up at him and shrugged. “I thought I’d be scared of the men my brother works with, but I think I was more scared that I couldn’t sympathize with them.” Her eyes searched his face for understanding and he nodded, wanting her to continue. “Seeing that boy today, it made me realize he and I aren’t cut out for this life, but maybe that’s because people like my brother need people like us around. People that can care for them without judgment.”

There was a moment of silence during which Logan considered telling her that he thought she was perhaps the most compassionate person he ever knew, that he couldn’t have ever imagined he would come to care this much for her. But what would that do?

“You’ve got a good heart, kid.” He said as he took another puff of his cigar. “Even better head, don’t stop using it, yeah?”

A soft laugh left her lips as she began to lay down. “Thanks for listening to me ramble, Lo.” She whispered, looking up at him with sleepy eyes as they had been talking for almost two hours now. Her head was lying on the couch’s arm rest while her legs were now draped over his lap and he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“My pleasure.” His tone was mocking of the waitress, making her chuckle and she playfully pushed on his ribs with her foot which made him laugh as he caught it and caressed it softly. “Get some sleep. I’ll spend the night.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

#logan howlett #logan howlett fic #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x original character #wolverine fic #wolverine #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #x men wolverine #wolverine x oc #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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r0-boat · 2 days

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Whb Amy Headcannons(+Sitri)

Random sfw&NSFW headcannons

Nothing pisses Amy off more than being treated less than his rank, He knows he's strong so he wants to be treated as such. You have ever are the only exception as much as he hates being babied You're the only one with the privilege In fact he craves it. It's like a wild tiger or lion purring and meowing as you run your fingers through his hair. He craves your touch and acts like a golden retriever when you're around. It pisses Sitri OFF because to him Amy is some vulgar animal that needs to be put down and here he was getting attention from the human he tends to be very possessive over.

Good Lord Levi would be proud from the amount of jealousy and envy seeping through him right now. And in turn Sitri gets more violent against him which probably disgusts you and babies him more. a constant cycle. Amy has caught on and is not helping citri turned his favorite teacup into dust from the way Amy smirked at him when you held him into your arms.

Scary dog privileges. He doesn't care if it's a king from another country or their subordinates. He will glare them down and growl like a beast only for you to turn around to see him smile pleasantly at you.

Sitri has deleted Amy's contact from your phone so many times that you've memorized it and has it written down somewhere.

As much as he cannot stand the idea Amy touching you he'd rather be in the same room trying to wedge his way in the middle then think about of what he and you might have done to each other.

Humans like gifts right? What do humans like??? He's never thought anything about love or romance and now that he likes you He's trying so hard to court you. Amy is not really good with words So the most he'll do is just give you gifts standing there awkwardly his face red and his eyes to the ground as he clutches of bouquet of crushed flowers in his hand. (He squeezed them too hard)

Absolutely melts for compliments when you say a compliment to him he starts brushing it off and degrading himself as if he doesn't deserve that compliment or he yells at you for being embarrassing. But he secretly loves it.

Is the kind of boyfriend that will let you do anything to him. Whether it be braiding his hair painting his nails or doodling on his hand. Piemon would be so jealous because Amy would never let him do that He truly does have a soft spot for you.

Amy is also prone to jealousy but his jealousy is not violent or intense hatred like Sitri's He just gets really needy and clingy hoping you would give him attention. Looking at you with puppy eyes. (Gehenna is just full of needy lap dog demons lol)

Nsfw

unlike Sitri, Amy is very gentle with you in bed out of a fear of somehow breaking you hurting your killing you. He will get better at this in overtime start treating your body more roughly if you want him too. When he had sex with Solomon He was not gentle and he tries to explain that you are not your ancestor. You are smaller softer and much different and he's afraid to hurt you.

Amy loves when you ride him, You're small human body squeezing around him as your hands scratch and hit him feels so good.

Yes it's no secret that he has a humiliation kink And he doesn't have enough courage to ask you to be mean to him like Sitri does.

Amy is Actually a little shy when it comes to sex. He looks at you as if this was the first time he's ever seen a naked body His eyes wide and full of hunger lust and wonder His large hands and fingers gently tracing over your naked body trying to memorize every little inch.

After he's first had to taste of you He could never go back constantly hard all the time thinking about you reducing him to a desperate mess reading into his blanket and pillows pretending he's inside you.

(Amy switch supremacy) from Tiny human over him treating him like shit hhhh please dominate him he'll be such a good boy for you too desperate animal fucking you full of his hot cum.

#smut #whb amy #whb sitri #whb x reader #what in hell is bad #wihib #what in “hell” is bad?#wihib x reader

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myownwholewildworld · 23 hours

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acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 (coming soon) pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

“I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

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doitforbangchan · 3 days

Note

Hey honey bun! I know you’re not taking requests right now but I just can’t get over Seungminnie in ABANB😩 I’ve read fics where he was “mean” but nothing has really giving me what he did in it😅

Could you, when you can give us a little short fic of him & baby? If not that’s fine.

ok ok, i have also been craving abanb minnie! thank you for reading nonnie 😘

ABANB drabble 03

‘ I will love you for all eternity, my beloved gem.’

‘And I, you my lord.’ The maiden breathed harshly as she professed her love to the knight. But alas she knew she could never be with her handsome knight for it was forbid-

Suddenly the book was yanked out of your hands, just as it was getting good too!

“What are you reading, puppy?” Seungmin laughed at your surprised face. You had been so engrossed in your book you didn’t even notice him enter the room. He looked at the cover and raised his brow, “ ‘A Knight to remember’, huh? What kind of sappy shit is this?” The beta began to flip through the pages.

