#//i think he'd also think covering another part of himself is hot

[insertpinkchiphere]

//something about denial

[nanaslutt]

NSFW alphabet w/ Hiromi Higuruma

ft. fem reader ^.^

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

A- Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

I think Higuruma takes a long time to recover after sex. I don't think he has a ton of experience so after he cums, especially from your manipulation, it takes a lot out of him and makes him go braindead for a bit. Once he recovered from his high, I think he'd be super attentive. Clinging to you and burring his head in your neck, asking you if anything hurts. He would insist on carrying you to the shower or bath and bathing you, washing your hair and body, etc, making sure you were all clean of your shared mess before taking you back to bed.

B- Body part (their fav part of their own, and their partner's body)

This one might be obvious, but I think he really likes his nose. I suspect he might've had insecurities around it before but once he figured out how much you loved it, both in and out of the bedroom, he grew to love it. How he can put a body part such as a nose to benefit your pleasure makes him ecstatic beyond belief. As for your body, I think he really loves your waist.

Higuruma gives me the vibes that he's not huge on PDA, but he loves holding your waist as you stand in line for a treat. His hands seem to find the slope of your waist so naturally whenever he's on top of you and kissing you. His grip tightens as the kiss grows deeper and hotter. It's just a comfortable place for him. Your waist also gives him the perfect leverage to pull you down on his cock, immobilizing you when you try to run away from his deep thrusts.

C- Cum (anything to do with cum)

Higuruma cums a loottttt. I think it ties in with him being so sexually inactive for so long, so when he finally gets to put his cock to good use, he cums thick, long loads. He leaks a lot of precum too. Whether your kissing, or you graze his hand underneath the table at dinner with friends, rubbing his cock over his clothes while you kiss, getting him fully hard- he's always leaking. This leads to frequent boxer changes and an impressive stash of boxers, but he can't help it.

As for his favorite place to cum, all over your pussy or on your face. Those places are his and his alone, and he loves to see your most intimate spots covered and marked by his seed. He's not the type to take pictures in case his phone gets hacked, but every time he shoots his seed over your folds and inner thighs, he makes sure to spread you open nice and wide while he rubs his cum around on your sensitive cunt, memorizing how pretty it looks.

He craves the desperate and needy look on your face when he cums there. You always look too eager to pleasure him and aren't shy in the slightest about showing that. Your disheveled appearance is only enhanced in beauty by his white ropes of cum. The way you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky like he isn't painting your face white makes his cock throb, ready to give you another load. He just can't fathom someone as perfect as you craves him so bad, it makes him feel hot all over.

D- Dirty secret 

Higuruma is a panty sniffer 100%. You're constantly wondering where your new panties go and you never guess it's your loving, sweet boyfriend who's stealing them. He loves eating you out, and when you're too busy working, too tired, or out of the house, what better way to simulate eating your cunt than placing your panties over his mouth while he jerks himself off.

He would be so nasty with it too, licking and sucking your wetness against the fabric, trying to taste you with his hand firmly around his cock, eyes shut as he tries to picture you sitting on his face, suffocating him with your thighs as he licks and slurps up your arousal greedily. He also loves jerking himself off with them, especially if your panties were recently removed, so he can still feel you. But the harsh rubbing of the cloth on his cock can get a bit obnoxious, and nothing stimulates his cock more than your scent, so he prefers the first option. 

E- Experience (do they know what they're doing?)

I don't think he has much experience at all, if any. Maybe after a long day, he went to the bar to drink away his worries after a hard trial, and some girl ended up wrapping herself around her arm and persuaded him to take her home, but I can't see him having done anything more than that. 

Despite his lack of experience though, I think he knows what he's doing fairly well. He kinda wings it, using his arousal and excitement to lead him in doing whatever feels right, but it ends up working for you and him both.

Higutuma is a very good listener, and he's extremely attentive and has an amazing memory, so whenever he finds a spot on your body that makes you tick, you better bet it's engraved in his brain and it's not going anywhere. When you two first had sex, he was so excited and it clearly showed in his actions. He's had so much he's wanted to try with someone, and now that he finally had someone to try his fantasies with, he was going a bit crazy.

He was grinding himself against you while kissing you in a frenzy, loud breaths and deep groans mixing into the kiss. He was sucking at your neck and trailing his kisses down to your chest, where he made sure to abuse your nipples thoroughly, so much so they were sore the day after. When it came to working you open for him, Higuaruma was so excited. He always knew he preferred giving pleasure over receiving, the majority of the porn he's watched being guys eating their girlfriends out and things of that nature.

So when it came to you, put his very small amount of knowledge to good use. He knew what and where the clit was, but he underestimated just how good it made you feel. He got a bit pussydrunk as he was eating you out, rapidly shaking his head back and forth against you, sliding his tongue over your folds wherever it could reach, licking and slurping on you impatiently, and it always worked for you, leading to the most mindblowing orgasm every single time.

F- Favorite position

Missionary or mating press. It always starts as a missionary, but quickly leads to your body being folded into a dizzying position when he gets carried away, lost in how good your cunt feels wrapped around him. I think he's really into cuddlefucking too. He wakes up with a boner nine times out of ten and always relies on you to help him get rid of it, suggesting the interaction by slowly humping his hard cock against your ass while he wraps his arms tightly around your body, his head buried in your hair.

"I'll go slow, you can go back to sleep if you want. Just need to cum, 'm so hard." He whispered quietly. His filthy admission never fails to leave you a leaking mess as you nod, giving your consent. He thanks you plenty with his words and with his cock as he pulls your panties to the side, sliding his cock inside your cunt, stretching you open. He's so lazy with it, groans and gasps tickling the back of your neck as he humps into you, his head still foggy with sleep. A few times he's actually fallen asleep mid-thrust, waking up properly to his softened cock, stuffed deep inside your walls. 

G- Goofy (are they more serious, or humerous during sex?)

Higuruma is not afraid to crack a joke. We already see a teaser of his horrible humor with Yuji in the manga, and I think that can very well translate in the bedroom with you if the time calls for it. I think for the most part, he's serious, but if he accidentally tickles you while he caresses and kisses your body, or his cock slips out while he's trying to put it in, you two will share a laugh, maybe followed by a horrible joke from the lawyer, which only makes you laugh harder, pulling him closer to you affectionately. 

H- Hair (Are they well groomed? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

I can see both being true, he keeps himself clean, or he lets himself grow out a bit. I think when he gets busy with work, his hair down there gets a little long, but he'll gladly clean it up for you if you say something about it. I believe he keeps it relatively trimmed though, and he makes sure to keep his happy trail visible for you, ever since you voiced your liking to the trail of dark hair. 

I- Intamacy (how are they in the moment? The romantic aspect)

Higuruma can get a bit nasty sometimes, especially when he's eating you out or fingering you, but he makes sure to praise you and express his love for you throughout it with his shameless words and actions. Most of the time sex with him is needy and carnal, but filled with love and admission of it. During more serious times, say if either of you needed comfort or if you two were celebrating something special, the moment might slow down and be more romantic and slow, and have more soft moments, giggles, slow kisses, etc. 

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's horny all the time, like all the time, but before you he suppressed it a lot, being so busy with work and all. I can see him thinking about sex and getting off a lot, but the actual act of masturbation being a bit less frequent, maybe a couple of times a month. Since he met you though, he's had no reason to suppress his sex drive and now gets off with you multiple times during the week if possible. 

A lot of the time when he gets off too (before dating you) he would be too worked up to put on porn, more focused on getting his hard cock out of his uncomfortable work pants and getting his hand around his cock than finding the right video to get off on. His imagination is great for a virgin/ someone with little experience, and usually, his fantasies with a faceless person will have him cumming in a few minutes. 

I think when he met you, while you two were in the early stages of your relationship, or maybe even just when getting to know you, he would pump his cock to the thought of you quite frequently. Now that he had a face to go with his fantasies, he could cum in under a minute, pumping his cock over a piece of tissue in the bathroom or in the shower, needing to get his cum out of his heavy balls to the thought of you.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Spit, 100% spit. Higuruma loves spitting on your pussy, pulling back after he's been eating you out for a while to spit your own weness back on your pussy before he dives back in and licks it all up. I also can see him spitting on his own cock before he slides it inside you, despite how wet you already are. Something about it is so hot to him, and you certainly aren't complaining when he does it.

When he first watched you stick out your tongue before he came on his cock, a brief image of him spitting in your mouth flashed through his mind, so he made sure to bring it up the next time you fucked. Once he got your consent, as he was balls deep inside you, tip abusing your g-spot, forcing your mouth open, he gripped your chin and told you to open your mouth, showing you further by opening his own and saying, "ahhhhh." 

He smirked before closing his mouth and wadding up his spit. His cock twitched inside you at the mere thought of what he was about to do. Pursing his lips together he spat right into your mouth, his face heating up at the filthy action he had just done. "Good fucking girl." He praised you when you eagerly swallowed it up, a proud smile gracing your features after you swallowed everything and stuck your tongue back out to show him.

L- Location (favorite places to do the do)

I can't see him liking any other place but the bedroom/ your house. Anywhere with four walls where he was secluded from other people hearing or seeing you he we comfortable with. That doesn't mean he doesn't like a little teasing here and there in public though.

Your foot slides up his leg, slowly pulling the ankle of his slacks up before it drops and you continue in your pursuit. He always stopped you just before your foot reached his cock, swiftly paying whatever bill he owed before driving you home hurridly and pounding you into the sheets.

M- Motivation (what turns them on/ gets them going)

It doesn't take much to turn Higuruma on. It could be something as little as you interlacing your pink finger with his, to you straight up whispering in his ear you wanted to have sex, and everything in between. He loves it when you initiate things though, especially when you tease him as he's working, or send him a dirty text or picture, begging him to come home because 'you need him.' Higuruma is a simple man at heart though. A good ole fashion sexy lingerie under a robe will have him hard in under a millisecond, his cock inside you the next. 

N- No (something they wouldn't do)

Anything too extreme or taboo... use your imagination with that as you will. Besides a few things I don't want to go into specifics about, I can't see him being opposed too much. His main priority is making you feel good, so I think he'd be willing to try a lot of different things. 

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I already briefly talked about this, but Higuruma is a munch till he dies. There's nothing he loves more than watching you squirm on his tongue and fingers. When you sit on his face and suffocate him as you bump your clit on his big nose, his eyes roll back in his head and he busts straight away in his pants. He gets so aroused from bringing you pleasure it makes him go crazy a little. 

Once again, what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm, sucking your clit, shaking his head back and forth, running his tongue along every single inch of your folds- anything to make you cum all over his face. Higuruma loved getting his cock sucked though. He insists quite often that ''It's not necessary'' or "You can do it next time" Simply because he puts other things above getting oral, but when you force him to sit down or corner him while he's working and leave him no choice but to get his cock sucked, he fucking loves it.

His toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head each time his fat tip bobs against the back of your throat. He sometimes finds it hard to relax as he's worried about your comfort, but he gets over it when you look into his eyes and nod at him, hiding your gags and chokes as you try to reassure him you like this, you want this, to let you make him feel good. And each time he surrenders, spilling his seed deep down your throat or all over your face, and he always makes sure to reward you by eating you out till you squirt. 

P- Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Most of the time it's fast, rough, and loving with Higuruma. He's so sensitive and wants to be inside you so bad. He can never get enough of how warm and wet you feel around him, your pussy is just so inviting, he gets carried away often. His sweet aftercare makes up for it but in the moment he always turns into a completely different person, fucking you carnally. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his and the squelching from between your legs only spurs him on, making him want to go harder, faster, to make you cum more, cry his name louder. He's so greedy, but when your pussy pulses around his cock and your body is wracked with pleasure, the same pleasure plastered all over your face, he can't find it in himself to slow down.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I think quickies happen fairly often considering his job (set in a modern au) but he's not always a fan of them. As I've mentioned, Higuruma is greedy, he rarely gets satiated after just one round, let alone one short round. Sure, he could make you both cum in under a few minutes, but he might almost regret it more than just toughing it out and fucking you how he really wants to later.

Once he's finished fucking you and filling you with his seed, he doesn't want to leave you, he wants to cum inside you again and again, then take care of you afterward. So it always sits wrong with him that he has to leave, and it always leaves his cock and balls throbbing harder than they were throbbing before he fucked you. 

R- Risk (are they game to experience? do they take risks? etc.)

Okay, so you know how I said Higuruma only likes fucking at home? Well, balcony/ window sex is included in that. He lives in a penthouse high above everyone else, with no taller buildings surrounding him, making it perfect for when he's feeling a little risky and wants to rile you up a little.

He would fuck you against his freezing floor-to-ceiling window wall, a hand gripped around your neck, the other rubbing circles on your clit as he fucked into you slowly, making you feel every inch of him. "You think anyone can see you up here? Huh? Can see how you're getting fucked dumb on my cock? I bet they're so jealous they're not the one fucking you, god... they should be fucking jealous. Pussy is mine, watching is the closest they'll get to you, isn't that right?" 

He knows no one can actually see you, but his words still rile you up regardless. He gets so possessive when he initiates something like this, only causing him to fuck you harder, better, making sure to ruin you for anyone else. 

S- Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last?)

Higuruma's stamina is unmatched, even when he's tired he still has the need and will to fuck you till he can't move a single muscle. The first few rounds are spent working you open on his mouth/ tongue, and when he finally gets to the main course, he's full of energy and lots of cum to give you. 

Most times you have to tap out and cut him off, and when I say most times, I mean every time. Higuruma gets drunk on seeing you orgasm, so unless you tell him "enough, no more" He'll keep going till one of you passes out, and if it's you who passes out? There's no guarantee he'll stop (with your prior consent ofc.)

If he's not actively trying not to cum, he usually only lasts a few minutes, under a minute, but he can stave off his orgasm to make you cum first most times. That's also why he makes you cum plenty of times before he fucks you though, because he can't always guarantee he'll last all that long when he gets inside you. That's where his stamina comes in handy though, once he bounces back he can cum over and over again. I think after his first orgasm he lasts a little longer, maybe going from 2 or 3 minutes to double digits, getting higher and higher the more he cums.

T- Toys (do they own any toys? do they use them?)

Higuruma has owned a pocket pussy before but likely doesn't have it now that you're together, seeing as he has no use for it. I think he was curious as to what it felt like to cum inside someone, so he bought the toy, but nothing could've prepared him for what it really felt like. I think he owns a few things like handcuffs, a blindfold, a shibari, a basic vibrator, candles, and the essentials in case you two are feeling up to something a little different. 

He was actually the one to introduce the idea of a vibrator, a courtesy of one of his perverted fantasies. He doesn't use it often, but it's fun to fuck you while he holds the pretty blue vibrator against your clit, the vibrations often being able to be felt from inside you, bringing him more pleasure as well. You've used it on him once, but his cock is pretty sensitive so it was a lot for him, he prefers to use it on you.

U- Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

I'm on the pussy inspector Higuruma agenda, so I think he can be a bit of a tease. I don't think he's super into orgasm denial, seeing as how much pleasure it brings him, but I think before he's had a taste of you, while he's still in his rational mind, he likes to spread you open and sniff you, tap your clit and watch it twitch and your little hole clenches around nothing. 

He often frotts his cock against the outside of your cunt, making his tip kiss your clit over and over before he fucks you, sometimes making you cum just like that. Higuruma also loves fucking you with just his tip, pushing it in before pulling it fully out, biting his lip as you whine and beg for more, it drives him crazy, but your begs always get to him, breaking his resolve sooner than he'd like. 

V- Volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

Loud. So loud. He groans and whines against your pussy while he eats you out, curses and groans against your lips and the crook of your neck while he fucks you, he's so shameless. I think Higuruma is so good at dirty talking too, and he didnt even do it for your pleasure at first, it was just truly what he was thinking and he needed to say it out loud. Once he learned how much you loved it, it only made him that much more excited each time he spoke, knowing how much of an effect it had on you. 

examples:

"You're so wet" ,, "Does that feel good? Yeah? You like my tongue that much?" ,, "Let me cum inside you, please, please let me cum inside." ,, "Right there? This ''ur good spot?" ,, "Take it, baby, fuckkk take what you need."

