A dimmed photo of two sword blades crossing each other in the snow, and the follow text in the following "how it started" and "how it's going" format: โYou hate me,โ Isolde growled, stalking toward him. โYou never show it. Show it. Not because some wretched and cruel tyrant or a pathetic and powerless queen has ordered you to, or out of duty, or whatever else drives you. But because you, as a person, need to.โ Emrys hadnโt even noticed that heโd withdrawn his sword from his scabbard until he had already lunged toward his uncrowned queen. He shoved her to the ground. Hard. He sprung forward and landed on top of her. The edge of his blade hovered dangerously close to her neck. His heart rattled in his chest like a feral beast begging to be let out. โIs this what you wanted?โ
A dimmed photo of two sword blades crossing each other in the snow, and the follow text in the following "how it started" and "how it's going" format: Isolde didnโt move or try to run or fight back. Instead, with the hand he wasnโt pinning down, she gingerly touched the sliver of a cut heโd just made. โIsโฆ Is this what you wanted?โ โNo,โ his voice cracked. โNot at all.โ
I like my MMCs to be pathetic wet cats, FMCs more than a bit feral, and my smut angsty and packed with some sort of danger. All the better if there are pent-up emotions. #darkromance #faerystories #queerAdultSFF #snippet