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missadangel · 8 days ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

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Chapter 11: The Accusation (+18 - MDNI-Mature)

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“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

“Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry. Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings. Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it. Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike him, you were far away, feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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madwomansapologist · 10 months ago

Text

blossoming alone over you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.

Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.

The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.

And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.

But not you.

At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.

You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.

But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.

You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.

To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.

Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.

"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."

"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."

Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."

"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"

"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.

Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.

After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?

You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.

You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.

When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.

One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.

And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.

Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.

You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.

And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.

But you had to show him how wrong he was.

At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.

"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.

Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.

It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.

Maybe one day he can become a poet.

"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"

Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.

Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.

"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."

It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.

Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?

"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.

You barely heard his words.

"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."

His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.

As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.

What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.

You gave him something priceless.

And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.

"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"

You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."

As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.

"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."

You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."

Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.

Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.

Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.

You're kind.

It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.

She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.

But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.

She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.

Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.

You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.

You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.

If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.

Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?

She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.

You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.

She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.

The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.

Into you.

"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."

She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."

"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.

You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.

Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.

She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."

You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"

Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.

"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."

"I thought it could be useful!"

Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."

You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.

Part 2!

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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yandere-yearnings · 3 months ago

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Randomly putting a leash on sun out of nowhere??

suggestive content under the cut!

Lately, you'd realised something. Sun got on his knees so easily for you. Time and place be damned, all you'd have to do is say the word and he'd be sinking down. No preference between carpet or concrete — no complaints even if his skin scuffed and turned red from the bruises and blood. Sometimes, he was there before you could open your mouth. Weak on your kisses, hands to your shoulders and pulling you in so wholly, like if he tilted his head further and pressed his lips any harder he'd be able to drown in you.

Perhaps you were power-tripping on the way he'd melt, knowing his nails could rend the flesh from your bones if only he grasped a little more insistently. Whatever the reason was, you'd made your purchase and Sun was right there, kneeling at your feet. Hair dishevelled, saliva smeared, blinking up at you under those thick lashes and taking a breath with his heaving chest as though you didn't plan to steal it from him all over again.

Kisses to his chin quickly grew sharp, your teeth on the sangria and boysenberry that lined the column of his throat — marks from yesterday, and all the days preceding. Sun curled closer, that broken rasp mixed into a delirious whine; your brain took the message in it straight from your auditory nerve. What did you have to fear? He was all yours.

"Pretty babe," you cooed at him, so taken by his dilating pupils, by the inhale hitched perfectly where your fingers danced, "won't you die for me?"

"Of course," he pulled your palm up, nuzzled it to his cheek in bliss. Eyes full of love, adoration, devotion — obsession. "Anything for you. You could pull the heart from my chest right now if you wanted."

You smiled. Sun told you the things you needed to hear, and as always, you chalked it up to sweet coincidence.

You'd been hiding the collar for a while, but when you secured it in place around his bared neck, you mourned every second that it had gone unworn. Candy apple shimmering like seduction against the muscles underneath, the ring in the centre clinked as you clipped the leash to it. It sounded like control.

You could tell the moment where it registered in his hazy, fucked-out mind. The blush was to his collarbones, but clearly the heat had traveled beyond. Suddenly shy, tugging at the ends of his white shirt in hopes the sheer fabric would cover his arousal. You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, or the urge to tug the chain and bring those brown orbs back to you.

"Do you like it?" You asked, a teasing purr pinned to the shell of his ear.

Sun nodded. Leaning into you, moth to flame, ringing silence before an inevitable blaze — he whispered, "don't let go."

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yandere-sins · 1 year ago

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I feel like omegaverse has some untapped yandere potential. Of course there’s alpha and omega but I had this idea of like an omega going yandere for a beta, like it’s literally never going to be but by god they’re gonna do whatever it takes

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Uff! It's such a dreadful madness. I can't describe it otherwise.

An omega that knows you are their one true love, their one and only, the soulmate that every omega craves on a deeper level than just what their brain or body needs. But, oh, the misery when they go to your appointment with you to find out you're not the alpha they will need to survive their urges (as they have naturally assumed) but a mere beta they can have as a friend for a while at best. Once they are bound to an alpha, there will be very little time to invest in you, and that's something the omega has to prevent at all costs.

See, normally, an alpha would take care of their omega. Would feed them, clothe them, house them. Make sure they are always satisfied and well-satiated. But if the yan wants to keep you, specifically, they'll have to step up to the position of caretaker. Society doesn't want their precious omegas to go unmated, and if they learn of the predicament of your role, they'll undoubtedly keep you away from your omega. It scares the yan into sleepless nights and even panic attacks, making them fearful and desperate because they cannot survive without you. You yan might be bound to a knot but die of a broken heart either way. They can't even imagine forgetting you and leaving you behind to be with any other disgusting, ruthless, leering alpha. They want you. Only you.

You, you, you.

So they do what they must. Suppressants here, hiding their scent there. They learn to avoid the questions and hide from potential mates until they reach their goal—money. Lots of it. Whether through legal means or much more nefarious ways, they'll save up so much that they can spend the rest of their life comfortably with you, somewhere hidden and secluded, just you two. The world always needs more videos of needy, begging omegas, and it's a small price to pay when it means they can create the life of their dreams. You don't even realize the reason behind the omega's sudden lack of time. That's how well they are hiding their identity on the internet as they become famous for your sake.

It's not a surprise that after your diagnosis, after learning your purpose in society, you slowly start to make amends with it. While your yandere is so obsessed with creating a life for you two, you just try to move on from how you envisioned your life to go. Because you know you two can't be together. And your previously best friend is never around to support you at this challenging time, so you start to find other people who care about you.

The heartbreak for the poor omega seeing their beloved beta living your life apart from them is immeasurable. Infuriating. Maddening. Here they were trying so hard to do this for you, and you just replace and discard them? Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable!

But their plan is already underway. They already have more money than they know what to do with, even after buying a mansion for you two somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of this annoying society you two live in. Once you're there, no one will hear you scream. And your omega knows you won't deny them when they ask you to go on vacation with them "for old time's sake". Why would you? You love them, they know it. Even if you hesitate, you are so easily persuadable when they plead a little, just like all those followers they have accumulated over the past few months that fall for every crocodile tear and every sway of the omega's hips. But while many may adore the yandere, they only have eyes for you—and now you're walking into their carefully laid out trap.

Because as soon as they lock the door behind them, there's no way out for you. You may not like your new living arrangement initially, but the yan has already severed all your ties to the world outside of this sacred haven they created. Everything is gone—your job, your friends, your family. No one will come looking for you. Everyone believes you left of your own free will with the person you have loved since childhood.

You may be confused, crying, and refusing the omega's touches. Begging them to let you go and even lash out, but they'll endure it, whether it's your tears staining the designer carpet or your palm print on their skin. You'll surely come to your senses and realize the amazing effort the yan put into this. But even after days, you're still rattling on doors, trying to jump out of locked windows, and at that point, it's not like the yan is too innocent to drug your food and chain you in their basement love nest. Nothing will get in between you and them—not even you. This change may be hard, but they had to sacrifice a lot for you, too. It's only fair if you have to do the same for this perfect life. And if you're not willing to give them the love they want, they have viewers waiting upstairs in their new and approved 'office' to release some steam with and clear their head before they do something that will upset both of you. Viewers who can't wait for the special 'surprise' the yan has promised many weeks ago.

Because everyone knows that the omega's heat will come, even with the suppressant. They will need their release when the medicine doesn't work anymore. And why would they need to keep taking it when they are secure and in the company of their one true love? They don't need an alpha to do it. They have you. What more could they want?

You'll have no moment of peace from them once their heat starts, cameras set up, and chains secure you into their nest. There are toys for all the needs they could possibly have that you can't fulfill as a mere beta. And when they inject you with so many pheromones that your body can barely handle the rut they will force you into despite being the wrong person for it, you'll almost be like the alpha they need, desperately humping and grinding on your omega like a bitch in heat. Wild and only held back by the chains, but still their adorable, beautiful darling beta, even when you two make a mess out of the nest and yourselves.

All on camera, of course.