X- X-ray (let's see what's goin' on under those clothes)

Fairly trimmed, slightly tan shaft with a slightly lighter tip that gets flushed red the hornier he gets. 6.7 inches, girthy as fuck, fills you so nicely each time he fucks you, he leaks soooo much precum, it looks like he already came before you even took his boxers off (sometimes he does heh.) Uncircumcised, massive, firm balls that are extremely sensitive, he loves when you suck on them while giving him a blowjob, arguably more than he likes when you suck his cock. 

Y- Yearning (how high is there sex drive)

I've already answered this heh (see letter J for more)

Z- Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)

Higuruma can and will not rest until he knows you're alright and relaxed. If you're cuddle fucking, he'll fall asleep instantly after cumming inside you, as do you, as for normal fucking otherwise, he's pretty good at staying awake long enough to change the sheets and wait for you as you shower (if he doesn't help you.) He might get a little sleepy but Higuruma is a bit clingy, he doesn't like to fall asleep without you by his side so that keeps him away till you're by his side and snuggled up with him.

[frozenmoonshine]

How TR boys show affection/love?

Long time no write, but my hyperfixation is very alive and kicking, as always! And since the weather is getting chillier as we're approaching the full blown autumn, it's the perfect time for some cozy, fluffy thoughts! 🍂🍁☕️🧦

TW: none, just some slight exaggeration for comedic purposes; Reader's gender is not specified

MIKEY - bites.

You can't convince me this adorable, emo menace to society isn't a total menace in every other aspect as well! He likes you means he wants you. He also wants dorayaki because he likes it. Dorayaki is something he chews on. ........... You can see what I'm getting at. He'll just randomly start munching on any bit of your skin he can get access to. And if he gets carried away, he can bite for real! It's just Mikey logic, don't question it, there's no use. But, fair be fair, he also protecc!

DRAKEN - acts of service.

He's the type to reflexively take off his jacket and cover you when you're cold, or go get you a bottle of water when you're out in the hot weather and he noticed you struggling with the heat. He'll always carry your bags and stuff, and doesn't allow you to refuse. You need an errand done - he's already on it. And the best part is that he never thinks twice about doing any of that, it's simply his second nature.

BAJI - surprisingly... also acts of service.

CLUMSY acts of service, but acts of service nonetheless! He'll cook for you (as in, more than just instant yakisoba - an actual meal). He'll bring you a cat when you're feeling down to cheer you up. He'll teach you to fight if you need to blow some steam off. (And he'll happily spar with you, but beware - he has ulterior motives in that sparring session, iykwim 😏) Still, the biggest sign of his affection is if he lets you touch his hair!

MITSUYA - support.

I was tempted to say 'words of affirmation', but on the second thought, just support in every shape and form that you might need. He's your shoulder to cry on when you need to, someone who believes in you when you doubt yourself, and someone you can always rely on no matter if you're going through a petty drama or your world actually just fell apart. He's always there by your side, through thick and thin!

KAZUTORA - trust.

They say that jealousy is the sign of love, but it's the exact opposite in Kazu's case! If you really mean something to him, he won't experience the least bit of jealousy, even if he saw you sitting butt-naked in another man's lap! He'll also be fully comfortable being himself around you, and feel safe to share his past, traumas, mistakes, and his healing journey, without fear of being judged or abandoned. He will just know in his heart that you are his person no matter what!

KOKO - self-sacrifice & physical touch.

I think this is pretty much canon, but allow me to elaborate nonetheless.

Hajime is passionate. When he falls in love, he falls head over heels and worships the ground his s/o walks on! His devotion can sometimes border on obsession, and there is nothing he wouldn't be willing to do for his love! And I mean - nothing - literally no limits! He'd kill or die in a heartbeat for the one he loves, no questions asked! And, since he burns so fervently in love, he cannot help the urge to constantly shower the object of his affection in kisses, to hold them tight and just feel their skin, warmth, scent... Sidenote: he doesn't hug, he embraces!

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[queer-n-here]

once again comin in with another meal to cook !!!

character of your choice ♡

stalker, obsessive and possessive reader (quite literally just yandere) seeing their SoulmateTM one day and just going full degenerate and doing everything in their power to learn more of their new lover, even getting rid of powerful foes or imaginary rival love interests for them. no one has any idea as to how they're able to do things no human or gifted can do. eventually, reader slowly comes in and orchestrates their first meeting and slowly woos their lover, but they have major issues on hiding their possessiveness and jealousy of others. lover can either a) be all for it and find it hot or b) lover is unsettled by it.

either way, after someone flirts with their lover, reader kind of snaps and after that person leaves, reader excuses themself and goes to absolutely maim the persom who dared to approach what was his. it's nighttime when reader is finished with them, and they come home to their lover who is worried, but becomes horrified at seeing all the blood covering reader. all reader can think about is claiming his lover, breeding him and imprinting himself so deep inside his lover that they'll always feel empty without him. (dubcon would be amazing)

~ 🕸

Oh my god 🕸️ bro 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bruv this is so good, love you for this, and yeah, y'all I've recently started reading a shit ton of dubcon/noncon so yeah...

I did this one for Akutagawa, cuz I feel like this could work for a situation where the reader is in the Port Mafia.

Also,this one got really long, and I haven't posted in like two days, so I thought I'd make two parts, yknow? Read Pt. 2 here!

Contents: Yandere reader that stalks Akutagawa and plans out their first time meeting in person. Not that Akutagawa already knows reader's name since they both work for the Port Mafia, but that's about it.

Warnings: No smut in this part yet, top male reader, yandere tendencies, mentions of stalking, murder, ability user reader.

You had been watching Akutagawa ever since you joined the Port Mafia. In total, this is what three years of stalking and careful planning was gonna boil down to: this one opportunity.

You had planned it out meticulously, paid seventy eight people to be nearby and on the scene to prevent anything from going wrong.

A heroic rescue!

As you watched Akutagawa cut open those men with Rashomon, you couldn't help but smile. He was so precious, so brave, so beautiful, so-

You shook your head, forcing yourself to concentrate. You couldn't miss your cue. Akutagawa wasn't stupid. If you made half a mistake, he'd know what was up.

One of the men got too close to Akutagawa for your liking, and you pounced on the opportunity like a starving cat.

You dashed out of your hiding spot, your ability leaping out and cutting the man to the ground.

Akutagawa turned to look at you, surprised.

Some of the men halted, too. They hadn't thought that you would actually hurt one of them. Before it was too apparent, and before Akutagawa could notice the changes in their expressions, your ability flew out, covering the entire area. Soon, all the men but the one you were enamored with were lying on the ground in pieces.

"[Name]," Akutagawa said, frowning slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be responsible for the East block tonight?"

"I asked Higuchi to handle it." You shrugged seemingly casually, your hands in your pockets as you scanned Akutagawa's body for any injuries. "The weather is great tonight, so I thought I'd step out for a drink. And good thing I did, otherwise you would have been cut to pieces."

Akutagawa sulked slightly, no longer focusing on the reason behind your sudden appearance. "I could've handled it."

Of course he could've, he's literally perfect.

"Were these Guild's men?" Akutagawa looked around the bloody mess of bodies around you two.

"How would I know?" You placed your hands behind your head.

Akutagawa shrugged. "Whatever, they're dead now."

And so the night ended. You took Akutagawa back to his home, pretending to ask for directions, when in reality you had his address memorized. He tried to turn you down, saying that you were being paranoid, but you said you'd rather be safe than sorry.

When you reached the tall apartment building, you watched him step inside, waiting for the light to turn on in the window you knew was his before leaving.

Over the next few weeks, you orchestrated multiple meetings between you two, always appearing out of nowhere and going back to it. Slowly, Akutagawa opened up, and started trusting you.

Miraculously, you even got Mori to assign you and Akutagwa to the same area. It cost you it's worth; you had to help Mori convince Elise into some bullshit.

It wasn't long before you were sure Akutagawa had developed feelings for you. He was painfully easy to read; his cheeks would flush every time you got too close, you could sometimes feel his eyes following you as you moved around. Once, when you 'casually' playfully winked at him, and you swore you could hear his breath hitch.

But you waited. The perfect thing to seal the deal for you and Akutagawa would be a confession from him, and not from you.

There were times when you almost gave up on this thought, like that one time one of your clients found interest in Akutagawa. He was ugly as hell and nowhere close to Akutagawa, who shone brighter than the sun. You had to take care of him your own way afterwards, slitting open his insides in your secret warehouse and throwing his pieces away to the dogs.

That wasn't a first-time occurrence, nor was it the last, but you fought well to keep your cool as long as Akutagawa was around. You didn't want him to know that side of you.

That day, you had known something was up even before you saw Akutagawa. There was a funny feeling in your stomach, and you felt like something great was going to happen.

And it did.

"I... I really l-like you."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment you almost punched yourself in the face to confirm whether it was a dream or reality. But you stopped yourself.

"Really?" Even as you spoke, your hands were already reaching for Akutagawa, pulling him closer to you.

He nodded, his entire face red.

A small broke through your face, and you kissed him, holding his waist in your hands.

It was finally happening. It was finally happening! Three years, four months, twenty-seven days, sixteen hours and forty-two minutes after you'd first laid eyes on this angelic man, you had finally kissed him!

It was a gentle kiss, despite the roaring in your head and all the urges to crush him into yourself. You nipped at Akutagawa's lips gently, making his breath hitch in that oh-so majestic way. He tasted like the best thing in the world, and you just couldn't get enough.

It was him who pulled away first, you wouldn't willingly part from those beautiful lips even if you suffocated to death. Staring at you with shining eyes and a shy little smile on his ethereal face, Akutagawa spoke.

"So... D'you... wanna be my boyfriend?"

Yes, yes, YES! A thousand times yes!

You nodded, pressing your forehead against his.

[doumidas-whumps]

some punishments are easier than others (part 1)

Port's least favorite one so far.

this is before sonny's time. part 1 is pretty short and light on whump, but things will pick up in part 2 ;D

cw: BBU/pet whump, abusive master, starvation & sleep deprivation

He pinched another grain of rice between his thumb and forefinger, plucking it from the glass bowl. His hand was on the verge of cramping, but he lifted the grain to the lamplight, squinting at it. White. He dropped it into a smaller bowl, adding to the slowly growing pile.

He pressed his thumb into the meat of his twitching hand, trying to ease the discomfort. At this rate he wouldn’t finish by morning. He looked to the clock, but it was covered. He had thrown a kitchen towel over it some time ago. It was both disheartening to see how slowly time was passing and anxiety-inducing to see how little time he had left. The last time he saw the clock, it read 3:46 AM. He was sure at least an hour had to have passed by now.

He had been sorting rice all night, grain-by-grain. There was a little less than a quarter remaining in the bowl, a mix of white and brown. Basmati rice separated into one bowl, brown rice in the other. 

This was definitely one of least favorite punishments so far. It was also unusually creative. Port would have preferred for Mr. Oz to just hit him. A few strikes with a belt? A smack in the face? That was easy. He’s been through far worse.

His master’s anger was usually quick, burning hot and bright. Funnily enough, it reminded Port of when Mr. Oz once managed to set fire inside the microwave. Port came as soon as he heard his master’s alarmed shout. Mr. Oz was about to open it, to put the flame out, but Port grabbed his wrist to stop him, in a manner so bold he couldn’t believe he’d even done it. He didn’t know how he knew, but the door should stay closed. He unplugged the microwave and they watched the flame starve of oxygen and burn out. It took less than a minute. Mr. Oz patted him on the back for it. Good thinking, he had said. 

This time… Mr. Oz was angry at him, but not enough to lose his temper. No, this had been a cold anger, followed by a calculated punishment. 

He had left in the morning without a word. When he came home late that night, he pulled two hefty bags out of the cupboard, one in each hand. A bag of brown rice and a bag of white. He tossed them onto the table, grabbed the large bowl that Port liked to use for bread. Port watched this all nervously, silently, with his hands carefully clasped behind his back. 

Mr. Oz dumped the entirety of both bags into the bowl. A few grains escaped and skittered across the table, onto the floor. He mixed the two rices together with both hands like he was kneading dough. 

Now separate these, he ordered. I want the rice back in the bags by the time I get up. You’re not allowed to sleep until tomorrow night. Understand?

Port’s eyes had slipped closed against his will, only for a moment, the familiar weight of resignation sitting heavy in his stomach. He composed himself. Yes, sir, he said. I’m sorry.

I know you are.

Now, hours later, Port realized he'd been absently rolling a grain of rice between his fingers like a pebble. He moved to see it better. His eyes were burning, and his vision had gone a little blurry. 

Brown. He cast it into the bowl with the others. The pads of his fingers felt chalky and raw. 

——

Port was frying eggs when he heard the familiar heavy footfalls down the stairs. He sensed Mr. Oz enter the kitchen, and Port turned around, bowing his head respectfully. “Good morning, sir.” 

“Where’s the rice?”

“In the cupboard, sir.”

Port turned to tend to the eggs, and when he looked back, Mr. Oz had one of the bags out and was peering inside it with his eyebrows raised. He jostled it a little, disturbing the rice inside. He must have been satisfied, because he closed it and put it back in the cupboard. He didn’t even bother to check the other one.

“How long did that take you?”

“’Til 5:30.”

Mr. Oz said nothing more, only sat at the table.

Port slid the eggs onto a plate and placed it in front of him, along with a fork. He grabbed the mug of coffee from the machine and placed that on the table, too, feeling like he was moving through molasses. Port eyed the eggs as Mr. Oz drizzled hot sauce on them. 

Port was pretty sure he already knew the answer to this question, but he figured he would ask anyway. “May I eat today, sir?”

Mr. Oz finished the bite he was chewing. “No.” He forked another piece of peppered yellow egg into his mouth.

Port lowered his head and took the frying pan from the stove to the sink. The smell of breakfast permeated the kitchen. Port hated the taste, but he wondered if he should sneak some coffee after Mr. Oz left, just to keep himself awake. He would have no way of knowing, right?

——

Not long after finishing breakfast, his master was ready to head out. He stopped by the door. “I’ll probably be home late tonight,” he said. “Don’t forget your rules.“

“Yes, sir. Have a good day.”

Mr. Oz just rolled his eyes and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. 

part 2

[fanfictiongirlie]

A Song of Sun and Snow - Chapter Five

Click here for Masterlist

Parings: Robb Stark x Baratheon Reader

Description: You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him.

Rating: Explicit (Eventually)

Words: 3,186

P.s: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. No use of Y/N. Only description of 'reader given: the fact that she doesn't look like Joff, Myrcella and Tommen (It's hinted she truly is Robert and Cersei's child) Not much though. Like one line. I wrote this in a different style to my usual style, using 2nd person. Hope it's okay. P.s there will be pregnancy in this, the 'reader' wants to have children. Also the ages are completely different in this fic then they are in the show/book.

Finally at the first stop towards your journey to Winterfell, You stepped out of the carriage, and followed the rest of the Starks into the small inn. Robb followed closely behind. The first thing you all did was sit at a large table and enjoy a nice hot meal. 

Robb watched you the entire time, he couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd made you come, thinking about how you seemed so desperate and needy for his touch. How he'd been able to break you even for just a little bit and how you were still acting so defiant towards him despite it all. 

You ate your meal quietly, chatting every now and again to Lady Stark or Robb's little siblings. Robb tried to participate in your conversations but his mind was elsewhere. His mind continued to drift to you, thinking over how you sounded in that carriage. 

The inn was nice enough, it wasn't the fanciest of places you had been in before, but then again you were a princess who grew up in a large castle, nothing would be as fancy. The people who worked there were nice enough, and after a good night's sleep, you were back in that damn carriged, though this time, Robb's little sister Sansa had wanted to sit with you both. Robb wanted to argue, but you had given permission before he could even speak. Though it was probably best, otherwise he knew he'd do absolutely unspeakable things to you in the carriage. 

"Will I be able to help you with your hair for the wedding?" Sansa asks, even at ten she was obsessed with everything to do with weddings, boys, looking pretty. 