“Minnniieee noooo I don’t have it bookmarked and I don’t know what page I’m on!” You whined, leaping out of your seat on recliner and attempting to grab your book from him.

He only laughed harder and held the book over your head. Seungmin tilted his head up to read some random exert off the pages while you still jumped up trying to reach it.

“ Ooohh I get it, this is a naughty book. ‘The knight crooked his thick, rough appendages inside the slicked cavern of the maiden until he touched her most delicate spot’, I didn’t know you were into this kinda thing puppy.” He snickered.

You gave him a pout, jutting your lip out and crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way your face heated up at his teasing (and at having been caught reading a smutty book).

“It’s just a story..” you mumbled, “doesn’t mean I’m into anything.”

“Don’t pretend with me, little omega. I know just how dirty you can get. Do I need to remind you what you let me do to you last night?” Minnie smirked at how you gulped as you remembered how sore you were this morning.

“No, I remember well enough.” You grabbed the book from out of his hands when he lowered it. “I still can’t walk straight.”

“You’re welcome.” The beta grinned, cackling when you hit him lightly with the book. “Bad dog, that’s not how you treat someone who has a present for you.”

“A present for me?” You asked cautiously.

He nodded, “yeah. What, did you think I came in here just to bother you for no reason?”

“Yes.” You deadpanned.

Seungmin put a hand on his heart in mock hurt, “You wound me baby. No but for real I have something for you.”

He held out a hand for you to take and you did, putting your smaller one in his. The beta led you up to his room and closed the door behind him.

“Ok, close your eyes.” You could hear the smirk on his voice but you did as he asked anyway. There was a slight rustling then you felt something wrap gently around your neck. “There you go, now you look like a real puppy.”

You opened your eyes and reached up to feel that he had placed a choker on your neck. Looking in the mirror it was a thick corded band that was dark pink and it had a little pendant hanging from the front. And it had the name ‘baby’ etched into it.

“you.. you actually got me a collar?”

He shrugged, now feeling slightly nervous that this was a bad idea. That was until you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his skin, inhaling his petrichor scent.

“Do you like it?”

You nodded, trying not to cry. It was a sweet gesture even if it was a little.. possessive. “I do. thank you Mongie!”

He groaned, “ughhh don’t call me that!” But the pink dusting his cheeks told you he secretly liked it.

You giggled and wiped away your tears, “I love it. thank you minnie. And i love you.” You placed a kiss on his lips, squealing when his teeth nipped at yours playfully.

“I love you too, baby. so much. Also you were on page 212. Just so you know. ”

You smiled with hearts in your eyes at him, making him want to look away in embarrassment. You looked back in the mirror and looked closer at the ‘collar’. It was cute, and no one would suspect the intention behind it unless you told them. At least that’s that you thought until you looked at the back side of the pendant.

“Seungmin.. Did you seriously put your name and number on the opposite side?!”

#abanb #stray kids #stray kids x reader #🍯 answers #skz #skz smut #seungmin

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blueishspace · 2 days

Text

Looped Sun 11

Loop #365

Joel: Grian what the hell is wrong with you today!??

Grian: I'm sorry Joel, I just can't right now.

Joel: No way, I'm not letting you leave just like that.

Grian: ... Fine.

Joel: A timeloop?

Grian: Yeah...

Joel: How many times-

Grian: I keep score, this is loop 365... Around 900 years now.

Joel: Guess that makes you an old man then!

Grian: What, I'm not old?

Joel: Did talking about it make it better.

Grian: But you are not going to remember-

Joel: You idiot, this isn't about me.

Grian : ... I guess.

Joel: I ask again, did it?

Grian: ...Yeah.

Loop #367

Grian had to admit that watching himself play games on a screen was weird...he just looked so cube-y. Wasn't even the first time he had gotten to watch his youtuber self but it was just as uncanny as the first time he did.

He even got to see some of the "au's" people made, just to prepare for eventual variant loops that might happen sooner or later of course.

Loop #369

Mumbo: G, mate, do you happen to have ab infinity gauntlet to give away...to me?

Grian: Why do you want an infinity gauntlet?

Mumbo: Well... I ...need the power stone.

Grian: ... Why?

Mumbo: I'm working on a project and redstone isn't going to be enough to power it.

Grian: And you want to use the power stone?

Mumbo: Yeah...?

Grian: ... Sure! It better be cool though.

Loop #372

False: You know G, I never tought about it but why are your eyes purple?

Grian: Oh? That? That is... because of a reason.

False: Huh uh?

Grian: I uh...

False: You?

Grian: I have Alexandria Genesis.

False: Huh?

Grian: ...

Pearl: I can't believe you said that!

Grian: It's not my fault you spent the last loop making Tumblr references.

Pearl: Ok, ok, ok but admit it, It's funny.

Grian: Nope.

X: Grian? False told me you are ill?

Grian: She did?

X: What is an... Alexander genesi?

Grian: It's Alexandria's Genesis.

X: That, how did you get ill? Is there a glitch in the code-

Pearl: It's his fault don't worry, he ate a moonmelon.

X: A what!?!

Pearl: A moonmelon, like a watermelon but blue.

X: How did you- where did you get that.

Grian: I... it was a gift?

X: From who? Was it a prank.

Pearl: It was from our... ... cousin!

Grian: Yep!

X: Cousin?

Grian: Oh you wouldn't...know them. They go to a different server.

Pearl: Yeah...just our dear cousin...Ebony Darkness Dementia Ravenway.