The omega doesn't even care when they scream your name, revealing your identities to the world. No one will ever come for you two while the tips and memberships just come flowing in naturally, demanding more. And the yan gladly obliges. There is no greater happiness than finally having you right how they want and need you.

It's happiness shared amongst everyone.

Everyone except you.

#omegaverse #yandere omegaverse #yandere!omegaverse #yandere talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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love-toxin · 3 months ago

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Two words: Ghostface. Sandwich.

hmmhrhrgrgrgegehegghh........ok bear with my rambles for a second. i love the idea of the two of them pinning you as their next target and trying to figure out all the plans. you're perfect cause you're cute and you'd make real pretty screams and they'd probably both whack off to seeing your blood but when they start getting close to putting things in action, of course, Stu starts stalling.

(cws: DDDNE, extremely fucked up n-consent, drinking/drugging, blood, gore, afab reader, you have been warned)

"C'mon Billy, she might be a virgin, we should get in her pants first." he begs, partly because he wants exactly that--to fuck you lifeless--but also because there's a teensy-weensy sliver in him that doesn't really want you to die. meanwhile Billy's mostly mad that you're actually a lot more tolerable than he thought once they start getting close to you, trying to get your guard down, because it's way harder to kill a chick that laughs at his jokes and plays along with his edgy compliments over a frigid bitch.

plus, Stu's right. you're hot. and he really loves it if you're insecure, cause it makes your reactions to him telling you you're pretty, you're smart, you're funny, so much sweeter. you don't fall for stuff easily and he likes that. likes the potential to watch you act like you know what's going on only for your heart to sink when you realize shit's getting real. but Stu will keep ruining it by getting all sappy and coming to your rescue when they call your house, and cooing at you as he tells you it's all right--it's not all right, he keeps messing up their plans--but Billy has to begrudgingly go along with it as they stash the costumes and knives to go play prince to your damsel in distress.

and imagine if you have a boyfriend--some dickhead that doesn't know his ass from his elbow, whose antics you tolerate despite being so out of his league. Stu has a very obvious crush on you but Billy broods a lot over it, and despite wanting to torment you with killing both of you at the same time, the two of them can't help it and end up slaughtering your little side piece while you're not around to watch. he can't explain it, he just wanted him gone. something dark stirred in him whenever he watched that asshole brag about how much of a bimbo you were or the size of his dick--if only he could make him watch when he and Stu got ahold of you, and finally made you scream.

but that has to come second to the main plan. killing you is what really matters. gutting you, flaying you open like a fish, standing over you as you choke on your own blood....it should make him feel more excited, but for some reason it doesn't. not when it's you. it's less enticing the better he gets to know you, and after awhile he wants to kill you just cause you're so damn irritating; taking up his thoughts and muddling his feelings and shit. really, he should just break into your house at night, fuck you while you're still half-asleep, and stab you before you even know what's happening. but he won't and it sucks cause he kinda likes you. he's got a crush. fucking embarrassing.

soooo....he just takes it out on you when he and Stu finally get you at the perfect moment. there's a party at Stu's house and everyone's left by around 2 am, drunk and falling over themselves as they bid farewell and head home for the night. everyone except for you, who's passed out on Stu's couch completely drunk because of--you guessed it--peer pressure. you barely even open your eyes when Stu flops down on top of you, giggling stupidly with a hand up your shirt as he kisses your sleepy lips. Billy's already pissed that his best friend made you drink so much cause you can't even fight back now, where's the fun in that? he wanted to feel you kick and squirm and cry as he held you down, but at least you're pliable enough that they don't have to wait. silver linings, he supposes. at least your little pink panties are cute. did you wear them for somebody, or are they just something you feel pretty in? the two of them toss them between each other while you lay barely conscious, and Billy mocks him for sniffing them so much before stuffing them in his own back pocket like a hypocrite. he'll use them to get off later when he's thinking about this before bed.

honestly, he wants to prove to himself that he can hurt you. he's a cold-blooded killer! a psycho! yet somehow some little cutesy whore is the obstacle that stands between him and his requisite bloodletting. killing you is like a mountain to climb for him, but every time he tries to scale it, it grows steeper. he planned on just taking what he wanted from you and leaving you with some nasty bruises to cry about in the morning, but his body has other ideas--he takes his time, he kisses you, rubs your clit to watch you shake and for those drunken mewls to slip out of your mouth. he gets into it a little too deep and mutters into your ear things that you won't remember; "you're so fucking cute", "gonna make it feel good", "bet you love this, huh?" and all manner of filth while Stu gets handsy and tongues at you between your legs. their plans fall through again and you survive the night, but does he really care now? does it matter?

cause when you wake up, you won't remember most of what happened. but you're pretty sure something did, and instead of relishing in your pathetic tears Billy takes the chance to comfort you. some random guys took advantage of you while you were drunk? it's okay. he's here. Stu's here too. they'll protect you, won't they? they're your closest friends by this point, and you're just so vulnerable you need someone to take care of you--that's what Billy insists, anyways, wanting to solidify that thought while you're in such a fragile headspace. you just have to trust them implicitly. drink whatever they give you and do whatever they tell you to. listen to them and only them and take their advice, they know what's best for you. that's what friends are for.

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #slashers #spicy writing #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream (1996)#ellie writes #phantom-ofthelibrary #anons

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months ago

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You know I can’t stop thinking about an angsty Bugman scenario where, in the Childhood best friend!Darling setting, Darling learns that one day the god living inside Bugman is going to awaken properly and essentially kill Bugman, prompting Darling to just breakdown sobbing for their first and only friend and pleading for Bugman to not die even if their fate is sealed and neither of them can do anything to stop it

Why would you do this to me, Chief. Like- good soup, without a doubt, but my heart hurts for these angels. Imagine making a really close friend as a child, but instead of you drifting apart or one of you moving away someday their body will be taken from them by one of the things you're scared <- Childhood Best Friend Reader in this storyline had a fear of bugs as a kid.

You still remember the day like it was yesterday. A promise made between friends upon which wove your separate futures along a conjoining path, avowedly destined to outlast the trial of time and the seasons of change as you both grew.

"Are you ready, Bug?"

Small, beady little eyes snap upwards from the large stone you finally manage to get a good grip on after several, harrowing attempts. A damp slab of smooth stone wasn't the easiest thing for your tiny hands to grasp, but the additional moisture apparently attracted more prey. Clutching the mason jar tighter to their chest, Bugman nods their head not once, but as many times it takes to give them a minor head rush - spurred on by the joy of having someone in their home, using the correct name it had picked out for itself years ago.

"On the count of three. 1....2....3!"

Driving your heals into the dirt, you pull upwards - lifting the stone inches off the earth floor as Bugman sets their jar amongst the grass to prepare for the scurry. Your skin crawls as you hear the pitter patter of tiny legs. It'd take a lot more than your friend's obsession with them to make you tolerate bugs, but the least you could do was making chasing them slightly easier for Bug whenever you visited.

"There's so many, Bug..." So many lives under one rock. You'd probably be more enthusiastic if a beetle hadn't made a beeline for your shoe, burrowing its way between your shoelaces as you do everything to avoid kicking the poor creature away. You might not have been the biggest fan, but that didn't mean you wanted to hurt them.

"Bugman, there's one on my-"

"I see her. Don't move, she won't hurt you." Bugman cups their hand, guiding the beetle onto their palm as you do what you're told. It strokes a finger along the insects thorax before carefully lowering it into their jar. Bugman gazes up at you once more, dipping their head in gratitude for your cooperation.

"Thank you, Y/n. On her behalf."

"What are you thanking me for, Bug?"

"You could have easily flung her off or stepped on her. I am aware we do not an interest in insects, but I appreciate your support."

"What are friends for, Bug? Besides, just because I don't like them doesn't I want them to suffer."

"Friends...."

The word sits heavy on their tongue. Soft laughter plays throughout the garden before they can ask the question that's been plaguing them for some time now. With the chirp of bugs and the flow of running water, the sound may have gone unnoticed had it not been joined by another voice. Surveying the area, a hand rises in the air from over by the water fountain - beckoning the two of you over.