"Of course little one" You answer, smiling softly. The two of you spoke more of the wedding, and you found yourself a little excited. For the wedding part, not the Robb part...right? 

Robb smiled as he listened to the two of you chat. It was actually kind of cute, to see how you were with Sansa, he thought. He thought you were so sweet and patient with her. It was yet another side to you, the warm, caring princess who was so good with children. Sansa asked so many questions, all of which you were happy to answer. Until one question that left you flushing red. 

"What happens after you wedding? Mother won't tell me" 

You choked on air slightly as the words left her lips. That little question caught both you and Robb by surprise. 

"Uhh unfortunately that isn't something we can tell you, sweet Sansa" You spoke carefully "Perhaps your brother can tell you"

Robb had to laugh out loud at that, covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound. He couldn't help himself, the idea of Sansa trying to ask him about wedding night activities and what happens between bride and groom was too hilarious to him. You smiled at Robb as Sansa looked at Robb expectantly. 

"Uhh what exactly do you mean, Sansa?" Robb asks her. 

"What happens after you wed?" She asks again. 

Robb had started to feel a little flustered now, having both Sansa and your eyes on him. Sansa's face was completely innocent, and she looked so hopeful for an answer. He didn't exactly know how to explain this to her, but he attempted to do so anyway. 

"Uh, well...usually the bride and groom do something to celebrate the wedding in their room, alone" 

You smirked at him, enjoying this thoroughly. "Perhaps you can tell me about the dress you'll wear" You say smiling sweetly to Sansa, deciding to save Robb from this conversations. Robb couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief, secretly grateful that you'd change the subject, saving him from having to explain any further to Sansa. 

The day carried on, the journey had been pretty uneventful so far. Sitting alone with Robb and Sansa had been pretty interesting. Spending time with them both had actually been fun. But you were thankful when you had finally reached the second inn for the night. The carriage had made your body ache and you needed a soft bed to lie in. 

When in the inn you walked to your room and flopped down on the bed, lying on the end stretching out. You'd only been in your room for a few minutes when there was a soft knock at your door. You knew exactly who it was. 

"Yes?" You called out. Robb pushed the door open and walked into your room, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you, laying on the bed, how soft your body looked, how inviting... 

"Stark!" You say in utter surprise, not expecting him to actually walk into your room. He chuckled softly and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to your lying figure. He looked down at you, stretched out in front of him. Gods, you looked so good like this....he could feel the want stirring within him.... 

"Did I scare you princess?"

"You shouldn't be in my room..."You say quietly. He smirked leaning closer to you, moving so his upper body almost hovered over your body. 

"And yet, here I am..."

"You really don't care for rules, do you?" You ask, laughing softly. It felt weird to laugh in his presents, but you kinda liked it. 

Robb chuckled...Rules? There were so many rules and he didn't care for any of them. Not when you were right here, underneath him, the way you should be. The defiant look in your eyes only fueled his urge more, he knew deep down you wanted him and as bad as he wanted you. Your eyes betrayed you. 

"No, princess, I don't care for rules"

"I've noticed" You say quietly. You knew you should sit up, get off the bed and demand he leaves your room, but you didn't. "I'm exhausted, what is it?"

"I want you, princess" He whispers, his face lowered towards yours. 

"You marry me in a few weeks, you get me then" You answer, wanting to lean up, press your lips to his. But you didn't. 

"Ah...but my lovely, sweet princess..." He suddenly lowers himself even closer to you, his breath touched your lips "I want you now"

"We can't" You whisper. He groaned at your words, and the tone of your voice. That beautiful whisper of yours. Gods, you were driving him crazy, and you weren't even doing anything. He wanted you now, wanted to feel your body against his, hear all the pretty sounds he could make you make again... 

"And why can't we, princess?" 

"You know why" You whisper wanting so bad to touch him. Let him touch you again. 

"Who cares if it's scandalous?" 

"I am a princess, I will not have rumours of doing such things before I am married" You answer a little more forceful. The inn was too busy, too many possible people to hear you to such things with him. 

"You're driving me insane" He mutters, closing his eyes and lifting up from you, he sits at the end of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his head. 

"Why the sudden urge to touch me? What happened to us hating one another?" You ask quietly, sitting up and matching his pose. 

Robb laughed at that, you were absolutely right. What had happened to him? Why did he suddenly want you so badly, when only a few days ago all he wanted was to run away and not marry you. He wasn't even sure himself, but the fact remained that all he wanted right now was you, to feel your body against his, to feel you beneath him and hear the pretty sounds you made when he touched you...

"I don't know princess, I'm not sure what happened. But I don't care about hating you anymore" He finally admitted out loud. 

"You don't?" You whisper, not believing his words. He shook his head, he really couldn't care about hating you anymore. 

"No, I don't care about hating you. I just want you"

"I...I don't want to hate you anymore" You whisper, looking up at him. His blue eyes looking into yours. Robb leaned a little closer to you. 

"Good, because I don't want to hate you anymore, either, princess" 

"Maybe...we could try and be friends...until our wedding in a few weeks time?" You ask slowly. 

"Ah...friends, huh?"

"Yeah...maybe you can not be a dick for once" You say smiling. 

"I suppose I could be a little nicer"

"That's all I ask" You say softly. He chuckled again, the urge to pull you into his lap was intense. But he wouldn't. 

"And you'll be nice in return?" He asks, his eyes on you. 

"I can definitely try" 

"That'll do, princess" He answers, a soft smile on his lips. You felt your lips smile as he did. 

"Right...well you better be off to your room" You say carefully, trying not to sound too harsh in your tone. Robb chuckled again, knowing he should listen to your words. But he didn't want to leave. You were sitting right here, looking so damn good....

"You're really going to make me leave?"

"You want your family to find you in my room?" You ask, Lord and Lady Stark would berate him if they found him in here, and as much as you'd like to see that, it wouldn't be right. 

"Damn it, you're right" He groaned. 

"Goodnight Star...Robb" You say smiling, his smile widen, he really liked his name on your lips. 

"Goodnight princess" He says before leaving you to your room. 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The remainder of the journey to Winterfell took a few more weeks, and was more enjoyable now you and Robb decided you were going to try and be friends. Being able to talk to one another without being hateful and defiant towards each other all the time was a pleasant change...though it was a little bit torturous having to act as friends when you both wanted to jump each other's bones. 

You were relieved when the carriages stopped in Winterfell. You were exhausted and were ready for a long hot bath and a lie in your bed. 

"So this is Winterfell?" You say as you step out of your carriage, you take hold of Robb's hand and he helps you climb out. Robb smiled as he watched you look around, the courtyard before the castle was cold, and busy, the people of Winterfell stood around watching Robb's new soon to be wife, you smiled and waved as you saw the people. It made you uncomfortable having so many eyes on you, but as a princess, you were used to it. 

"Welcome to Winterfell, princess" Robb said to you, his hand still on yours by your side. 

"Thank you, Robb" You smile softly, you shivered slightly, not used to the cold air on your skin, but it wasn't nearly as bad as you imagined it to be. 

"Come, let's get you settled" Robb said leading you by his hand through the courtyard, the younger of the Stark siblings were running ahead to get into the castle, whilst Lord Stark and Lady Stark slowly wandered behind, speaking to various people. 

"Thank you" You say smiling up at him "I'm ready for a long bath"

Robb chuckled lightly, he imagined you laying in the tub, all relaxed. Not that he had any idea what you'd look like laying back in the tub just yet, but he damn sure wanted to find out soon...

"Your new handmaidens should be preparing a bath for you right now, princess" He said. 

"Oh wonderful...." You beamed at him. Robb showed you around the castle first, showing you the main areas, including the library, you were most excited to spend time in there. And finally when you had seen most of the castle, the important parts he showed you to your room, it was your temporary room, until you were wed to him. 

"Thank you Robb, I'll see you at dinner" You smile at him as you both stood outside your room's door. Robb was feeling reluctant to part with you, he needed to find something to keep himself occupied for the next few hours between now and when it was time for dinner, otherwise he'd probably go insane with the urge to go to your room and see you again, to spend more time with you....

"Okay, see you at dinner, princess. Have a nice bath"

"I will" You say, smiling up at him fondly. You walked into your room, it was decent enough, a little darker than you were used to. Your handmaidens greeted you with a simple bow and showed you to your bath, they helped you undress and you stepped into the hot water, you sighed happily as you settled, you had not wanted to get your hair wet so whilst you soaked in the lavender scented water you had your handmaids do your hair, they were careful and left your hair mostly loose with a few plaits. 

Once the water started to become colder you stepped out, allowing your handmaids to dry you and help you dress in one of your new dresses, better suited for the cold of Winterfell. It was a deep purple dress that covered your arms completely which you were grateful for. Once done you had a servant show you the way to the feast hall, and once there you found all the Stark's sitting around the table. 

It was a smaller table than the one in Kingslanding, it was more intimate, more...family like. 

Robb looked up as you entered the room, his cool demeanor went out the window as he saw you enter. You looked beautiful, the deep purple of your dress making you look...so perfect. He then stood and walked over to you, meeting you mid room, he took your hand in his and kisses your knuckles, he lead you towards the table and pulled out the chair in between his spot and next to his mother. 

You waited whilst Lord Stark spoke to you, welcoming you to Winterfell formally, and then the meal was served. Robb watched you idly as you began to eat, his thoughts consumed by you. You were so close to him, the faint scent of your skin driving him crazy, the way your dress hugged your body so perfectly...He was getting to be more and more tempted to just forget his promise to you, to stop acting like a good boy and take you right there on the table....

"Robb?" You say again, his eyes were on you, but he hadn't responded the first time you called his name. 

He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard you speak, he looked at you with a startled expression. 

"Yes, princess?"

"Didn't you hear what your mother asked?" You asked him, giggling softly. 

He blinked, not having heard any question from you or his mother. He'd been too distracted in his daydream to hear or notice anything at all.

"Ah...no. Sorry mother, I didn't hear...Could you repeat the questions?" Robb speaks, an awkward smile on his lips. 

"I thought tomorrow you could take the princess for a ride through the woods, she says she'd like to explore Winterfell before the winter comes" Lady Stark repeated herself. 

Robb blinked, surprised by his mother's words. A simple ride through the woods...It was far too tempting to get you all alone, with no one around, nothing separating you from him in the thick, cold woods...but he knew he had to say yes....

"Ah...Yes, I can take her riding, mother, what a lovely idea" Robb smiled, taking a large gulp of his ale. 

"Oh really? Thank you Robb, I'd truly love that" You exclaimed excitedly, your horse had come with you on the journey and it had been weeks since your last ride. Robb couldn't help the goofy smile that was forming on his face. Gods, he couldn't wait to have you all alone in the woods, with all that privacy and nowhere for anyone to see you, no one to stop or prevent him if he just took you right there in the woods...Gods...

"Robb?" You say, seeing he was daydreaming again. 

"Ah..yes princess? Sorry, was I staring?" He asks, he definitely was, that purple dress on you, your perfect hair, your golden skin in the harsh white of Winterfell, it was too much for him, he was overwhelmed with your beauty. 

"Yes.."You answer with a small giggle "But I asked you a question, did you hear me?"

Dammit...He thought, he needed to screw his head back on, getting so easily distracted. He was the future Lord of Winterfell, he couldn't let himself get so distracted by his future wife. 

"No, I'm sorry, could you repeat it?" He asks a little sheepishly. 

"Would you be kind enough to walk me back to my room? I'm exhausted after the long journey here" You ask again. 

"Yes, of course princess, I'd love too" He grins, standing up. He watched as you stood and smooth out your dress and then you held your hand out, taking his arm. You say goodnight to his parents and family and then he starts leading you from the room. You were so tired, struggling to even keep your eyes open now, luckily Robb's arm was keeping you steady as you walked. 

A small part of you wanted to push him against the wall, press your lips against his. As you walked through the halls, he didn't same much, just like dinner, he barely spoke to you. It made your brows furrow, and finally when you reached your bedroom door, you stopped walking and stood directly in front of him. 

"Have I done something to upset you?" You ask, a small pang of panic surging through your heart. 

Robb looked down at you confused, he then realised how quiet he had truly been this evening. 

"No princess...No you haven't done anything wrong"

"Are you sure....Because since we've been in Winterfell, you've barely said a word to me" You say, you didn't want to sound pathetic but you couldn't help yourself. Those last few weeks of the journey were wonderful, you and Robb spoke about everything, got so much closer. 

"I promise, you haven't upset me, I've just....I've had a lot on my mind" He tries to explain. 

"Oh...right..well if you're sure, thank you for walking me to my room, Robb" You say quietly as you reach up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

"You're welcome princess, get a good night's rest, okay?" 

"Of course, goodnight" You say and then you walk into your room. Robb stood there for a moment, watching as you disappeared into your room. It took every ounce of his strength not to follow you inside and do terrible, shameful things to you right there and then. But he knew he had to control himself. And the thought of taking you out riding in the woods tomorrow...Now that would be a real challenge to control himself. 

"Goodnight, my princess"

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @whatelsecouldgowrong @rheanyraaaa

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Fandom: The Walking Dead (DD/TBOC), Caryl Title: Christmas Reminisce (Also on 9L)

A/N: This was my 2023 Caryl Secret Santa fic. I realize I never posted it here, so you get it now, for 2024. Merry Holidays!

Daryl bolted upright, heaving breaths through his nose as his dream world slipped away. He turned immediately to his left, but the spot beside him was empty.

“You okay?”

On his right, Carol stood at the window, the blue-white moonlight filtering in, lighting up her face just enough for him to see the concern written on it. She'd wrapped her too-large, calf-length sweater around her, her arms crossed to help ward off the cold seeping into the monastery walls.

“Mmm,” he hummed noncommittally, throwing the covers away from his legs, grateful to leave the nightmare that haunted him behind.

The chilly air immediately stole the warmth of the bed from him as he moved to stand behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back into his chest. They stood in silence for a few minutes, slightly swaying to a slow rhythm and staring out at the frigid night, the frosted ground, the icy waters.

He'd never intended to stay in France, but he was grateful it'd turned out the way it had or he'd be fighting off the winter elements in parts unknown, and Carol...well, she wouldn't be in his arms right now, he knew that much.

On a good day in the Before, he never could've imagined visiting France. And while it wasn't home and it'd been a treacherous journey through the country, being here in a once-famous monastery was something he and Carol would forever share: the two of them—having separately traversed an ocean—found each other and ended up here. Together.

“Wanna tell me about your dream?” Her voice came softly, quietly, and without demand.

He dropped a kiss into her hair just above her ear. “Some other time.” Another kiss. “Same thing got you up?”

Silence for a few beats, then she murmured a 'no' on a sigh. “Just thinking about home. Hoping Jude and RJ aren't giving Aaron and Gabriel too much trouble.”

He waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he asked, “Sure that's all?”

He saw her quirk one side of her mouth up in the window's reflection. “Remember our Christmas at the prison?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he answered, an unusual sense of nostalgia washing over him. He didn't often let himself think about what had been—either the good or the bad. Both hurt too much, and he had enough on his plate on any given day without the added weight of memories. But for a few moments, holding Carol and remembering together, he let himself reminisce. The tree Carl roped Glenn into cutting down. The ornaments the kids made to decorate it. The songs the others had sung in hushed tones that echoed throughout their cell block. The smiles and laughter that accompanied them more on that one day they'd chosen to celebrate as Christmas than any day that'd come before for their group. How he'd felt like an actual part of that group of people.

“We barely had anything to make it an actual Christmas celebration, but it worked somehow.” Carol paused, and he wondered how she remembered it, which moments had solidified in her mind. “Those ugly ornaments the kids made,” she chuckled. “That bitter chocolate Hershel found in the warden's desk drawer that we made into hot choco-yuck.”

Daryl huffed a laugh, remembering Carl's name for the silt water they'd all pretended was cocoa.

Carol didn't continue, and he waited, the cold seeping through his pajamas along his back a sharp contrast to the warmth he felt with her against his chest.

“I wonder what the kids are doing this year.”

He felt more than heard the heartache in her words and wished, like she did, that they slept at home, with the kids and the rest of their family nearby.

