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luminnara · 2 months

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Gladiator | Feyd Rautha x Reader

REQUEST: Feyd-Rautha fights in the arena, hoping to win your favor and maybe even your hand.

Warnings: violence

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Feyd-Rautha didn’t know why your face was the only one he seemed able to pick out of the crowd. Out of all the eligible daughters the Houses had thrown at him, you were the one he couldn’t get out of his head. Deep down, he knew he should consider himself lucky for the privilege to have a say in his marriage, but most of the heiresses he had encountered did little to interest him and he had grown more than bored of the whole ordeal.

Until he was presented with you.

He had known little of your family, and he hadn’t cared to learn more. You had been from far away, and your culture was probably far different from his own. Perhaps it was arrogance that had fueled his initial disinterest, his ego rearing its ugly head. He had seen you and assumed you were boring and prudish, based on your style of clothing, and had initially been beyond irritated when you were offered up before him. He had cursed his uncle the Baron, and nearly killed the nearest servant. He had wanted nothing more than to be as far away from you as possible, exhausted and annoyed after a week of meeting princess after princess, all of whom he had rejected.

Why, then, had he become intrigued by you? Had it been the way you looked at him with such boredom, as if he had nothing to offer you? Had it been the information that he was simply one in a long list of suitors you were slogging through, much in the way he had been for what felt like an age? Or had it been the sudden revelation that you had more in common with him than he had thought possible, and the sudden knowledge that if he wished to catch your eye, tradition dictated he must show you a spectacular fight and defeat every other man whose goal was your hand in marriage?

“It is the way of her people,” Rabban had shrugged, oblivious to the way Feyd’s world was slowly being turned on its head. “I have heard that they were fighting long before House Harkonnen built our first arena.”

Now, Feyd-Rautha was stalking back and forth through the sand, thinking of all the ways he could slaughter his competition. He was one of ten, ten suitors, none of whom were drugged or weak from starvation the way his quarry on Giedi Prime always was. As he glared at the opponents around him, he knew that you were watching from the stands, in a luxurious box with your parents and ladies in waiting, and when a glance in your direction confirmed his suspicions, he was overcome with the desire to kill for you.

He had never felt that before. He was plenty familiar with the urge to maim, to slice and tear, to take lives—but he had never wanted to do it for another person. His darlings, in a sense, garnered that from him when he killed servants to feed them…but this was different. That was a life taken as a gift and a means to spoil them. This was a fight to the death, a way to prove himself to you…and for some strange reason, he wanted—no, needed—to succeed.

“Today we gather in the ancestral arena of our great House to honor a tradition which we have kept alive for one thousand generations!” A voice boomed. “Today, the Great Houses send their sons to fight for the hand of my daughter, and should they be so lucky, one will win her favor!”

Feyd-Rautha glanced at his nearest competitor, a round-faced man who was far too old to be marrying you. He knew the man thought he was safe; they had all received a speech on the importance of not actually killing each other, but Feyd had had no interest in listening nor adhering to the rules. If he was to truly win your hand, he knew he must make a grisly spectacle of himself. He had gone so far as to fight shirtless, so as to show you his smooth, unscarred skin, and display his enemies’ blood upon his flesh.

“Now, warriors…do battle!”

You watched from above as the fight commenced.

“I like the looks of that Halleck boy,” your mother commented as she peered through her positively ancient opera glasses.

Your eyes found the one she spoke of and you sighed. “He favors his right leg. He will not last.”

Your father plopped down in the throne next to you, a hearty laugh booking from his chest. “That’s my girl. Ever the strategist, with the sharpest eye in the known universe. Tell us, then, who do you predict will win? We can make a bet on it.”

“I hardly think gambling is appropriate on today of all days.” Your mother shot him a glare.

He only laughed louder.

“I like the Harkonnen.” You said, watching as Feyd-Rautha drove a blade into another man’s shoulder.

Your mother made a tutting noise. “He is…”

“Bloodthirsty,” your father offered.

“Yes,” you said, somewhat transfixed. “He is.”

Your eyes followed Feyd-Rautha’s every move, glued to his form as he lithely parried and dodged his opponents’ attacks. He was a surprisingly welcome sight after the many suitors you’d turned your nose up at, and while he had initially bored you just as the rest had, there was something in his demeanor that had piqued your interest.

Upon meeting, you had both been irritated and more than ready to stay unmarried forever. You had heard that Feyd-Rautha had also been meeting potential suitors, and if the rumor mill was correct, he had nearly killed more than one of them. When you had first laid eyes upon the pale, hairless Harkonnen heir, you had immediately decided that you might give this one a chance; many of the others you had met had seemed ill suited, abhorred by the concept of fighting for your hand in an archaic ritual. Feyd-Rautha, however, had changed when he had heard, shifting from disinterested to focused, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect of a duel.

Now, he was stalking through the sand below you, wielding wickedly sharp hunting knives as he attacked a competitor from behind. He wasn’t above fighting dirty, you noted, his blackened teeth bared as he head butted another man. Only six remained including him, the other four having given up or lying unconscious at the feet of their opponents.

“He’s going to kill someone!” Your father exclaimed, his voice gleeful.

“And what a diplomatic nightmare that will be,” your mother mumbled.

You weren’t sure if Feyd-Rautha had truly taken any lives so far that afternoon, but as he drove a knife into the gut of another fighter, you surmised that your mother may be spending the rest of her day smoothing things over with and paying off the families of some of these men.

You watched, smiling to yourself as they all fell, one by one, into groaning, bloodied heaps in the sand, until only one remained on his feet. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was the victor, as you had hoped he’d be, and as the crowd erupted into a roar of cheers, you stood.

Your parents watched you carefully.

“Are you certain?” Your mother asked.

“Do you have any objections?” You countered.

“…none whatsoever.”

You turned to your father. “And you, Father?”

He shrugged, leaning his chin on his hand. “I quite like the boy. He will make for an interesting match.”

“Then it is settled,” you sucked in a breath, steeling yourself before turning and walking to the stairs.

In the arena, Feyd-Rautha was drinking in the sounds of an entertained crowd. He could put on a show anywhere, it seemed, and if he had been at all concerned by leaving Giedi Prime to fight on your planet, they were long forgotten. His blood was still boiling, chest heaving as attendants began collecting his fallen foes, of whom more than a few sported serious, possibly life threatening injuries. And after he had struck each one down, he had glanced up to find you there, watching him.

The crowd hushed suddenly, and Feyd-Rautha saw that it was because you were approaching him, stepping over your battered suitors without so much as a glance down at them. Your eyes remained focused on him, never leaving, boring into his form as he straightened up and faced you.

“Feyd-Rautha,” you greeted him.

“Princess.”

“You fought well.”

“Thank you.”

You smirked at him. “You hope to gain my favor, do you not?”

“I had hoped for your token, yes,” he admitted, watching you with those dark, intelligent eyes.

“A token, or my hand?” You asked.

“I will take whatever you see fit to bless me with, princess.”

With a sly smile, you closed the gap between you, pressing a hand to his chest. He felt warmth there, and when you pulled away, the roar of the crowd returned and he looked down to see a crimson handprint on his skin.

“Congratulations, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you said, your voice cutting below the cheering of your people in the stands above. “We are now engaged.”

With that simple statement, you turned on your heel and left.

It was foolish to turn one’s back to a Harkonnen, especially Feyd-Rautha, but you both knew he would never do anything to you. Not now. Not when his eyes refused to leave your retreating form. Not when his heart thudded in his chest excitedly. Not when he knew he suddenly had a wife, one for whom he would kill anything and anyone.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha

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physalian · 1 month

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10 More Character Types the World Needs More of

Part 1 was specifically character dynamics, but I’m considering this a sequel anyway.

1. Fiercely independent character’s lesson isn’t to “trust people”

I’m not projecting. You’re projecting. There is a divide wide enough to fit the Grand Canyon between “trusting that someone isn’t lying” and “trusting someone to follow through on a promise”. Most dumpster fire attempts at these characters (almost exclusively women) rely solely on mocking them for the former because “not all men” or something.

Being consistently let down in life makes you hesitant to a) gain friends, b) pursue romantic interests, c) maintain familial relationships, d) get excited about any event that demands participation from someone who isn’t you. None of this is simply a bad attitude—it’s a trauma response. There is no lesson to be learned, and not even exposure therapy can help because it’s a real, legitimate, and common stunt people pull, whether they mean it or not.

So write one of these characters and legitimize their fears, give them someone who proves the exception to the rule, but do not let the lesson be “well they just haven’t found the right person yet”. Even the “right person” can let them down. It's about not becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy by sabotaging a good thing to prove it will inevitably go bad.

2. Conventionally attractive men who aren’t horndogs

I’m going to find every way I can to tell you to write more aces. This is to fight the stigma that attractive people must be attracted to people. Give me gorgeous aces and demi’s, men, women, enbys and everyone in between, who put a crap ton of effort into looking their best, and yet happen to not have a very loud libido. They look good for themselves, and not to impress anyone else.

Give me someone who could have anyone they wanted, gender regardless, and just simply has no interest. Or, they do actually have a significant other, but sex, how hot their partner is, or how horny they are, isn’t their internal monologue. I don’t even care if it’s unrealistic, it’s annoying to read.

And, you know, giving men male characters who aren’t thinking about sex all the time can be good, right? Right?

3. Manly warrior men who also write poetry

A.K.A Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. Just give me more Aragorns, period. This dude is either covered in filth, blood, guts, and the last 30 miles of rugged terrain, or singing in Elvish at his own coronation while pink flower petals fall. A man can be both, and still be straight.

A man can also drink Respect Women juice, you know? He ticks off all the boxes—he’s gentle when he needs to be, not afraid to hide his emotions, kind to those who are vulnerable and afraid and need a strong figure to look up to, resolute in his beliefs, skilled and knowledgeable in his abilities without being arrogant or smug, and the first boots on the battlefield, leading from the front.

4. Characters who are characters when no one is watching

This is less a specific type and more a scene that doesn’t get written enough. This whole point comes from Pixar’s Cars. I. Love. This. Movie. It’s not Pixar’s best, for sure, but this is my comfort movie. The best scene, one that’s so unique, is when Doc (aged living legend) thinks he’s alone when he rolls out onto the dirt race track and comes alive tearing around the oval.

This character’s unbridled, unabashed glee and euphoria at proving to himself that he’s still got it, when he’s completely unaware of his audience, is perfection. Not enough credence is given to characters to just… enjoy being themselves. He’s not doing it to prepare for the climactic race, he’s not doing it for the plot, he’s doing it just to do it, not even to prove Lightning wrong—just for himself.

Give your characters a “Doc Racing” scene. Whatever their skill is. Maybe they’re a dancer, a skater, a swimmer, a painter, sprinter. Just let your character love being alive.

5. Characters whose neurodivergence isn't “cute”

A.K.A. Lilo Pelekai from Lilo and Stitch. Really, her relationship with Nani is peak sibling writing. But Lilo herself is just so realistic with how she interacts with the world, how she interprets her relationships with her so-called friends, how she organizes her thoughts and rationalizes what she can’t quite understand, and how friggen smart she is for an… 11-year-old?

But she’s not “cute”. As in, she wasn’t written by generic Suits who were trying to cash in on the ND crowd by writing what they think will sell, but also making her juuust neurotypical enough to still be palatable by the rest of the audience. Lilo’s earnestness is what endears her to everybody. But also, she doesn’t get a free pass for her behavior, either. Her “friends” aren’t forced to accommodate her and Nani isn’t written as the cold-hearted villain for trying to discipline her.

6. Straight male characters with female friends

Am I double-dipping a bit here? Yes. While I completely understand how tempting it can be, this type of character is in dire need of exposure and representation to prove it’s possible. No weird tense moments, no double-glances when she isn’t looking, no contemplations about cheating on his girlfriend (and no insecure jealous girlfriend either). Just two characters who enjoy each other’s company and are able to coexist in a space and be in each other’s spaces without hormones getting in the way. Peak example? Po and Tigress from Kung Fu Panda.

Let these two rely on each other for emotional strength in times of need, let them share inside jokes, let them have a night alone together at a bar, at home, cooking dinner, getting takeout, talking on the patio in a porch swing… with zero “will they/won’t they.”

7. The likable bigot

I’m actually on the fence with this one but it’s something I also don’t see done often enough and I’m adding it for one reason: Bigots aren’t always obvious mustache-twirling villains and the little things they do might seem inconsequential to them, but are still hurtful. So showing these characters is like plopping a mirror down in front of these people and, I don’t know, maybe something will click. They don’t have to be MAGAs to be dangerous, and only writing the extremes convinces the moderates that they aren’t also the problem.

Example: I have a “friend” who recently said something along the lines of “I have lots of gay friends” followed up shortly by “I don’t think this country should keep gay marriage because it’s a slippery slope to legalizing pedophilia.” You know. The quiet part being that she *actually* thinks being gay is as morally abhorrent as being a pedo. But she totally has lots of gay friends. Including one who was driving her during that conversation. (It’s me. Hi. I’m apparently the problem, it’s me.)

She’s absolutely homophobic, but the second she stops announcing it, she’s a very bubbly person. She’s a ~likable~ bigot and thus thinks she can distance herself from the more violent ones.

8. The motherly single father

I say “motherly” merely as shorthand for the vibe I’m going for here. “Motherly” as in dads who aren’t scandalized by the growing pains of their daughters, and who don’t just parent their sons by saying “man up boys don’t cry”. Dads who play Barbie with their kids of either gender. Dads who go to the PTA meetings with all the other Karens and know as much if not more than they do about the school and their kids’ education.

