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digiflora · 8 months ago

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🧩 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

STARRING. ノ geto ✦ gojo ✦ choso

summary. ノ as a princess, you need a knight to keep both your body and heart safe from harm. luckily, he's got that covered.

word count. ノ 6.6k

contains. ノ royalty!au, princess!reader x knight, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, fem coded reader bc princess

gia's notes. ノ this draft has been sitting at the VERY bottom of my notes but i've finally dug it up and blown the dust off of it hehe. i have more ideas for this premise so if anyone asks i'll do a part two. eagerly.

GETO SUGURU ⌇ despite his politeness, there's more to him that lies below the surface

when you first met geto suguru, the most prominent thought in your mind was just how surprisingly pretty he was to be a mere knight. his delicate features and unblemished face seemed more fitting to be that of a nobleman's, and when he kneeled to you to swear his loyalty, his every movement was dictated with a gracefulness that suggested he was born royal.

always smiling, always alert, always vigilant, geto now accompanied you in your daily life like a second shadow. and while there had been... admittedly few attempts on your life, you chalked that up to his talent rather than a lack of conspiracy.

you had asked him one night when you had sneaked too much drink during a feast and you were too loose-lipped on your way back to your chambers, why his face was so handsome if he was just a knight.

he had merely laughed at your drunken question, readjusting his grip on you as he half-carried, half-guided you back.

"i'm handsome because nobody's been able to lay a finger on me."

you were quite fond of him, beyond his ability to keep you safe. you may be naive but you weren't stupid- you knew how others looked at the pair of you, how scandalous it was for the princess and her handsome knight to be so close with each other, in public at that.

it was incredibly apparent at balls and other royal events- ever so cumbersome, but still a requirement- that you always made sure to drag geto along to, no matter the security detail. and if you had personally ensured that he wears clothing befitting of a royal, and more importantly matched your gown every time, who wouldn't jump to conclusions?

in all honesty, you liked the attention it drew to the pair of you. you revelled in the glances shot your way, zeroed in on your hand looped around his arm or the way his encircled your waist, looking more like a courtier than a bodyguard.

you liked how the other women of the court looked at you with not just disgust, but with jealousy, because you knew that they certainly knew that geto suguru is a very handsome man. and no matter how much they stare, the fact that he was firmly attached to you would never change.

and if they hated you, let them come. geto would keep you safe, anyway.

whilst you were more than happy to live life as you were (the same as always with no real responsibility), the world continued its course, and you found yourself being suddenly thrust into something that you never imagined would happen this soon- a removal of your freedom.

that wasn't its official title, of course. a marriage proposal is what it had been presented to you as. to some poncey prince from a neighbouring kingdom in the name of keeping peace and good relations with neighbours- it was enough to make you feel sick.

you remembered ranting about it to geto that night in your bedchambers- yes, he was in them whether it was permissible or not- him merely chuckling at your rage while leaning against one of the walls, watching as you paced the room, waving your arms fervently to accentuate your frustration.

"relax, your highness. you'll still have me, after all." his words have an effect on you, admittedly, and it's comforting to find some constancy in him.

on nights where you let your imagination take over, it's quite easy to imagine him as a prince, one who courts you and you fall for and eventually marry- a mere fantasy to escape from this world.

despite your wishes, despite the rumours, the royal engagement continues. you haven't even met your fiancé, yet the marriage is due to happen this spring- symbolising the fresh beginnings of this joyous union.

geto had been gracious enough to accompany you on your newly-developed habit of taking long walks around the castle in favour of sleeping. you might as well memorise every nook and cranny before you'd be forced out of here- kicking and screaming, no doubt.

despite geto's best efforts, the joy you once found from life in the castle was quickly draining, merely fluff to pad the days leading up to the inevitable date.

an arrangement to meet this prince in person was very quickly procured out of nowhere- you couldn't remember his name for the life of you- and you found yourself going through the motions of being even more dolled up for a special ball with little to no enthusiasm. there was once a time where you would be bursting with delight at the beauty looking back at you in the mirror, though now it felt like you were being trussed up in the same sense the cooks were preparing the roasted animals on golden platters for everyone to feast on.

you were just meant to look as appetising as possible. you felt like a prize cow. anything in the name of peace.

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you- your eyes flicked up to your mirror to see geto stood behind you, his gaze particularly soft. you smiled at his outfit, equally exquisite in its brocade and material as yours. a perfect pair.

"i know i say this every time i see you, but you look especially radiant tonight, your highness." and just like that, you're glad to be so dressed up.

"thank you, sir geto." his lips twitch at the official title, but he extends his arm out for you to take nonetheless. "you look very handsome yourself." his cheeks go a shade darker, barely noticeable. you see it, though.