The Nest leaders had been promising the kids in the commune a Christmas celebration, albeit a simple one, for the past week. Daryl had ignored the hype, much like he'd done with Christmases in the Before, but he'd noticed Carol's contemplative nature earlier at dinner. He'd sat next to her, deftly fending off the few attempts at conversation others threw their way. He hadn't asked her what was on her mind as they'd readied for bed, instead waiting for her to reveal what bothered her. It didn't surprise him it had to do with the kids. He missed them too.

“Hey,” he said softly, unwrapping his arms from around her and gently turning her to face him. “We're gonna see 'em again.” He cupped one hand along the side of her neck, just below her ear, his thumb running back and forth along her jawline. “Soon as the snow melts and it's safe to sail again, we're goin'.”

She peered up at him, her eyes full of trust and tears. “I know. Just feels like forever away right now. We've been gone so long...”

“Sorry I got caught up in stuff I shouldn't have. I didn't mean—”

She raised a finger to his lips. “I'm not sorry I came looking for you. And certainly not sorry I'm here.”

He nodded, believing her even as guilt sat heavy in his gut.

With a hand to the back of his neck, Carol drew his face toward her until his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes for a minute, listening to her breathe, feeling her fingers ruffle through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I'm so glad I found you.”

Daryl felt the breath of her words against his face and tangle in his heart. “Glad you came lookin'.”

She eased away from him a few seconds later to look into his eyes. “It's a miracle we didn't miss each other.”

“Oh, I missed you plenty,” he stated, feathering her hair away from her forehead with one hand. A smile lit up her face. “More'an you know. Never shoulda left you.”

“Now's your chance to never do it again,” she teased.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Carol shivered, and Daryl rubbed his hands up and down her arms to lend her warmth. “Head back to bed?” he asked, head nodding towards the large bed with layers of blankets on it.

She took a final glace out the window at the cold night and nodded. “Yeah.”

She waited for him to settle into the mattress before sliding under the covers and pressing her back against his chest. He draped his arm loosely around her waist as she tucked the edges of the blankets around her body, sealing the frigid air out and cocooning them in warmth.

“G'night.”

“'Night.” Daryl dropped another kiss into her hair and closed his eyes contentedly, the best Christmas present he could ever wish for wrapped in his arms.

Forever tag: @madwomanlexie @mel-loves-all @memcjo @suellenalmeida @chey1995 @itsmymeaningoflife Message me to be added or removed.

[butt3rnugg3t]

Tell Me A Tale

Authors Note: Plz be nice!! First thing I've written and posted in like 4 years, I'm rusty! I fear there's a lot of dialogue. I'm thinking of making this with multiple parts but for now this is it.

OH! And this isn't set in Hawkins. So, this is an AU where Eddie is just a hot tatted dude. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 👍

Word Count 702 (Unedited)

The bell dings, echoing through the small shop on the corner of 5th and Main. Floor to ceiling bookshelves wrap themselves around the store, dust settled in on a few shelves. The door said open, but the vacant counter to the right of the door was unoccupied. Maybe Eddie had read the sign wrong, but he was about 90 percent sure the sign said open.

“Hello?” His voice seemed to echo around the space for a moment before a loud clattering sounded from the back room. 

“Be with you in a moment!” drifted back to him, followed by another series of clashes and finally a few curses. That caused Eddie to smile softly to himself. Another few minutes passed by before he finally saw a pair of legs appear out of the back room, just legs because the rest of her was hidden behind a large stack of books, stacked haphazardly in her arms. “Sorry about making you wait, it's technically my first day working the store by myself and as you can probably tell I've got my work cut out for me."

“I can see, I thought this store had been here for the past 20 or so years though." Thats what Steve had told him when he brought up needing a new copy of 'The Hobbit'.

Eddie grimaced as the store owner tripped on a loose bit of the carpet and almost dropped everything before quickly correcting herself. Taking a deep breath she finally deposited them at the counter before turning to take Eddie in. And Eddie in turn was finally getting all of her as well. She was just as frumpled as he thought she would be, it made him smile.

Denim overalls layered on top of a plain black t-shirt, bright red converse on each foot. Mismatched socks along with her hair looking like it was about to fall out of the messy braid it was forced into. Skin slightly damp from the sticky summer heat that had taken over the city during this hot July afternoon. She looked adorably...tired. Like she had been running on zero sleep and 3 cups of coffee. He felt bad for just realizing it, even though he had just stepped into her store for the first time.

"Yeah, once again, sorry about the mess," She stepped around the counter truly taking the mantel of 'bookseller'. "Um yeah, I just took over from my grandmother." The pause between her words seemed forced, necessary for her to calm down. He felt a stone fall into his stomach, waiting for the next words to fall from her lips. "she's not doing too great recently but," she paused once again, regaining her composure. "Sorry, I'm sure you didn't come in to hear about my life, how can I help you?"

To her credit, Eddie was sure he'd be a blubbering mess if he had to go on and act like everything was fine if (heaven forbid) anything were to happen to Wayne. He certainly wasn't going to hold her small word vomit against her. He also wouldn't mind hearing all about her life if he were to give him the chance.

"All good, I'm actually looking for a copy of 'The Hobbit'," He stepped over to stand across from her, the counter between them. "My last copy is covered in strawberry ice cream" (read: Dustin made a mess)

"Ah, unfortunately were out of our copies. But if you're willing to wait I can order one for you on my next shipment?" Eddie was convinced this girl could talk him into anything. Even if he was in a hurry to own the book again. (He wasn't)

"Yeah, It's absolutely no rush. What do you need for that?" He watched her pull out a receipt pad, jotting down the book title and price in swirly handwritten letters.

"Just a name and good number to contact you at? For when the book comes in," She was quick with the second sentence. But regardless, Eddie was completely content leaving his personal information in her capable hands. And within minutes the book was paid for, and he was set.

All he had to do now was wait for her call.

[jennelikejennay]

I'm writing another AOS fic (WHY?!) and that means it's time for another

✨ plot hole rant ✨

To me, the part of the first movie that makes the least sense is Pike going over to the Narada. For so many reasons.

1. If Nero wanted a random Starfleet captain in order to get information on Earth's defenses, he wouldn't have shot up every ship that showed up in Vulcan's orbit. He'd have destroyed all but one, and then demanded or just captured the captain of that ship. He didn't know the Enterprise was going to be warping in five minutes later! He would naturally think that was the whole fleet.

2. If he did, Pike would have no reason to agree. First, he wrote his dissertation on this, he knows that's what Robau did and that Robau got killed and it didn't save the Kelvin. Just a general rule of thumb, if your enemy really wants something, don't give it to them. It was the ONE thing they could have denied Nero, and he gives it up.

3. Okay, so let's say it was absolutely necessary to provide cover for Kirk and Sulu's space jump. That still doesn't mean he actually has to give himself up when he gets there. He could have rammed, self destructed, come out shooting, anything else.

4. It's also incredibly stupid to have single factor authentication on your entire planetary defense grid, and then go ahead and store the password inside the head of EVERY captain. Some captains are chumps! They get captured sometimes! This is not a secure place to keep the data which ten billion lives rely on! It would make more sense to require human confirmation at the very least. A dude who can look out the window and go "yeah I see that you look like the Enterprise, as well as having the right 1000-digit transponder codes for today" before taking the shields down.

5. If you DID have a system like that, it would become that more vital not to give up your captain to anyone, for any reason. Captains are taught to resist torture, but nothing's perfect. This is cyanide-pill-in-your-cheek level hot information. For Pike to give himself up, knowing he's got the key to Earth's defenses in his mind, is incredibly irresponsible. Especially given he can SEE this guy is actively drilling holes in a different planet.

6. Also it does really make you wonder what Vulcan's planetary defenses are like. Even if they were dumb enough to have it all running on a single password, Vulcans can resist the mind sifter so I'd bet on them over a Ceti eel or whatever. Plus if there were an encounter like that, that would have given them time to send a subspace message like DON'T WARP OVER HERE WITH YOUR SHIELDS DOWN or something, just a thought. But really I don't think it occurred to the writers that planets other than Earth have defenses, because the movie does not treat Vulcan like a real planet. Vulcans are pacifists who carry a big stick, they'd have defenses.

This has been my rant for the day. I just can't believe the Earth defenses have less robust security than I need to log into zoom. Really, a freaking miracle nobody blew it up before.

[droumack]

I love a good au. Nothing really fleshed out or serious prompts and I’m sorry I’m all over the place with these. A natejo gladiator au where Nate’s a fighter (I like a man covered in blood what can I say)

A bit nsfw but I’m honestly kind of saddened by how little alphaxalpha bitching fics there are in hrpf. It is so yummy to me. Jo being a pretty alpha that only lets Nate fuck him and eventually wants to get bitched by Nathan or something I dunno I just love some alphaxalpha and the conflicting emotions it brings. Definitely could add angst with Jo feeling insecure and inadequate and wishing he was an omega then surprise! Nate fucked you so good you are one now congrats :>

Just came to a realization of alpha natejo fighting for their lives together in gladiator battles trying to get their freedom(?) they only trust each other during ruts and they slowly progress from thigh fucking (Jo gets curious and super horny and can’t stop thinking about how it would feel IN him :3) to Jo getting fingered for the first time as an alpha to Jo getting fucked and Nate is the only alpha he wants/lets fuck him. It eventually gets to a point where during Jo’s ruts, he would rather Nates knot filling him up and he’s not allowed to touch his own knot so hes just super desperate and hard and frustrated and leaking all over himself with no relief and idk maybe he needs to get knotted a few times and cum untouched while being knotted and bitten by another alpha to get bitched? I’m not sure the exact way it is in omegaverse

I have another au wolf hybrid Nate hunting in the woods and bunny/deer (some adorable prey animal hybrid) Jo accidentally intruding on him or maybe the pack (avs) are eating the remains of some prey idk and Jo tries bolting away which draws Nate’s attention making the wolf part of Nate go hunt!! chase!!! through the woods and Jo gets taken down by this big scary wolf man who’s got dried blood everywhere and is holding him down and looking at him like hes about to eat him but also Jo is getting kinda turned on by the fact that the big sexy scary menacing wolf is all those things and from the adrenaline of being chased. Nate was running on instinct and maybe planning on killing him but is like hold on are you turned on right now? And then fucks Jo nasty in the woods instead

well hello prompts!

okay yes obviously nate would make the most insane and incredible gladiator ever he'd be heinously terrifying and so sexy hot and take such good care of jo and probably use the blood of his enemies as lube idk

i actually wrote an alpha x alpha natejo bitching fic! idk if you missed it or you didn't like it or you're just asking me to write more 😭 but here ya go - you knew the price going in

also wolfnate would absolutely hunt jo down with little more than a glimpse, you're so real for that. and then, yeah, fuck him immediately.

[youaremyspecialz]

I don't know what to do without you.

suicidal and immortal! dazai x mortal! chuuya. content warning; major character death, attachment issues, mourning of loss, mental breakdown, slightly graphic description of wounds, suicide (it's dazai, come on), overall pretty sad and angsty.

╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼ thirty minutes. if osamu would've gotten there thirty minutes earlier, he wouldn't be here today, dressed in black and placing flowers on a coffin, on his beloved chuuya's coffin. he would most likely be at home, chatting with chuuya, or having a glass of wine to kick off their afternoon. but here he was instead, being met by mourners, though none would weep and sob as much as he did. he remembers the day like it was yesterday, despite it taking place one month, five days, fourty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds (and counting) ago. he had been all the way on the other side of yokohama when he got the call that chuuya was losing control of his ability. dazai was the only one who could stop him, but of course he just had to be so fucking far away. he sped through those streets, not having a care in the world for who he'd nearly hit, who got in his way. he just needed to save his beloved, just like his beloved had 'saved' him so many times. that was the difference between the two of them, actually. dazai may have tried to kill himself so many times, either it be by him trying to hang himself from a bridge that would ensure he'd break his neck one way or another or floating down the riverbank in the middle of a hot summer afternoon, but he could not die no matter how many times he had tried. he was immortal. chuuya, on the other hand, was not. he was but a vessel for the god of calamity, arahabaki. although he could control gravity as he pleased, he was also a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any moment, if dazai was there or not. this was one of those times that dazai was not there to stop him and his reign of destruction to whatever his eyes were laid on. finally arriving, thirty minutes after getting the call, it was too late. it was far too late. poor chuuya had so many burn marks in his skin, his clothes damn near torn to the very threads that first sowed them together, blood spilling from every part of his body, the land around him that once was their shared garden now looked like the aftermath of a tornado that that francis guy from america described to them once.

immediately running over to him, dazai shook his figure, his hot tears pouring down his cheeks like the riverbanks he'd try to kill himself in. this couldn't be happening, no. he swore to protect chuuya, he couldn't let this happen to him. he saved him all those other times, surely, he would save him this time too, right? right? right?

but no, he couldn't. that wouldn't stop him from trying to, though.

"nakahara, don't- you dumbass, you absolute dumbass.." osamu cursed at the man he held in his arms who was blinking in and out of consciousness, his ability activated in an attempt to get him out of this state. oh, he got him out of that state alright, but there is one thing his ability couldn't do, and that was heal what damage was already done.

"dazai, you're here.. boy, is it nice to see you." chuuya spoke, his vocal cords sounding like they were ripped to shreds. he sounded so sarcastic as he spoke, but he genuinely meant it. it really was nice to see dazai, even if it was for one last time. "i'm so sorry, babe.. i just-" one of dazai's slender fingers cut him off from speaking, a ragged 'shhh' sound escaping from his trembling lips. "don't waste your breathing on words, please.. just hold on a little longer, please chuuya. for me." he begged him quietly, his hands now covering as many wounds as he possibly could to stop their bleeding, his hands becoming soaked in crimson as a result. "no, dazai.. i don't think i'll be able to bounce back from this one." those words hit dazai harder than a train he'd thrown himself in front of once. "chuuya, no! you're going to live, you absolutely must live, there is so much we.. there's so much we still need to do together, just hold on, please?! for me?! for our future?!" dazai wailed, shaking him gently, but a smile formed on the others face. "i'm so sorry for all the trouble i've caused you. from when we were younger til now." chuuya shook his head, sighing. "i think my biggest regret will be not giving you this sooner." after saying that, he takes one of dazai's hands, placing a beautiful ruby ring in its palm. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, chuckling slightly. osamu felt his heart break into a million pieces hearing this, before he smiled too. although he was sad, the least he could do was show chuuya a sign of happiness, to give him even a sliver of hope. "yeah, it is.. it's a ruby ring, isn't it? my favourite gem?" he asked, earning a nod from chuuya. "yeah, it is.. i remember when you told me that you favored rubies above any other gem, so i just.." he began coughing up blood. "so i just had to, you know? anything for my dazai.." he places a hand on his cheek, a sigh of infatuation escaping his lips as he admired dazai's face. "you know, the moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" he asks. as much as dazai wanted to look at the full moon that was in the sky before him, he didn't want to take his eyes off of chuuya in his dying moments. "yes, it is.." he slowly nodded, more and more tears hitting chuuya's neckline, rolling down to his chest. "but.." more blood he coughed up, this time a wheezing sound getting out of his lips as he did so. "but you're more beautiful than that damn ball in the sky.." his smile didn't waver.. "i'm so glad i got to see you one last time, even if it was like this." his eyes slowly shut.. "i hope in another universe things didn't end this way." his breathing slowed down.. "i love you, osamu dazai." "i love you too, chuuya nakahara."

"i love you most.." chuuya spoke quietly before his breathing stopped, and shortly after, the hand that held dazai's cheek fell. dazai held onto him as tightly as possible, wanting to scream into the night sky, but he did not want to disturb his beloved's eternal slumber. "rest easy, chuuya. your work here is done." were the only words he could get out of his mouth. he let his clothes get soaked with the other's blood, he let the other's warmness absorb into him for one last time. his eyes glancing up into the night sky after what seemed like forever, a small smile formed on his lips. he could've sworn he saw a dimmed star him and chuuya always stared at grow a little brighter that evening. ╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼ authors note; first post and i actually like this fic what, shoutout to some instagram reel that gave me the idea for it and shoutout to my partner that helped me develop a plot!!