Dads who comfort their crying kids, especially their sons. Dads that take interest in “feminine” activities like learning how to braid their daughter’s hair, learning different makeup brands, going on nail salon trips together. Dads who do not pull out the rifle on their daughter’s new boyfriend and treat her like property. Dads who have guy friends that don’t mock him and call him gay. Dad who does all this stuff anyway and is *actually* gay, too, but the emphasis is on overly sensitive straight men’s masculinity here.

Wholesome dads: a shocking amount of single-parents to female anime protagonists.

9. The parent isn’t dead, they’re just gone

Treasure Planet is an awesome movie in its own right, but what’s even better? This is a Disney movie where the parent isn’t dead, he’s just a deadbeat who abandoned his son and isn’t at all relevant to the plot beyond the hole he left behind for Jim to fill. The only deadbeat dads Disney allows are villains and those guys are very vigorously chasing an aspiration, that aspiration just doesn’t include quality fatherhood. Or motherhood. Disney has yet to write a deadbeat mom, I’m almost certain.

I just wrote a post about the necessity of the “dead parent” cliche, but what is perhaps more relatable because it’s more common, and what earns even more sympathy and underdog points for the protagonist? The hero with the parent who left. Then there’s a whole extra layer of angst and trauma available when your hero can now plague themselves with the question of if the parent leaving is their fault. Death is usually an accident. Choosing to abandon your kid is on purpose.

10. Victim who isn’t victim-blamed or told by their friends (and the narrative) to forgive their abuser

Izuku Midoriya lost so much support from me the moment he told his friend, bearing the consequences of domestic violence across half his face, that Midoriya thinks he’ll be ready soon to forgive his abomination of a father. I am firmly in the “Endeavor is a despicable human and hero” camp and no I’m not taking criticism. I audibly gasped when I heard this line and realized Deku was serious. Todoroki needs friends like the Gaang to remind him that he's allowed to hate the man who's actions caused the burn scar across his f*cking face.

I understand that the mangaka apparently didn’t anticipate the vitriolic backlash toward Endeavor during his debut and reveal of his parenting tactics but the tone-deafness of telling a fifteen year old with crippling emotional management issues and a horrible home life that his abusive dad in any way deserves and is entitled to forgiveness on the grounds of being related is disgusting.

Take it back further to a more famous Tumblr dad: John Winchester. Another despicable human who got retroactively forgiven by his sons after his death in a “he wasn’t so bad, he really did try” campaign. It’s one thing if the character believes it, it’s a whole different matter if the narrative is also pushing this message.

Katara is a perfect example: She lets go of her grudge for her own peace of mind and stops blaming Zuko for something he had no hand in, stops blaming him simply because he’s a firebender and he’s around to be her punching bag. She doesn’t forgive the man who killed her mother, because that man doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. Katara heals in spite of him, not because of him, and had she let him off the hook, she would have gotten an apology for getting caught, not for what he did (which is exactly what happened).

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character design #character development #aragorn #pixar cars #kung fu panda #lilo and stitch #treasure planet #atla #katara #my hero academia

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feelrush · 4 months

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JADE CITY.

— dialogue prompts from jade city by fonda lee.

“what’s going on? you seem out of sorts tonight.”

“send me the bill for the damage. i’ll take care of it.”

“tell me, my friend. have you had any other trouble around here lately?”

“sitting out here alone? something the matter?”

“how am i still alive when they’re all dead?”

“what did you come for at this hour, anyway? spit it out.”

“you should have killed that man!”

“i fell asleep waiting for you, and in return you scare the shit out of me. where were you?”

“you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

“i’ve forgotten the past. everything’s forgiven, now that you’re back.”

“ah, what to choose, pain or failure?”

“where are you taking me?”

“cancel the rest of the day’s meetings. i’ll be in my office.”

“wait here and don’t move until you’re called.”

“i’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been brought here.”

“may i… ask a candid question?”

“i’ll wait for an answer, but not for long.”

“you have to pay attention every fucking second because i can’t always be there if there’s trouble, understand?”

“sometimes the old ways are not without wisdom.”

“can you drive? can you handle a gun?”

“i keep seeing you, but i don’t know your name.”

“do you have anything to drink? it’s still hot inside.”

“whatever it is you decide to do, i’ll support you. i’ve told you that before, and it hasn’t changed.”

“i’m afraid i’m paying you this visit out of a sense of great concern.”

“there needs to be a balance of power.”

“what do they think we are? hired thugs?”

“why the fuck are you here?”

“i knocked but you must not have heard me.”

“you look as if you could use a massage.”

“i visit here too often; it’s not safe for you.”

“i have a gun, and i know how to use it. i won’t be a burden. i can take care of myself.”

“we’ll talk about this later.”

“from now on, i’ll be sure to call out hello to you when i’m still well out of knife range.”

“what can i do to help?”

“if anyone tried to kill you, you deserved it.”

“what is wrong with you? you don’t know who you are anymore.”

“give me your blessing, or condemn me, but don’t wash your hands of me.”

“not ready to die yet. gonna quit while i’m ahead.”

“you work for me now, you understand?”

“i’m disappointed you didn’t accept my offer.”

“we can plan a wedding, a big one. pick a date. i was thinking soon—springtime, what do you think?”

“you can do anything else you want, but not this.”

“it’s not that i think you’re boring. it’s just that keeping watch over you isn’t all that exciting, you know.”

“and here i was, starting to think all our meetings were because you were working up to hitting on me.”

“where and how did you fuck up?”

“risk your own life how you like, but leave me alone to live mine.”

“i’m not a coward.”

“i’ve never asked you for anything, but i’m asking you now, to keep this secret.”

“you do a good job, you make a big impression, show just how valuable you can be—that’s when we talk for real.”

“you were fantastic out there tonight.”

“do you want to get something to eat? we can do it another time if you’d rather go out with your friends tonight.”

“please don’t kill him.”

“must you leave so soon? come back to bed. stay the night.”

“heaven help me. i’m going to kill them all.”

“betrayal, murder, and war have a way of ruining one’s plans.”

“i could still kill him for you.”

“i can kill my ex-boyfriends myself.”

“don’t look like that. like you think i’m disappointed in you when i’m not.”

“i couldn’t sleep and wondered if you’d be kind enough to join me for a cup of tea.”

“it’s been a long day, and i don’t think i’d be very good company right now.”

“but what’s the value of silly pride compared to doing what’s best for the people one loves?”

“expectations are a funny thing. when you’re born with them, you resent them. when you’ve never been given any, you feel the lack of them your whole life.”

“people are cruel. don’t tempt them with arrogance.”

“so long as i live, i’ll never turn my back on a friend.”

“get out of my sight! i never want to see you again!”

#rp meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompt #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts

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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

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Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth.

Warnings: Incest (duh), violence, blood/gore, swearing.

Part 1,

Part 2

"Who's that from?" Baela asked as she watched Y/N read a letter she'd received only a few moments ago by raven. It bore a seal that the older girl recognised all too well and by the look on Rhaena's face, she seemed to recognise it too.

"It's that one-eyed arseling" she told her twin.

After the incident that resulted in the loss of Aemond's eye, Daemon's entire family and Rhaenyra's left for Dragonstone where they were wed. Y/N quite liked the princess, her sons however were the ones she found slightly difficult to get along with at first. Especially since she hadn’t taken their side when all hell broke loose the night Aemond claimed Vhagar.

But over the years, they all started to grow comfortable around each other, though Y/N would have to admit that she still found it unfair that Luke never received so much as a stern scolding for what he'd done that night, granted it was unintentional.

"Why do you still write to him?" Baela asked, quiet annoyed at her older sister "He punched me"

"Didn’t you say you punched him first?" Y/N casually mentioned but then winced. She did not mean to take the prince's side over her sister's "Sorry I did not mean to- all I'm saying is, that happened years ago. He was only ten and I'm sure he's a changed man now"

"I agree people change" Rhaena wrapped her arm around Y/N's, as she politely spoke "but he did steal my dragon"

"He claimed Vhagar. I know it was mean of him to not let have your chance at claiming your mother's dragon but we all know he did not steal her" you corrected, earning another annoyed sigh from the girls "Oh come now, you know Dragons don’t just let anyone ride them. If she did not bond with Aemond, he would be burned alive"

"It annoys me that you still take his side. I know he's your friend but we're your sisters" Baela scoffed. This wasn’t the first time you lot had argued over this subject "he's arrogant and-"

"And the boy who paid with his eye that night. Keep in mind Luke was responsible for it and was let off the hook without so much as a slap on the wrist" Y/N interrupted. She hated fighting with her sisters "You know I love you girls, I would never choose anyone over the both of you but you do have to admit as much as it was unfair to you, it was equally unfair for him as well"

"I'm not doing this again" Baela arose from where she sat. She was the short-tempered one out of the three of them "I'll be in my chambers"

Y/N heaved a sigh as she watched her younger sister storm out. She would go after her but she was presently too keen on reading what Aemond had written to her. The older girl turned to look at Rhaena, who was the sweeter, more timid one. "Go talk to her will you? I'll find you both in a bit" Y/N said with a soft smile and Rhaena obliged to what her sister asked.

Once the girl left, Y/N once again turned to read what Aemond had written. They did not write to each other often, just a few times here and there to tell one another of a few things happening in their lives.

"...the last time I wrote to you, I mentioned that I had a rich-green emerald replace the empty eye socket. Well, I took into consideration of what you said about a sapphire looking much better so I switched out the green gem for the blue one and I must admit I like it better.."

Y/N smiled to herself.

"Y/N?" Daemon called out as he stood by the door, pullling away his daughter's attention from the letter "care to explain what caused yet another fight between you and your sisters?"

The princess sighed, something she was doing a lot lately. She put down the letter and turned in her chair so that she was facing her father.

"It's about my friendship with Aemond, kepa. The girls do not seem to approve of it" she told him as she watched her father slowly walk in and sit at the edge of her bed "I won’t deny that he can be a bit much, but everyone has flaws"

"Oh so that's the reason for the argument this time" he chuckled "and the previous time?"

"That was when they tried to defend Jace and Luke by saying Aemond called them bastards" the girl told him to which he reacted with a smug smile, something that had her puzzled "what’s funny about that?"

"I love my wife Rhaenyra and her sons the same way I love you girls but" he stood up to walk toward her and lowered his voice as he continued to speak "between the both of us, you aren’t naïve enough to believe that they’re.. legitimate, do you?"

Since Y/N was Daemon's firstborn and quite frankly the only one he truly loved when he was still married to Rhea, over the years he found that she was the only one he could trust with almost anything. He even found a few similar traits between the both of them and he hoped for her sake she would not grow to be as rash and impulsive as he could get at times.

"Well considering the fact that the King has announced he will cut the tongues of those who say otherwise, I chose to believe what Rhaenyra says" Y/N answered briskly to which her father rolled his eyes.

"Chose to believe" he repeated with an amused tone "a diplomatic answer. Yn gaomā daor mittys aōha kepa"

"But you don’t fool your father"

Y/N let out a huff in defeat. They had had this conversation before, even though Daemon never openly suggested that they were bastards. But now, he seemed to be quite forward and bold and Y/N knew there was no way of smart-mouthing her father.

"Daor, gaoman daor drējī pendagon issi drēje āzma zaldrīzoti" She answered in a hushed tone, afraid someome might walk in even though she was aware only her father, sisters and Rhaenyra knew the language "nyke gīmigon ñuha ōghar iksis mirrī similar naejot pōjon yn nyke jiōraton bona hen ñuha muña, pōja muñar sia se ānogar hen Valyria. Konīr iksis daor ñuhoso pōnta would jurnegon se ñuhoso gaomis lo īlis drēje āzma"

"No, I do not truly think they are true-born dragons. I know my hair is a bit similar to theirs but I got that from my mother, both of their parents were the blood of Valyria. There is no way they would look the way they do if they were legitimate"

Daemon smiled at this, quite proud that his oldest daughter was smart enough to see the obvious truth that his brother turned a blind eye toward. He knew that this only weakened Rhaenyra's claim but he'd managed to fix that by wedding her. The only thing that upset him now was that after Rhaenyra, it was Jace who was in line to inherit the throne and not a true blood of the dragon.

"Ziry should sagon ao qilōni iksis brōstan dārilaros tolī Rhaenyra iksis dāria" He told his daughter, rather seriously.

"It should be you who is named heir after Rhaenyra is queen"

"Me?" Y/N repeated, unsure of how she felt about where this conversation was heading. Sure, she wasn’t as close to Jace but he was her family now and she did not wish to steal something that was promised to him, even though it was never formally announced that he was Rhaenyra's heir.

"Iksā ñuha tala, se ānogar hen iā zaldrīzes" he continued "ziry should sagon iā Targārien va se dēmalion, iā drēje mēre. Daor matter skorkydoso kostōba hen iā ivestragon bona valītsos ēza toliot ao"

"You are my daughter, and the blood of a dragon. It should be a Targaryen on the throne, a true one. Does not matter how strong of a claim that boy has over you"

Y/N snicked at the wordplay he'd used. She knew he held some truth in what he said but what he was suggesting, it was rather bold. She'd never really imagined herself on the iron throne, not until this particular conversation. Still, she couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her now half-brother Jace.

"No point in discussing this" she promptly spoke "I have no intention of stealing something that isn’t mine"

"You’re not stealing, you’re claiming something that is rightfully yours. You are the oldest, the one who has upheld tradition and speaks the language of our ancestors, who I know will be an excellent queen" Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder "think about it and let me know of your final opinion on the matter. Only then shall I discuss with my wife the succession of her throne"

Y/N simply nodded in response.