Grian: And then everybody clapped.

Scott: Huh uh. Sure thing.

Pearl: I would have clapped but it would have revealed the bit.

Grian: THANK you. At least someone here has my back.

Loop #375

Scar: Ok, ok, new plan.

Grian: I'm listening.

Scar: What if you betrayed me?

Grian: I can't betray you if you ... know about it? And who would I even betray you for? And why?

Scar: Oh no! Not a real betrayal...a fake one!

Grian: You want me to be a spy then?

Scar: ... Yes.

Grian: Crastle or Dogwarts?

Scar: Oh! I want to see you trick King Ren.

Grian: Hmmm, alright. I'll have to make it convincing. I'll need you to kill me.

Scar: Uh?

Grian: Think about it, you're red, it wouldn't be that surprising right?

Scar: Are you ...sure?

Grian: Yeah, I'll be fine. I do need a realistic reason. Just push me off a cliff.

Grian was doomed to fall by Goodtimeswithscar.

Martyn: Grian? Why are you here?

Grian: I assume you saw the news.

Martyn: Your death you mean?

Grian: What do you think?

Martyn: Just making sure, what about it?

Grian: Scar betrayed me because of red life his bloodlust. I want revenge.

Martyn: Revenge? Oh we'll get you that revenge.

Scar: What if you started spreading false info?

Grian: I'll need to share true info first or they'll catch on Scar.

Scar: Then I'll just make fake traps fir you to reveal! Everyone knows I'm not good at redstone anyway.

Grian: Huh. That could work.

Scar: I'm a genius I know. No need to praise me...

Grian: ...

Scar: ...

Grian: Are you sure you don't want praise?

Scar: ... No.

Grian: My lord, it seems the enemy has rigged the enchanter once more.

Ren: Has he? Martyn?

Martyn: I saw the trap with mine eyes.

Ren: How has he penetrated our private areas in such a way?

Grian almost let out a groan, he should have expected this but still.

Grian: I believe it might have been during our earlier trip.

Ren: Impossible, Skizz was at guard, he would have seen Scar I'm sure.

Grian knew Scar had used one of his loop abilities but maybe...

Grian: Perhaps Scar did not sneak in but was...let in.

Ren: Explain yourself.

Grian: I escaped from Scar's manipulation and joined your side my sire...perhaps one of ours has fell for them instead.

Martyn: Skizz... he definitely could have

Ren: You believe Skizz to be a traitor? Then his loyalty shall be tested.

Grian: Scar?

Scar: Yes?

Grian: Tomorrow Ren is going to give Skizz fake info. I'm going to tell you it so you can follow it.

Scar: Ohhh! You are making it seem like he's a traitor?

Grian: That's the plan.

Ren: Skizz, I didn't want to believe it.

Skizz: I'm not-

Martyn: Silence, you have betrayed the crown. You will pay!

Skizz: I didn't I promise! I don't know how Scar knew, I only-

Impulse: Stay away from him!

Ren: Impulse, you too?

Impulse: I'm not letting you do this!

Ren: Then you too shall perish.

Impulse starter to run dragging a shocked Skizz when.

Impulsesv was shot by Grian

Skizzleman was shot by Grian

Ren: Good job.

Grian: Thank you. Impulse still has a life however, we will see him again.

Grian: Seen Impulse recently?

Scott: Yeah, don't know what the two of you are doing this loop but whatever it is caused Impulse to steal my bit.

Grian: ...?

Scott: Yeah, you know, the grieving husband thing. Impulse is the one doing it now.

Grian: What are you going to do then?

Scott: I don't kno, I still have to figure it out.

Martyn: My lord, they have entered the castle-

Inthelittlewood was slain by Goodtimeswithscar

Ren: Me hand! No! ... Grian, protect your-

Grian: ...

Ren: Grian?

Grian: Long live the king.

Renthedog was slain by Grian

Loop #376

Scott had an... ok loop thus far. It started in Empires and then...nothing happened. And it continued not happening? And it was ok really, peaceful in a way, but it was also unusual and even a bit grating. Lizzie found the phropecy book ...and it didn't go anywhere. Then Xonorth arrived...and then disappeared randomly and didn't come up again. Scott was a bit on edge at this point.

Loop #378

Scott had started to get suspicious after the second loop of strangely nothing happening, especially after Jimmy started becoming distant. At the third loop of it happening again and Jimmy being even more isolated is when Scott finally made up his mind and cornered Jimmy.

Scott: Jimmy.

Jimmy: Uh- Hi Scott-

Scott: Don't "hi Scott" me, where the hell have you been for the last few weeks?

Jimmy: I... had important things to do-

Scott: Like...What?

Jimmy: Uh...

Scott: Jimmy, are you looping in time?

Jimmy: Wh-wha? Where...where did you get that idea? Weird...crazy-

Scott: I am too.

Jimmy: You are?!? Oh I'm not alone! Wait were you here the last time?

Scott: Yep, the one before that too.

Jimmy: How did I not notice?

Scott: I'm used to lying about it, It's hardly your fault.

Jimmy: But... how are you..used to it? This is like the 4th time back...

Scott: I have a lot to tell you.

Prev Next First

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #grian #mumbo jumbo #jimmy solidarity #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #Looped sun

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countrymusiclover · 3 days

Text

8 - Life Used to be Simple

Part 9

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender @iamavailablesstuff @plaguecourier

My boots clicked against the heavy marble stone as I walked alongside the young dragon prince Aemond. Normally I felt some comfort around the young man but now it felt differently. I felt like someone was pushing down on my stomach making it hard to breathe now when I’m around him.