[captain-mj]

Can we get a 3rd part of hunter au, but with ghost x soap x roach....

Hell yeah! This is technically part 4 but I got the ask before I posted the last one. Btw, after I do all the ships (I think all I have left is this one and PriceGraves? If I'm missing one, just ask!) I might do a second part for Korangi since Horangi did kinda leave

Ghost hated that he had been dragged into this. Hunting a Hawk Moth was not something that he had been planning when he woke up that day.

So when he was snatched up in a trap, it was just another part of an already bad day. A rope tied around his ankle and thrust him into the air. Two people, he didn't really get a good look at them, moved around him. Based on their soft footsteps, they were most likely winged.

“Where is our friend?”

Ghost stared at them. He luckily knew their language or this would get really, really awkward. "Your friend?" Did they mean the Hawk Moth? If those idiots found him and didn't tell him, leaving him to wander these woods alone...

"No. Blue Butterfly." They came into view. One of them had antennae and bug wings while the other had large yellow moth wings. The two of them made quite a pair. One of them had a slightly funny hair cut, shaved on the sides, but it could grow on him.

"Nope. Haven't seen him."

"We also have a Maple Moth missing. Know anything about her?"

"Nada. Haven't seen or heard anything."

The one with Roach wings made weird little motions with his hand. Some sort of non verbal communication because the other one quickly nodded. "My name is Soap. This is Roach."

Ghost took note of the fact that Soap gave his real name, but clearly only gave Roach's species. He was starting to feel lightheaded from being upside down. "Look, I don't know your friends. Just let me down already, yeah?"

Soap and Roach made motions again. Ghost couldn't understand any of it. They had a rudimentary version, but it mostly just consisted of orders, not intricate conversation. He found it fascinating.

"There was a few of your... kind around. Why? What are you doing here?"

Ghost hummed. "Looking for my friend's lover. They disappeared and we're trying to make sure they're okay." One of them reached up and tried to tug off his mask. He panicked, trying to cover his face. His whole body flushed. "Don't do that!"

"No. Tell me what I need to know."

"I don't know where your friends are!" Ghost snapped at him.

He bared his teeth at him and Soap blushed. Good, be scared.

"He's kinda hot." Soap mumbled to Roach who nodded in agreement. Ghost flushed.

"I am not hot."

"Yeah, you are." Soap smiled. "And rather big." He poked at Ghost who finally managed to kick the rope to try to release himself.

"Let me fucking down."

Soap patted him down. "Making sure you don't have any weapons."

Ghost grumbled. He didn't want to shove them around. Their wings looked so delicate. He was worried he'd hurt them somehow and other than be mildly annoying, they hadn't done anything worth hurting them for.

Soap hummed. "Do the swirls go everywhere?"

Ghost frowned. "What?"

"The swirls. Do they cover all of your skin?"

Ghost blushed. "They're fractals. And yes."

Roach looked intrigued and his hands reached up to follow the swirl up Ghost's skin but Soap interrupted.

"Tell us where our friends are!"

"Fine. Chances are my friends took them."

"Why?"

"As prizes." Ghost shrugged. "They're probably happy, don't worry."

Soap looked shocked. "What?? Prizes? You can't just do that! What if we took you as a prize?"

Ghost hummed. "Look, you two are very attractive, but I don't think it would work." There was a bit of silence as Soap and Roach put it together. They exchanged glances.

"I mean... why not?"

Ghost glared. "Well for one, you two are jerks. You took my mask. Also, do you want to be my prizes?"

"Well, no! But I'm a little insulted by the fact that you don't want us." Soap crossed his arms and it seemed like he was teasing him.

Ghost hummed. "What do you want here?"

"For you to take us to your place so we can find our friends and save them."

Roach started to sign to Soap who blushed. It was a cute look on him.

"What's he saying?"

"Nothing."

Roach hit Soap's arm before motioning to Ghost's pants. Ghost blinked at him.

"He's clearly saying something. Rather rude of you to not tell me."

Roach made a motion to Ghost as if to say "Exactly". He reached up and started to trace more of the fractals and Ghost froze, not expecting them to touch him. Roach started to gently trace all of them, looking very eager.

Soap frowned. "He was suggesting we take you as a prize."

Ghost laughed before realizing they were serious. "Wait." He was still hanging upside down so he couldn't really do anything. To be fair, he didn't really want to do anything. Soap hummed.

"I am... a little curious." He reached up and slipped some of Ghost's gear off. Roach immediately leaned up and kissed a few of the fractals, ignoring that Ghost growled at him.

They ended up tying Ghost's hands before cutting the ropes to let him down. Soap pushed him against the tree and Roach started to undo the laces to Ghost's gear. They started to trace and scratch at his skin and Ghost groaned, pressing into them.

Ghost couldn't lie, they were so pretty. Also, their hands were so soft.

Roach sank to his knees and pulled his cock out of his gear.

Soap hummed. "Proportional." Ghost hissed at him and Soap leaned in, kissing at his throat. He moved to expose his throat, feeling Roach's hands on his dick.

"Take it back. You two would be good prizes."

"After this, you can take us home and we can free our friends. We'll make it worth your while."

Ghost hummed. "Gonna take more than a handjob to be worth my while."

Soap's tongue ran along his pulse and he tried to get a reaction, but Ghost wouldn't give it to him. "Fine. What if we ride you? Would that convince you?"

Roach ran his tongue along his cock, trying to wet it.

"Maybe. You two gonna take turns? Bet you'll look really pretty for me." Ghost purred at him.

"Fine. Get on the ground." Soap grumbled, looking shy.

Ghost laid on the ground and straightened out. Roach immediately straddled him, looking down at him. He leaned down and put his hands on his stomach, feeling the muscle underneath.

"Love, you might need to prep yourself." Ghost pointed out and Roach shrugged and sank down. He felt slick and Ghost realized he must've been prepping himself while he was focused on Soap. "Fucking hell you're tight."

Roach grinned and he had a blush over his cheeks. He started to roll his hips and clenched, whimpering suddenly. Ghost's mouth went dry and all of his focus was on the tiny waist that currently had a small bump in it. Ghost snapped the binds holding his wrists and grabbed Roach's hips, thrusting up gently. Roach moaned silently and looked away, so flustered Ghost could barely make out his freckles. He half expected for Soap to try to restrain him again, but instead, he kissed Roach, running his hands over him. His hand ended up between Ghost's on his stomach. He gently pressed down and both of them groaned, surprised by the sudden increase in pressure.

Ghost pulled one of Roach's hands to him, kissing all over his knuckles. Soap whispered praise to Roach while he tried to bounce up and down on Ghost. The three of them ended up falling into a rhythm before Ghost just moved Roach himself, watching him grab on to Soap and put more of his body on display to Ghost's gaze. He started to tear up but he was happily rolling his hips, clearly enjoying himself. Roach let out a little gasp and his body arched as Ghost hit something.

Ghost groaned and reveled in the tight, warm feeling. Roach clenched every time he pulled out, as if trying to drag him back into his body. He suddenly moved forward to press his face into Ghost's neck, body arching. Ghost started to thrust up into him harder, slamming into the one spot over and over again. Roach started to quietly whine, mouth opening silently. Ghost lifted up his mask to sloppily make out with him, feeling Roach immediately kiss back.

They came at close to the same time and Ghost immediately hugged him close.

Soap leaned down and tapped at Ghost's chin so he'd look up. "You get me when you get them back."

"Aye. I can do that.

[fixfoxnox]

I will give you my firstborn AND all of my bones if you write more in the letters to love universe.

I read all of it and i desperately need more good god its my favorite thing ever and there is never enough soap/roach content out ther oh my god. Literally was giggling and having a blast reading that.

I will take your firstborn and all of your bones. Also I may have gone a little overboard with this but I think its okay lol

Letters To Love (3)

Description: Soap begins courting Roach and the two run into the first of their struggles: cultural differences

Warnings: Fantasy cultural differences, Roach's kingdom is like sexist but in weird ways (quick reminder that Roach is trans! In this AU. While the kingdom is not transphobic, it does mean that Roach was raised on a females education until he came out, which is part of this), implied misogynyand double standards, Roach calls himself a whore (not in a good way), implied nsfw (its really just Roach being hot and bothered nothing explicit)

Pairings: Soap/Roach, Gaz/Jackson/Price

Word Count: 10.3k

Note: Concept is based on "When A Scot Ties the Knot" by Tessa Dare

Roach and his family were dismissed to wait for the royals in another room. The king and queen would be discussing where King Mactavish, Soap as Roach had been calling him in his letters, would be staying during the preparation for their wedding. Wedding. The thought made him feel faint. He wasn't quite sure what had happened or how the king had gotten his letters or why he'd even shown up. Either way, he was here and Roach's fake fiance was now a real fiance who was covering for him for some reason. Needless to say, when his family was dismissed into a side room to wait for them, Roach was the first out of the room. 

He arrived at the room first and practically threw himself against one of the tables, practically hyperventilating as he leaned against it for support. This was not good. Not good in the slightest. 

His family stormed into the room moments after him and he was quick to push himself up from the table, trying to act unaffected by the sudden arrival of his "fake" fiance. His mother's face was twisted into anger and she was slowly going red, he knew immediately that he was in for some sort of talking to. "Gary Sanderson!" She started in harsh words and Roach winced slightly at her tone, "What have you done?"

Roach shook his head, "I didn't do anything, Mother. Nothing other than what the royals asked me to do, send a letter to my fiance." He took in a deep shaky breath before pushing himself up to stand more confidently, "It isn't my fault that none of you believed me!"

If possible, his mother went redder. "You-" she paused for a moment, gritting her teeth and taking several calming breaths, "Listen to me, Gary. If this is a trick, if I find out that this is something you've put together to try to get out of marrying Prince Makarov?" She stepped closer to him, her demeanor calm but her eyes betraying her rage, "It will not be pleasant for you."

"Can't be more unpleasant than having to marry Makarov," Roach grumbled back. The words earned him a quick glare from her but he was quick to respond, "This isn't a lie. It isn't anything I've done to get out of a marriage. He's my fiance!" It was a blatant lie, but as long as King MacTavish was willing to carry the lie on for him, he'd keep using it. Anything would be better than being forced to marry Makarov. That he knew for certain. 

"Gary-" His mother was cut off by the sound of the door to the room opening. His entire family tensed up, only to relax when Jackson nervously stepped into the room rather than the royal family. "Paul," his mother acknowledged, "What are you doing here?"

Jackson shuffled on his feet for several moments, nervously stepping back and forth. Occasionally his eyes would shoot toward Roach before moving away. After several moments of awkward silence he cleared his throat and spoke, "Well, I heard my best friend's fiance finally made his appearance! I thought I might come to meet the man who Roach has spoken so highly of for nearly a year to me." 

"A year?" His mother stepped toward Jackson, "You knew that he was engaged?"

"Of course," Jackson's eyes shot to Roach again. "Roach swore me to secrecy though, which is why I never told. I apologize Lady Sanderson." 

"Well," Roach's mother pursed her lips and looked around the room, "Did anyone else know?" There was silence from Roach's siblings, both of them looking at the other curiously. "If I find out that one of you did know and said nothing," she glared at Roach's brothers, "I'm cutting you out of the will." 

Almost immediately after the words left her mouth and the door to the room opened again, forcing everyone to stand up straighter and pretend that there was no turmoil going on within the Sanderson family. The king and queen stepped into the room first, followed by Makarov. After him stepped King MacTavish, his eyes finding Roach from across the room. He sent a small smile his way and Roach couldn't help but return it, even as he twisted at his fingers with nerves. Following behind King MacTavish were three other men, each also dressed finely with a weapon of varying sorts strapped to them. 

The king and queen seemed flustered and, even through the careful mask that he wore, Roach could see the rage on Makarov's face. It caused a sick sort of satisfaction to curl in his chest. The king cleared his throat, turning everyone's attention toward him. "Lord Thomas Sanderson and Lady Caroline Sanderson, might I introduce you to your son's fiance? King John MacTavish of the kingdom of Tèarmann." 

King MacTavish was quick to step forward and Roach's parents, ever the good nobles, stooped into a low bow. King MacTavish seemed almost surprised by the move and he stared for a moment before giving a brief bow back, allowing Roach's parents to rise to their full height once again, both of them holding themselves properly. He stepped forward to Roach's parents after a quick moment and held his hand out, "A pleasure to finally meet the both of you."

Roach's mother stared at the offered hand with disdain, but his father was quick to accept the simple handshake. "A pleasure to meet you," The voice of Roach's mother sounded anything other than pleased, but she kept her face neutral as she turned toward Jonathan and Eddie. "Our two eldest sons, Jonathan and Edward Sanderson." King MacTavish was quick to step toward them with a grin, giving a good handshake to them both. Once that was done, he turned and met Roach's eyes. They stared at one another for a long moment, Roach's face going steadily pink the longer that he looked at the bare-chested form of the man in front of him. After a moment, King MacTavish started toward him.

Once they were close enough, the king took his hands into his own again, giving a quick kiss to the back of one, then a kiss to his wrist, similar to what he'd done in the grand hall. He wrapped an arm around his waist again, but this time he turned, leaning back against the table that Roach had been standing by and tucking Roach right against his side. Roach felt hot at the proximity, but he pushed past and even, when he saw the downright murderous look in Makarov's eyes, tucked himself closer to the man. 

"We have discussed," The king pursed his lips while watching them, King MacTavish hardly seemed affected by the almost disgusted look he was receiving and, in fact, he seemed to find it amusing, "The King's stay. While it would typically be customary for him to stay with us while remaining in the kingdom, he had decided it best to remain with his army and set up camp on the outskirts of the kingdom. Of course, this will mean a bit of travel for Roach to pay visits to him. Is this satisfactory for you Lord Sanderson?" 

Roach's father glanced back at King MacTavish before his eyes glanced over to Roach. They held gazes for a long moment and Roach couldn't read what his father was thinking. He was never able to read what his father was thinking. After a moment he turned back to the king and responded with a simple, "Yes, that is satisfactory." 

The king cleared his throat, a tick of annoyance passing his face. It was as though he'd expected Roach's father to side with him. "Of course." He took in another breath before adding, "We've also decided to set the date of the wedding for a month. This will allow Roach and King MacTavish to reacquaint themselves with one another." The implication of his words was that he was hoping they would decide not to marry. Of course, he could not say that out loud.

"Yes," King MacTavish's voice was smooth and he gave a crooked grin before adding, "I would quite like to get started with that. If I may take my beloved for a walk or a ride together, I would be grateful." 

"Of course," Roach's father responded calmly, "We will simply have to choose your chaperones." 

There was a long pause for a moment as King MacTavish blinked at Roach's father, his face blank. Finally, after several moments, he asked, "Chaperones? What for?" 

His mother gave an indignant sputter, her face going red again as she asked in a high-pitched voice, "What for? What do you mean what for? It is to ensure that nothing inappropriate happens before the two of you are married!"

King MacTavish was quiet for another moment, but Roach noted the way that his eyes shot over to one of the men who'd followed him into the room questioningly. He only received a shrug in return. "If we are to be married," he started carefully, his hand on Roach's waist tightening just a bit, "What should it matter if we do something inappropriate together? He is mine in all but title already, isn't he?" Roach could have laughed at the looks of horror that passed around the room. It was almost hysterical the way that his entire family had paled at the words and the way that Makarov's face had gone a bright red. He wished for a moment that Jackson had his sketchbook and could capture the moment in drawing for him.

"That," His mother's voice was high, "Is not how that works. Until you are married Roach does not belong to you and you are not permitted to do anything outside of normal courting rituals!" 

King MacTavish looked more than disgruntled by her words, but he was quick to apologize, "I see. My apologies, simple cultural differences I fear." He shared a look with the three men who'd followed him into the room before adding, "Alright, who shall we take as a chaperone?"

"It is custom that there are two," Jackson was quick to fill in for the king, "One from both parties to prevent any sort of deals being made. The one from your party shall watch Roach and the one from Roach's party will watch you." He cleared his throat after a moment before hesitantly adding, "You may choose your own chaperone."