"Oh and pack your things" he added "we have to leave for King's Landing, urgent business regarding Lucerys"

And with that, he left Y/N to ponder over the conversation that she'd just had.

Aemond was slightly confused to see everyone at court rushing about, cleaning or changing the drapes. It was as if it were announced that there was to be a wedding. A similar sort of chaos had broken loose a few days prior to Aegon's and Helaena's wedding.

He went to find his mother, to ask her why everyone was so pre-occupied with making the castle appear spotless.

"Is there something I've missed?" He asked as soon as he burst into the room "everyone seems half crazed"

"I was hoping to wait until supper to tell you" queen Alicent arose from her chair before she walked toward her son "There has been a certain, problem that has arisen. With the news of Lord Corlys' possible demise, the throne of Driftmark is left vulnerable"

"I thought my nephew Luke was heir, he is named lord of the Tides" Aemond stated the obvious "Is it one of those Velaryon girls who oppose his claim?"

"No, it’s Corlys's brother, Vaemond" Alicent told him "and i have to admit he seems to be a better fit for the throne"

"I take it there will be a hearing for the matter" The prince looked toward the fire that burned in the fireplace "In which I can only assume you will favour Vaemond?"

"Do you not support our decision then?" Alicent asked, quiet curious to hear her son's opinion on the matter though she knew he would back whatever decision she made.

"No, of course I do mother" he assured with a soft smile "We both know that Lucerys isn’t Laenor's son"

Alicent beamed proudly at her child, though she did not make it obvious that she was far too happy to dethrone Rhaenyra's son.

"I can only expect for Rhaenyra and Luke to be present here the same way Vaemond will be" he further inquired to which his mother replied with a 'yes'. This sort of ignited a hopeful spark in his chest "Will the rest of their family be joining us as well?"

Alicent knew he was asking her this with hopes that maybe the princess Y/N too would be returning to court. The queen was quite fond of the girl, but she wished her son did not have any sort of expectations regarding to wedding her; especially after that incident years ago, that cost him his eye. Her father Daemon was married to Rhaenyra now and that just further decreased Aemond's chances of asking for Y/N's hand in marriage.

"I do not know for certain but I would assume the entire family would be present" she told Aemond who only hummed in response, not showing any sort of emotion to the statement.

He had become rather cold and distant after he'd lost his eye, never letting anyone too close to him.

Aemond took his leave, heading back to his chambers. After all these years of only being able to speak to Y/N through words on paper, he would finally be able to talk with her in person. He wondered how she looked, if she was still a touch taller, or just as giggly and talkative. The last time he'd seen her was on the morning of her departure away from Driftmark, the very next day after he'd lost his eye.

Aemond had just been told, in the presence of his mother that he wouldn’t be able to live his life the same way he'd been living all these years. He would have to re-learn how to fight, how to ride and then there was mention of him not being able to fly Vhagar. After everything he'd gone through, he was being told that even after he'd acquired a dragon of his own, he wouldn’t be able to fly her. And then came the news of migraines that he would suffer from even after the wound was healed.

Aemond began to cry and then eventually began to scream out of frustration, demanding that everyone leave the room at once so that he might be alone.

Y/N, who was already on her way toward his chambers, heard the noise and went in and Alicent did not stop her; maybe she would calm him down?

"Aemond?" the princess softly called out, cautiously stepping closer.

"Leave me alone!" the boy snapped, still in a terrible mood but Y/N wasn’t going to listen that easily.

"I came here to see you-"

"I said go away!" he screamed at her and the girl did not appreciate it one bit, she was Daemon's daughter after all.

"I am going away!" she screamed back at him with such ferocity that it immediately silenced his temper tantrum "to dragonstone"

"What-" he quietened down as he processed her words. With the passing of Daemon's wife, he thought the man might return to King's Landing which would mean that even Y/N would return with him back home "You’re leaving, again?"

"I am" she reconfirmed it "I only came to say goodbye"

Aemond wanted to fling something at the wall out of frustration. He'd only just been reunited with her and now she were being taken away from him again.

"I don’t like your kepa" he grumpily muttered under his breath "always taking you away from me"

Y/N giggled at this, finding it adorable until her smile faded when she remembered that she was leaving him again. She noticed that during the entire conversation he did not look toward her and she knew it was because he did not want her to see the ghastly wound on his face. She took his hand in hers and leaned down to gently kiss his knuckles which made Aemond gasp with surprise.

"Kepa always used to kiss my injuries to heal them faster" she sweetly told him "I don’t think I can kiss your cheek without hurting you, so I hope a kiss to the knuckles will help"

Aemond smiled at her. He felt a pang of jealousy when she mentioned that her father used to try to help with the pain any time she hurt herself by kissing the injury. Meanwhile his own father did not care one bit about his loss of an eye. He did not even bother to come and see him the next morning.

He was glad Y/N did, it made him feel a little less unwanted.

A gentle smile spread across his face at the memory and he subconsciously looked down at the very same hand she'd kissed.

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anastasiaskarsgard · 3 months

Note

I have an idea for a marquis ineshot.

so the reader and the marquis (don’t know each other) are at a masquerade ball. In the middle of the ball, the reader walks in and catches the marquis torturing or killing someone (minor inconvenience to major offense). The reader gasps, the marquis sees them and the reader runs. He eventually catches up to the reader and instead of killing then, he goes “I think I’ll keep you”

WARNING: NSFW sex, cursing, violence, criminal activity, p in v, coercion, possessive behavior etc.

Where are you taking me?” You pleaded. You looked around frantically, trying to figure out where you were.

The man that had you sling over his shoulder just ignored you and carried on what seemed like an endless concrete hallway. Everything was just gray, with an occasional light fixture.

Looking down his broad back, to you handcuffed hands, you knew these were the real deal, and would only get tighter if you struggled. They were already hurting your wrists:

Maybe if you just behaved and were quiet, he’d trust you and you could get away when he let his guard down. If you were being honest, you never thought you’d get away from the Marquis alive.

Ever since that night, he had kept you as if you were a possession, and not a living breathing human being.

At first you’d fought him, and tried to escape. Spitting on him had been a huge mistake, and you’d woken up on the floor by yourself, wondering if it’d all been a bad dream. Then you’d pushed yourself up, and placed your hand on the small puddle of blood that, as you felt your face, must have come out of your nose. You’d never been hit in your life.

The day after “the incident”

Sitting up, and looking around, you looked to see if any doors were open. getting to your feet, you made your way over to the window to see how far from the ground you were.

Seeing you were only on the third floor of this mansion, you figured you could most likely crawl down the heavily ornate stone accents of the home. Your heart soared when the window opened up easily, until the clearing of a throat, made it crash back down to the ground.

Gathering your bearings, you turned around to find the Marquis sitting in a chair not far from you, in the corner. You wondered if he had been there all along, and wanted to kick yourself for not even seeing him.

“Do you need some fresh air, ma nenette?” He asked you with an arrogant sneer on his face. Leaning forward and slowly standing, he slowly approached you, offering his hand.

You just looked between his hand and his eyes, trying to think what you could do. He was so imposing, and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Under different circumstances, any attention from this man may have likely been welcomed. But he wasn’t a man at all, he was a monster and you had seen just how vicious and cruel he could be.

Growing impatient, he snatched your hand and pulled you close to him. “Why must you fight me? You fucking American women are all the same.” He gritted in your ear, as he buried his face in your hair and took a big sniff.

Not wanting to get hit in the face again, you stood as stiff and rigid as possible, just waiting for this interaction to end.

Pulling back so he could look at your face, he placed his hands on your cheeks and forced you to make eye contact. “I appreciate beautiful things such as art, well tailored suits, amazing architecture. All these are things I can own and control. I never have appreciated a woman, like I did when I saw your face the first time, or how I do now as I look at you. Logically I should have killed you. You are a liability. You have the potential to hurt me.” He released your face and turned away from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. “I don’t want to destroy such beauty. You will never want for anything. You will have the best of everything, and I will protect you, as long as you are mine.”

You felt panic rising up, and before you could think how it would affect him, you blurted out that you don’t want to belong to anyone.

Turning on his heel, he flashed a condescending smirk your way, “as soon as you burst through that door, and interrupted that little incident, you became mine. I am the only reason, you’re alive. If you left my protection, you’d be dead before morning. I wasn’t the only one in that room that sees you as a liability.”

He’d stormed out of the room then, leaving you unsure what to do. You sat down on the plush bed and figured that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have any kids waiting on you, and no boyfriend to speak of. You drifted off to sleep, and woke the next day, to a whole new closet full of clothing you’d only seen in magazines. Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton and brands you’d never even known about.

Two women had come in to do your hair and make up and help you choose the right clothing. You’d tried to talk to them, but beyond getting you ready, they were unresponsive. You soon realized that you’d find no sort of solidarity or friendship in them.

The next month had been a whirlwind of private jets all over the world, fashion shows, galas and being treated like a literal princess. You tried to remind yourself that he was a monster, but then he’d give you a bejeweled necklace that reminded him of your eyes or take you to see whales because you’d always wanted to see them.

At first you’d been uncomfortable with traveling with his full entourage and small army of bodyguards, but since none would speak to you beyond professional politeness, they soon became part of the background. Like a sofa, or artwork.

The Marquis was the only one that spoke to you, or seemed to care about your thoughts or needs. He hadn’t been kidding, when he said you could have whatever you wanted. It became a game, to think up ridiculous things, and see if he could provide them.

That brought you to earlier today…

“It’s my mothers birthday, may I call her please? She’s probably worried sick about me.” You’d asked hopefully. Even though you were with him against your will, you felt like maybe you didn’t really mind him so much. He had only hit you because you spit in his face, and he’d never done anything more than kiss you. If you were being honest, you kind of wanted him to do more.

He looked up from his paperwork and contemplated you, before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “How do I know you won’t tell her to come rescue you. You’ve been being such a good girl for me, I cannot let you ruin that.”

Was he actually insecure? He always seemed so sure of himself. Your mind raced for something to say, when the most obvious strategy occurred to you. He was a man after all.

“Can I talk to you alone for a minute.” You asked, looking pointedly at the bodyguards around the room. “I need to show you something private.”

His eyebrows rose, and he scanned your body up and down. Waving his hand, they all exited, and you suddenly weren’t so sure you were brave enough to do this.

You weren’t a virgin, but you also never used your assets to get your way. You could feel your insecurities clawing to the surface, but you quickly mentally crushed them. He was obsessed with you, and liked what he saw. Not the other way around.

You gave him a knowing smile, standing up straight and facing him, taking a few steps towards him, finding yourself behind his desk. Grabbing his office chair, you spun it around, so you had his full attention, and room to move freely.

You took a few steps back and brought your hair over your shoulder, idly swaying your hips in a figure eight to the imaginary beat, rubbing your hands down your body.

The Marquis was fully invested in what you were doing, and bit his plump bottom lip, when you grabbed your breasts and pushed them together. He almost looked adorable, except he was too gorgeous to ever be called anything but beautiful.

“Do you like what you see?” You asked as you bit your lip, looking at him mischievously out from under your thick lashes, “do you want to see more skin, Vinnie?” You turned around before he could see your smile. He hated it when you called him Vinnie, but you were nearly positive it secretly amused him. pulling your blouse up and over your head, you tossed it to the side, before spreading your legs a bit, and bending over. Reaching between your legs, you lightly skimmed your sex over your lacy underwear, that were peeking from beneath your short skirt. You slowly stood up straight again, continuing to sway as you casually pulled your bra off, before tossing it over your shoulder into his lap.

Covering your breast with one arm, you spun around and made your way in front of him, you let your arm fall to your side, as you climbed into his lap, straddling him.

The smile on his face wasn’t as arrogant as usual, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your heart at the thought of what could of made this beautiful man into a monster. Swiftly pushing those thoughts from your mind, you instead focused on the rock hard member straining against his pants. You were surprised he hadn’t touched you yet, and wondered why the same man that essentially imprisoned you to stay by his side, was so respectful.

Out of curiosity, you took his large hands from where they lay on the armrests, and slid them up onto your stomach, then up your ribs, finally letting them go just at the bottom of your breasts. The Marquis let out a sensual moan, before firmly cupping each breast in each hand, as he undulated his hips up against your core. Sucking air through his teeth, he looked you in the eyes, as he firmly grabbed you by the hips, to create more friction. His eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched them darken with lust, and you wondered if he was going to be upset that your pussy was positively soaking his pants.

He reached up and grabbed your face, but released it just as fast, knitting his brows together. “Do you want me as much as I want you? I don’t think it is possible.” Nodding your head yes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his desire, you leaned down to take his lips in a furious kiss. Lips brushed lips, teeth hit teeth, tongues met and separated in a rush of pure raw need. A groan ripped from his throat as you wordlessly grabbed a fistful of his thick chestnut hair and pushed his head hard against your lips, before sucking his bottom lip between your teeth. He stood suddenly, nearly losing his footing, in his haste to lay you down on one of his large white leather sofas.

Dropping to his knees, he quickly pulled your panties down your legs, before tossing them haphazardly to the side. Lifting your legs over his shoulders, before setting to work like a starved man, that only survival lay in your core. . A shudder rolled through your body and you bucked your hips against his face as his tongue circled, entered, and whispered sweet prayers against your sex. The sounds he made as he devoured you were the most erotic sounds you ever heard, and you quickly were approaching an orgasm faster than you ever had before.