"Forgive us for interrupting. Would the two of you mind joining us for a minute? We have something for you."

Exchange a glance with Bugman, all it takes is for you to take a step forward before the both of you race across the grass. Something you picked up on weeks into hanging out with Bug was how they liked to give you the lead. Two young women sit at the bench below the fountain. Both appeared to be in their early twenties. One had pink streaks in her hair while the other wore her sweater hoodie overhead. They smile at you, lowering their heads as Bugman matches up behind you. The one with the pink hair speaks first, patting the empty bench between them.

"Good afternoon. You two have been busy today, haven't you? I think I speak for all of Bug's family when I thank you for stopping by. I've never seen them smile quite like they do when they have you over."

Bugman hides their face in their turtleneck, mumbling into the thick fabric. "That's not true...."

You always found it so cool Bugman had so many siblings. It's like there's a new one every time you come over. Maybe their parents foster. You don't know much about them. The pink haired girl snorts.

"My bad! Anyway, like I said, we have a present for you. It's a gift for you both. Now before we give it to you, we have to ask. You two are friends, aren't you?"

There it is. The question Bugman had been dreading. You've called them by that title before, but there's a worry in the back of their mind that you are simply stringing them along until you find another, better friend. Did you really enjoy spending your days with the kid your other peers wrote off as strange and bizarre.

Assurance came to them in the pride of your voice as you happily announced.

"Of course! Bugman is my best friend!"

Best? The hooded girl spits a wad of chewed gum onto its wrapper, turning her body to face you fully. It's then you see a small box in her lap, filled to the brim with small beads and charms.

"That's all we needed to hear. If you two are really best friends you need what all best friends need?"

"What?" Bugman hides deeper into the neckline of their sweater as your voices overlap. You smile from ear to ear, furthering their embarrassment. The girls roll up their sleeves, presenting matching bands around each of their wrists.

"You need friendship bracelets. We'll help you make them."

"Whoa..." You march forward as the girls place the box within reach on the bench. So many beads and charms. There's even a few bug themed ones. Bugman will really like those.

"This is so cool, Bugman! If we never talk them off that means we'll be friends for life, yeah?"

"For life?.... You really want me around that long?"

"Why wouldn't I?" You stick out your pinky finger, holding it up for them to take. "We'll be best friends forever!"

Bugman stares at your outstretched finger. Picking up their confusion, you quietly whisper. "It's a promise, silly. Wrap your finger around mine and we have to keep it. Best friends forever?"

Bugman locks their finger with yours. "Forever...."

"....."

"Say it isn't true, Bug."

You always knew Bugman was special, but - not like this. How could they keep this from you for so long? Were they aware of this from the start? Did everything you say that day.... All plans and wishes you made together - did they mean nothing anymore?

"I apologize for not telling you sooner, Y/n. If it makes you feel better, I have already made sure that no harm will ever come to you. The being inside me is many things, but they will not go back on their word. I understand if this all is too much to bare. I do not blame you if you hate me now."

"Hate you? Hate you?" Angry tears stream down your face as you clutch their shoulders for balance. Sadness and rage quakes you to your very core. "Bugman, all I want is you! I want my best friend to be here with me. I don't want to lose you to some...some... bug god that's already been dead for centuries. This is your body, your life we're talking about here! Don't you want to be here with me too?"

It hurts. White hot, shearing pain rips through Bugman's ribcage as you sob pathetically against their chest. The air they breath is like sharp glass in their throat. What are you doing? This feeling - they've never had it before. Are they dying now? Is this what death feels like?

Bringing their arms around your shaking body is all that relieves this ache. Bugman realizes as you slam your fist against their chest that this is not death. It's heartbreak.

And it's so, so much worse.

"On the bright side, there is no telling when I will die. It could be any day now. It could be at the natural end of my lifetime. All we can do is hope for the best and relish the time we have together now."

"You better.... You better stay with me until we're both old and grey. I won't forgive you if you leave me before then."

Bugman rolls their fingers over the beads tied around your wrist. As children, you both made your bracelets slightly too big so they would follow you into adulthood. They fit perfectly now.

"I promised once that I wouldn't leave you. That is a promise I intend to keep."

#Bugman my oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere drabble #yandere angst #yandere oneshot #tw yandere

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whillywisp · 10 months ago

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Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x gn!reader #fanfiction #hunger games #finnick imagine #finnick odair #moonfm #finnick odair x male reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader

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irasamu · 6 months ago

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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 LURE ME IN, PULL ME OUT. SAVE ME ; a osamu dazai fic. ❞

❛ ━━ ･ ❪ did i not die yet?

my heart beats and pumps,

pumps the blood which flows throughout,

though tonight i throw up this blood.

blood coats my hand red,

if i had died, why would i bled?

fleeting through my fingers,

fingers of mine tries to grasp my life,

life which i tried to grasp all this while!

blood coats the floor red,

and red it became the more i bleed.

fleeting is this life though my heart beats,

i am not dead yet, though i bleed.

soon my fate will meet death.

and i will die, won't i? ❫ ･ ━━ ❜

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . i don't really expect this one to be liked as this is an experimental fic anyway but I still want to know your opinion on it if you read it.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; pm!dazai, fem!reader, non established relationship, suggestive themes, kissing, fluff (?), angst, somewhat gore.

the weather hasn't really been the most pleasant since the last three or four hours but you assume it to be normal due to the season it came with.

with a hazy gaze, you stare at the dark grey sky outside as you wait for the first reaction to happen, for the first drop of rain to descend from its grace and onto the hard earth ground.

was this what icarus felt too?

but then again icarus wasn't a teenager in love with a boy who looked at love as not feelings and emotions but rather as chemical reactions and hormones stimulated by the brain.

icarus burned. you do too. perhaps not in the same way but you burn too.

"are you waiting for cats too dear?" a voice so gentle yet tired spoke up and you looked up to see an elderly woman smiling kindly at you. your eyes fell down to see a group of stray cats and you pondered.

her voice felt so warm admist the coldness of the weather that clinged to your skin.

you looked back up at the old woman and nodded, smiling a bit. "yeah. a grumpy one."

the old lady laughed at your words and she approached you, sitting down on the steps of your house next to you and the stray cats followed her. there were five in total, you counted as they surrounded the old lady's feet.

one of the five cats pawed at your leg. you looked down at it and extended your hand to pet it's head before you looked up at the sky again in deep thought.

"so when does your grumpy cat come?" the old lady's voice reached your ears, her words were pure but why did it still feel like she was laughing at you?

mocking you for being so hopeless.

"whenever he wants to." you whisper out. if the old lady wasn't sitting next to you, she wouldn't have heard you. your words were too sad to her though ignorance is bliss. the old lady thought nothing much of your words as she laughed.

"dearie, that's cats for you -- especially stray ones. they come and go. not having a proper house. no owner who showers them with love and so when we give them love, they get confused. they feel weird and dislike it. they leave. and when they are away -- they realize. they want it back. and so these cute furballs come back to get confused again." her words held years of experience. they soothed you and gave you a reason behind the behavior that hurts, effortlessly brightening your mood. it almost felt unnatural how easily her words convinced you and settled within you as if she's luring you in her.

you smiled at the old lady albeit weakly but your lips were tugged upwards by genuine gratitude and hope as you smiled at her, filled with fascination towards her.

"though love is like kummatty or the pied piper of hamelin. it lures you in even when you know it's dangerous. so dearie --" the old lady's voice suddenly dropped down a few octaves as a grave expression took over her old and wrinkled features. you would've have found it a bit unsettling had it not been for the cat at your feet that had your undivided attention. " -- be careful while loving, it'll lure you in one day and . . . even if it isn't love, something else will lure you in."

you felt the old lady shifting next to you before she stood up, causing you to twist your neck to look up at her. the old woman smiled at you kindly and slowly -- as safely as her feeble legs would allow her to -- climbed down the stairs and left. she went on along the sidewalk, though you raised your eyebrows in awe as you saw the five cats following behind her, stumbling and falling over each other. the cats looked like young apprentices following their mentor in olden days where as soon as a kid was old enough to realise how poverty took a liking to his home, he was send off to fend for himself and to bring in some earnings.

you looked at the front again, placing your chin on your knees which were brought near to your chest as you looked up at the sky again, the grey clouds began to clear up a bit though it still looked like it'll rain soon.

the cold breeze made you shiver a bit. though not for long.

you look away from the sky, no longer finding it intresting enough to admire as the images of the cats -- especially the one rubbing itself against your leg -- kept repeating in your mind, making you smile.

how does one get lured?

how does one forget everything and decide to follow a particular path?