"That's convenient," King MacTavish looked to the three men who'd followed him into the room and called, "Ghost?"

The tallest of the men and the most intimidating with his thick war paint done in the visage of a skull stepped forward. He gave a quick bow, "Gladly, my king." 

King MacTavish turned to Roach then, motioning with his hand for him to choose. Before Roach could quickly rattle off one of his brother's names, Makarov had stepped forward to interrupt, "Perhaps I should act as Roach's chaperone." He folded his hands behind his back, his face fixed into a neutral mask, "We are friends and I have only his best interest at heart." 

Roach sent a panicked look to Jackson and his friend was quick to step forward, having understood the message loud and clear, "My prince, chaperoning a simple date surely is a waste of your time. You are an important man and it would not be right to take you away from your duties." Jackson stepped forward again, "Roach and I have been friends for years, I would be more than glad to act as his chaperone." 

Roach's mother glared at Jackson lightly with the suggestion. Her voice was sharp as she spoke, "I do not know if that is best."

"What would be wrong with it?" Jackson folded his hands behind his back and carefully spoke, "I mean surely you all believe that I have Roach's best interest in heart as well. Surely you would not question my dedication to my friend's propriety and reputation."

There was a long tense pause before Roach's mother hesitantly conceded, "Of course not, Paul." 

"Excellent," Roach gave his best polite smile to the group, "then Jackson shall act as my chaperone. As he said," he turned his attention to Makarov's glaring eyes, "I could not think of tearing you away from your duties, my Prince." 

Seeing that King MacTavish did not know the way around the castle grounds, where they were expected to take their walk, Roach was the one leading. He knew exactly where he was going to take them. The castle garden was gorgeous, but there was another advantage of the area: the hedge maze. They could go deep enough into the hedge maze, to the center which was a path that Roach knew well, and there would be no one who would be able to listen in on whatever conversation they decided to have. So, Roach knew that he would be taking his "fake" fiance to the hedge maze.

They walked silently beside one another for most of the journey there, their arms interlinked and their forms brushing against one another occasionally. Roach noted that it seemed like the King wanted to speak to him. He opened his mouth several times, his eyes burning into him only for him to snap his mouth shut and direct his gaze back in front of him. It made Roach feel more anxious than he would have liked. There was obviously the big issue that they had to discuss, the one that they both clearly knew. Still, neither of them spoke. Jackson and Ghost, as the King had called him earlier, followed behind them by about ten feet. Neither of them was speaking either. 

Finally, Roach guided them into the center of the hedge maze and up onto the large circular pavilion that looked over a fountain. As soon as they were safely on the pavilion and Roach was sure that no one else would find them, he broke away from King MacTavish. He wheeled around immediately, his eyes glaring as he marched toward an already retreating Jackson. "You!" 

"Now, now, Roach! Really this isn't so bad there's no need for vio- OW!"

Roach smacked at Jackson's chest, hitting him over and over as his friend tried to defend himself. "You told me the letters wouldn't get sent! You absolute idiot you told me that they would throw them out!"

Jackson finally managed to jump away from him and he held out his hands placatingly, "I thought they would!"

"Well, clearly they didn't!" 

A throat cleared behind them, causing them both to tense and turn their attention back to the two men watching them. Both King MacTavish and Ghost seemed amused at his sudden outburst, smiles tugging at their lips as they watched them. "I'm sorry for interrupting," he looked between them, "I can assume this is the friend who told you to send the letters then?"

"Guilty," Jackson gave an awkward wave. 

Roach took in a stressed breath before starting toward King MacTavish, "I am so sorry! I just, well they were going to force me to-"

"To marry the prince," King Mactavish gave him a soft smile and a nod, "I remember from your letters." He paused for a moment before holding his hand out to Roach, "I should explain why I've come." Roach hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward to take his hand, allowing himself to be guided back onto the pavilion and to one of the seats. They sat close together and, even once they'd stopped moving, King MacTavish didn't let go of his hand. Instead, he started to rub comforting circles onto the back of it with his thumb. There was a long moment of silence as it seemed like he tried to find the right words. Finally, he started, "When I received your first few letters, you can imagine my confusion. I had no recollection of a fiance, so I was sure that they were meant for someone else. I soon realized what was actually going on and, though I shouldn't have, I continued to receive and read your letters."

"My king-"

"Soap," King MacTavish, Soap, corrected, "You call me Soap. Yes?" The look that he fixed Roach with was so intense. There were several things there: desperation, adoration, hope. Roach's breath was stolen by his gaze alone.

"Yes," he answered breathlessly. 

Soap gave him a bright smile at the words and Roach could feel himself heating up just a bit. The man was so handsome when he smiled like that. He was handsome in general, but something about his smile nearly knocked Roach over. "I kept reading your letters and, soon, they became a sort of bright spot in my day. I looked forward to them." He met Roach's gaze nervously, "It might not make sense, but I quickly grew... attached to you through the letters and, well," he took in a deep breath, "The reason why I'm here. The reason why I came when I got your letter, it's because I'm in love with you." 

Roach's mouth dropped open just slightly, his face going a bright red as he stared at Soap with wide eyes. He was in love with him? Because of the letters? He'd come...because he was in love with him. "I don't-"

"I'm not going to force you to marry me," Soap spoke quickly, his voice sounding almost weak to Roach's ears. "I wanted to take a chance, though. I wanted to give you a choice. You can find a way to break off your marriage with Makarov permanently with the time I'm buying you, you can marry Makarov, or," he hesitated for a moment, "You can marry me. And, I will admit, selfishly I came to try to make that last one happen. To earn your love as you have earned mine." His free hand moved up to cup Roach's jaw, his thumb stroking just lightly over his cheek. His eyes looked over his face reverently. "If you would give me a chance, I would love the opportunity to do so. To allow you to get to know me." He leaned forward just slightly, his nose brushing against Roach's own. 

Roach could feel Soap's breath on his lips and his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. He didn't quite understand how he'd managed to get this man to fall in love with him, especially over the diary-like letters that he'd ranted through. Somehow, though, he had. Somehow he'd made this man fall for him and now he was here, offering him a way out of marrying Makarov. Roach wasn't a fool, Roach knew that there was only one way for him to get out of marrying Makarov and that was to marry someone else. And, though he didn't fully know him yet, something in his quickly beating heart and the warmth that radiated on his skin from Soap's touch told him that Soap was the choice. This man who'd traveled across kingdoms, who'd finished a war, all to come and have even a slight chance to marry him. There was only one answer. "Yes," he spoke quietly, leaning just a smidge closer to Soap. Their lips were practically hovering over each other's as he continued, "I want to know you. I want to know you the way that you know me." 

There was nothing that could have stopped their lips from colliding. Something about the other was pulling them in, like fate working to draw them together with tied strings. The kiss was inevitable and with it, Roach was certain that falling was just the same: inevitable.

"Okay, how do I look?" 

"Completely frazzled," Jackson answered back honestly, a small grin on his face. The sound of his laughter rang around the room when Roach gave a weak groan and collapsed back onto his bed. 

He whined into the fabric of his sheets, feeling completely hopeless. He couldn't find anything to wear and he was starting to get frustrated. He just wanted to make sure that he was dressed nicely for his first real courting day with Soap and yet he couldn't find anything. He'd practically tried on his entire closet, desperate for something nice enough, but not too nice. The problem was that neither he nor Jackson knew what the fuck they were going to be attending. Soap had tried to explain it to him the previous day and, from what he gathered, it was a sort of post-war tradition in Tèarmann.

"When a war is won, we celebrate. There is traditionally a week of feasting and games of strength and skill played. Just a bit of fun. Usually, we would be at home for the games," he'd hesitated for a moment, "But I've told them to go ahead and host them without me there, to show our people that the war is over. So we've decided to host a smaller version for our soldiers who decided to stay behind." He'd pressed a kiss to Roach's wrist and given him a grin, "I want you to come and watch." 

"I'm going to make a fool of myself," he groaned into his sheets, embarrassment and frustration eating at him.

"That's not true," Jackson shook his head at him, "I don't even understand why you're so worried about this." He pushed himself up from his seat and started toward the bed. A moment later and Roach felt the mattress dip down underneath him. "MacTavish is already in love with you! And," he playfully nudged Roach's arm, "You two have already kissed, so I don't understand the problem." 

Roach went red at the memory of the kiss he'd shared with Soap only two days ago. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing and Roach hadn't felt like he could stop himself when they were so close. Soap was just so...hypnotizing to him. If it hadn't been for Jackson clearing his throat to remind them that they weren't alone, Roach was quite certain he would have lost himself in the smooth slide of lips against his own and the feel of a strong hand cupping his jaw. Despite the kiss, despite Soap confessing that he'd fallen in love with him through his letters, despite all of it, Roach felt unsure. How did Soap know that he was in love with him? If he was in love with him, he could still fall out of love. He could still change his mind. He'd already shown himself to be quick and easy with the kiss that they'd shared, he was more than surprised that Soap was still even interested in him after that.

"I just," he hesitated, pushing himself up from the bed to look at Jackson, "I want him to like me."

"He already loves you," Jackson reminded him softly. 

"I know," Roach conceded, "But...that could change." He looked away from his friend and picked at his fingers nervously.

There was no speaking for several moments. Things were quiet and Roach couldn't bring himself to break the silence, not with the confession he'd just made. Finally, after several long moments, Jackson stood, "Alright, listen, I can tell this is bugging you, so let's think this out right? Soap told you that it’s games of strength and skill right? But it's also like a competition." He shrugged his shoulders, "It sounds like a tournament, doesn't it? So just wear what you would wear to a tournament." 

Roach hesitated for a moment before looking up at his friend with wide eyes, "You think that will be okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Jackson shrugged, "Besides, if MacTavish wanted you dressed a certain way, he would have told you, right?" He stepped forward and crouched down in front of Roach, "Listen, you aren't going to mess this up. MacTavish adores you and, to be honest, I don't think anything that you do other than murder, maybe, would change that." 

Roach felt his lips quirk up at his friend's words. "Thanks, Paul." 

Jackson gave him a grin before standing back to his feet, "Alright, c'mon now future King Consort, get dressed! Your lover boy will be here soon." He gave Roach a teasing wink before turning to leave Roach alone to get properly prepared in whatever way he needed to.

Roach took one last moment to check himself over in one of his mirrors. He still felt completely unsure of what he was wearing, but Jackson was right. If Soap wanted him dressed a certain way, he would have told him. He took in one last deep breath before running a hand through his hair one last time and turning to make his way out of his room. He walked carefully down the stairs of his home and down toward the sitting room where he could hear light conversation happening between Soap and his family. He couldn't make out what they were saying, though he assumed that was purposeful considering their conversation cut off as soon as he stepped into the room. 

He noticed immediately that Soap had brought someone else with him today. It was one of the men who'd been with him the previous day, but it clearly wasn't Ghost who he'd expected to see. Still, it only threw him off for a second. He could feel eyes on him and, when he finally took a look at Soap, his face went hot. Soap's eyes were wide and his mouth had dropped open just a bit. Roach didn't have to be a genius to see or feel the hunger in his eyes. He had to turn his gaze away quickly, though he was sure his face was still a burning red. He tried to focus his attention on his family.

His mother, despite her clear disdain for Soap, gave him a sweet smile and stepped up to him, taking his hands in her own. "You look lovely, dear." She rubbed her thumbs on the back of his hands, "You remember your rules, yes?" 

He nodded to her carefully. Of course he remembered his rules, they'd been banged into his head his entire childhood. His brothers studied history and war and he was taught how to attract a proper suitor for himself. This certainly wasn't the suitor that his parents had in mind, but they couldn't argue that he wasn't proper when he was even a higher status than the man they'd wanted him to marry. "I do," he gave his mother a small bow, "And not to worry, I remember I must stay by Paul during the trip." His mother gave him a slight nod, her smile going a bit sour at the reminder that he was going to the outskirts of the city. It wasn't a far ride, but she was less than happy about the prospect of him spending a day in a "glorified army camp." 

"Right," she stepped away from him and turned toward Soap, her hands folded neatly in front of her, "He is yours for the day King MacTavish." 

Soap gave her a bright smile, only taking his eyes off of Roach for a second before returning them to observing his form. "Thank you, my lady. You have my word that Roach will be well cared for." Roach could have shivered at the words. Soap stepped forward then, a hand held out for Roach to take. Roach gave him a shy smile before taking his hand and allowing himself to be tucked against Soap's arm as they'd done two days earlier. He allowed himself to be guided out of his house, hearing the sounds of Jackson and the other man Soap had brought following behind them. 

He was led outside and toward two waiting horses. When they got close enough, Soap motioned for Roach to step up to the horse so that he could help him up and Roach followed his orders, tingles rushing up his spine as Soap's hands fixed themselves on his waist to help lift him up to the horse. A moment after he settled and Soap was pulling himself up on the horse to settle behind him. They were pressed tight together, with Soap's arms wrapped around him to take hold of the reigns of the horse. Roach could feel the other man's warmth pressed against him and, though he did his best to ignore it, a shiver still pulled down his spine. 

Their attention turned quickly toward Jackson and the other man. Jackson had given a small huff of amusement and much to Roach's horror, his friend turned to the other man who'd come with Soap and asked, "Well alright, big boy. What's it gonna be, you gonna ride me from behind like the love birds? Or is it gonna be me at the back?"

The other man seemed at least amused by Jackson's words, a smile quirking up his lips and laughter shaking his shoulders for a moment. Rather than responding, he brought a hand up to his mouth and whistled through his fingers. A moment later and another horse, who had apparently stepped off to graze, was trotting back over. The other man chuckled as he pulled himself onto his horse, "How about neither?"

Jackson grumbled but pulled himself up as well. "Disappointing," Roach heard him mutter. He had to hide his laughter behind his hand and he could feel the rumbling laughter from Soap against his back. Within a few moments, they were off, making their way down the paths that would lead them outside of the city. 

The ride was rather calm and, with the steady motion of the horse and Soap's arms wrapped around him, Roach found that it was probably the best ride that he'd taken in his life. It wasn't until Soap's bustling camp was in sight that Roach started to grow nervous. They were now outside of Roach's element and the realm of what he knew. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in front of Soap or any of his people. He tried to take several deep breaths to calm his nerves, but it wasn't until Soap whispered against his ear, "Calm down. I promise that there is nothing to be worried about," that he was finally able to begin to relax again. Of course, Soap following those words up with, "You look stunning, by the way," didn't help with anything other than growing the red flush to his skin, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

When they finally stopped somewhere close to the center of the bustling and, honestly, quite lovely-looking camp that Soap's people had set up, they were greeted by the two other men who'd been with Soap the previous day. Ghost and another one who Roach had yet to learn the name of. Soap got down from the horse first before wrapping his arms around Roach's waist to help him down after. The move resulted in the two standing quite close to one another, their chests practically touching as they caught the other's eyes. Roach was the one to look away, unable to hold Soap's gaze for longer than a few moments. 

When he stepped away, he was immediately greeted by the man whom he didn't know. He was giving him a bright grin and held his hand out to Roach, "I don't think we got a chance to meet yesterday, I'm Gaz, I'm part of Soap's council." 

Roach took his hand gratefully, giving him a small smile in return, "A pleasure to meet you." 

The next person to step up was Ghost. "Apologies for never introducing myself yesterday. You can call me Ghost, might I have your name?" He held his hand out for a shake and Roach almost took it before pausing.

He blinked at Ghost suddenly before narrowing his eyes at him. "Apologies," he spoke carefully, "You may not have my name. But I will tell you that I am called Roach." With that, he gently took Ghost's hand in his own to shake, "A pleasure to meet you." Much to his surprise, Ghost met his words with a bright grin. 

The man who'd come with Soap didn't offer his hand, he simply called out, "I'm Price, we're happy to have you here Roach." 

Jackson stepped off of his horse with a bright grin, "We're doing introductions?" He raised a hand in greeting to the three men, "Paul Jackson, Roach's best friend, chaperone, and the idiot who told him the letters wouldn't get sent." Roach gave a brief huff at the amused chuckle that pulled from Gaz and Price, but even he couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled to his face at his friend's words. 