“My lady, we've been strolling for nearly an hour and you’ve not spoken a word. Must I assume you don’t wish to stroll with me.” He broke the uncomfortable silence that could be felt between us.

Tucking some hair behind my ear I kept my gaze trained forward as we kept moving. “I must confess I am rather tired, my prince.”

“We can stop and rest if you wish.” He commented back at me.

Shaking my head I wished he would understand that I wasn’t comfortable around him. Halting in my tracks I huffed, dropping my shoulders heavily. “I wish to retire to my chambers now.” I quickly spun on my heels in a hastened manner to leave yet he managed to snag my wrist in one of his hands keeping me from doing so.

“Lehna, wait.”

I attempt to yank my wrist from his grasp but he holds a slightly tight grip. “Aemond - I. Please let me go please.”

“You’re acting cold to me and I want to know why. Have I done something to offend you?” His voice was filled with care I could tell. I just couldn’t bring myself to be honest with him like I had always been.

No matter how much I despised being in a marriage with Daemon I had no real way out of it. We were wed under the eyes of the Gods and nothing would change that.

Rolling my eyes I tried a second time to break free from the princes hold on me. “You’ve done nothing to upset me, my prince. I am really just needing to retire for the day. Now please let me go - urgh!”

“Stop lying to me, Lehna.” Aemond snapped back at me.

Throwing my freehand up in the air I was surprised he was able to notice. “How do you know I’m lying? You know nothing about me.”

“You’ve never lied to me before so I must assume that you’re lying when your voice gets a higher pitch to it.” He enfired with the slight raise of his eyebrows. He was much more clever at figuring things out then his older brother Aegon, which was very obvious in the short conversations I’d shared with the second born prince.

“You don’t deserve to know anything about me - it’s improper since I have already been wed off.” I sharply growled back with bared teeth.

Aemond gently kept a hold on my wrist speaking quietly with a shrug of his shoulders. “I do know some things. Not enough to build a life together but I suppose I must find a way inside your head if you won’t let me in on your own accord.”

“I’m done having this conversation with you.” I shoved him as much as I could, finally managing to free myself from his grasp. Sadly I only took two short steps forward before I felt arms wrapping around my waist and I was spun around before my nose brushed against his. “Ahh! A - Aemond.”

“Tell me you feel nothing for me and I will walk away.” He takes a step closer, nearly closing the entire gap between our bodies. He tilted my chin up with his freehand making me meet his gaze. He leans forward barely keeping his lips from mine.

“I only have feelings for my lord husband.” I gulped trying to come up with the right words to say to him.

Aemond narrowed his one good eye on me. “You’re lying. I know you don’t care for him.”

“I have no feelings for my husband so I must have feelings for you. Pfft that’s the most ridiculous defense I’ve ever heard.”

The young prince runs his thumb over the side of my face, a gentle manner compared to the rough side he usually showed everyone else around the court. “If you had no feelings for me you would’ve already come out and said it. You’re denying the question so I know you are lying.”

“You can spat off whatever you want, Aemond. It still doesn’t mean shit if it’s not true!”

“So you're saying you feel absolutely nothing when I do this.”

Knitting my brows together I didn’t understand what he meant by that until he pressed his lips passionately down onto mine. “Aemond, what are you meaning by-“

He tugged my flesh against his chest making me yank my wrist from his grasp, leaving my arms to have the ability to move freely. Resting my hands on his chest our eyes met when he rested his forehead against mine before harshly kissing me again. Leaning up on my toes I yanked the collar of his tunic bringing him forward deepening the kiss.

In an instant it was like a million flames were spreading through my entire body. An unknown fire or desire whatever you wish to call it. Certainly it was never something I had felt when I was forced to kiss Daemon.

Experience in the act may impress some ladies. But I’d rather chase this unchecked feeling.

Slowly wrapping my arms around his neck I broke the kiss reconnecting our lips in a fiery kiss. Aemond moaned into the kiss till we finally broke it needing to catch our breath unfortunately. “Lehna-“

“Don’t speak - just.” I leaned back on my toes, raising my hands up to hold his face in my hands. Scanning my eyes over the eye patch and scar on his lost eye. I wished things were easier then this, cause I knew I had to push him away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just can’t.”

Aemond called my name yet didn’t try to reach out and physically stop me this time. This time he simply watched me and my gown skirts disappear from his view once I rounded one of the large pillars entering the castle. “Lehna!”

Zooming through the castle hallways of the Red Keep and I didn’t stop till I reached Helaena’s bedchamber. Kicking opened the door with my foot the doors slammed against the wall and I shrieked, covering my eyes at the sight before me. “Laena - seven hells!”

“How dare you come in unannounced before the future king!” Aegon sharply took a step backwards from his position about to kiss his sister Helaena until I walked in and interrupted them.

I gulped nervously remembering this was common for the dragon family even if it wasn’t common for my direwolf family. “I’m sorry, my prince.”

“Tell your friend to knock next time, Helaena.” Aegon stomped past me slamming the door behind him after he had exited.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt - uh whatever that was.” I nervously spoke, finally meeting my friend’s gaze.

Helaena clasped her hands together crossing the room to be nearby. “He came in and told me our mother was planning on making us marry when the time comes after our father has passed. I am actually grateful you interrupted us. I didn’t wish to kiss him.”

“Maybe the Targaryen tradition will get broken for you.” I touched her shoulder gently and she sent me a smile before I told her the reason I had come inside her room so abruptly. “Laena, I have a favor to ask of you as my only friend.”