"what are you doing outside dumbass?" you hear the cold and void of emotion like voice, causing you to look up to see dazai standing there as he looked down at you with his eyebrows raised, trying to decipher the reason to sit outside during such weather as it's definitely an odd choice.

"waiting for yo --" you stop rather abruptly as you look at him from head to toe to see him covered in blood at many places -- his cheek was stained and so was his white shirt though the black coat hid it well. you looked down and alas so were his boots, stained in blood.

with a panicked urgency, you quickly stood up and grabbed his hand though this time he didn't try to subtly pull it back as he let you step closer to him and leaned in when you placed your palm on his bloodied cheek.

"how did you --"

" -- it's not mine. don't overreact." the mafioso said in a bored tone as he stared at you. he looked at you for a while before he slowly grinned and you wanted to take a step back and shrink into nothingness. that would be better then staring at his cold and empty eyes.

dazai extended his hand to grasp your other wrist, not seeming to mind your sudden stiffness. he had seen this reaction one too many times when curious minds tried to pick apart the mask of the demon but failed, finding the mask glued to the face by some super force.

he tugged at your hand to pull you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug.

dazai osamu is still a child. he does not act like it. but he is the same as you. a teenager. not even seventeen yet.

he is a child at core like you are and even if it may not seem like it, you'll pretend it does.

"you stink." you mumble as you ignore the nervous pleading of your heart, nuzzling your face against his bandaged neck.

"no i don't." dazai replied back as he left a small and quick peck to your hair before he moved back.

you roll your eyes at his denial of this topic, knowing that even he knows how he smells of a mix of cigarettes and blood, the smell lingers and hugs him like a sick stalker.

"why do you even have blood on you?" you asked as you quickly opened the door to your house and stepped aside to let him enter first. with a smug wink aimed at you, dazai entered and took of his shoes.

for being such a peculiar boy, he did have some manners as evident by the way he placed his shoes at one corner. you placed your slippers next to his and locked the door before you followed after him.

"curious kitty. aren't you?" his voice is full of mirth, he looked over his shoulder to let you see his expression which is full of amusement as if he finds it entertaining to watch you try to get some kind of information out of him.

you grumbled as you pushed his shoulder though he only chuckled, not minding the pushes at all.

dazai tried to walk towards the living room but you grabbed the back of his suit coat to pull him towards your room instead and he exclaimed in surprise, though he didn't resist or fight back, simply letting you drag him as if he didn't have enough energy or interest in pushing your hands off.

you led him to the bathroom attached in your room, dazai nearly raised his eyebrows in amusement but stopped himself since he wasn't really amused enough. this house in which only you live isn't surprising to dazai as through his connections, he had dug into your background and found out that this house and some wealth were the will of your grandfather who left it all to you. your parents were out of the picture.

"but really, why are you covered in this much blood?" you ask as you signal him to sit on the sink counter while you kneel down to open the cabinet below, getting out a few clean towel rolls and bandages.

though the bandage roll fell from your hands and rolled on the tiled floor when dazai grabbed your jaw in a quick movement, pulling you towards him as he glared at you. eyes void of emotions but that only makes him more terrifying.

"you are a good girl -- always were and always will be. don't test your luck by being a curious kitten. stay my good girl. don't ask unnecessary questions." his voice is low and calm, his words coming out in a murmur.

your eyes were open wide, you nodded quickly. the sharpness in dazai's eyes disappeared and was replaced by a sudden softness. he stopped grabbing your jaw and instead raised his hand to cup your cheek. he pulled you in closer using the gentle hold on your cheek and pecked the bridge of your nose.

once he lets go of you, you stepped back, bending down to pick the the bandage roll which you began to buy and keep ever since meeting him.

you stand again as you face him, not looking him in the eye after the sudden cold outburst while the confident and casual air around you had disappeared. and this caused dazai to heave out a sigh.

"what i did -- i did for you." he revealed only this much as if to just let you see the tip of the iceberg, to let you know of the peace lingering above the calmness.

you placed your hand on his thigh as you leaned up to gently pull on the bandage which covered one of his eyes, whispering, "why?"

dazai stopped as you tugged at the bandage and it fell down in your opened palm. he too wonders why is he even doing this?

you are of no use to the mafia.

you don't give him the same reactions as chuuya does.

yet you are still intresting.

is it the feeling of your soft palms as you cup his cheek with one hand while you softly rub the wet towel on his face with the other to clean it? could be.

dazai wrapped his legs around your waist to pull you closer, you felt your heart beating as he cupped both of your cheeks and pulled you to peck your forehead. "i just do."

you wanted to ask many things but refrain from doing so, choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hands as one of them remained cupping your jaw while the other rested near your ass, on your lower back, to keep you in place as you wrap a new bandage around his eye.

to be honest, dazai knew. he knew why he did what he did and does what he does, it's just that he doesn't see the need to tell you the answer which is being yelled by his heart and seeing how you relaxed again and lost some of your initial fear, dazai feels -- no, he knows, that you either know or have a good grasp of what most of his answer could've been anyway.

"you are weird." you decide to sigh out these words with a smile, moving your face back from his grasp as you pull down at his coat and he lets you, letting you take it off.

is the rush of happiness what icarus felt too? perhaps if icarus didn't dream too high, he would be lured into the deep forests as well.

dazai watched with curious eyes. you stepped out of the bathroom for a while, a matching set of grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. the sight makes dazai to raise his eyebrows, a silent order for you to explain.

"you need some colors in your life and wardrobe. you look so edgy wearing that." you point at his suit and dazai almost rolled his eyes, had the thought of you going out of your way to buy something for someone like him had not entered his mind and settled there.

from there on, the thought grew vines which traveled and gripped at his heart.

"did you buy this for me? you want to be my sugar mommy or something?" dazai smirked yet squealed as you stepped near him, grabbing a handful of his skin and pinching him on his thigh. you don't speak much, the words of the old lady repeating in your mind while you unbutton his shirt and scrub at his hands to get the blood off of him.

the way you look so quiet as you seemed to stare at nothing while cleaning the blood made dazai hesitate to break this silence. he looked at you and he felt his heart beat racing when he saw the hazy look in your eyes. behind you, the sky once again grew hazy and dazai glared at the window behind you. yet you didn't notice anything it seemed, too busy in unbuttoning dazai's shirt button by button.

the cat who sat outside at the windowsill snarled in return.

"you are my kitten." dazai began quietly and you looked up at him with puzzlement dancing all over your features. a confused smile takes over your lips and dazai leans near you, you feel your heartbeat racing as he leans his head till his lips hovered above your's. "you are mine and i'll protect you against everything."

dazai closed the distance between you and him, his hand came to hold your waist and pull you towards him. you closed your eyes as you let your feelings overtake you, wrapping your arms around the neck of the boy who still sat on the sink counter.

his eyes remained open, a blue light eliminated from his palm -- of the hand that was wrapped around your waist -- felt like the first drop of rain of despair for the cat whose fur raised and it glared at dazai.

"you don't need to know what i do and why i do it. just stay as you are now." dazai whispered as soon as he pulled back from the kiss, he hopped down from the counter and removed his unbuttoned shirt. he tossed it on your face, not paying heed to the way you groaned.

"stay as i am now? what's that supposed to mean cryptic bastard?" you ask as you slowly walked behind him, stopping as he sits in the bathtub and his feet nearly dangled off the small bathtub. dazai shooted a finger gun at you which made you scoff while you reached for the water faucet, he isn't going to answer, is he?

the cat blinked, like a stalker it's eyes remained even when dazai leaned up and grabbed your forearm to pull you on top of him. your squeals and his laughs were like poison to the cat. the same cat who affectionately rubbed itself against your leg in the morning is the same cat who now watched with great disgust.

icarus flew. if he didn't, he would've drowned.

the pied piper would've lured him in with masks of interests in his dreams. or perhaps kummatty would've made him think to never stop believing in his dreams, he would've have turned him into a bird and icarus would've flew away and never returned.