His attention was brought back to Soap when the man stepped up beside him to wrap their arms together again. They shared a small smile with one another, Roach feeling much calmer than he had several minutes ago when they'd arrived. "Come," Soap started guiding him forward, "The games start soon. I'll show you to our seats."

Roach wouldn't say he was bored. He wouldn't say that in the slightest. In fact, he was quite interested in what Soap had described as a "simplified" version of the games that they would play back home for this celebration. The problem wasn't that he was bored, the problem was that he simply had no idea what was happening. So far they'd watched people throw stones, the person who threw theirs the farthest was declared the winner after three attempts. Then they threw bales of hay, and the person who threw theirs the furthest was declared the winner after three attempts. Two games of just throwing things. It was interesting, sort of. He just wondered if all of the games that they were going to watch were people throwing things. 

Soap had been checking in on him practically every few minutes, leaning over to his seat to ask if he was hungry or thirsty. Roach could see that he wanted to ask more, he could see it in the way that the man's eyes scanned his face nervously. It was clear that Soap wanted to ask if he was enjoying himself, but he never did. The men were setting up for the next event and the excitement of the crowd was palpable, though Roach couldn't quite understand why. It wasn't until, when the call for any participants to step forward came up, that he understood why. 

Soap stood from his seat and stretched upward before turning his gaze to Roach with a small smile, "I'll be participating in most of the games from here on," he stepped toward him and took his hand, "Cheer for me?"

Roach softened under his gaze and gave him a small smile, "I will, please just forgive me if I accidentally cheer while your losing, I'm afraid I still don't fully understand everything." Soap gave a low chuckle at his words before leaning over him to press a kiss against his cheek. With that, he stepped away, leaving Roach a heated mess with a tingle under his skin where Soap had pressed his lips. 

He watched as Soap joined the rest of the participants in the next event, receiving many greetings and slaps on the shoulder when he stepped up with the rest of the group. He had to remind himself not to openly ogle the man when Soap reached up to start undoing the ties on his tunic and armor, slowly dropping them into a pile with the other men's tops until he was left bare-chested. 

Roach had to admit that he was more than surprised when four men carried in a tall log together and set it on the ground close by where the participants were lined up. "This is one of his best events," Roach turned to see Ghost had taken the seat where Soap previously was. His face was pressed into something neutral, "Though, I think today I imagine all of his events will be his best events."

Roach hesitated for a moment before asking, "What does that mean?"

Ghost turned toward him and a small smile tilted up his lips, "Well, he has someone to impress today, so I imagine he'll try to ensure a top placement." 

Those words made Roach squirm in his seat nervously. He knew to expect this, of course he did. It had been one of his first lessons when he was younger, back when a governess still had to smack his hands and back with a stick to keep his posture correct. Men will try to impress you. They want to see if you're easily impressed. They want to see if they could impress you enough to get what they want without marriage. He picked at his fingers at the thought, straightening up in his seat as, one by one, men started to move up to the line, taking turns picking up the large log and running with it before tossing it out ahead of them as far as they could. They only got one chance and, for many of the men, it was quite an impressive show of strength. 

"Soap's up," Ghost muttered to him. They both watched as Soap gave a brief stretch before stepping up to the log. Roach had to admit, it was an impressive and tempting sight. Muscles rippled along Soap's arms and back and lifting the log seemed to almost be no trouble to him. He, like the others, ran forward to toss the log. Roach could tell that he'd easily outdone the competition and, for one small moment, he let a smile cross his face. Then he remembered his rules. Never let a man know that he's impressed you. He straightened up in his seat at the thought, picking at his fingers more viciously as he smoothed his face into a neutral mask. Even as Soap turned back to shoot him a bright grin, he only allowed himself to return the sight with a slight smile before turning his gaze away, completely missing the way that Soap seemed to deflate slightly at his lack of reaction. 

The next event was tug of war and, though Soap was on a team for this, Roach could easily tell that Soap was doing a great deal of the work for his group. If Roach had thought the sight of Soap lifting the log was something tempting, he was sure that watching Soap doing this event was temptation in essence. His face was twisted into something hard and focused and with every move, Roach could see the full effort of it throughout his body. The way that his arms and legs flexed with nearly every pull had Roach captivated and feeling just a bit too hot under the collar. Even Jackson seemed impressed based on the wide-eyed looks that he was sending Roach and the muttered words, "My fuck up just offered you that on a silver platter. I expect a gift basket." Still, even with this, Roach managed to keep his face schooled into a bit of cool indifference. When he clapped, he made sure to do it for just the appropriate amount of time and that the sound of his hands wasn't as loud as Ghost or Jackson next to him. That was more habit than anything, but he still did it.  

Then came javelin throwing. Another event that showed off all of what Soap had to offer and had Roach fighting against his own body to keep himself fixed in a neutral position. Though, possibly the worst of the events for him to remain calm through was clearly the last of them: wrestling. 

There were a few events between the javelin throw and wrestling, long enough for Soap to come back over to him and talk for a few moments. Roach could see that the man had a bit of an edge to him that hadn't been there when he'd left, a tenseness to his shoulders and a crease along his forehead that gave away that he was thinking about something. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but every time he opened his mouth to speak he slammed it closed again. By the time he stepped off to join in the queue of participants for wrestling, Roach had felt a blossom of guilt in his chest. Despite the calm and, in his opinion, decent conversation they'd shared for the brief few moments they had, Roach felt as though Soap left more frustrated than he'd arrived and something in the back of his mind told him it was his fault. The thought caused him to bite harshly at his lips before ignoring the sting to bring his thumb up to his mouth so that he could bite at his nails nervously. 

He wondered if Soap had seen through his neutral expression. He wondered if he'd given himself away. He wondered if he'd already ruined any affection that the other man had for him. He bit at his thumb harshly at the thought and, when he pulled his finger back, he could see red beginning to flow down his finger where he'd broken skin. He was quick to hide his hand against his clothes. He went back to biting harshly at his lip. 

Several different competitors wrestled with one another before Soap got his chance. Slowly they were eliminated, but Roach wasn't interested in them. His eyes kept flickering over to where Soap was preparing himself. They kept tracing bare skin and wondering what it would be like to touch. They kept sketching the lines of Soap's face into his mind. And when he looked away, his mind would plague him with the question of whether he'd already made the man lose interest. All because he couldn't stick to his rules. 

The rules were a problem for him though, especially when Soap finally stepped up to wrestle his first opponent. It was a match of strength and strategy and a rather violent one based on the several pairs that had gone before Soap and his opponent. Soap's opponent was a large man, larger than Soap himself by a great deal, and he was littered with war scars. Just the sight of him had Roach feeling nervous for Soap and he couldn't help but lean over to ask Ghost, "Soap's opponent is rather large...I, well, should I worry for him?"

Ghost gave a low chuckle, "I wouldn't." He leaned over conspiratorily to whisper to Roach, "Soap never loses the wrestling event. Never."

The words relaxed Roach by a great deal, but not enough to stop him from wanting to jump to his feet and cheer for Soap as the match actually began. It was a great deal of grappling at first, just each of the men trying to get a grip on the other. Then the real fight began. 

Though the other man was bigger, Soap was quicker and smarter with how he used his weight. Within only a few moments he was able to get his arms around the large man's waist and lift him up to tip him back to the ground. From there he moved into a harsh and strict hold around the other man's throat. The other man wasn't willing to go down easily and he struggled hard against Soap, forcing him to fight to maintain his grip. Roach stood to his feet with the rest of the crowd and found himself leaning forward desperately, his eyes wide as he watched Soap fight to keep the other man down. Despite Ghost's words that Soap wouldn't lose, Roach still found himself trying to fight back the desire to jump around and cheer when the match was finally called in Soap's favor. 

He barely managed to keep his reaction down to just an excited squeak and, even then, he was forced to hide his mouth with his hand in hopes that Soap wouldn't see the bright grin that he wore. He collapsed back into his seat as he watched Soap get led off of the field with cheers, the other man being led off to a medical check. Despite his attempt to keep his emotions and thoughts in check, it was clear that Ghost had picked up on how impressed he was with Soap. At least if the amused grin that he sent his way was anything to go off of. 

The rest of the rounds went much the same for him in the way that he was forced to fight against himself to try to keep his reactions down. With every opponent that Soap pinned, with the more sweat-slicked and mussed that the man became, Roach found it harder and harder to keep from popping up to cheer with the rest of the crowd. He found it harder and harder to keep a grin from splitting across his face. When, at the end of it all, Soap was declared the winner of the event just as Ghost told that he would be, Roach had to grip tight to his seat to keep himself in place rather than joining the numerous people who were running out to congratulate Soap on his victory. He wasn't able to hide his grin though, or the delighted laugh that escaped his throat when Soap was nearly knocked over by an overexcited pat on his shoulder. 

"Roach," he was brought back to himself at Ghost's call of his name. He felt panic run through him as he realized that he'd managed to break one of the rules that had been melted into his brain since he was a youth. After all, he'd certainly shown how impressed he was with Soap. "Come with me," Ghost held a hand out to him, "I'll take you to Soap's tent, you can congratulate him on his win there." 

Roach was too far lost in his own racing thoughts to even wonder where Jackson had gone off to. Even though his friend was really just a decoy chaperone, he typically would have voiced his opposition to the idea, especially when Roach himself seemed so nervous. But, when he looked over to where his friend had been sitting, he found that Jackson was nowhere to be seen. It meant that he had no help in trying to resist the desire to see Soap. Alone. In his tent. It meant that he allowed himself to be guided through the camp to one of the large tents. Ghost didn't follow him inside, he only gave him a quick grin and a word that Soap would be at the tent soon enough. 

Roach felt like a fool when he was finally alone inside the well-furnished tent. He stumbled over to the table in the tent and took a hesitant seat at it, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he did. First, he showed that he was impressed and now he found himself waiting in a tent alone for Soap to arrive. He couldn't imagine what the other man thought of him. He couldn't imagine how much he'd embarrassed himself. He was sure that Ghost would tell Soap of his excited reactions. He was sure that they would laugh over how quickly he'd managed to lose himself in the display of strength. He felt sick at the idea. And now he was waiting for Soap alone in his tent. What had been impressed upon him since he was a child was that this would ruin the way that the other man saw him. Any of that affection and love he had for him would be tainted with the knowledge that he was an easily swayed creature who would be more than willing to find himself alone in a tent with a king. As his governess had often said, all he'd done was tell the other man that he was nothing more than a whore. 

He covered his face at the thought, dread building up in his gut. He'd lost his opportunity. He'd lost his opportunity to perhaps have someone so sweet and kind who claimed to truly love him. He was sure of it. 

"Roach." His head shot up at the call of his name and he found himself meeting the gaze of Soap, standing still bare-chested and sweaty at the entrance to the tent. Neither of them said anything for several moments, just staring at the other. Roach resisted the urge to trace the lines of Soap's body with his eyes. 

The silence pressed on and Roach grew more and more uncomfortable. He couldn't handle the way that Soap was looking at him. His expression was one of disappointment and frustration and Roach was sure that both were aimed at him. He had to try to salvage the moment, he had to try to salvage this. He had to get another chance. He pushed himself up from his seat quickly, "Soap-"

"I apologize," Soap moved further into the tent, passing him in favor of tossing open a chest and pulling out a fresh shirt from inside. He pulled it over his chest, slowly covering himself from Roach's eyes. "I hope that the day was not too terrible for you." Roach nearly reeled back with the words.

"Terrible?" 

"Yes," Soap turned to him, his eyebrows furrowed, "I apologize. I thought you might enjoy yourself coming to watch the games, but I see now that it was the wrong choice." He hesitated for a moment before stepping toward Roach with furrowed brows, "I hope though...that you might give me a second chance to impress you. Another chance to, well," he took Roach's hands in his own carefully, "To perhaps try to earn your affection." 

Roach could only feel shock running through him. He didn't quite know what to say or to think. He'd assumed that Soap would be upset with him, that Soap would have lost affection for him but, instead, it was like Soap was worried about just the same things that he was. He was worried about the fact that he supposedly hadn't managed to impress Roach that day, but that instead, he'd managed to bore him. It was a complete shock to Roach. He didn't understand how Soap hadn't seen how enraptured he was by the day. How much he had enjoyed himself. 

His silence seemed to be the wrong answer because, after a long moment of observing his face, Soap stepped away from him. His eyes were downcast and his voice sounded weak as he spoke, "I will have you taken back home, then. I apologize."

Roach reacted on instinct then, stepping toward Soap quickly to take the man's hands in his own, mirroring the way that Soap had so often made the action toward him, "But I did enjoy myself today!" He spoke quickly, "I have enjoyed myself and I was desperately impressed with you!" He pressed himself closer to Soap.

"But," Soap shook his head for a moment, there was a spark of hope in his eyes, but most of his face was twisted into disbelief, "during the events, you seemed so...bored." He hesitated for a moment, "You do not have to lie to spare my feelings. I am here to prove myself to you, not the other way around." 

Those words made Roach wince just slightly and things seemed to snap into place for him. This had to be another one of those moments of cultural differences between them. Something similar to the issue with the chaperones the previous day. Soap wanted to impress Roach, he wanted Roach to see what he had to offer, he wanted to see how much Roach was enjoying himself. And Roach believed that if he allowed himself to appear impressed, if he allowed himself to show how much he was enjoying himself, he believed that Soap would lose interest in him. He was in the mindset that he had to impress Soap. Though Soap had told him he loved him, though Soap had confessed to him, Roach had not allowed himself to fully believe that it was the truth. And now, now Soap thought that he was the one failing. 

"It is my fault," he explained quietly, "I thought...I thought that if I showed how impressed I was with you, how much I enjoyed myself, I thought that you would be disgusted with me." 

Soap blinked wide at him, horror spreading across his face. He stepped closer to Roach and used one of his hands to tilt Roach's chin up, forcing them to lock eyes. "Why would you believe that?"

Roach could feel his face going hot and he was quick to step away from Soap to begin pacing and picking at his nails again. "I have rules that have been drilled into me since I was a child," he started, his voice shaking with nerves, "Rules on how to act in every situation. Rules on propriety. Rules for maintaining my reputation. Rules for...for courting." He turned back to Soap and began to nervously straighten out his clothes. "I was taught that if I allowed a man to see that he impressed me, that I was enjoying myself with him, it would make him believe that I am not proper for marriage. That I am not worthy of him."

Soap shook his head, "Why would any man not want to see that you are impressed with him? Why would any man not want to see that the person he loves enjoys their time together."

"Because if they do," Roach explained carefully, "They will believe that they do not have to marry the person to get what they want from them." 

There was a long pause between the two men. Soap was clearly trying to work out what Roach was implying with his words and Roach waited patiently for him to connect the dots. He saw the exact moment that realization bloomed across Soap's face. "Roach," Soap stepped closer to him, "I do not wish to marry you just to have a chance to be between your legs. You understand that." He took Roach's hands in his own, tugging him closer, "Tell me that you understand what I am saying?" 

"I do now," Roach shook his head, "I am so sorry. I did not mean to make you feel like I was bored or unimpressed with you." He paused for a moment before shyly admitting, "I was quite impressed with you today, and," he moved one of his hands to grab nervously at the fabric of Soap's shirt, "I should say congratulations on your wins."

"What Ghost told me," Soap started quietly, his forehead pressed against Roach's, "About you cheering for me? It was true?"

Roach gave a slow nod, "Even while trying not to show any sort of, well, emotions, I am afraid I just got too excited to see you doing so well in the last competition." He shook his head at himself, "Though now I wish that I had stood up and cheered for you the way that I wanted to." 

In the next moment, Roach found lips on his again. He relaxed into the kiss almost immediately, his arms moving to wrap around Soap's shoulders to tug him closer. Soap responded by tugging at his hips, pulling their bodies flush to one another and sending a flash of heat down Roach's spine. "I," Soap pressed their lips together again, chuckling into the kiss, "So I impressed you?"

Roach couldn't help but give a small laugh of his own back into the kiss, pulling back just long enough to say, "Very much so," before his lips were captured by Soap once again. 