She takes my hands in her own. “What is it?”

“I need you to take me on your dragon somewhere out of King's Landing. I need to see someone I’ve heard rumors about throughout the castle.”

“Dreamfyre. Who must you need to see so desperately?” She asked me in a softly toned voice.

Blinking through some tears by mentioning his name I did my best to not think about Daemon at that moment. “I need to see the girl that was originally supposed to marry Daemon until my father sent in my name to your father. I need you to take me to see Rhea Royce.”

“I’ve never been out of the keep, Lehna.” Helaena nervously muttered showing me she was slightly worried.

Intertwining my hands with hers I sent her a half smile hoping she believed that I needed her help with this. I needed to talk with someone who got out of marrying the man I was wed to. “Helaena, please help me. I need to go talk with her and you’re the only person I trust to ask this favor of.”

Finally to my relief the princess nodded her head yes in agreement.

Hopefully she had some advice to give me.

I needed advice on whether or not I should ignore my feelings for the young prince or deny what I was feeling for the rest of my life.

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 2 days

Text

By fire and heart. Pt. 8

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to the TikTok user ccarmyy! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You arrived to the north and instantly ran to your future husband, hugging him, drowning in his scent, the desire you've been containing during the trip disappears as soon as you and him are in your chambers, he was a wolf riding a dragon and you were a dragon devouring a wolf.

The room was destroyed just like your dress and every clothe, you used every chair, every table, all your bed, and you still needed more.

«I'm your betrothed, it doesn't matter if we share our bed before the wedding, I'm already yours my lord.»

You were happy, you weren't sure if it was because of him, because you loved him or if it was the fact that all your desires were attended.

While you're enjoying and exploring new horizons of your femininity and the love between a man and a woman, at the other site of the kingdom, your father gave his last breath and your half brother is trying to escape the throne and the crown that his mother and grandfather want to put over his head.

You don't even imagine it, until you're taking a bath, eyes close, suddenly some visions, are tormenting you.

Aegon wearing a crown, Rhaenyra wearing another, you can see blood in their hands, hearing screams and pleadings, one of Aegon's children, you riding the back of a wolf, dragons roaring and spitting fire everywhere, Thank to the gods your future husband is close to hearing your heavy breathing, bringing you back to your reality with a touch in your shoulder.

- What's wrong with my warrior princess?

- I... I don't know, I'm sorry... Perhaps I'm just tired my Lord.

Smiling instantly you're trying to hide the obvious anxiety that is eating you alive, you can't fool him but he knows there's no point in insisting, you will talk about this when you feel ready so he only kisses you softly and leaves you to rest while he goes to attend his usual tasks.

For the next few days you've been keeping him busy in your chambers, fulfilling your marital duties, even though, you're not married yet.

Your place as the future lady of the north has also a lot of duties, so, during the day you're the lady of the north but at night, you're still the warrior princess, the one who rides the wolf of the north, the one who made the strongest alliance in the name of her sister.

You're In the training yard observing your future husband, when the wind whispers something in your ear, or at least that's what you think, you're alone, there's no one close to you.

«The greens are coming for you...»

Cregan suddenly is running to you, you didn't even feel it, you were falling, fainting. You ended up on the ground, Cregan instantly asked for help, everybody took you to your chambers, you don't know how much you slept, but In your sleep you could hear the roars of dragons, your sister screaming in pain, you had visions about a baby with a dragon tail, scales, feet and hands; you saw your father's crown, you heard the voice of your uncle whispering «Luke is deep in the sea... The queen of the seven kingdoms...and the princess who protects her...»

Cregan stayed at your side, hearing you mumbling strange things about war, about kings confronting and burning the world and how the gods were whispering and showing you the future. He thought the fever was attacking you, taking the best of you, another lady that would die in his arms.

Meanwhile your sister is dealing with the war that is approaching, dealing with the pain of her child's death, the little Visenya, who came to this world before her time.

Your sister is in need of help, her spirit is stronger than ever but her heart is weak, the pain is invading it.

She knows she needs any house big or small, she needs as many people as possible on her side. Messengers are on their way to every corner of the kingdom, some dragon raiders too.

Soon or later, the news will knock on your door. Your nephews are on their way to different sites of the kingdom,while you still can't wake up from your dream.

The tragedy following Rhaenyra as a shadow, you're the last light of hope, she never realized how strong it was the bond between you and her, since that day, when both destiny was sealed.

Daemon, received the news first, he had a soft voice only for Rhaenyra, softly telling her the horror her son lived in before leaving this world.

Lucerys Velaryon, the prince, the messenger that never came back home and Arrax, his young and brave dragon, defeated his rider until the end, the little beast dared to attack the largest and oldest Dragon, Vhagar. No one would ever know the bravery of the young prince and his dragon had to confront his uncle and his giant beast.

«Arrax! Luke! Where are you?...»

In your dream, you can hear your nephew calling you, you can hear the roaring of Arrax, you can only see silhouettes, poor you, you can't imagine what is happening in the real world.

Cregan has left your side, he still has duties to attend. But you have your maidens taking good care of you.

Targaryen are dreamers, some of them believe in what they see, some others, don't. But you're one who decides to believe them. As for magic, you wake up, gasping loudly, your maidens are instantly trying to calm you, they're more anxious than you, your mind is focused on your family, then someone informs you, your nephew, Jacaerys came to leave a message for you and Lord Stark.

- Bring me a coat, I have to see my nephew, now!

Everybody in the room is running, preparing you a bath and clothes, even though your servants told you, Cregan and Jace are on the wall, you don't care, you will fly in your dragon if it is necessary but you have to talk with Jace.