"stay as you are -- meaning stay as my little kitty cat. can you meow or purr for me?" dazai raised his eyebrows, it always brought him entertaining joy to see your reactions and even if they aren't as loud or amusing as chuuya's, the way you purse your lips and look away after replying with something snarky always stayed at the back of dazai's mind. it repeated whenever he smoked in the loneliness of the shipping container he calls his shelter.

you know better then to take this moment for granted. you look back at dazai and smile tiredly, resting your head against his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and do not mind the flowing water soak your clothes and make you wet for you feel yourself nearly giggling at the way your legs are on either sides of dazai's waist and his hands wrapped around you. when you leaned your body on him, his arms around you tightened their hold.

he raised one of his hands to pat and comb through your hair while he smirked, tilting his head at the cat. said cat snarled at him again before it hopped down your windowsill and left.

the cat walked for a while before it jumped into a drain and immediately found itself sitting on the lap of the old woman who hummed. the old woman moved back and forth on her rocking chair, humming a tune which enchanted many and it was evident by the way children sat by her feet and mimicked her motions of rocking back and forth. their lips sealed tight by threads being sewed yet they tried to hum along with the old woman, causing blood to flow down their chins yet they didn't mind as theu stared at the old lady with unnaturally wide eyes.

the old lady stopped humming and immediately the children stabbed their fingers into their eyes, blood oozing out as they curled their fingers into their eyeballs.

"you are so so cute. my belladon--" you make dazai to stop speaking, making him go speechless when you splashed a bit of water onto him after having enough of his cheesy flirting though it did get your heart to beat faster but the young age you are is one where intimate feelings such as this makes you cower and feel like hiding behind the exterior of pretend coolness. it's a defense mechanism of sorts but dazai has always broken through every defense so what is yours infront of him?

your smug grin disappeared as you saw him cough without intending to stop soon. you leaned closer to his face as you tried to grasp at the curves of his jaws so you would be able to have a better view of his face and check for any damage you may have caused yet the moment your fingers grasp his jaw, dazai grabbed both of your wrists as he leaned forwards to kiss you again. and you let him. his arms came to wrap around you again.

and once again you missed the blue glow they emitted as all you could focus on was the gentle way dazai's hands inched closer to you till one of them rested at your nape and the other at your hip while he left little pecks and kisses on your lips, not pulling or letting you pull back once.

the pied piper or kummatty may just be figures associated with children and to scare them by exaggerating (though is it a exaggeration?) abduction but the old lady you met -- the one who is currently smiling cruelly as she watches children pull out their eyeballs and see the optic nerve -- is one who will try to lure you in and dazai won't let it.

it isn't related to the mafia, the child abducting old lady isn't a concern of port mafia and neither is she a danger to dazai's life. his nullifying ability will act if she ever tries to activate her ability on him which works by the contact of her or her cats with the victim.

though you do not need to know of this or even worry as dazai will make sure you don't end up in the old lady's grasp and don't suffer the same fate as many of her previous victims. he always was a bit more protective and possessive when it came to you anyway.

after all, he is a good boy --- an angel.

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d34dlysinner · 1 year ago

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(For now I'll keep it with just the 4 kings XD maybe I'll make a part 2 with different characters in the future)

Satan just felt pure rage as this scene flashed before his eyes. The rage was definitely enough for the inhabitants of Gehenna to feel their kings wrath, no matter where they were.

It somewhat fueled all of them as this influence started to make them more aggressive to the point where they could ignore the pain.

Satan ran to your side and demanded a group to keep you safe and to carry you as he made way to the nearby hospital. He never left your side at this time. He knew that you needed him.

To Mammon you're his most prized possession and this man has no trouble feeling rage, whenever something that's his, is broken. So imagine you laying on the floor clutching yourself in pain as all he could think about was to protect and shield you. Him and his subordinates may have failed to completely shield you from all the attacks, but he definitely won't make a mistake to kill every angel on that field that moment. He easily carried you as he made his way to the nearest makeshift hospital. He promised to keep you safe. And he'll do that before he dies.

Leviathan's rage when he saw you, the esteemed guest laying down on your back in pain was indescribable. It almost was on par with Satan's wrath. The demons of Hades just knew that when the battle is over they will be punished. They atleast had some time to mentally prepare. Leviathan ran towards you as he lifted you and commanded other to keep both you and him safe as he brings you to the hospital. "Don't you dare die on me now.", was all he said to you as he ran for shelter.

Beelzebub felt disappointed in himself when he heard you. He and the nobles of Abyssos wasted no time in shielding you and getting you out of there.

Beelzebub did feel anger. But his fear and sadness somewhat overpowered the rage as all he could do was to blame himself for always wandering. He soon after wondered how you had such a grasp on his heart.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb beel #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon

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engie-ivy · 7 months ago

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(Inspired by @wolfstarmicrofic 's Alternative Universes theme! A sort of combined Performer AU and College AU🙂)

1058 words

Sirius Black's emotional break-up songs are topping the charts all over the world. But hearing those songs everywhere he goes, Remus is about to reach his breaking point.

With His Song

Home is where the heart is,

But it's not the concrete, nor the stone,

Not the room you sit in,

But the smile that lights it up.

Not the bed you sleep in,

But the heartbeat besides your own.

Home is where the heart is,

But it's not necessarily a place,

Sometimes, it's tracing the scars on someone's hand,

Sometimes, it's counting the freckles on someone's face.

It's been so long,

Coming home to you,

And did you know,

I could easily move on?

But the truth is,

I just don't want to.

If home is where the heart is,

Then baby, could it be,

That your home is still with me?

Mary lets out a sigh that seems to be coming from somewhere deep inside of her. “My god, I'm going to listen to that song on repeat for the rest of the week,” and after a moment she adds “potentially the rest of my life.”

“Then you're gonna have to get some headphones,” Remus says. “Because I'm already getting sick of hearing it.”

Mary gasps and clutches her chest. “Blasphemy!”

Remus gives her an unimpressed look. “I don't think you're using that word right.”

“‘Irreverence toward something considered sacred or inviolable’,” Mary states unfazed. “So yes, the perfect description of you insulting Sirius Black's music.”

Emmeline nods emphatically.

Remus sighs. “I'm not saying it's a bad song,” he says. “Just that I'm getting tired of hearing it everywhere, all the time.”

Mary opens her mouth to retort, but Emmeline interjects.

“I do sort of relate. It has gotten a painful tinge to hear the song, now that I know I won't be seeing Sirius Black perform it live…”

“You didn't get tickets for his show?” Marlene asks.

“No,” Emmeline sighs miserably. “I'm on the waiting list. Number 329.”

“Not as bad as Hestia. She's number 1550 or something.”

Emmeline shrugs. “In the end, it makes no difference. 329 or 1550, neither one of us is going to the concert. I mean, 329 people will have to die, and I don't reckon I'd be that lucky…”

“Emmeline!” Lily scolds.

“Well, that's the only excuse for not going to a Sirius Black concert, literally being dead,” Mary says. “I'd actually skip my mum’s funeral if I could see him live.”

“Mary!”

“No, no, Lils,” Emmeline says. “You don't know Mary's mum. If Mary were to miss out on seeing Sirius Black for her funeral, she'd actually come back from the death to haunt her.”

Mary nods. “She's a huge fan. Not going to a Sirius Black concert would be disrespecting her memory.” She glances over at Remus. “She might have some things to say as well if she hears that my actual roommate has openly disrespected Sirius Black’s music.”

Remus sticks out his tongue. “Sue me.”

“As soon as they create a law that makes depreciating Sirius Black illegal, which they should, I will!”

“Anyhow,” Emmeline says. “I haven't heard Sirius Black's voice for almost five minutes and I'm getting withdrawal symptoms,” and she reaches out to put the record back on.