“Vinnie.” You moaned as your breath hitched in your throat. “I’m going to fucking cum! As soon as I do, I need you to take that big cock out of your pants and fuck me like it’s the last time you’ll ever see me again.”

He growled into your sex, as he used his fingers to penetrate you as he sucked on your clit. Your orgasm slammed into you so hard, it took your breath away. His name fell from your lips over and over like a prayer as he lapped up all you had to offer him. He left your sex, only a moment as he crawled up on top of you, his erection already free and weeping precum. “I want to cum inside of you. I have never done this, but I wish to fuck a baby into you.” He rubbed the mushroom tip of his cock up and down your slick folds, teasing you.

So turned on you could hardly think straight, you nodded eagerly, to his obviously pleased expression. Slowly pushing his thick length inside of you, you loved the way he stretched you to almost the point of pain, but not quite.

Once he was inside you, the rest became a blur of hands, mouths, and skin. Your breasts pressed flat against his chest, as your arms encircled him, pulling at him – his hair, his lower back, his arms. You desperately pressed up against him as if you wanted him to fuse your bodies completely. Even if it was physically impossible, she knew he was hers in every other sense of the word. Each time he thrust his hips upward, leaning his forehead against your ankle as your feet crossed behind his head, his hands under your bottom as he lifted you up to take all of him as best you could, he body began to tense, as he attempted to maintain control.

When you felt another orgasm fast approaching, you grabbed him and forced his forehead to yours, “cum with me. Cum inside me.” As you came again, it was with a scream into his kiss. His hips pressed firmly into you, as he joined you in mindblowing ecstasy, spilling himself completely inside you, his whole body shivering from foot to fingertip, before holding himself above you, but not separating your bodies where they remained joined. Smiling bashfully, and reaching a hand up to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead you wished you’d found each other in different circumstances.

As if reading your mind, he looked into your eyes, and said, “you are mine. I’ll never let you go now.” Pulling out of you, and tucking himself back into his pants, he walked over to his private restroom, and brought you a towel.

Staring up at him, you didn’t move to take it from him, as the possible consequences of your actions punched you in the gut, like a wave slamming you beneath the surface.

Just as you were about to take it from him, the alarms sounded. Popping up to a seated position, you frantically looked around for your clothes.

“Get dressed and do not leave this room.” The Marquis stated as he made his way to the door. Pausing as his hand met the handle, he repeated, “do not leave this room.” Before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Running around the room like a crazy person, you found all your clothes and dressed yourself in record time. The alarm was still blaring, and after several minutes, you were relieved when the office door swung open.

That’s until you saw it was not the Marquis or one of his men. You could hear gunfire in another wing of the mansion, and started to panic, until you realized this might be your way out of here.

Peeking up, you smiled nervously at the man, stopping him in his tracks. He looked you up and down, before coming forward again and grabbing you by the arm.

“Let’s go princess. Don’t make me have to hurt ya.” He bit out harshly.

“Oh I’d never. I’m so happy your here. My hero.” You attempted to sound confident.

Glancing over at you, he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna say that when we get to where we’re going.”

Not liking how that sounded at all, you wrenched your arm free, and ran to the door. Just as you made it nearly through, a sharp pain ripped through your body, as all went black and you fell in a heap on the floor.

#bill skarsgard #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #John wick 4 #bill skarsgard smut

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holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Feral Cry

Title: Feral Cry

Square filled for @afgomegaversebingo: Early heat

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He wants only you...

Pairing: Alpha!Soldier Boy x Omega!Reader

Warnings: language, angst, a/b/o, smut, unprotected sex, knotting, scenting, claiming, penetrative sex, this could be read as dubcon (it’s con to me. just in case), implied true mates

A/N: Please consider I don’t write canon for Soldier Boy most of the time. It came out a little softer than I wanted to.

Words: 1,7 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

AFG Omegaverse Bingo masterlist

Your day started like any other day. Your boss yelled at one of your colleagues, you forgot your phone at home, and you tried to get as much work done as possible before hurriedly making your way back home.

Your day started like any other day. It was normal until it wasn’t.

Vought found someone in the depths of an abandoned lab. No one told you what they wanted from you and your team as they led you into an abandoned and rotten building.

All you got were more orders before an armed man pushed you into a dirty examination room. You carefully stepped further into the room to find a man strapped to an examination table. Sedated. Unconscious. Helpless.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you recognized his features. Your grandmother was a huge fan of the cocky alpha back in the eighties.

The infamous Soldier Boy. Presumed dead. Forgotten. Abandoned.

Now he got found alive and it’s your job to check on the still unconscious alpha.

“Data.”

You look up from your computer as another armed man you never saw before barks at you. “Doctor, we need the data as soon as possible. Stop wasting our time!”

“Patience is a virtue,” you quip. Your grandmother was not a quitter, neither are you. The old hag never backed down and you try to follow her example. If you show weakness in front of those jerks, they will walk all over you. “We need to run a lot of tests. I don’t just push a needle into his arm and get all the answers.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” the man bites back. “Or you’ll get replaced.”

You slam the first test results onto your desk, huffing as the man glares at you.

“Fine. Look for another expert in genetics and secondary gender. Or, how about you find someone who can distinguish an alpha from an omega for starters. None of your fine employees seems to be able to do so. Maybe they will be able to give you the results after one fucking hour after discovering one of the mightiest supes is still alive.”

“Don’t act as if you are special, bitch,” he walks off, but not without slamming the door shut with a loud thud.

“Yeah. Fuck you too, asshole,” you turn your attention back toward the results. “How did you not age one day, Ben? You must be very special. I can’t wait to find out more about you, Soldier Boy. What a nice specimen of an alpha.”

“He’s still sedated, Y/N,” your boss laughs as you carefully approach the examination table to take yet another blood sample. “Christ, hurry up. The bosses are breathing down my neck already.”

“I try to do my job and give you the results as fast as possible. Do you want me to do it right or mess up?” jerking your head toward the rest of the team you furrow your brows.

“Just hurry up, Doctor Y/L/N,” your lips twitch at your boss’ comment. You hate the arrogant bastard. “Give me—oh shit—” He stumbles back, his face suddenly a little too pale. “No, we need to get out of here.”

“What’s wrong with you?” the team flees out of the room, followed by your boss. You slowly turn your head toward the examination table, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Soldier Boy sits on the table, eyes glowing orbs. “Fuck, we got to…”

You dash toward the door, feeling your heart lurch in your chest as your boss locks the door. Your colleagues step away from the door, shaking their heads as you watch them through the small window inside the door.

You hammer against the door, calling for your colleagues to open it. They left you there, at the lab, after the supe opened his eyes.

“Please open the door. We don’t know if he’s in the right state of mind. Please don’t leave me here!!”

No one hears your desperate cries as the alpha slowly moves toward you. Your throat constricts and you whimper as his breath fans over your neck.

“Omega,” he purrs in your ear, hands already grasping for your soft body. “Mine. Soft.” You shudder at the feeling of his hard body pressed against yours. “Nice. Warm. Mine.”

“Hi,” you squeak as he roughly twirls you around to slam your back into the door. His eyes roam your body, and you feel your heart thunder in your chest as he takes a step toward you to bury his face in your neck. “I-I’m your doctor, Mr.…Sir…Soldier Boy. D-do you remember anything happening to you? I-we just found you.”

He inhales your scent deeply. “Smells good, omega,” you swallow thickly at his words.

“You need help, alpha.”

“Mine, my omega,” he fights to control the urge to just pounce at you. “Be good. Be mine. Sweet omega.”

“Please, just let me go,” Soldier Boy doesn’t need to know your body is screaming for the alpha’s knot or that you can feel your approaching heat claw its way toward the surface. “I need to go, please.”

“You’re mine,” his nostrils flare and his eyes, those glowing orbs drop to your crotch. Panic rises in your chest as you are aware of his intentions. If he gets his knot inside of you, he’ll claim you and this is the last thing you want him to do.

“No, we—” his mouth claims yours in a clumsy kiss. He groans against you, hips jerking as you try to push him away. “Soldier…Alpha…you…”

“Mine,” he hoists you up to carry you toward the examination table. He puts you down on unsteady legs to look you all over. “Gotta knot this cunt good.” Soldier Boy rips your hospital coat down your arms, growling as you struggle against him. “My omega.”

“We can’t,” it’s an unheard plea falling on deaf ears. He ribs your shirt open. Your skirt ends up in shreds on the ground. “Alpha, you need to focus on my voice.” Your brain fights the need growing in your crotch. “Please.”

“Omega,” he grips your hips to press your ass into his crotch, groaning while grinding against you. You’re a ragdoll in his hands, limp and pliant you fall back against his chest. You are too far gone to care about consequences at this point. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he growls at your admission. Your heat broke the moment you scented the strong alpha. All you want is for him to take you in any way he wants to. “Only yours.”

He rips your bra off your body, hands clawing at your chest. Soldier Boy gropes your soft flesh roughly, not caring that you squeak and moan. “Please.” Your panties are no match to his strength, and you end up naked in the alpha's arms.

Soldier Boy wraps one arm around your neck, making you gasp in surprise.

“Mine,” he growls in your ear, making your cunt clench around nothing. Slick runs down your thighs; indicating that you are ready to take all the alpha has to give.

Your heart beats out of your chest as a ting of fear grips your heart tightly. Can you let the alpha just have his way with you?

“Alpha, I—” you struggle against his strength, whimpering as he bends your body to his will, growling and snarling while ramming himself inside of your needy cunt.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t offer gentle words or time to adjust to his massive cock. Soldier Boy simply starts moving like a mad man. You cry and moan, as he sets a pace meant to break your body.

Every hard snap of his hips punches the air out of your lungs. You battle the urge to fight him, to break out of his vice grip, but it’s no use. Your body surrendered to the strong alpha long before your mind caught up.

Now you are his to use, to fuck, and ruin. “Take me, omega. I hear your slick coat my cock. You’re an obedient and sweet little thing, huh? I was waiting to get you alone,” he growls in your ear all the while fucking into you without restraint. “I gotta ruin this cunt, make you mine.” His thick and messy beard scratches your soft skin as he repeatedly rubs his face in your neck.

“Fuck,” you end up bend over the examination table, shuddering at the sensation of your heated body pressed against the cool metal. He presses his hand into the small of your back, holding you still while you squirm. “I’m gonna cum.”

Soldier Boy doesn’t care; he keeps on going long after you come around his slowly expanding knot.

He’s hungry for more than food after being locked away for almost forty years.

“Mine,” he wraps his arms around your body and brings you back against his heated body. “Take it.” You squeak and whine, as he uses your body to get off. “Fuck.”

Soldier Boy rocks his hips, and slams into you even when his knot makes it hard to move. “Too much,” he doesn’t stop and forces you to take every thrust. You come again, this time with a feral cry as his knot stretches you painfully wide. His cum floats your belly. “Alpha…”

You are close to passing out when his teeth sink in your neck to rightfully claim you. Your omega surrenders to the claim while you prefer to not think about what tomorrow brings.

“Mine. My omega,” you are too weak to even respond. “You are going to be mine forever.”

“So beautiful, with my mark on your neck,” the alpha nuzzles your skin, and breathes your scent in. “I needed to show everyone you are mine.”

“Why did you chase the others away?”

“I lost my patience and had to make sure the others leave you here, with me,” he smirks against your skin. “You are meant to be mine, sweet doctor.”

There you were, believing he doesn’t remember his name, and he just played all of you.

“What do you mean?” you gasp. “I don’t understand.”

“One of your bosses visited me in between your breaks,” he brushes his fingertips over your mating gland, or rather the mark he left. “I told them they can count on my strength if I get something in return…”

“What did you want?”

“You…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Feral Cry #afgomegaversebingo #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #Alpha!Soldier Boy #alpha!soldier boy x omega!reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #a/b/o #the boys fanfiction #Smut #soldier boy smut

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cuffmeinblack · 15 days

Text

A Man Of Ill Repute

Richard Jackdaw x f!reader

Summary: Richard has a reputation as quite the flirt; a scoundrel, even. But you can't deny your attraction to him, or the ways in which he surprises you.

4k words

A/n: What in the Bridgerton is this? Not intentional, but I love the thought of Richard being a complete flirt but actually never earning his scandalous reputation.

Period accurate underwear (?), definitely not period accurate sex.

Breakfast time was a somewhat boisterous affair; the gaggle of girls who crowded you now made for rather spirited company. The hour before lessons began was often filled by exchanging gossip, and today was no exception, though the appearance of the subject of much gossip himself had just entered the hall, only adding to the whispers.

Richard Jackdaw—charmer, layabout, devishly handsome despite his arrogance—was not just passing, but approaching your table. He walked with his hands behind his back, chest proud, strutting like a peacock, like he owned the place. No small wonder, when girls of all houses would swoon over his perfectly coiffed brunet locks and those lips to die for. Those lips had been on a fair few of your fellow students, no doubt, if the stories were to be believed.

Despite all this, you watched him in all his swaggering grace, wishing that you could drag your eyes away. Underneath that bluster you thought there might be something deeper worth exploring—or at least that’s what you had been thinking before he opened his mouth.

“Good morning, ladies. You look utterly divine this morning.” He let his dark eyes drift across the swathe of girls, eventually landing on you. As much as you wished you were immune to his charms, your gut twisted and warmth spread through your body to the very tips of your ears.

A few of your classmates giggled and batted their eyelashes whilst the other half rolled their eyes with distaste and returned to their breakfast. Richard blew an air kiss in your general direction and was off, probably to terrorise some other unsuspecting group of girls. Your cheeks were burning, and you suspected it had nothing to do with your cup of tea.