You're ready to leave when the doors of the entrance are opening. They're back, you run to Cregan, he catches your face between his hands, observing if You're okay, Jace is quiet, observing both interaction, as soon as you plant your eyes on him you hug him tightly.

- Jace, what is it, what is going on, why are you here?

- Aunt Daemma, I bring news, unfortunately not good ones. Cregan told me you were sick but you seem healthy.

- I am perfectly fine, I just... Had a vision or something. Doesn't matter right now, tell me, what are the news.

And while Jacaerys talks, you feel more and more sure about your dreams, your visions and all that happened in your sleep. At least nothing is completely bad, Cregan and Jacaerys are good friends and allies, if you already had the north in your hand, the fact that your nephew came personally to ask for help kindly without threat made this alliance stronger than ever.

- To win a war you have to know who your allies are, I'm so glad you had the chance to talk and meet Lord Stark.

The three of you are in a deep and important conversation, negotiating the last details of this alliance when a man comes to Cregan with a letter, a raven from Dragonstone, while he's reading, his expression starts to get cold and serious, you don't have to ask, you can bet it is about Lucerys and you were not wrong, Jace is young but is also a strong Targaryen who knows the importance of keeping the pain and the sadness for another moment.

Cregan, as the gentleman and leader that he is, understands perfectly your decision to leave. You have to go home, support your sister and fight at her side, now that you're sure he will keep his word, you can go and do the necessary to help.

- I'm not only loyal to our queen, I'm loyal to you, Daemma. The north will be waiting for your commands, and I will be waiting for my wife's return.

Kissing your forehead, your hands and your lips deeply, holding you tightly and wishing you good luck, he says goodbye.

You and Jace embark on the journey, but before going to dragonstone, you decide to make a quick stop, alone, at Kingslanding.

You had to be far or fly too high to not be seen by the guards, you're waiting in the sky, expecting a distraction to finally land not so far from the city.

Aemond's arrival is the perfect distraction, now you're taking the hidden halls of the castle, once you're sure you're in Aemond's chambers, you can see him, walking from one side to the room to another, biting his nails, too distracted by his own mind.

You consider killing him, right there and no one would expect it. Unfortunately, your anger and the poison you've been containing pushes you to ruin your best chance.

- How stupid you have to be to think that an old dragon who has been in battle its entire life wouldn't attack to kill? Also, it is ironic... You said they are bastards and yet, you gave him a classic Targaryen dead, he died riding his dragon.

He doesn't act surprised, but you're sure you scared him and quickly made him furious.

- How stupid you have to be to come here alone and talk to me in that way, Daemma?

- Oh Aemond, don't think I'm afraid of you, if I wanted I could kill you, you would be dead already, but it is not me who has to make you pay for what you've done, I'm here with the only intention to know why.

You know you messed up, you could take revenge but that silly mistake now has you playing a risky card.

- You can't be serious. All the long journey to just know why I did what I did? Doesn't matter, what is done, it's done.

He walks slowly in your direction, you don't step back, you have to keep your defiant position but also you have to make him feel like you're not an enemy right now.

- Really? Is that what your mother told you? The queen must be... Very pleased, after all, she was a great influence who helped and supported Rhaenyra's usurpation throne.

- The queen doesn't know what she wants anymore.

- Of course not, the queen has always spoken with two tongues, she has always been divided between her father and her childhood friend, that always has been her problem, but in the end she chose to be her father's puppet.

- Watch your tongue, Daemma, she's still my mother I will not allow you to talk about her in that way.

Time to move on, leave that conversation behind.

-I always considered you as the smartest one. You know? And with all that is happening right now I've been thinking about how unfair it must be for you to not be named as king.

His tensed jaw makes you calculate your words, you have to be careful.

-You're smarter, stronger and a great knight. Don't take me wrong, I do not intend to provoke you, I'm just pointing at the obvious.

He looks at you confused, somehow he's expecting anxiously for your next words.

- You and I, we have more in common than what you think. We're the second ones. We've been proving we're better than our siblings our entire life, with time I accepted my destiny but you, Aemond you don't have to make the same mistake. I think you deserve more...

- Be clear, Daemma.

You stand in front of him, touching his hair softly, looking at him with big bright eyes, praying to make your magic or have some luck to at least have a chance to escape by fooling him touching a weak fiber inside him, whispering the last words in the most sweet and innocent way you could, so close to his ear that your lips are almost caressing it.

- The crown should be yours, my king...

Aemond doesn't show any emotion, for a second you think you're making more and more mistakes so you look down at the skirts of your dress, when his large hand takes your chin to make you face him again.

- Why are you saying all this?

- Because I know myself, my sister and I know Aegon, none of us would be good leaders, but you, Aemond, you have what we don't, I've seen it in dreams, you will be sitting on the throne.

Perhaps you say all those lies with much confidence or maybe you had the luck you prayed for. But Aemond smiles a little, convinced, pleased with your words.

- You're saying all this with a reason, tell me what is it.

- I said I wouldn't be good sitting on the throne to rule, I just want... Dragonstone, I want to be the owner of something, that's all.

He's about to ask more questions when a guard knocks on his door. Without opening the doors and with a loud and cold voice he demands to know why are they interrupting him.

- What is it?

«Ah... Pardon me, my prince, but your brother requested your presence at the small council.»

- See? Aegon can't handle the responsibilities, he's weak and easy to persuade, but you're different, you're difficult and impulsive, that's your advantage. You have to clean your path on this side and I'll do it on mine, do we have a deal?.