Remus gets up to his feet. “That's my cue to leave.”

“You don't have to, Remus,” Lily says quickly. “If you really don't want us to, we won't put on his music. We value your company more than listening to Sirius Black.”

“Says who? Ow!” Emmeline rubs her shin where Lily kicked her.

Remus smiles at Lily. “Thanks, Lils, but it's okay. I have a paper I need to work on anyway.”

The moment Remus closes the door to his bedroom, he lets out a sigh that seems to be coming from somewhere deep inside of him.

Then, almost without thinking, he takes out his phone and punches in the number by heart.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line sounds surprised and, dare Remus think, hopeful?

“You have to stop doing this,” Remus hears himself say. “No,” he then corrects himself. “You don't have to do anything. I'm asking you. Please stop doing this.”

“Remus, what are you talking about?” He seems to be walking away from something– A promo event? A fancy dinner? An exclusive party?– as Remus can hear the voices in the background grow softer. Remus feels a brief hint of satisfaction; no matter how big the event he's at, how important the people he's with, when Remus calls, he gets up and walks away to talk to him, but Remus quickly corrects himself, because it's not like that anymore.

“It's killing me,” Remus admits, pressing a hand against his forehead. “I understand, but… God, it's killing me.”

“Rem,” Sirius, because of course it's Sirius, says gently. “You're still not making much sense. What are you trying to say? Why are you suddenly calling me? Why… Why now?”

“Your latest releases,” Remus says, as he starts pacing the room, though he can barely take two steps before he reaches the opposite wall. It's rather telling of the difference between them, he can't help but think. Sirius undoubtedly in some grand building surrounded by dozens of people who would fall over themselves to cater to his every whim, and Remus hiding out in his eight square meter bedroom cluttered with textbooks and scribbled notes. “I get why you do it. I'm probably terribly biased,” he lets out a brief laugh. “But I think the songs you wrote when we were together, and even after we just broke up, are your best songs, so I get that you would want to release them, to share them with the world and show everyone once again just how bloody talented you are. And you have every right. They're your works, your creations. But gods, Sirius, I can't pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” Sirius repeats, his voice almost a whisper, and Remus lets it all out.

“I can't pretend anymore that hearing those songs everywhere I go all the damn time doesn't make me want to die! That it doesn't just break me, to hear your voice sing those words, knowing what they once meant, and knowing that they don't mean that anymore! That you don't mean that anymore.”

“Remus,” Sirius interrupts sharply, and Remus immediately stops talking as Sirius speaks. “Do you really think I could sing those words like that, if I didn't still feel that way?”

And Remus’ breath catches in his throat.

#famous sirius black #singer sirius black #post breakup #academic remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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lohotine · 7 months ago

Note

*falls through your celling again*

I know you already did jealous shadow milk BUT I OFFER YOU THIS

Yandere shadow milk pls

Could be just hcs or sthm idc I JUST LOVE TUMBLRS DIFFERENT TAKES ON IT HCJDHDJFHF

AN: Yanderes <3 and I think this is before he got sealed, but after the corruption. (ALSO MY CEILING! FIRST MY DOOR, NOW THIS-)

Also, I'm def gonna make another one of these yan fics, just wait guys ♡

Yan! Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader

Oneshot (headcanons below)

Warnings: possessiveness, Manipulation, guilt tripping, toxic relationship, mentions of murder

-Only Me-

If only you could rewind time.

Back to the time where your lover wasn't crazy. Where he didn't have this unquenchable bloodlust, and where he didn't obsess over you.

The attention was nice at first, but it's long since become suffocating.

When will he finally let you breathe again?

Probably never. You'll die before he does, so this is probably going to go on until the day of your death.

What'll happen when you die? How will he handle it?

He can barely handle you leaving him for over an hour. There's no way he can handle you leaving forever, and to a place that, for once in his life, is unreachable to him.

He may still be alive after that, but maybe he'll finally stop 'living'.

He'll just exist.

"Dove, I'm back!" Called out an enthusiastic voice.

It would seem that Shadow Milk Cookie has finally returned.

You used to rejoice to the sound of his voice.

Where has all of the joy gone?

"Welcome back," you responded.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and placed a palm on your cheek, gazing with admiration towards your features.

"Oh dove, you truely are the only good in this rotten world~" He left a kiss on your forehead before returning to admiring you silently.

It would have felt nice.

This should have felt nice.

But it didn't.

"Um, I've been thinking about something, actually.." You'd bring up nervously.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I can maybe... leave this tower? Only for a little while?"

...

A silence filled the room before Shadow Milk Cookie started to snicker.

"Oh doll, you can't be serious! Why would you ever want to leave this place?" He gave you a condescending smile, hoping to feign even the slightest bit of ignorance or innocence.

"I've just been here for a long time. That's all.." You'd say.

"Don't be silly~ If you leave, then the outside world will destroy your perfect, delicate self. And you know I can't have my dolls breaking." He just kept staring at you with that sweet, sweet smile.

"But-"

"Oh, I get it. You're just leaving because you've gotten bored of me. Is that it?" His smile faded and was replaced with an uncaring glare.

"That's not what I meant.."

"You're so selfish, you know? I give you a nice place away from all of the chaos to keep you safe, I'm constantly giving you my attention, and now you want to leave me." He let go of you and looked away, a scowl present on his face.

"I never said I wanted to leave you!"

"If you loved me, you'd stay here with me, and not put up a fight about wanting to leave."

So that's how it is...

Such a shame that he could get you to obey him so easily.

Leading you on with your own love.

"Sorry, I won't ask about it again..." you looked towards the ground, a guilt seeping into your heart, even though none of this was really your fault.

"Say you love me, and only me."

...

"I love only you."

He placed a finger under your chin and made you look up to him.

The smile he always held was back, as if it never disappeared in the first place.

"Yep! Only me!"

《☆》 Fin

Headcanons

Obsessed.

That's really the only word to describe him

Burns down towns and kills people 'in your name'.

You've hinted that you don't appreciate the actions

He never gets the hint, and if he does, he ignores them

Uses your love for him against you

Guilt trips you into agreeing with him a lot of the time

Has come home covered in blood numerous times

Acts like it's insignificant

Loves seeing you cry

He thinks it's cute, but he'll still 'comfort' you in way

Will wipe his bloodied hands on your face and whisk your tears away

Holds you close to him, even when he's the problem

Never gives you space

Sometimes you wish for the old him

You told him about it and he just laughed

Talks to everyone about you, but if they say your name, he kills them instantly

Thinks your name doesn't deserve to be spoken by people like them

If you ever died he'd probably lose it

You're his lifeline

It's... really not healthy.

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enkvyu · 1 year ago

Text

ask game — prompt from this request

“you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

there’s an extra thump in gojo’s heartbeat.

his hands are sweaty even though he’s swiped his palms along his jeans a million times. he feels light headed, perhaps due to the sun peeking through the train window, and his thoughts are playing bumper cars inside his skull.

his mouth is dry, his body is begging him to relax his stiff posture, and he’s nervous. too much blood is rushing to his brain and not enough air is entering his lungs. he thinks he might need some water, but he's worried that if he tries drinking it'll just dribble down his chin.

you sleep peacefully through his panic.

the gentle rumble of wheels along rails lulls you into a shallow sleep, not the kind that has you wishing for a deeper slumber, but just enough rest for your heart to slow and your breathing to deepen.

your pillow is soft. it’s sturdy against your cheek and smells really, really nice, like fresh laundry hung out under the summer sun. it’s also warm, which is an obvious bonus. you snuggle into the heat, exhaling softly when you’re comfortable.

a sudden incline of the train track makes the carriage jolt, and your eyes widen at the shift in gravity.

“what’s happening?” your words slur together as you lift your head from your pillow to survey your surroundings.

you find gojo sitting beside you, oddly rigid and close by.

“why is your shoulder next to my head?”

gojo clears his throat, his eyes darting to you then away. “no reason.”

accepting his answer, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head. your hands collide with the compartment above and you’re once again reminded of where you were.

“when’s the train arriving?” you ask.

gojo flips his phone around to check the time. “you were asleep for forty minutes, so we still have an hour to go.”