“What a rake, that Jackdaw!” your friend erupted as soon as he was out of ear shot.

“He is ever so handsome, though.”

“And ever so dim witted,” another added.

“He has a good mind for solving puzzles,” you interjected, idly spooning porridge into your bowl. The words had quite appeared from nowhere and earned you a few curious glances. Since when did you defend Richard Jackdaw?

“Yes, well, you still beat him at chess, did you not?” A fair eyebrow raised in your direction.

That you did, though it was a tough match and the Gryffindor provided ample distraction with his flirtatious gazes. Richard tended to float through life with not a care in the world, save for the riddles that perplexed most others. If it weren’t for his utter disinterest in typical scholarly pursuits, one might think him more suited to Ravenclaw house. He had an inquisitive mind when presented with the right interest.

“I don’t think he was very happy about it,” you said with a satisfied smile whilst stirring honey into your bowl, the amber liquid reminiscent of a certain rake’s eyes when they caught the light just so…

You shook that thought away.

Your presumption turned out to be accurate, however, when only a day later Richard approached you after your shared Charms lesson. Slightly ruffled from practicing weather charms (the gale he’d conjured had almost swept your professor clean off his feet), he caught up to you as you left the classroom bearing his signature charming smile.

“Jackdaw. What do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

“I'm offended you think I must want something in order to talk to you, darling.”

You halted just outside the doorway and rounded on him. “Am I wrong?”

“Well as it is…I wondered if you fancied a rematch? I've been turning our chess game over in my head, and I think I know how you bested me.”

“I bested you because I'm the better player, Jackdaw.”

His eyes glittered, amber and gold, captivated. His intense stare was unnerving in the best way. Was he trying to figure you out? Or was this simply another attempt at seduction?

“I'm afraid I have time booked in the music room to practice on the pianoforte,” you said, clutching your books tighter against your chest.

“Oh, you play? I knew there must be a reason why I find myself so drawn to you,” he purred.

“Yes, so I'm afraid our rematch will have to wait—”

“May I join you?”

The question caught you by surprise. There was no particular reason to say no; in fact the thought of spending more time with him wasn't entirely unpleasant.

“You want to listen to me play?” you asked, suddenly nervous.

“I thought I might accompany you. I play the violin. There are surely some sonatas that are suitable?”

Another surprising revelation.

“I…suppose so, yes.”

Barely ten minutes later you were settled in front of the pianoforte in the middle of the music room, with Richard quietly tuning his violin. The music you’d retrieved felt suddenly intimidating as you shuffled through the sheets. It was imperative you found the right piece, for this was another competition of sorts.

Something challenging, then.

“Any joy?” he asked, sauntering to your side to look over your shoulder, his hips swaying in your periphery. You licked your lips. From his vantage point he could no doubt see down your dress.

Rake.

“Sonata number eighteen in G major,” you replied primly. “You know it?”

“Who doesn’t know Mozart, my dear?”

You knew this piece well enough for your fingers to fly across the keys with little thought, muscle memory taking over. The notes on the manuscript before you held little interest compared to the man beside you. He played effortlessly, superbly. His fluid strokes were hypnotic, deft fingers stretching wide, flying across strings to create the most enchanting accompaniment to your own melody. His eyes were shut, lost to the music, giving you ample opportunity to watch him unashamedly.

There was something undeniably erotic about his performance; so enraptured he was with the sonata that every lilt came with a peak of his eyebrows, his lips parted as he moved and swayed along with the rhythm. He threw his all into his performance, and you could practically hear his heart thumping along with your own.

Fingers teased the strings, stroking with precision. The crescendo of the piece coincided with a lurch in your stomach, and his eyes flew open as his final vibrato rang out. A final chord, a slice of his bow and then the music ended; deathly silence filled the room. Your chest heaved as he held your gaze, breathless. You knew then that he felt the same agonising tension, the same magnetic pull.

He was the first to smile and break the silence. “We do make such beautiful music together, don't we?”

You blinked, but did not—could not—deny it. You wanted to believe that whatever this was had been special for him, as it had been for you, but you knew better, did you not? The thought made you quite ill.

“Is that what you say to all the girls, Jackdaw? Before you slip your tongue into their mouths?” you gasped, struggling to compose yourself.

“Wh-what?” He staggered back, looking wounded as his violin dropped to his side.

“Come now, everyone knows you've kissed half the girls in school!”

You stood up suddenly, stool scraping across the floor. Gathering your sheet music, you intended to leave then, to chastise yourself in private for having fallen for Richard's charms so wholly. How foolish to think that you had been special. Richard opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, like a damned fish. Why was he so surprised that you'd figured out his game?

“Good Gods, no! Who said that?”

Richard made his way to your side, forcing you to look at him. If he had been anyone else you might have recognised hurt in his eyes, or confusion, even.

“Everyone, Richard!” you said shakily, still vibrating with whatever had passed between you only moments ago. He'd knocked you off-kilter, filled you with a warmth you recognised but ought to be ashamed of.

He reached out, faltering only inches from your hand. His voice dipped to a mere whisper. “All because I enjoy complimenting the fairer sex? That hardly seems fair.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So you didn't accompany me here just to try to get your hands up my skirts?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn't say no to that prospect,” he laughed, but his smile faltered into sincerity. “I've had my eye on you, surely you've noticed? Just you.”

Your breath caught, hands stilling on the stack of music that had changed everything. Had you been mistaken? You thought back to every recent interaction with Richard. He had sought you out to play chess, held your eye when he offered his compliments, followed you here and played beautiful music with you.

“Have you?” you managed to ask.

“I can't quite forget how you so effortlessly bested me at chess.”

“Me neither.”

“And that…playing with you…”

You subconsciously parted your lips as he moved closer, drawn towards your quivering body that yearned for his touch. You must have sighed his name as he offered up a gentle ‘yes?’ before capturing your mouth in his.

Lips as soft as pillows pressed gently to yours, tentatively exploring how you fit together. Perfectly, as it was. He drew in your lower lip between his teeth as his hands finally found your waist, warmth unfurling in your abdomen at the slightest brush. You were as tightly wound as the strings that now strained under the hammer on the pianoforte, as you found yourself pushed backwards onto the keys. The almighty racket that ensued thankfully drowned out most of your whimpers, but not all.

To be caught now would cause enough scandal to last a lifetime. You would be shamed, ridiculed, cast out from polite society.

Then why couldn't you stop?

All reason had fled you. Only a primal desire to be ravaged by this man remained.

Richard seemed to be struggling similarly, his hands flexing against your ribcage in a poor attempt at control. His tongue glided across your lips seeking entry, and your gasp invited him in. Languorous swipes had you falling apart in his arms, your hands struggling for purchase against the instrument behind you as you felt your legs weaken. A clatter of chords and mismatched harmonies created a deafening cacophony, the only rhythm to be heard belonging to your straining heart.

That pulse settled firmly between your thighs, urging you to let Richard have his way with you—for that was where this was headed, you had no doubt. You felt his same desire pressed against your hip, stiff and unyielding. He held you against him in that same restrained way, fingertips bruising your hips through layers of cotton.

When you broke away for breath, Richard startled and almost fell against you, an arm bracing on the pianoforte, caging you in. His eyes were wild, his hair a mass of chocolate curls that fell over his eyes. Had you caused that? You'd been so preoccupied with his lips that you'd barely noticed your fingers curled in his mane. Your fingers wound tighter around the silken strands, trying to find the words to assuage your guilt.

“Promise me I'm not just another notch on your bedpost, Jackdaw.”

He grinned then, all dimples and flushed cheeks. “Darling you are the only notch, if you'll have me.”

“Oh. Yes.”

His lips crashed back into yours, Richard’s low groan speaking of his relief. The pianoforte behind you gave another almighty belch of clashing notes. Your hands grappled behind you to close the lid and it slammed shut. His lips curled in a smile as he maneuvered you backwards, hands shamelessly sliding underneath your behind to hoist you onto the wood.

Lips found your jaw, your neck.

His tongue laved the skin below your ear, hot and wet and insistent.

Every nerve ending was ablaze, the throbbing between your thighs growing almost painful. Richard had the enthusiasm you’d expected but the fumbling of your skirts and a clash of teeth told you that perhaps he did indeed have no more experience than yourself. It didn’t matter—the passion was enough.

Those nevertheless skillful hands soon wrapped around your calves, sliding higher and higher, far too slowly. You wobbled on your precarious perch, cracking open your eyelids to peer down at him. Richard had his lips still firmly glued to your neck, licking and sucking until you felt the sting of a blooming bruise. Your dress glided higher, over your knees now; an agonising ascent. Finally his palms skimmed your inner thigh and hesitated at the border of cotton and skin.

You were loathe to beg, but every passing second was torture without the contact you so craved.

“Please, Richard…”

He moaned against your neck as he slid his fingers to your centre, the slit in your undergarments providing easy access. That first press against your clit provided an explosion of pleasure, and the gliding strokes that followed had your back arching clean off the instrument behind you.

So distracted were you that you barely registered when Richard’s weight had disappeared from your body, the chill air of the music room suddenly shocking you back into focus. His head had dipped below your skirts, knelt before you as if in worship.

You blushed, furiously, gnawing at your lips. You hadn't expected this much attention. He surprised you at every turn, from his hidden talents (present situation included) to his willingness to attend to your needs first. He kissed your thighs, murmuring and moaning against your skin whilst his thumb—slick from your own arousal—rubbed exquisite circles between your folds. Any sort of worry about where you found yourself, who might walk in and how Richard saw you from his present vantage point simply melted away in a haze of pleasure.

He played you as expertly as his violin, teasing moans from your lips just as he coaxed forth beautiful melodies. Your fingers curled into his hair, gentle tugs that grew in urgency the closer you approached your peak—and it came on with such haste that you feared you might never be satisfied by your own hand again.

“May I taste you?”

The question came from nowhere, his thumb still gliding, teeth returned to the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Wh-what?”

“My tongue, can I use it—” he pressed more firmly against your clit, eliciting from you a whimper “—here?”

Without waiting for an answer—which you weren't sure you could manage to articulate anyway—Richard gripped your thigh and pressed it wider, higher, resting your leg on his shoulder. Your skin was burning now, being so exposed, laid so bare. You tried to tug your skirt down but he brushed your hand away, instead gripping it in his and locking your fingers together.

“Oh…”

Richard smiled up at you, before delving back between your legs. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bundle had you squirming in surprise whilst your unrestrained moans filled the room. Richard squeezed your hand tighter as his tongue dipped inside you, gently at first, then more insistent. Deeper he delved, teasing you open until you began to relax around his muscle.

He was preparing you for what was to come.

You shuddered at the thought, a quiver of unbridled lust.

By the way he groaned, he seemed to enjoy using his tongue to pleasure you. You chanced a peek over your bodice to watch him, his hair in disarray and cheeks as flushed as your breasts. Then his eyes flew open as if sensing you watching, locking his soft chestnut gaze on you whilst he worked. You couldn't look away; his dishevelment was utterly captivating.

“You're…ever so good at that,” you gasped, your breath quivering.

Richard smiled in return and wriggled his eyebrows. He was flirting with you still whilst doing that! The most frustrating thing seemed to be that it was working. Your stomach gave an almighty lurch, butterflies caught in a whirlwind, all trapped behind your ribcage.

His tongue returned to your clit for the finale, sensing your climax by the shake of your legs and the increasing pitch of your moans. The bell in the tower above chimed as you came undone, masking your cries and muddling what should have been pure ecstasy. Panic mingled with pleasure.

Only once did it ring, then the gargantuan bell fell silent but for the waning hum as the pianoforte vibrated beneath you.

“No…oh Gods!” Still caught in the wave of your orgasm, you struggled to speak.

“What's wrong?” Richard asked.

“Ch-choir!”

His eyes flew wide as he understood your meaning, and suddenly he was over you instead of under you, your leg no longer supported. He caught you in his arms before you could fall, strong hands gripping your waist as your skirts fell back to the floor.

You felt the steady stream of saliva and your own juices run down your leg as you righted yourself, and what little shame you had left flared, muted by the terror of being caught. As you both ran up creaking wooden stairs, away from the approaching voices outside the music room door, you grinned.

What scandal—what a thrill.

Richard had hold of your hand, pulling you through the door to the bell tower stairs just in time as the Hogwarts choir bustled into the music room for their weekly practice. You practically fell into his arms in relief, huddled in the dank, dark store room, gasping for breath. You felt his heart pounding beneath your palm, the heat from his skin, and—to your disbelief—he was still achingly erect. These close quarters did nothing to quell your excitement, still buzzing with lustful want despite, or because of, the fear of your capture.

“What should we do now?” he asked, barely a whisper.

This store room was not ideal for a romantic rendezvous, nor even an illicit one. Dim light trickled down the stairwell to illuminate a square on the floor—a greyish patch of dust and cobwebs—and the little ambient glow was barely enough to see Richard's face by. But, it was enough. His plump lips, the shine of his chin, sparkling eyes and the curls that dusted his brow—you saw it all in soft contrast, and answered him with a kiss.

He returned it with fervour even whilst the students below crashed about and chatted loudly. Neither of you seemed to care; the reward far outweighed the risk.

Richard pressed himself against you, his cock impossibly hard against your hip, whilst his hands slid to your behind and held you firmly in place. His breath was hot and heavy, coming in pants between slippery swipes of tongue. All technique had flown out the window, and you threw your arms around him to press yourself flush against his chest. You wanted every inch of your body in contact with his, to feel the warmth beneath his clothes against your touch-deprived skin.