When Roach was, eventually, brought back home from his first courting day with Soap, he didn't think that he'd ever felt happier in his life. He and Soap had spent the rest of the evening pressed into the other's side, grins on their faces as they talked to one another through the feast that came after the games. Jackson had showed up sometime after the feast started, a dopey grin on his face as Gaz and Price followed behind him. Roach hadn't paid much attention to him, too focused on Soap to really think about his friend's disappearance or his sudden reappearance. Soap had held his undivided attention for the rest of their time together and, even on the ride back to his home, the two were chatting with one another smoothly, as though they'd always known the other. 

Roach's family had clearly noticed his happiness, though only his brothers had commented on it. His father had only given a small, almost unnoticeable, smile, and his mother's face had been twisted up into a scowl. He didn't pay much mind to them and only stayed in the sitting area for long enough to answer their questions about the day. When he started upstairs, he could hear their whispers following him. He assumed it was about his day with Soap, so he ignored it. He didn't care whether they liked Soap or not. He liked Soap and that was what mattered. 

Despite feeling exhaustion pulling at him, he still had a smile on his face when he finally made his way into his room. His chest felt lighter than it had in a year and he was humming lowly to himself, a song that he heard at the feast. It wasn't something that he did often and it, above all, told him just how happy the afternoon away from home had made him. How happy Soap had made him. There was hope burning strongly in his chest and, he felt for the first time in months that things might actually go his way. That the universe finally seemed content to give him a win. To give him an out. He started to undo his top, intent on sleeping the night away.

"You seem happy. I can't help but wonder why?" 

It was like ice-cold water was dumped over the top of Roach's head. He turned quickly and stumbled back against his bed, gripping tight to one of the posts for support. Makarov was sitting in one of the chairs in his room, his hands folded in his lap. He was watching Roach closely with his usual smugness. There was something else there though. A thinly veiled rage that had the man's hands folded together just a tad too tightly. A rage that had his shoulders set harshly and his eyes narrowed. It terrified Roach. He tried to push past it. "My prince," he gave a short bow, "I apologize, I did not see you when I came in."

"No," Makarov agreed, "You did not. I imagine it had something to do with your day today. Your courting with King MacTavish." He slowly pushed himself out of his seat. He folded his hands behind his back, the smug smile gone from his face in favor of something harder, "And how did that go for you?" 

"Well," Roach nodded to him, "It is a pleasure to get to spend so much time with him. After so long apart." 

There was a long pause. "Do you take me for a fool, Roach?"

Roach shook his head quickly, "Of course not, your majesty." His chest felt like it was going to collapse on him. He wanted out of that room. He wanted away from Makarov. he wanted Soap to be there.

"Then," Makarov took a step toward him, "Why do you continue to play this game?" He took several more steps and Roach answered by backing away at the same pace, trying to keep his distance. 

"I don't," he stuttered, "I am afraid I don't understand."

"You and I," Makarov's voice was no more than a hiss, "Both know that this relationship with King MacTavish is fabricated. You never met the man before he appeared here." Roach's back hit the wall. Makarov continued toward him. "I am not sure what agreement the two of you have made. I am not sure what you have offered the man." He stopped in front of Roach, their chests practically touching as he caged him against the wall. "It will not deter me." One of his hands reached out to stroke along Roach's cheek and Roach gave a small shudder at the feeling. He felt sick. "I enjoy the chase. It will make it all the sweeter when you are finally mine." 

They stood for a moment. Roach didn't dare to move as Makarov continued to stroke his fingers over his cheek almost reverently. Roach couldn't understand what he'd done to make the man so obsessed with him. He couldn't understand why he was so intent on having him. He supposed it didn't really matter. What did matter was that Makarov wanted him. Makarov wanted him and he wasn't willing to give up something that he wanted so easily. 

"My prince," Roach dared to speak after a moment, "Might I be left alone? I fear I am exhausted." 

Makarov's lips quirked up into a small smile, as though the words somehow amused him. He stayed for another long moment, only stroking along Roach's exposed skin without speaking. It was until his finger had trailed down Roach's neck that he finally stepped back. "Of course," he answered with a small bow, "Rest well, Insect. You will need it." He gave one last quick brush against Roach's chin before stepping away. Roach gave another bow as Makarov left the room, not raising back up until he was sure that he was alone.

The happiness he'd felt earlier was gone. In its place was a building dread. He should have known that Makarov would not give up so easily. He should have known that things would not be so easy for him. Still, even in that moment, even as he collapsed onto his bed with tears pricking at his eyes, there was a bit of hope remaining in his chest. Soap wanted him. He wanted Soap. So long as that didn't change. Makarov could do nothing. What could a prince do to a king? The words were little comfort to him, but they were something. That was all that mattered. That he had something. 

[somewhere-to-be]

Insatiable - Rhys Montrose x Reader

You're a journalist covering Simon Soo's gallery opening when you meet Rhys Montrose and get a bigger story than you bargained for.

Joe Goldberg is replaced with a reader insert - I'm sorry Joe, I wanted to write Rhys working with a more willing companion. Reader also has questionable ethics because finding out the killer's identity will not be a turnoff or a red flag (later - this is just part 1).

Covering a gallery opening by the rich, for the rich was not a part of your career checklist. But Kate Galvin's galleries were too 'important' to London's snobby elite circle that it just had to be covered. Since the paper's resident art critic was out of town, someone had to attend it. That someone just happened to be you just because you had made the mistake of debating with him about how critics didn't know shit because when impressionism started as a movement, the artists were criticized as being too lazy to complete their paintings. Somehow, he thought it made you qualified enough to cover anything important in his absence. So, here you were, attending this party and seeing art that you actually didn't care enough about so you could make sure it appeared in prominently in the Culture section, letting all the plebians know what they were missing out on. In other words, a snoozefest.

You tried not to feel underdressed in your version of a black-tie attire but it was hard when you knew everyone here had outfits that probably cost more than what you would make in a year. At least there was an open bar and hey - free champagne! You picked up the flute of bubbly wine in front of you, downed it in a go, and picked up another glass. Yet another thing that was probably more expensive than anything you'll ever own.

The paintings themselves were fine but Simon Soo came across as too much of a try hard. You had even got in touch with Kate to ask if he'd want to do an interview - you were going to try to make it a good piece even if you didn't care about it - but he'd declined. Kate had been apologetic enough, she was a professional. She took down your email to send you the pictures of the art to accompany what you were writing, but even she knew it wasn't a big deal if Simon turned down interviews. He got enough publicity anyway and all of his art was going to be sold. After getting done with your 'job' quickly, jotting down a few notes in your phone of the cat paintings hanging on the walls, you looked around at who was in attendance.

You saw the usual celebrities in the crowd - Lady Phoebe with his boyfriend - the American who had opened up the knockofof SoHo House the Entertainment & Celebrity Gossip section spent way too much time talking about. But you spotted another familiar face that you hadn't expected to see here - London's favorite boy, Rhys Montrose.

You'd read his memoir, of course. Everyone had. He was too good of a writer. You'd then also listened to the audiobook with his narration and the way he told his story had mesmerized you. If he decided not to run for mayor like everyone wanted him to and never wanted to write another word again, he would make a killing as a voice actor. But you would still judge him for the name of his book. Good Man in a Cruel World. Come on. Self-important much?

"You're - " "Yes, I am." he said. He greeted you with a smile. "Enjoying the exhibit?"

Two seconds into a conversation with him where you had said one word and you knew why everyone liked him so much. It wasn't just how hot he was - and he did look better in person - but he just had an effortless charm in the way he carried himself. The way he made you think he did actually want to talk to you even though you were sure he must have been tired of meeting his fans at this point.

But when would you get this chance again? You introduced yourself and mentioned you were covering the show.

"Just a stupid fluff piece. As if the internet doesn't have enough cats, real or painted, and for free, without paying the millions for the privilege of a name attached," you finished talking and then immediately regretted everything you had just said. It wasn't a great look to talk shit about the event you were supposed to cover while you were there. Maybe you shouldn't have had that third glass of champagne. You tried to save it with an awkward laugh. "All off the record, of course."

Surprisingly enough, he chuckled. He leaned in and whispered with a conspiratorial smile, "Off the record, I agree with you. But you'll keep my name out of it, won't you? I'm just here as a friend."

"Of course," you said. People would be more interested in reading about what Lady Phoebe had worn anyway. You were relieved that your little slip-up hadn't gone wrong. If anything, he seemed to like you more because of it. Finishing the rest of the drink and very knowingly making the choice to say it that had nothing to do with the buzz you felt from being near him and not just the alcohol, you added,"Besides, you haven't done anything I'd want to write about."

"Is that a challenge?" he said, his eyes twinkling. "Nothing at all?"

You were extremely aware of his complete attention - on you, on the conversation. But you weren't sure if you were imagining it or if he really was flirting with you or if he was just indulging you. You decided to go with option one and play along.

"It's been what? Months? Almost a year? Since you published your book? You've received enough praise for it already. You can't expect it to last forever. What did The Times call your book again? Unflinching, gut-wrenching, and painful?"

"It was unflinching, painful, and humorous, actually," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets.

You smiled at him. It wasn't fair that he got to be handsome, smart, funny, and be not able to take things seriously.

"Well, there you go. You don't need any compliments from me then, do you?"

The way he looked at you, just you, it made you feel like you were the only person in the room there with him. You hated how much it made your heart speed up. You hated how well this worked.

He leaned in to add in a low voice, "I have a terribly insatiable appetite for praise."

Before you could figure out how to react to that, you spotted Gemma coming your way with the Nigerian princess in tow, presumably to talk to Rhys. "Time for me to go," you said, looking over in their direction.

Rhys followed your gaze. His smile didn't go away but it didn't reach his eyes anymore either. He didn't like them but he didn't want them to know it. "Sure you can't stay?"

"I'm sure you can fend for yourself. Unless you wanted to tell me you're running for mayor."

"Ah, I'd love to but I can't."

"You can't blame me for trying. Here's my card," you said, tucking it into the pocket of his suit. "I'd love to hear from you when you do want to tell me that. Or anything."

You slipped away quickly before you could see how that went over. You had flirted with Rhys Montrose and gave him your card. It was entirely unprofessional and it was the most exciting thing you'd ever done.

All that was left to do was eat more bite-sized appetizers until you didn't need dinner and then go back and type up the article.

Until there was a commotion. A girl - couldn't be older than early 20s - in a fur-lined jacket. She splashed red paint. And ran away as security chased after her. There was silence - a general wave of shock - followed by a few murmurs. Was this real? Was this a part of 'the act'? until Simon strode forward and picked up the paint and splashed it on the painting again.

People clapped - they were all too willing to believe this had been an orchestrated performance communicating a message. You knew Soo wasn't that deep. Across the room, you locked eyes with Rhys, who wasn't clapping along.

The crowd dispersed and you hung around, trying to see if you could find Kate for a quote on this surprising new development. There was no point even trying to get to Simon. But she seemed to have disappeared and so did the girl after having been dragged away by security in what definitely did not look like a performance.

Very curious indeed. You couldn't see Rhys either, it was disappointing that he'd left. Not that you thought anything might happen between you, it was ridiculous to think that, right? He hadn't struck you as a flirt from his memoir but there was no way there was anything more there. It was just him having a cheeky little chat. But still, who whispered things like I have a terribly insatiable appetite for praise with that look on his face and not mean something by it?

You were jolted out of your thoughts of Rhys by someone's scream. Was there more to this performance that you'd have to add to your article? As you made your way towards the direction with the others, you saw security hurry past. The doors to the exit were blocked off and soon, you discovered that there was another headline that would be about Simon Soo that would now be on the front page - the one about his murder.

[minorisato]

a new frontier of affection (ecstasy)

transformers / megop / wc: 839 / warnings: NSFT / notes: written for kinktober day 8, "fingering." pre-tf1. / consider commissioning me!

"Is this okay?" Orion asks, keeping one servo wrapped around D-16, pressed into the small of his back, lightly caressing the long-unused transformation seams around it. The other servo is- well.

D-16 shakes in his arms, his helm buried into Orion's shoulder pauldrons. He nods, and Orion exvents softly, feeling it against his throat cabling. "It's good," D-16 exvents, and he circles his hips, grinding down, fucking his own valve on Orion's fingers. They're cramped together in a storage closet- the only place they could get any modicum of privacy among the busy mining barracks. It's dark, but their biolights serve just fine in making it so Orion can see what he's actually doing. "It's so good, I want- Orion, I want more."

Orion chuckles. "You're really getting into this, D," and D-16 whines, such a nice sound. Despite the gray mech urging him, though, Orion keeps his pace slow, being as gentle as he can with the other. In truth, he'd only ever done this to himself before- he'd never had his servo inside another mech, only his own valve. It wouldn't surprise him if this was the first time D-16 had felt anything inside his valve. Orion just wanted to be careful.

"Faster," D-16 begged, his voice soft, quiet, gentle, exventing directly into Orion's throat cabling.

Orion really, really just wanted to be careful. But Primus, with how D-16 is begging, it's hard to not just give him what he wants. "D," Orion lets out, and he feels D-16 press impossibly closer to him, their chassis' touching. The gray mech's own servos scramble at Orion's back, grabbing where they can. "You're doing so good. So good, D. So sweet."

"Orion," D-16 moans, hips rocking down, begging for more contact. "Orion, Orion, it's not- not enough, I need more, please."

The red and blue mech grimaces, thankful that D-16 can't see his faceplates. "I know," he says, "I know, D. I just- just really don't wanna hurt you." Orion explains, and he almost feels guilty, like this is gonna break D-16's spark. "I want this to be good for you."

"It is good," D-16 groans, "it's, it's so good, but Orion- Orion, please-" his vocals fritz, and now Orion really does feel guilty from how hot he finds it. D-16 resets them, attempts to gather himself, and he finally lifts his helm from Orion's shoulder pauldrons, and he looks at Orion, directly in the optics. He looks blissed out, his lip plating parted just slightly, optics darkened, a light pink dusting his faceplates. "Orion," he exvents, and Orion can see it, now, how his plating shakes. "You aren't going to hurt me. I need- I need more."

Fuck, Orion can't deny him anything.

"Okay," Orion says, and steadily, he picks up the pace of his fingers. "Okay, okay." D-16's own servos dart from Orion's back to cover his intake as his volume picks up, and Orion very quickly remembers that they are in a storage closet and there are probably mechs outside, but he also forgets very quickly as he becomes grateful for his servo holding D-16's back steady, cause the gray mech looks like he's about to fall over. D-16's plating shakes in a more exaggerated fashion than it had prior, and Orion would be worried that was a bad thing if it wasn't for the moans spilling from behind D-16's servos. D-16's optics offline as Orion finger-fucks his valve, lubricant spilling out, into Orion's joints and seams, down his arm struts.

"Is it good?" Orion asks, and, rather mindlessly, D-16 nods, moaning. He's so cute right now. It's a word Orion had never really thought to associate with his friend- cool? Sure. Attractive? Definitely. But now, seeing how D-16 reacts to the feel of Orion's fingers forcing his valve walls to part, all Orion can think is that he's cute. "You're doing so good for me," Orion tells him, and, under his exvents, "you take me so well."

It's then that Orion feels it- D-16's valve clenches down hard, and Orion can feel his calipers rapidly cycling around his fingers. "Orion," D-16 whines, vocals glitching, static underlying every pant, "Orion, Ori-Orion...!"

His vocals reach a crescendo before cutting out entirely with a loud pop, and all at once Orion feels a rush of liquid trailing down his servo. He glances down to see a soft pink, and he groans, though he can't look for long before D-16 stumbles a bit, and then crashes down onto his chassis, into his arms. Orion just barely catches him, and the servo still holding his back begins to trace up and down his spinal struts softly, comforting the gray mech. As he does this, Orion's mind is simply repeating on loop, that was transfluid.

He overloaded. D-16 overloaded around Orion's fingers. Possibly the first time D-16 has ever overloaded in his entire functioning, and it was for Orion.

Distantly, Orion thinks he's definitely going to self-service to this later. Right now, though, he ought to take care of his friend.