“an hour? that long?”

“that’s why i said you should have let me warp us there instead.”

“i’d rather die.” you immediately decline. “last time i let you teleport us to the mission site, we ended up in california.”

“california is a great place!”

“our mission was in finland.”

gojo huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. the gesture blocks you off and you know he is sulking.

it's clear your words have wedged its way deep into gojo's heart, leaving a wound that'll only grow and become infected if you don't soothe him with flattery. “maybe next time, okay? sometime after you’ve mastered your technique which, i'm sure won't take long since you've always been so competent.”

he remains quiet, but you can almost see his ears perk towards you.

"the most competent out of the lot of us!"

he shifts closer, though his arms are still crossed at his front.

"throughout heaven and earth, you alone are the competent one?"

he finally turns over to you, loosening his posture. there's still doubt in his eyes but it is as expected; dealing with a sulky gojo was never going to be easy. “if you don’t trust me, you can just say that.” he pouts.

“okay, i don’t trust you.”

he tilts his body further away from you.

you're quick to reach over and hook your hand under his arm, pulling it towards you in hopes that he'll face you once again. you made a mistake, a slight slip of the tongue and now your progress had been reset. "my bad! but seriously, aren't you tired of playing the victim all the time?"

"excuse me?"

"i mean." you bite your lip, sealing away any more harsh remarks that might leave your mouth unintentionally. "you... are crazy cool! you're the best, gojo. i deeply apologise for my words earlier."

his mouth hangs open. "i think the one who's crazy is you. how do you always find something to complain about?"

"you're telling that to me? as if you weren't treating this entire train ride like your own personal therapy session. i did not need to know how much you struggled on the toilet this morning."

"it's a sign of being unhealthy! that's a very big concern!"

"one that you can bring up with shoko, not me." you easily deflect. "i could not care less about your health even if i tried."

"you are so mean."

you shrug. "i think you're just being a pissy boy."

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" he asks. "and she lets you? even though her child is a mean, spiteful, terrible person?"

he doesn't appreciate how his eyes flicker down to your lips at the mention, suddenly growing conscious of how he had begun to lean in during the heated conversation. you look none the different, face carved into your usual expression of disinterest.

it irks him.

wasn't it unfair how unfazed you seemed whilst he was running a marathon in his head? wasn't it simply annoying how much you looked like you were falling asleep again, even though his thoughts were held captive by the sight of you?

"where did you think my attitude comes from in the first place?" there's a lazy grin on your face that only makes gojo heat up even more—because it made him mad, not because it looked good on you, he tells himself.

"if you kissed me i wouldn't like it." he says, then immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

you give him the strangest look you can muster. "sorry?"

"i mean, because, i'm saying i wouldn't like it because you are such a mean person. that's all i'm saying, there's nothing else i'm trying to tell you. you're a horrible person. that's what i meant." gojo splutters. "not because i want you to kiss me. that would be such a strange thing to say. which is why i wasn't saying that."

there's a silence that fills the carriage, broken only from the hum of the train. gojo thinks he can hear his brain explode in the absence of sound before you finally burst out into laughter.

"oh my god, gojo! i never thought you would be the type of person that gets flustered over something like talking about kissing." you say around your giggles, smothering them with your palm as you watch gojo grow red. "especially since you brought it up."

gojo hisses, turning away to rest his chin on his hand, elbow on the aisle armrest. he pointedly ignores your attempts to get him to face you. "me neither." he mumbles into his hand.

"it's kind of cute."

"shut up."

"you're getting redder!"

"ignore it."

you only quiet down when a few minutes passes, making snide remarks at his oddly still state before sighing in satisfaction. you check the time on your phone and note that there was still a long way to go before you arrived. placing it on silent, you tap gojo on the shoulder. "wake me up before the train gets to our stop, okay?"

he makes a noise that you take as agreement, considering that he won't bear to look at you, before adjusting yourself and closing your eyes.

the train ride is silent save for your silent snores and the internal monologue of gojo's breakdown. his body grows stiff when he feels a pressure on his shoulder.

looking over, he finds you using him as a pillow again.

the embarrassment of his earlier words and his slight realisation that you made him feel weird, made him feel warm and nervous all over, makes this action deadly. with his heart racing, he sighs and shifts around so that you were more comfortable. the gesture is appreciated, and you sigh softly in your sleep.

the sight of you is pure torture and gojo finds himself unable to chase sleep as easily as you do. he stays awake until the train halts at the station, ignoring your question on why he looked so tired.

i'll write the other requests tmrw !! i'm sorry that this doesn't rlly have much to do with the prompt but i think i'm starting to lose my mind

#% ask game #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #gojo scenario #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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theinheriteddutchess · 2 months ago

Text

Out Of Time

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader

Summary: You hate Ari. It's not a secret to him. Your father died protecting you, and you would die to protect your bother. But he's waited almost 10 years, time's running out, and he won't let you go that easily.

Word count: almost 2400

Warnings: threat of death, Ari is a jerk, mentions of previous death, werewolf Pack have different rules and morals, yandere!Ari, nothing explicit

Notes: randomly started writing this a while ago, found out I actually liked it. Might make more if I get inspiration, but I will follow where the wind blows me, so until then it's a stand alone. Would love to hear if you like it, reblog ,comments, ask. I don't bite (only Sebastian Stan's butt is under threat).💕

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It was a mistake. He didn't deserve to be punished so severely. He was only a little boy.

But rules were strict in this pack. You behaved, or they made you behave. Still, death seemed to be too harsh for an nine year old. He had taken the mating necklace. But he was not thinking further than trying it, having admired it from a distance. He probably hadn't known what it was for, because Ari hadn’t used it yet. But it was sometimes talked about. Something the pack Alpha owned. He had just been looking up to his Alpha. Wanting to be like him.

You didn't feel the same way about Ari. You knew all about the rules. And Ari had proven to follow them strictly. That's how he killed your father.

You never looked at him the same.

You were repulsed by your mother, who kept telling you Ari had been young and still needed to establish his position.

He had been young. Twenty-two. Young for a pack Alpha. But he had always been strong. He had challenged the previous leader, Andy, who had been gentler. Andy was kinder in his approach, gave a little more leeway. It had cost him though. Ari had been coming off his rut, full of adrenaline, and Andy had let his guard down. Before you knew it, there had been a fight and soon Andy laid lifelessly on the ground.

Ari was Pack leader, and he wasn't as kind. He made it clear he demanded absolute obedience. And his height, as well as the weight in muscle he carried around, oozed dominance which most wolves didn't dare challenge.

Your father had soon been killed after. He had tried to shield you from the cruel Alpha and it had cost him his life. Still, his death did protect you. It was honorable to not pursue you after. And in your mind the last mate you wanted to have was him.

Your mother mated again with someone else, too soon for your liking, and Mico was born shortly after. Life had to go on, even if you silently resented it.

But now your brother was to be put to death. And terror swept through you as you raced to reason with Ari. You had little hope you would get through him. But you had to try.

As you halted in front of his den, you breathed heavily. You tried to calm your racing heart, tried to gather your thoughts. You needed to be calm.

You stepped inside, and waited at the entrance, if you got in any further you would have a big chance to be punished yourself and then your brother stood no chance.

“I expected you would come.” It sounded from further inside. You couldn't see him yet. The shadow shielding him effectively.

“He's my brother. Of course I would.” You replied. You kept your eyes on the ground. It was a sign of respect, but mostly you did it because his face disgusted you. You didn't know how you could pretend otherwise.

“So let's hear it. I'm assuming you're going to beg for his life?”

You gnashed your teeth. The mocking tone in his voice annoying you greatly, but what could you do?

“He's only nine. you know it wasn't done to disrespect you. In fact, there's no other he admires more.”

“And yet it was disrespectful.” he answered calmly. Deceivingly so. ”Any other I would have killed on the spot.”

“He's a child.” Tiny still for his age even. “He was curious. You could forgive him.”

“And show weakness to the pack? Now that would be foolish.”

“It wouldn't be weakness. It would be kind. Merciful.”