Stripping yourself of clothes might be a step too far, however. You would settle for what you could—and that involved him once again bundling the heavy fabric of your skirts around your waist whilst guiding you backwards until your thighs hit something solid. A box or chest, a crate maybe. Whatever it is would serve your needs—another perch for you to be defiled on.

You wrapped a hand around his cravat, pulling him between your legs as you shuffled backwards. You heard the pop of buttons as his breeches came undone, saw the pink of his head strain against the fabric until his erection fell into his waiting hand. Reaching out to stroke him, you felt the weight, the girth as your fingers curled around his shaft. Richard was blessed, that much was clear. Saliva pooled in your mouth at the thought of taking him, your core fluttering with need.

The din from below had dulled to a quiet murmur as the choir took their places and readied themselves for their first song.

Richard nibbled at your lower lip as he lined himself up with your entrance.

His cock twitched when you bit back.

The music began, and you knew nothing but bliss as Richard filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist and leaned back, gaping in awe at where you joined. Even in the semi-darkness you saw what a mess you were, the fabric of your bloomers sticky and tattered.

The voices grew louder, beautiful and mesmerising to behold.

Richard withdrew with a low groan, and he pressed his palm down firmly on your abdomen before thrusting slowly back into you, even deeper than before. You tried to stifle your moans with your own fist, but what did it matter? You could be as loud as you wanted to be whilst the choir’s harmonies filled the bell tower.

He leaned into your ear. “Good girl. How do you feel?”

“Good…amazing…”

A twinge of pain made you wince as he bottomed out, and he held still, searching your eyes.

“Don't stop, Richard.”

“Godric’s heart,” he whispered barely audibly before pulling out and slamming back inside you.

You saw stars, perhaps even heaven itself as he fucked you into oblivion. Fingers bruised your hips, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, desperate moans into each other's mouths. It was everything you'd dreamed of yet nothing like the fantasies of a perfect night under the stars or a gentle romp in your bedchamber. This was raw and feverish and utterly glorious.

“I never want to stop,” he said. Or at least you thought that's what he'd said—it was hard to tell through the swell of voices from below. The choir approached their impressive finale, perfectly masking your sobs as Richard made you come again. You fell limp into his arms and gripped his back tightly, nose nestled into the crook of his neck as he pounded into you through the waves of your orgasm.

He smelled of ink, wood and musk. Heady, beautiful.

Your mouth spilled forth utter filth; expletives you'd dare not use around anyone. To your shame, you begged him to fill you, a testament to just how addled you were.

“I will. I'm going to fill you until you can't take another drop.”

Oh, Gods, this scoundrel of a man.

Richard didn't falter, hips snapping faster and harder. He moaned so loud you thought you'd be discovered after all, looking deep into your eyes as he came. His cock pulsed, a final hard thrust so deep you almost screamed, and his seed spilled inside you. His release came thick and fast, and you kissed him through it all, muttering his name as he did your own.

The warbling from below died, the song finished; and so too were you.

Clarity is a wonderful thing, when one is able to come by it. It had all but fled the moment his lips met yours, and was flooding back now.

Atop a dusty box in a store room, Richard Jackdaw had deflowered you.

Richard Jackdaw—notorious philanderer.

“I hope we can do that again—” he kissed you, so softly his lips were a mere whisper “—and again.”

You searched his eyes for any hint of a lie, but found none.

“The duet or the…other thing?”

“Both, preferably.” Richard peppered your cheeks with kisses, smiling in a dazed sort of way. He looked quite endearing like this. Vulnerable, even.

“That depends entirely on you, Jack—Richard,” you said, rather sternly, though the effect was rather ruined by his steadily softening cock still being buried inside you.

“On me? Then you are willing?”

“I want you to woo me, to court me, and to stop flirting with every girl in the school.”

“Tch, such demands!” he said, grinning. You swatted his arm, but he chuckled and kissed you again, harder this time. “Of course. How could I possibly want anyone else?”

Your breath hitched then, rendering you speechless.

Did you believe him? This man of such ill repute?

He kissed your hand as if you had all the time in the world to ponder the question. That smile, those lips—they were intoxicating. This could be a trap, and you an unwitting victim of his charms, but then again you could be wholly wrong about him.

Only time would tell if this rake was worthy of your heart.

#richard jackdaw #richard jackdaw x reader #richard jackdaw fanfiction

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cornbake · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a Vax x reader? They are enemies to lovers, you can decide the plot, but maybe with a one bed trope ( although I don't think Vex would allow that!) If you of course like it and want.

One of my favorite tropies when it comes to romance ngl. So most gladly I will do so!!

Splitting this one up too. Helps my thought process!

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language (like always thou)

Spoilers: None

You had been with the twins for a while. A little before the rest of Vox. Your affliation with the clasp and them is how you first met. And how you kept together was more so due to skill than personal attachment. After all. Why would the twins like a cocky arrogant prick like yourself?

At least thats what Vax was thinking as you droned on and on about old stories to the others. You and him never got along. Always rivaling in your skills, and rivaling in your feats. If he had done some death defying act, you where sure to do the same not but moment after. You always had to rub your stuns in his face, boasting about them any moment you got after doing so. It made Vax wish he wipe that smirk off your face any moment he saw it.

Brooding in his room, one at the only inn the group could find in this small town. He was finishing up matnance with his daggers as his sister entered.

"Hopefully you aren't too far down that dark pit of yours." She wandered over to her bow to start to restring it for the journey ahead. "We need you present and not swallowing in your own thoughts, brother." His eyes didn't meet hers as she cast him a glance. His brows knitted together as his focus kept to the blades.

"I am aware of what must be done. But mind you, I am not the issue of this party." He could hear the soft scofting from his twin. "My focus is kept to the task at hand. Much more that what some of the others can say."

"Please. I still say you are over thinking this. No one is trying to steal the other's spot here. Maybe you just need to speak with them to understand them better." Her words only gain a huff from the raven-haired rouge. Sighing, Vax gathered her stuff to get ready for the road again. "Just... promise me you won't be distracted, brother..."

He took a moment to sigh. Hearing the hint of fear in his sisters voice made his heart twing with guilt.

"I promise to try, stubby..."

She can't get mad at him, he said he would try and here he is! Trying! Trying so very hard!

They had all been tasked to clear out the mine shaft next to the town so the miners could get back to work. The group needed the coin, so they took the job. You and Vax took up scouting ahead, something you both had been paired up to do countless times. Not that it meant you both enjoyed the other's shadow next to your own but sucking up your pride, the pair of you made do.

A simple scout ahead and come back, that's all it was! And what do you do? You go on further ahead without him and now he has to clean up YOUR mess.

"I swear I'm going to kill them if they are still alive after all this." The raven haired man grumbles as he assassinates a figure posted by one of the entrances. The Gnoll being dragged away just as another comes out to see what was going on, scratching his head in confusion at the missing ally. Giving the rouge just the perfect moment to slip by.

He kept to the shadows, feet stepping quickly yet lightly to make no sound. He could barely see, his Darkvision only helping him so much in the nearly pitch darkness. Both an advantage and a disadvantage.

The more he crept the further from the light he got, but his ears could here the struggles from a certain someone.

"I hope you know you are in deep shit after we get out of here."

"Oh great, my savior and my demise. Save your sharp tongue for the rope asshole."

There you, quick witt and annoying voice included. He had some hope that the Gnolls would have taken one of the two from you at the very least but seems that he can't get everything he wants all the time.

Making quick work of the lock that held you in the rusted cage like structure he pulls a dagger out to get the tightly bound rope cut. His rough treatment of your hands making you hiss.

"That hurt fuck nut"

"Well I'm sorry that you were the one to get you into this mess. Be grateful I came at all."

He had gotten the blade under the rope just as a pair of fur matted paws roughtly grab his face and chest, pulling him back away from you.

"VAX!" Your voice pierces the void that now engulfed his vision. Claws digging into skin as the Gnoll behind him struggled to hold onto his fighting form.

He kept trying to fight off the fish scented beast but he couldn't out flex something that could rival Grog in a fight. He could hear the mutt talking to other Gnolls. Gods save him.

It didn't take long for him to be bound next to you in the same cage. Sitting across from you, and while you can't see it, glaring into your soul. He was going to kill you the second he could. You got him in this mess. Something that had a very low chance of getting out of.

"I can feel you staring. Stop it. It's not gunna undo your loud ass boots."

"My loud ass- why. Best count your blessing while you can, I would gut you where you were if I wasn't bound. All because of your doing!"

"MY doing? Oh? And that includes, what? Me sa-"

A loud and harsh CLANG, rings from the metal cage. One of the Gnolls snarling at you two to get your bickering to stop.

"Once I am free from this you are dead, raven boy."

He sulked, not sharing any more words. His anger boiling his blood, he will make sure you never forget this moment. Whether this be the last moment the two of you share with one another or a scar to remind you of your mistakes. He will make sure you have a reminder.

#critical role fanfiction #fanfic #criticial role #fanfiction #vox machina x reader #vax critical role #vax'ildan #vax x reader #vax'ildan x reader

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anakinfests · 10 months

Text

day two is here! check out these beautiful works!

day two twitter thread: here

01. Wants and Needs by anonymous

On a planet whose atmosphere is filled with a gas with... interesting side effects, Anakin and Obi-Wan are sent to take out a Separatist base. Fill for the Rough Sex square in the 2023 Obikin Bingo as well as a prompt claim for the Sub!Anakin Fest

02. Bare grace misery by anonymous

Anakin let out a pained sound. “I failed my men, I failed you, and now… and now this. Could you, Obi-Wan? Could you come from this humiliation?” His voice broke, and then he was weeping, hot tears streaming down his face even as he kept stroking himself, his sobs of shame intermingling with his whimpers of pleasure. The mixture was so unbelievably erotic Obi-Wan felt his head spin. Or: Anakin gets poisoned, and the antidote that saves his life has some uncomfortable side effects.

03. Serenity, Serenity by anonymous

After learning that the Separatists have gained the favor of a weapons manufacturer that has the power to overturn the Clone Wars, a freshly knighted Anakin and Master Obi-Wan must infiltrate the organization's inner circle and eliminate the partnership at an exclusive event posed as black market dealers. The problem is, the two of them have to act as a married couple, Anakin assuming the role of coy, submissive husband to a domineering and firm handed Obi-Wan. Between Anakin's not-so-subtle pining, Obi-Wan's suppressed emotions, and the fate of the Republic on the line, the two of them must confront their messy feelings for one another over a game of high-stakes, winner takes all sabacc.

04. Subakin and his Obi-Dom by anonymous

Anakin Skywalker was forever in denial. He could not admit, no sorry, would never accept he was a sub. No Never. He, the great and powerful Jedi Knight, was destined to be a dom, and he would not stop until his desires came to pass.

05. no fault of my own by anonymous

“You know you’re not supposed to like this,” Obi-Wan murmured, “and here you are, so wet for me and I’ve barely even touched you.” Anakin looked away, blinking back tears that threatened to well up in his eyes at his master’s disapproval, but he leaked more slick into his lap all the same. “I’m sorry, Master,” he quavered. “I can’t help it!”

06. En Garde, Prêt, Allez by anonymous

Anakin Skywalker is a highly skilled fencer, known for his fast pace and brutal attack style. Young and arrogant, he carries himself as a man who knows he's going to win - no matter the cost. Obi-Wan Kenobi is an equally talented fencer who has more titles and championships attached to his name than most could ever dream of, and who has the respect and admiration from everyone in the community. When the two are paired off against each other during the World Championships, Anakin is caught between wanting to prove himself and win the title, and not dethroning a man who has inspired him both on and off the piste. They say never meet your heroes - and certainly never kick their ass in front of a stadium full of their peers - but winning on the piste might bring more treasures and rewards to Anakin than he ever thought possible.

07. Who's Loving You by anonymous

Anakin Skywalker was the luckiest man alive. He had the relationship he had always desired. Well, almost.

#obikin #obikin event #sub anakin fest #subanakinfest #vaderwan #obiani #anaobi

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ghostofvalorie · 5 days

Text

That Essay

@forsaire tagged me and now I MUST provide! You opened Pandora's box on this one. To adhere to the rules I will first provide FOUR and ONLY FOUR of my fictional crushes! And to make it easier on us all I've narrowed it down to games only, so here we go!

I'm starting off from the very beginning of my journey into crushing on non-existent people, and people who have read my tags before might know this one already!

Malik Al Sayf from Assassins Creed 1 - 2007

A man whom you've wrong by being arrogant and then spends the next few hours of the game being yelled at by him, and rightfully so. Not only do you cost him his arm and place as an assassin in the brotherhood, but his younger brother as well. Eventually Altaïr stops begin a prick and apologizes and Malik, bless his heart forgives him. Still... not me rolling into Jerusalem hoping, wishing, to get yelled at because Malik's Voice Actor goes HARD <3 I love him and his 7 whole polygons! NEXT!!

Keeping it somewhat chronological:

The Arishok from Dragon Age 2 - 2011

He beeg. He got horns. He is technically an antagonist in the game but he has a moral code that makes sense to him that he is willing to kill and die for. Qunari famously live their lives incredibly black and white so to him he is in the right, even if we disagree. But he just got a wholeass vibe, and he'll say nice things such as

"I have a growing lack of disgust for you" and I mean, with that voice... say no more sir. *takes shirt off*

NR 3: Adam Jensen from Deus Ex - 2011-2016

My cyborg husband <3 Ex-swat turned security guy, then interpool agent (depends on which game you are playing) He's just an incredibly good guy, the sweetest person on the block. Ofc it depends on how you play and what choices you make, but MY Adam is a sweeheart that will go out of his way to help people. And my boi got sass, he'll be snarky to literally anyone, his boss, the cops, criminals you name it. He's also secretly a little funny. <3

Nr 4: Arthur Morgan from Red Dead Redemption 2 - 2018

I mean first off, he do a little *mlem* when he drinks coffee... Do i even need to say more? Arthur is just such a perfect sad boy. Raised to believe his only worth lies in killing people when in reality he is incredibly competent, sharp and caring. Again depends on how you play the game, but my Arthur is the goodest boi in the west.