You whisper again feeling like a snake, filling his system with your poison, feeding his desires with false hopes and lies, because it's not your intention to betray your sister, you only want to escape. He looks back at you, caressing your chin, observing cautiously in your eyes, looking for any signs of lies, but maybe you played well, since he nodded in silence and left the room, as quick as he disappeared you did the same, coming back to your dragon, going home.

While you were in the sky, your sister was looking for her son, anything that could belong to Lucerys Velaryon.

Meanwhile the greens are struggling, different objectives, different causes and motives are on the table. Did you create more cracks?.

As soon as the moon is lighting the sky, you appear and soon, Rhaenyra does it too.

She doesn't even talk to you, or someone else in the room, some men welcomed you but that was all, her rage and grief were palpable.

After some people inform the advances, she listens or at least you would like to think she does. But the only thing she says, is something none of you weren't expecting.

- I want Aemond Targaryen.

Just like that, she doesn't say anything else and leaves the room. Daemon left minutes later, you feel like a ghost, not many people notice you, now you're feeling like the young version of yourself, isolated, wondering if you made the right decision leaving your comfortable place in the north.

Jace convinced you to go with him to have a private meeting with his mother, once there, you're behind the young man, who's hardly trying to not show how much the loss of his brother is affecting him.

- Your grace.

Both say in one voice, curtsying, Rhaenyra stays on her seat, her puffy eyes reveal all the tears she had been pouring.

Jace says something about a dragon in vale, then he mentions the men and the loyalty the north promised, his voice is cracking and suddenly Rhaenyra stops to play her character as queen and changes it for the mother figure her son needs.

You're still behind, unsure of what to do, the moment seems intimate and private, but then, Rhaenyra looks at you and without stopping the hug with her son, she offers one hand, indicating you can approach, instantly you run and join to the hug, sobbing and apologizing for not being here before.

The funeral was bitter and full of sadness, but somehow brought more union between your family. But Daemon mysteriously disappears, no one knows where he is, but you know his absence is something to worry about.

At the hour of the owl, walking between the walls and In front of everybody's noses, the revenge walked, the blood was soon to be spilled.

«The queen of dreams and the queen of dragons tied by the loss of an innocent»

The whisper wakes you up, you don't know why or how, but instantly you walk around dragonstone, checking on every kids room, because you were not prepared to lose someone else.

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 23 hours

Text

"Floral Affections" - Part 4

GN!Reader x Plant Monster

CW: slight suggestive themes.

It's here!! :DD Sorry that it's been ages since the last part. I'm just happy I finally finished part 4. Enjoy, fellas!