“Like Andy?” His cold voice sounded nearer, he was moving. “Need I remind you what happened to your favorite Alpha? Long gone, buried in the cold ground. More bones than flesh.”

“Andy was good.” You hissed.

“Unlike me? That's what you mean right? You think I'm cruel?”

You refused to answer. It didn't matter.

“I can be cruel, keep testing me and I will show how cruel I can be, little one.”

“I'm not here to argue.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I'm asking you to spare his life.”

He chuckled. “Braver than your mother.”

You smelled him so much stronger now. A deep, rich scent. Clean. Not unpleasant. His face came into view. Blank. His expression showed nothing about what he was feeling.

“Go on, tell me how I should save him. Punish him in a different way. Letting everyone know you can steal from me and get away with it.”

You looked up at him, forgetting the rules, forgetting the need for respect. “If a child is threatening to you, maybe you're not worthy being Alpha.”

“Careful. I wouldn't want to put you next to your brother.” He warned calmly.

“If you did, It would only prove my point.”

He let out a laugh. “Here I was, thinking you'd plead. But of course you wouldn't. You have too much pride. Like your father did. When he tried to turn me away.”

“At least he had guts. He died protecting me.”

“But died he did.”

Your fists balled. How you would love to rip his face to shreds, but you couldn't. It would help no one.

“He died so I could be free.”

“For now. Time is running out, and who will protect you now? Your mother? Her mate?” He grinned.

No, they wouldn't. And you knew it. Your mother was submissive. Her mate was decent, but not strong enough to take on Ari. Or willing to risk it.

“I will see when the time comes. Perhaps I will leave before it. And there are other ways.”

“I will not let you. If you mate with someone else I will challenge them. And they will lose. Their death will be on your conscience.”

There, he said it. The possessiveness so clear in his voice. His body tense, like he was ready to spring into action.

“You would kill the man I choose to be with? And you wonder why I hate you?” You told him with contempt in your tone. “Perhaps I wasn't even talking about mating another. Perhaps if I can't leave, I will make sure you won't ever have me. There are ways. And I'm not afraid to die.”

“You would kill yourself?” he was surprised. Offended even.

You shrugged, “There's things worse than death.”

“Any woman would be proud to be chosen!”

“Then pick one of them. I do not want you.” You snapped. “And I did not come here to talk about you or me, in any capacity. I came to talk about my brother.”

“And I have already made judgement. He will stand in front of the pack and he will fight me. There's nothing you will say to change what is already decided.”

It was ridiculous. To have a boy fight a grown man, three heads taller than him. He would never win. It was a joke of a trial.

“He can not beat you! Show some kindness, if you have any” you snarled.

“You always say I don't have any,” he lazily replied.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you growled.

“I'm sure I can manage your hatred after all these years of it,” he said, like he was already bored of the conversation. “It won't change a thing.”

“We will see,” you mumbled. You turned to walk away, but he called you back.

“Kneel.”

You froze, but you knew you had to. Your knees touching the ground beneath you fluently. Head down. Respectful. How you resented it.

“See, you can listen,” he told you amusedly. “If only you did it more often.”

You kept quiet. He was taunting you, and you were done with this conversation. You waited till he dismissed you, and quickly left his residence.

Your mother was holding back tears, yet you did not pity her. She was supposed to watch him, teach him. And most of all, protect him. Did she even try to reason with Ari? You had doubts. She would weep and grieve, but was she willing to give up her life? Not without permission from him. How pathetic.

You knew the pack needed to listen to its leader. It was how it was done. But surely, for a child, rules were meant to bend.

You watched Mico as he sat trembling with fear, waiting for the moment he was called.

He wouldn't run. Going out there alone, especially at his age, meant death. And perhaps a prolonged one.

You laid a hand on his head and bend down.

“Do not fear him. I will be there and I'm not going to let him hurt you.” You told him softly, a whisper only he could hear.

“You can't go against him,” he told you. Eyes big with tears. So young still. And such a burden to carry.

“It will be alright. You're my little brother. I will always look after you.”

He threw his arms around you and silently cried in your arms. You let him let it out until he tired himself out, falling asleep on your shoulder, completely exhausted from the last 24 hours.

Andy would have never put him through this. He was gentler. Fierce in his own way, but he was reasonable. Ari didn't care. He only cared about the respect he got from the group.

So at night, you gathered.

It was a solemn mood. You all knew what was going to happen. The whole pack was there, staring at their leader and the boy next to him, waiting for him to speak.

Ari straightened and raised his voice, letting it carry, even to the ones standing at the back. “We all know what happened. We all know the punishment for stealing from your Alpha! It is nothing less than death!”

A murmur rose in the crowd, affirmative, but sad. No one wanted to see a kid die. They all saw Mico as one of them, it could've been their child, if they didn't pay attention. They all were reminded to watch their children's every move. To prevent them from having to stand out there, awaiting the execution. It was a harsh lesson.

You ignored your mother's teary eyes and rough breathing. She had not once interfered. Your lip pulled up in a disgusted snarl. You would never look at her the same after this. When your father died there might never be a close bond with her again, especially not because she seemed intent to move on quickly. But her child… you couldn't believe, even now, she did nothing.

“It is one of our oldest rules and must be respected. Before dawn his life will end. It can be a swift death” at this Ari turned to Mico, almost amusedly before he continued. “Unless you wish to fight me for it?!”

You growled, fist balling at the mockery of that question. Even if he had changed the sentence, something you had been surprised about, it was still death. If he accepted, his life would end swiftly, fight Ari, and his death would be brutal and it would happen slow.

“I challenge you!” You raised your voice.

Some people gasped, others just turned to look at you.

Your mother mumbled “no!”, but you ignored her, as well as her hand that tried to prevent you from stepping forward.

“My life, or yours, for his.” You said while you marched forward. “Either way, he lives.”

You saw a moment of surprise in his eyes, it didn't last long. He still had that amused smile on his face. “You, little one? You wished to fight me.”

You wished him dead.

“Yes, instead of him. It is law.”

“It is.” He watched you with dark eyes, thinking. “But I do not wish to fight you.”

‘You will’, you thought, ‘you have to’. “I have challenged you!”

“And I decline,” he shrugged. “Your death would be meaningless. Honorable perhaps, but utterly useless. No. A fight will not happen. But there is a way to settle this.”

You didn't like hearing that. Ari could be callous if he wanted to be, and you hadn't counted on him denying you this fight.

“He stole the Mating Necklace. The oldest relic we have, passed down generations, only for the Pack's Alpha to gift for his chosen mate. Will it not be fair then, if I'm gifted something in return? The necklace for a bride?”

You swallowed, you knew what he was trying to do. This had not been the plan. You had expected him to take your offer. You hadn’t expected to win, he was too strong, but you were fierce, you would have made it difficult, and you would have had purpose. In a way, you would have had freedom.

Everyone seemed to like the idea however. What a great way to end this horrible ordeal. The child would live, and their Alpha would finally have a mate. Perhaps soon there would be another celebration if the Union would be fruitful.

You felt the excitement go through the group. The energy almost touchable.

You started sweating, eyes darting around, before finally settling on the trees nearby. You had no chance to make a run for it now. Ari was watching you intensely. Like he expected you to. He would make chase. He would not hold back.

It was like he said; he would not let you leave.

“What will it be, hmm? Your brother’s life, or yours?”

You took a step to lash out, to trigger a fight, but your brother piped up quickly, reading you like a book. “I will die. Please, I will. It's okay.”

He only looked at you, and it broke you. Freezing where you stood, you could only look back. He was trying to protect you. And that most of all settled it. You could not lose him, and you had no other options.

“I accept,” you whispered.

There was a cheer, but you ignored it. People were crowding you, congratulating, touching, laughing, you did not care. You knew your life would not be yours.

Your eyes broke contact with your brother in the jostle of the excitement of others.

You still saw Ari though, his smile wide with satisfaction and victory.

He had what he wanted for so long.

#Ari Levinson fanfiction #Ari Levinson x reader #Ari Levinson x you #werewolf au #werewolf!ari Levinson #mean Ari #fanfiction #Chris Evans fanfiction #out of time #yandere!ari Levinson

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