Now that was four, oh but look, somehow completely unrelated to all this, some other honorable mentions seems to have ended up after the cut, how silly of me!

And @xintothewoodswegox, show us what you got!

Beast from Beauty and the Beast - 2017

No further comment, your honor, if you've seen the movie you should know.

Kaidan Alenko from Mass Effect - 2012

How can we not love the powerful nerdass space magician! He's caring, he is cute, he is Canadian and schrodinger's person of color! He also glow blue, what else can you possible want? I for sure do NOT kick my feet and twirl my hair anytime he wants to talk to me.

Eris Goddess of Chaos from Sinbad - 2003

I MEAN LOOK AT HER?!?!?!? Again an antagonist, but she is sexy about it.

Helga Sinclair from Atlantis - 2001

I'm-I i mean, I don't even have words. Every time I SEE Helga my brain flat-lines I can't help it. THAT GIF THO???

Majima Goro from the Like a Dragon series of games

No comment, because if i start i will NEVER stop, he's story is too good.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley from Call of Duty MWII - 2022

I could literally put ALL the characters from that game in this list. ALL OF THEM, but to keep this somewhat short I've chosen ONE and i've chosen Ghost, the most tragic man alive.

Kar'niss from Baldur's Gate 3 - 2023

Another TRAGIC boi, missunderstood and abused </3 I could take care of him. LET ME TAKE CARE OF HIM LARIAN

Jonathan Reid from Vampyr - 2018

You didn't think I'd squeeze in a vampire this late, did you? I wasn't overly impressed by Jonathan from the start, BUT, he is FASCINATING if you play him as a bloodthirsty villain willing to murder everyone for power! I'm here for bad-boy Reid!

Lastly, for now: Corvo Attano from Dishonored - 2012

Also an incredibly tragic man, who's fate you hold in your hands with your actions! He's just hot, he's a dilf, he can succumb to grief and violence or rise above it to save not only his daughter but an entire empire from destruction.

I'm not sure i've y'all have noticed the pattern yet but let me spell it out for you:

PEOPLE THAT CAN ABSOLUTELY DESTROY ME! Look at them all! So STRONG! So POWERFUL! Fuck, mess me up fam! And the beauty lies in that they never would. Or I mean Eris might... but I'm in a firm belief that the others would never harm someone they care about and ain't that just the purest thing you've ever heard.

Now this was only the highlights of my fictional crushes, I've kept most of the absolute freaks out for now. Maybe I'll do an updated list later where werewolves and Cthulhu makes the cut, we'll see. Now I know HP Lovecraft wasn't a very cool dude to say the least, but you expect me to be normal about the big tentacle monster? REALLY? Lower your expectations.

#tag game #lol this turned out LONG #i'm not sorry #i had a lot to say #i did say i could make an essay on this #and i've even holding back here #there is an suspicious lack of demons in this list #but i had to stop #i suppose... to be continued??? i don't know yet #monster fucker #monster lover #not sorry #unhinged on main #fictional crushes

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tae-rambles · 1 day

Text

OP ch 1116 SPOILERS

My reactions as I read:

love the women of Wano fangirling over Yamato - so cute

also Otsuru as beautiful as ever (another character with a scar over/around their left eye... seriously whats up with that)

"no one from back then is even alive today" while showing Imu... i see what you did there Oda

so i'm guessing Imu was in love (/obsessed? - i question the healthiness of their relationship) with Nefertari D Lili? and thats why he's after Vivi now - that's been the most likely theory for a while now, the portrait only reinforces it

Imu is big mad lol

also i like how the reactions shown in this section are from Alabasta - it neatly thematically interconnects this section

oh, Karoo, Igaram i'm so sorry but don't worry, your princess is ok (as much as she can be after her father was assassinated)

they don't even have a body to properly bury their beloved king :(

and we know who stole it - Greed

oh god, Stussy... i'm tearing up...

Kaku's expression... man...

Edison reframing conflicting emotion as a sign of humanity i love it

Stussy decided to keep living! :D i'm so happy!

i feel sorry for the surviving Lulusians but why is Moda reacting like she didn't know? she must have seen what happened together with Sabo since the were on the same ship... maybe she didn't realize the disaster was man-made?

and there are still some countries that didn't know? huh... (hello Elizabelo II and Dagama from Prodence Kingdom :D (had to look up their names))

Momo almost blurted out they have an ancient weapon capable of flooding the world in front of everyone lmao

Joy Boy wanted them to be passed down? Oden also wanted to open Wano even though he knew that would release Pluton... interesting... there might be much more to the weapons or to the flood than Vegapunk knows... e. g. there's still the question where did such massive amount of water come from and why is its surface rising when there are at least two (2) giant holes in the ocean (Enies Lobby, Lulusia) that haven't been flooded yet... this is not how water physics work

Sengoku stress eating lmao

and Akainu literally smoking with anger lmao

i wonder what Crocus' thinking (why doesn't Oda show us Rayleigh's reaction here as well though?)

maybe Stella realized something was up exactly because you cut off your memory synchronization? like why else would you do that unless you were up to no good. that's just too obvious. also, since you cut contact, not only could he not see into your head, you couldn't see into his either! it's obvious how you didn't notice what Vegapunk was doing and why you didn't know about the recording. York, you might be a Vegapunk but your greed and arrogance made you dumb

yes, he knew about the government coming to kill him at least

oh i've seen people theorize the snail is with the Iron Giant! Congrats for your theory being right! :D

Rayleigh! :DD i'm so glad i was wrong! we did get his reaction! and he's drunk and calling Vegupunk an ass for spoiling the fun XD i love him so much

also Shakky beating up scoundrels in the background my queen

Damn! even though it was only 13 pages and we didn't learn anything we haven't at least suspected at some point, i really enjoyed this chapter :D

#one piece 1116 #one piece chapter 1116 #one piece spoilers #tae rambles

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strangekween · 4 months

Text

A Umataro and Hoshie Tenma One shot

She was tired. After a full day of fixing robots, measuring the data of a few researches and having to put up with really annoying and argumentative but somewhat productive colleagues, Hoshie Saruta was officially tired. One of these days, she promised she would take a really long needed rest from the stress of her work. However, like the day she was already having another bad thing was added to the list of things that did not go her way today. It was raining, and the young Robot Scientist did not have an umbrella on her. She stepped outside the ministry staying under the shade of the dome shaped awning. Stretching her hand out slightly to catch a few raindrops on her palms, she sighed while imagining her tired body stretching on her comfy bed at her apartment.

"Saruta." A deep monotone voice called from behind her. Doctor Umataro Tenma. He was part of a research team that she was also in. A brilliant Roboticist, a mysterious man but a terrible ass. She remembers what a big crush she once had on him in her youth when her Grandfather was still alive. What a big regret she has now. He was always too productive, always had his head buried in a robot, always arrogant and almost always in her way.

"You did well on that new research of yours." He spoke while he stood a few distance away from her. She let out a sigh in response. He responded with a deeper sigh before opening a long black umbrella and stepping down a few steps below her.

"If you're still upset about me resetting the data of your Peace Robot project..." He reminded, which made her angrier than she already was about the updates the Peace Robot has, but Hoshie had a thought. Could Umataro Tenma, the most arrogant Robotist in her research group be apologizing to her right now?

"You know with the structure of the Robot and the materials that went into it. You know the modifications were necessary." He spoke, much to her disappointment.

"It's a peace Robot. Meant to keep the peace of traffic and road related incidents. It didn't need all the horsepower you transferred into it." She argued.

"And waste it's potential to be greater? Why even bother making it when you aren't using your resources to the fullest?"

Umataro pointed out. Hoshie shifted her head to the side avoiding his handsome gaze.

"It was my blueprint and, you modified it without my consent." Hoshie grumbled loud enough for him to hear. Beyond the sound of raindrops pitter- patter on the steps of the Ministry, Hoshie could hear a deep sigh and the sound of heels moving up three steps.

"I'm sorry." Umataro apologized, catching Hoshie's attention. He was standing one step below her looking straight into her eyes, a small noticable blush creeping up his cheeks. She lifted up her head to look at him. A sincere, apologetic gaze graced his handsome face. It was strange hearing it from him, since Tenma was notorious for being unapologetic. There was something soft about hearing those words from him. Hoshie hadn't noticed her cheeks burning as their eyes locked gazes for a longer time than she'd expect.

"What did you say, Tenma?" She asked, not because she hadn't heard it but rather, because it gave her a reason to hear him apologize to her again.

"I'm sorry for modifying your robot without your consent." He repeated with a frown this time, clearly aware of her true intentions. Hoshie cleared her throat before looking away from him once more as she noticed the tension building between them.

"Thank you. I appreciate your apology, Tenma." Hoshie smiled gently refusing to meet him in the eye to hide the blush forming in her cheeks.

"Oh and um, Happy Valentines Day. I get, you have someone to be with tonight? I must go home now."

Tenma stated as he went down a step.

"Oh, thank you but I actually don't have one. I'm just waiting for the rain to clear so I can get home."

Hoshie replied.

"Oh? You don't have anyone to have dinner with tonight?" He questioned looking back at her from the 4 steps he had taken.

"Yeah, as I said I'm only going home. No one has really asked me out tonight so, I will be staying with my Mother tonight." She responded.

"I bet you have someone, Dr. Tenma. I hope the two of you will enjoy yourselves." Hoshie smiled while waving her hand to him goodbye. But, Umataro did not leave. He stood on the second to the last step of the Ministry just looking at Hoshie, his right hand holding unto his umbrella while his left on his briefcase, she's noticed him playing with the button on his long black trench coat since he had apologized to her, it was a sign or nervousness, a quality that Hoshie never knew Umataro Tenma could possess.

"I'm just like you, I have no one. Just going home to maybe sleep and cook ramen for myself." He informed.

"Oh that seems nice." Hoshie replied.

"Want a ride?"

He asked pointing to his car in the distance.

"No thank you. I don't want to take too much of your time." Hoshie said with gratitude.

"Oh okay. I'll be going now."

Umataro nodded to her.

"Take care, Tenma." Hoshie spoke sadly. Sad that she would have to wait another night just to see him again at work tomorrow. Just before he placed the ball of his foot on the last step of the Ministry he turned around to her once more.

"Hey!" He called out to her.

"Are you doing anything for tonight?" He asked going up the stairs slowly.

"No, like I said I'm just staying at home with my Mother tonight" Hoshie replied, watching as he returned to the same step below her.

"Have dinner with me, Saruta."

He stated, making Hoshie's blush intensify.

"Is that a question or an order?"

Hoshie cocked her brow in question.

"It's whatever you want it to be." Umataro chuckled nervously. He hand out his hand in front of her, his palm facing her.

"What?" She asked gripping the sling of her sling bag.

"Your hand." He smirked. Hoshie held herself back but, kept her gaze on him as she stretched her hand slowly out to him, placing her hand on his. She kept a watchful gaze on him while he had her hand on his palm.

She noticed him pressing something small and round on her palm before closing her fingers around the object.

"Here" He handed her the handle of his umbrella.

"How about you?" She asked taking back her hand from him.

"You aren't taking my offer of driving you to your home so might as well give you my umbrella."

He stated bringing the umbrella closer to her. Hesitantly she took the umbrella handle from his hands, fingers softly grazing each other. Hoshie brought the umbrella over her head, while her other hand remained closed housing the mysterious object that Tenma had given her.

"Thank you, Tenma." She smiled gratefully.

"You free at 6?"

Tenma asked.

"Yes I am."

She responded.

"I will pick you by then. Wear something nice." He smiled gently at her. His smile was so different, he didn't look mischievous or cunning anymore. He was, but he didn't look like it anymore. He looked almost genuine, almost loving and human.

"Thank you..." Her voice was caught in her throat, he had already been going down the stairs already.

"Thank you Tenma!"

She yelled for him, noticing his black coat, lacking the second button.

"Your welcome! I'll see you tonight!"

He yelled back waving to her before running for shelter to his car.

"Stay safe!"

She yelled just before he got in his car. A smile crept up her face. Hoshie Saruta is going on a date? With Umataro Tenma? This was a dream come true!

She opened her hand and looked at the object Umataro had pressed onto her palm. A large sized black button sat smugly in the crook of her palm. She raised an eyebrow in question, then remembered seeing the absence of Umataro's second button on his long black coat.

The button closest to his heart. The button usually given to the special someone of the owner of the coat. Their most special person.

#umataro tenma #hoshie tenma #tetsuwan atom #atom the beginning #dr tenma #astro boy #oneshot #valentines day #japanese #second button

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gabriella0807 · 1 year

Text

{Here comes another angsty writing. Because ch. 221 gave me angsty ideas. What if Gojo breaks down after Sukuna and Kenjaku leaves?}

Warning: angst, vomiting

·•·

"I will win." Satoru declares, confident.

The possessors of Megumi and Suguru are eyeing him, only a couple of meters away, and they smirk with arrogance.