Part 1 | Previous Part |

~~~~

It was almost time. Oh boy.

You stood before the grand doors of Lord Sorrel’s home, the ornate wood looking particularly intimidating on this fine morning. But despite your nerves being strung high, you were still very excited.

With a final lookover, you admired the floral patterns adorning your outfit one last time before knocking upon the doors. As you waited, you hoped your appearance was presentable enough; you didn’t possess anything as lavish as your lord did after all.

You reassured yourself he wouldn’t judge.

Eventually, the door opened, and Lord Sorrel’s bright face greeted you with a smile. Somehow, he looked even prettier than usual... and seemed to feel the same way about you.

Both of you got distracted appreciating one another’s looks before you took the charge and exclaimed, “Lord Sorrel! Good morning!”

A flustered blush heated your face as he broke out of his own trance. “G-Good morning, my dear! You’re right on time—I just finished setting everything up!”

Very eagerly, the Lord stepped aside and welcomed you inside. You followed his gleeful self through the house, admiring the architecture. This was your second time inside the mansion, the first being the day of your employment. Back then, you had been here for business, but now?

Now you were here... on a date?

You flustered more at the thought. It seemed crazy! And yet, it was happening right before your eyes.

Your smile grew as Sorrel led you outside, sunlight warming your skin. He took you down a familiar path, right into the heart of the garden, where a beautiful gazebo stood proudly. The sight was mesmerizing. Butterflies and bees fluttered about the place, and the flowers waved gently in the breeze.

Set in the gazebo’s shade, your breakfast patiently waited. A pair of plates covered by metal lids sat on the table with a glass vase between them, filled with a combination of plants that had your body lit aflame with unmatched heat.

The small bouquet consisted of red and pink morning glories, which spoke of passion and love, respectively. And although their presence already warmed your heart, they weren’t quite what had gotten such a reaction out of you. No, it was the coriander surrounding them.

Coriander, which was a symbol of... lust.

The message couldn’t be more clear, and you were suddenly—but curiously—questioning how this little date would end.

Once this revelation finished processing in your brain, you turned to Lord Sorrel, who appeared equally flustered. He was also, however, quite literally shaking with excitement.

The petals around his head moved in a wave as he briskly approached the table and politely pulled out a seat for you. The gesture had you swooning a little more as you thanked him and sat down. He pushed the chair in for you before damn-near dashing to reveal your breakfast to you.

As he lifted the metal covers, a variety of sweet scents drew into the air. Your mouth watered at the delicious sight of nearly a dozen rolled pancakes, all with different fillings, and a side of juicy fruits. A glass of wine was also set beside you before your gracious host finally took his own seat.

You looked at him with starry eyes. “Lord Sorrel, this looks amazing. Thank you again for inviting me.”

His smile turned shy. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, my dear. And please, just Sorrel is fine.”

“I may call you by name?” you questioned in surprise and were answered with a delighted nod. You gave a grin in return. “Alright then. Thank you for this lovely breakfast, Sorrel.”

Hearing you utter his name so sweetly seemed to put the plantman on cloud nine. He looked especially thrilled by it, and you had to hold back a giggle from how cute he looked.

In an effort to distract yourself from his charming face, you chose to dig into your food, gleefully stabbing a piece of pancake onto your fork. The moment it touched your tongue, a quiet moan slipped from your lips. You couldn’t help yourself; it was delicious.

The flavors danced upon your tastebuds, each bite better than the last. Sorrel was quick to join, though he kept stealing glances of your pleased expression. You were just too stunning to him like this, absorbed in the simple yet effective pleasures of food.

And to top it all off, it was his food! He couldn’t be happier... or so he thought.

The breakfast continued in relative silence, going by quickly but calmly as the two of you enjoyed one another’s presence. Once you finished eating, however, your eyes wandered back to the daring little plant decorating the table.

As you slowly sipped the last of your wine, you gathered your courage and bit the bullet. “These are... very lovely flowers,” you began, immediately catching his attention. “Any reason why you picked these ones exactly?”

Sorrel’s petals stood on end, stiff as rose thorns, until they suddenly bent inward, completely hiding his face from view. You jumped at the sudden movement, going from shock to confusion to amusement.

“Sorrel?” you asked with the tiniest hint of a laugh.

The plantman groaned in defeat, bowing his head and putting it in his hands as if they could hide him any further. “Forgive me, my dear, but I... fear I cannot say it out loud. It is too much for my heart to bear.”

If you had any doubts about falling for him, they were completely gone within an instant of hearing his words. Gods, the more you got to know him, the more he seemed like a lovable goofball rather than a scary nobleman.

His goofiness had your heart racing all the same.

“Then perhaps...” you started, “if you struggle with your reasons for these… daring admissions…” His breath hitched as you talked, and a few of his petals shifted ever so slightly, letting him peek out and look at you. “...you could speak of what you wish to do?”

“To do...” he mimicked, trailing off unsurely.

“To me,” you finished daringly, pushing him back into hiding once more.

His petals shook vigorously before he quietly began, “I… wish to hold you close…”

“What else?” you urged, lowering your voice as if speaking of filthy secrets.

He slowly began to unwind from his shell, though with great effort. “I want to… kiss you… touch you… I–”

Once his petals pulled back at last, he looked into your eyes with a gaze so hungry it threw you off course completely. “I want to make you mine.”

Just seconds ago, you had the upper hand but suddenly found yourself shy. Your face only grew hotter as Sorrel took hold of your hand and gently pulled, urging you to come to him.

Your now-wobbly legs carried you around the small table where you settled in his lap. He tilted your chin up to look at him, the soft caress drawing excited shivers down your spine.

“Darling, may I?” he asked, leaning closer, his lips but a breath away from yours.

You swallowed your nerves in favor of tasting excitement and gave a faint nod. “Yes…, please.”

Once the small gap between you two was sealed, control began to wither in both of you. Soft, shy moans were exchanged between kisses. Nervous but interested hands wandered as things slowly heated up.

Your fingers glided through the mane of fuzzy leaves on his neck as Sorrel explored the locks of your hair. The feeling was fantastic. It urged you to properly straddle Sorrel’s lap, your thighs encompassing his waist.

His hand tightened its grip on your hair as you pressed against him, grinding your sex against his. Sparks of pleasure shot through you two, dragging out more wanting moans.

The moment did, however, end up being partially disturbed.

Your Lord got a little too excited. The brilliant petals of his face surrounded yours in a sudden move, pulling you closer. The unexpected grab had you jumping back with a gasp for air. And you only now realized just how breathless you’d become.

Sorrel looked equally surprised with himself and rushed to explain, but you shut his stuttered yapping with a firm kiss. After taking a moment to recompose, you finally took notice of the golden dust fluttering in the air and covering your entire face. It had a lovely, sweet scent.

You trailed a few fingers down your own cheek curiously to examine it better. “What is this stuff?”

When you turned back to Sorrel, he looked ready to vanish into the earth. His petals twitched, stuck between wanting to hide him and to curl around you once more. “I-I’m sorry, love. I should’ve mentioned this sooner. This is… my pollen.”

“O-Oh!” Your face flushed, both from the new pet name and info.

“I-It’s not quite what you think though!” Sorrel stumbled out the words, absentmindedly pawing at your waist. “This is… how my kind marks their partners. It is how I leave my scent on you.”

You eyed the golden powder on your hand with a new perspective before looking back to Sorrel. You cracked a smile. “Well, kind of a shame I can’t do the same, huh?”

“Ohhh, love…” Sorrel groaned in a way you had yet to hear, the sound coming deep from his chest. “But you can… Your scent, albeit fainter than what I’m used to, still makes my mind go blank; it makes me think only of you.”

He leaned closer, speaking in a hushed whisper. “Even if you cannot sense it yourself, know that it turns my desire for you into a starving wolf, eternally hungry for more. ”

To say those words got you excited would be an understatement. And while you could feel that excitement pooling between your legs, Sorrel could smell it in the air.

This new knowledge was going to ruin you in the best way possible.

The desire Sorrel felt for you was heavy and overwhelming, prompting another groan out of his lips. His head fell to rest on your shoulder; husky words whispered in your ear, raising goosebumps across your skin. “Darling, please. May I have you?”

Even if you weren’t drowning in a cocktail of excitement and horniness at the moment, you don’t think you would’ve declined him.

#writeblr #writing #short story #terato #monster fucker #human x plant monster #human x monster #smuwfy #tw: suggestive themes

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