"We'll see." Kenjaku says through Suguru's mouth endearingly. "See ya, Satoru." He waves and vanishes together with Sukuna as if they would've never been there.

With their disappearance the adrenaline leaves Gojo in an instant and nausea attacks him. All the stress his body had to endure in a short amount of time has its effect. The man falls to his knees and supports himself by leaning on the cold and filthy concrete with his forearms.

Gojo is overstimulated by his surroundings, which is too bright and too noisy after spending way too much time in silence, darkness, nothingness.

Seeing his best friend's living corpse was already shocking enough, however, everything has got worse.

Gojo's alive. He's free. But for what? To see the boy he has raised, possessed by one of the most wicked curses? It was just too much to bear. And he was lucky enough to keep it together until his opponents left, but now his strength has betrayed him.

An intense shiver rushes over his body which comes from his empty stomach and makes him tremble.

Then he throws up.

Nothing solid, only acid, that stings his food-pipe, nasal and oral cavities.

His ears ring, he's coughing and panting hard. He needs more air. He needs water. He needs a blindfold before he loses it completely and must get himself together immediately.

Satoru slowly straightens his spine and evens his breathing, standing on his knees.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and mocks himself with a sneer. How pathetic. At least he's alone in the ruinous alleyway, and no one can see what he looks like right now. Whatever.

Without a second thought, he rips a long piece of clothing from the bottom edge of his black shirt and places it against his eyes, binding the two endings of the garment at the back of his head. He's breathing in and out, relieved.

Much better.

The man gets to his feet, reclaiming his dignity.

He is going to figure out how to save Megumi. Because he will save the boy. No matter what.

·•·

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 221 #satoru gojo #gojo #jjk angst #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk #gojou #gojou satoru #satoru gojou #gojo sensei #gojou sensei

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shreyamistry · 9 months

Note

“why are you crying?” + “who cares what they think?” for michael x m!mc ❤️❤️

Pairing: Michael x M!MC

Prompt: “Why are you crying?” + “Who cares what they think?”

Word Count: 2100+

Summary: Running late from a play rehearsal, Michael finds Axel crying alone in the auditorium. The boys have to figure out what comes next for themselves and their relationship with each other.

A/N: Requests are open if you’re interested, find my prompts and rules here!!

Thank you for reading! I hope you like it!

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Michael leans against his locker, his solid form pressed against the cool metal of the locker as he glances at his phone expecting a text from Axel. Typically when running late from cheer or drama Axel is instantly sending out a text on their post school night dates, he’s never forgotten to send a text before now. He frowns, seeing no indication of a message, he glances around the hallways that once bustle with life now decorated with loneliness. He breathes out heavily, shoving his phone into his pocket to go check the auditorium for his boyfriend.

He thinks they might still be rehearsing and lost track of time, he wonders if he’ll see Axel wearing another stupid looking costume that only he could make work. He chuckles to himself remembering the George Washington style white wig and outfit in complete disarray that he found Axel wearing trying to rub an intense amount of powder off his face. He pulls open the auditorium doors calling out for Axel getting no response.

His footsteps are loud as he crosses the auditorium stage, nearly echoing with each movement. He scans around for any sign of Axel in the soft darkness with most of the stage lights being out it’s hard to see clearly. He knows Axel should be here, he was meant to be rehearsing a few scenes with Rory and their other co-lead. He frowns to himself again, starting to worry about what might’ve happened to Axel.

As he pulls out his phone to call Axel, he hears a soft sniffling sound from around the corner at the back of the stage. Michael raises an eyebrow as he edges closer to the noise hoping not to startle whoever’s there and invade their privacy, he might be arrogant but he’s not an asshole. Normally, Michael wouldn’t care about some random dude crying in an auditorium. This would be more of Axel’s scope of knowledge, but on the off chance it was Axel, he didn’t want to regret walking away leaving his boyfriend to cry by himself.

Coming around the corner he finds Axel with his knees pulled to his chest, tears leaking down his cheeks, trying his hardest not to sniffle loudly. His face angled in a way to try and hide the fact he was crying. Michael’s heart shatters in his chest, not missing a single beat as he rushes forward pressing a hand to Axel’s back to comfort him. His movements deliberately as comforting as possible.

“Sunshine, it’s okay. I’m here.” His voice soothing as he runs his hand up and down his red and white Berry High Senior Year t-shirt that Axel wore. The fabric is soft to the touch;the two of them have matching shirts thanks to Mr LaHart, Axel’s dad, who bought them the t-shirts. Michael always thought Axel wore it better. Both boys now in their senior year of high school, their entire future staring down at them. “Shhh. You’re okay.”

Michael’s other arm wraps around Axel’s body, who clings to his arm as though it would save him from being drowned. Michael chuckles to himself, thinking about Axel being the cutest man alive even when absolutely gutted. He can’t help himself from whispering sweet nothing to Axel, trying to do anything with his limited knowledge of comforting others to comfort his one true love.

He wonders what went wrong, surely it must be about the play? He didn’t realize that the plays meant so much to Axel, he thought he cared more about his cheer team. Cheer co-captain with Sydney now that Mia graduated, he should be ecstatic especially with college scouts seeing his prowess on the field and in the classroom. He’s had different schools approach him and Sydney to ask about their future and their history practicing the sport of cheerleading. Michael can’t deny how much he loves seeing Axel perform especially in their uniform.

Michael places warm kisses to the side of Axel’s face that isn’t buried into the fabric of Michael’s green sweater that he gave him. ‘Gave to him’ being a stretch considering that Michael lent it to him once and now Axel refuses to give it back to him, whether or not he drowned in the fabric or not, Axel didn’t care. He always claimed it smelled like Michael and it helps him relax when he’s overstimulated or overwhelmed with life. He can just breathe and remember that he has Michael and it brings him peace.

Michael adores being able to be there for Axel like that, he often found himself incredibly worried he wasn’t good enough for Axel; disappointing people still happened to be his biggest fear all this time later. Axel never lets him think that though, any doubt that crosses Michael’s mind is quickly whisked away by Axel’s comforting and loving words to remind him how much he loves him. Michael knows it’s his turn to return the favor.

“Why are you crying?” Michael whispers against Axel’s skins, his warm lips kissing away the tears that burned his lover's handsomely gentle features. He draws Axel deeper into his arms, watching as the cheerleader sobs louder clinging tightly onto Michael’s dark gray t-shirt, his face burying itself into the warm crook of Michael’s neck. “It’s okay, you’re okay, shhh.”

Michael’s heart aches in his chest. He wants to take away all the pain Axel has ever felt or ever will feel, he wants to protect him from the world and then some. If anyone makes him cry, Michael will ruin their entire life and give them a black eye, he doesn’t care who. Seeing Axel cry this hard made him want to die.

Minutes pass by with Axel sobbing into Michael’s arms still, before he finally starts to relax. His throat raw and hoarse from crying, as he hides himself away from the world still buried in Michael’s comforting embrace. Michael’s hands soothingly rub his boyfriend’s back, coaxing Axel into relaxing and to not cry himself into pure exhaustion. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he turns to look at Michael’s face, cupping his cheeks. Gray eyes stare intently at Axel, full of love and admiration for the cheerleader.

“You’re not going to break up with me right?” Axel whimpers, sniffling loudly.

“What?” Michael gasps, nearly angry trying to stop himself from making a face. “Who the fuck told you that? I’d never consider it. Ever. Seriously.”

Michael pulls Axel protectively into his lap, his hands resting Axel’s waist tightening his hold on the cheerleader who grips Michael’s shoulders with his own hands holding him fiercely.

“I know, I know,” Axel whines, “I’m sorry. I’m overthinking. I just feel really lost lately, my love.”

“I already told you, long distance or not, we’re not breaking up Axel. You’re my entire world and then some.” Michael comforts him, the hands on his waist move comfortingly up and down his lower to mid back. “You’re my sunshine forever.”

Axel giggles sweetly between his sniffles. “God, I just- ugh. It’s something Rory said about Skye and Esme during rehearsal. She didn’t know if they’d survive graduating high school like you and I are. And then Danielle, ugh she’s driving me insane.”

“Who cares what they think?” Michael murmurs softly.

“I don’t, I really don’t.” Axel reassures quickly, he draws in a long breath wiping the back of his hand against his nose. He brushes away the remaining tears on his face, breathing out a relaxing breath before talking again. “Skye and Bailey are perfect for each other, you know? They remind me of us in a way. And then hearing Rory say that and then Danielle having to add her two cents into everything like we’re supposed to care.”

Michael laughs at the annoyed sigh that leaves Axel’s lips. “Sorry,” he instantly adds after seeing the death glare that Axel shot at him, the corner of his lips struggling to stop himself from laughing at his boyfriend’s adorable display.

“Ugh,” Axel feigns annoyance, “Anyways, remember how I told you I applied at University of Cedar Cove,” Axel asks, continuing once Michael nods in response, “they accepted me. Which, it’s fine. Whatever. I wanted to go there so we’d still be together not because they were that great. But Cornell accepted me, they want me on their athletics team full scholarship Michael.”

“That’s fucking amazing, Axel.” Michael grins, pulling back to look him in the eyes, his hand moving to cup Axel’s cheeks still wet with tears that poured out of them moments ago. “I’m so proud of you.”

Michael peppers Axel’s face in sweet kisses, from his nose, his lips, his cheeks, even his eyelids. Axel giggles loudly pushing on Michael’s chest in a mock display to get him to stop. Michael doesn’t, tightening his grip around Axel’s waist holding him close to his body kissing him instantly on the lips.

“So.” Kiss. “Proud.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “You.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs as Michael stops, Axel’s hands still tightly holding the fabric of Michael’s t-shirt. He sniffles again, letting his head fall to the side looking into Michael’s warm and comforting gray eyes, trying to hide the sad smile. “But it’s… it’s really far away.”

“So?” Michael shrugs taking in Axel’s dreamy features, he too hides his own sad smile. The thought of being so far away kills Michael inside, but he wants more than anything for Axel to follow his dreams, “it was one of your dream schools. You’re going. You’ll learn and you’re going to put on that cheer uniform, do some wild looking dances and look hot as fuck.”

“Shut up,” Axel laughs sweetly his thumbs stroking Michael’s features, “it’s in New York. That’s like 3000 miles away, Mr. Harrison. I can’t handle being away from you… let alone my dad.”

“Oh.” Michael whispers.

Axel nods, unable to fight back his sad smile. Michael tries to ignore it, his brain in mental turmoil, this wasn’t their first time talking about the future but then it felt so far away. Even the beginning of the year it felt like it was years away, now one month away from graduation they can’t deny how quickly and overwhelming it felt.

“So what?” Michael shrugs despite his mental, “You’ll come home for breaks and I can come visit you. We’ll figure it out. Same for your dad.”

“I know we will,” Axel sighs, “I want to tell them no.”

“No.” Michael quickly interjects. “You’re not allowed to tell them no.”

“Since when do you-“

“Since now.” Michael laughs, “You’re not telling them no. Your dad and I will manage without you, and he’d beat himself up if you gave up your dreams for him.”

“But-“

“No.”

“Michael.”

“Axel.”

Axel shakes his head despite himself, he’s laughing as he pushes himself up out of Michael’s lap reaching out for Michael’s hands. Michael takes them instantly letting himself be pulled to his feet. Axel leads Michael to the middle of the stage, Michael’s eyes looking around the stage and sets with new found wonder. He arches his eyebrow, turning back to Axel.

“Do you really think we’ll be together forever?” Axel asks softly.

“Fuck yeah.” Michael laughs, earning himself a laugh from Axel as well whose face flushes red. He ducks his head down to hide his smile. “I mean it.”

“You promise? Forever and even then some?”

“I promise.” Michael answers, he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small green band with a silver outline. “Look.”

“It’s pretty.” Axel smiles, turning it over in his fingers. “I didn’t know you wore rings.”

“I don’t,” Michael laughs, “that’s for you. A promise ring. I got it out of a stupid ass gashapon at Morgan’s job.”

“Big spender.” Axel teases as he slides the plastic ring onto his finger. He twists it around his ring finger, unable to suppress the smile on his face, which in turn makes Michael smile. “Pretty good for 50 cents. And your signature color, green.”

“75 actually.” Michael corrects him. “Green matches my eyes.” He says with a silly dramatic flair grinning at the laugh that leaves Axel’s lips.

“Oooh, even bigger spender.”

Michael crosses the stage taking Axel’s into his arms, his hand finding Axel’s own to twist the ring around his finger with a grin. He brings Axel’s hands to his lips, kissing his inner wrist. Michael’s lips trace from Axel’s wrist to his palm, down to the tips of Axel’s fingers. Axel’s features blushing red as he bites his lower lip.

Michael draws Axel into a hug, his arms securely around his torso, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

“You know, earlier I imagine that’s how Taylor Swift felt when she wrote that line you like so much. The ‘I pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street’.”

Michael laughs loudly, “You’re ridiculous. I don’t like Taylor Swift.”

“I love you Michael Harrison.” Axel whispers sweetly biting back a smile at his antics, his hands around Michael’s neck as he sways them back and forth slowly.

He presses his lips against Axel’s own, capturing him in a passionate kiss. His lips heavy against Axel’s own, as their tongues meet with a satisfying hum. Michael memorizes the taste of Axel’s lips and the warmth of his breath so even when they’re far away he can always remember the pleasure of kissing him.

“I love you Axel LaHart.”

#michael harrison #michael x mc #hss #high school story #choices #nate writes choices #ask #answered #atlas-moons #michael x m!mc #michael x axel #ily caroline 🫶🏻🥺

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