"how could i manage without you?"

the ballroom was decorated even more lavishly in commemoration of tonight- a decadent gold being the setting for this glorious occasion. you hoped that the prince would live up to the grandeur. or at the very least, not be completely hideous to look at. he'd never look as good as geto.

there were a lot of formal introductions. you always had hated curtsying, but the practice you were forced to endure paid off- you were nothing less than perfectly gracious as you met the officials of the neighbouring kingdom, and then, finally, the prince. he winked at you before kissing your hand and asking you to dance. you would rather dance with someone else.

at least the prince wasn't ugly. with the way he looked at you, though, you had to try not to let your nose wrinkle in disgust as you read the lechery in his eyes. was this really who you would be bound to 'til death do you part?

he stank of wine as the two of you danced. you were surprised that he wasn't toppling over, with the way that his words were already slurring. you tried your best to smile and nod along, though you couldn't help your eyes from wandering over his shoulder, settling on the figure of geto stood on the edge of the dancefloor.

you longed for him to be the one before you, and judging by the look on his face, it's what he would have wanted too. even jealousy looked good on him, his narrowed eyes and set jaw infinitely more handsome than the prince's leering one that you barely avoided as he lurched towards you, a little too close for this courtly dance.

geto jerked forwards at this, hands automatically settling on his sword. his eyes met yours, a silent plea to let it go exchanged before he begrudgingly relinquished his defensive stance. his little action still sent a thrill running through you nonetheless, something to cling to as an affirmation that he cared in more than a professional sense.

you let your thoughts wander as you danced, and you didn't do much to try and reel them back in. would it really be so bad to become wedded to a knight? it was unheard of, but there was a first time for everything, you supposed. you wouldn't mind no longer being a princess, as long as you were with him.

that realisation snapped you back to reality, just as the ending notes of the song played. your mandatory dance was over, and you curtsied to the prince before excusing yourself, weaving your way through the crowd of nobles until you reached the outskirts of the ballroom. your whole world felt like it had been tipped on its axis with this revelation, and even then you couldn't help but seek him out.

it was like an invisible force drew you together as you all but crashed into geto, him steadying you and immediately taking in the no doubt frenzied look in your eyes.

"are you alright, your highness?"

"i'm alright, just need to get some air."

geto nods dutifully, keeping hold of one of your arms as he navigates the crowd, slipping the both of you out of a side exit, the noise of the ballroom immediately drowning out as the door shut behind you.

"is that better, your highness?" your heart warmed at the genuine concern written over his face, and you nodded gratefully.

"much better."

the pair of you walk in silence for a few minutes, retracing the same routes of the castle that you had both become so accustomed to recently. it was comfortable to be with him, no matter the occasion.

"you know, i wish i could dance with you." it wasn't quite a confession, but it would do for now. geto paused for a second, and you saw him turn to look at you in the corner of your eye.

"there may be no music playing right now, but it would be an honour to have this dance, your highness." he bows down low, a mockery of etiquette, and you giggle before slipping your hand into his outstretched one. he's smiling as he straightens back up, his other hand curling around your waist with a gracefulness that would put the entire royal court to shame.

the dimly lit corridors became your private ballroom, and geto led you down them nimbly. another giddy laugh escaped you as he raised his arm, letting you twirl freely before bringing you close to him again.

it's a back and forth that you enjoy being led through, wondering to yourself just where he learnt to dance like this but not finding the heart to complain about it. it was a sweet moment amidst the growing realisation that this would most likely be ripped from you as you are forced to move to a different kingdom, away from everything that you've ever known. well, almost everything.

one particular turn has you stumbling ever so slightly, the questionable gap left between you and geto fully closing as your head collides with his chest. his arms instinctively protect you, effectively encasing you against him, leaving you to merely stare up at his face with a dumbfounded look on your face.

"your highness?"

he looked so much more handsome up close, and the torchlight cast shadows that only accentuated his features. you could count his eyelashes from here, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest against your own as you both leaned in ever so slightly- just a few more inches and your faces would be-

a noise from the end of the hallway distracts you, and your focus slips from the man before you to whatever lay behind him

you're horrified by what you see before you. it's that very prince, your fiancé, nestled in one of the darker corners castle, and he wasn't alone. your brain took a little longer to comprehend what was happening, but with the way the woman he was with was pressed up against the wall, caged in by his arms, and the little moans that echoed against the stony walls, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"let's go." you sounded so robotic, a ringing in your ears making your voice sound a thousand miles away as you began to retrace your steps, taking you further away from the transgression you just saw. you were vaguely aware of geto talking to you, but your thoughts were too overpowering to properly process anything other than the rising tide of emotion quickly consuming you.

you could barely turn the next corner before you felt yourself start to break down, tears that you fought so hard to contain tracking down your face. even with your back to him, geto read you like a book, placing a hand on your shoulder in some sort of attempt to comfort you.

you took it as an invitation to turn around, burying your face in his chest and letting yourself properly cry as his arms wrapped around you, one rubbing circles on your back and the other petting your hair.

"i wish you were a prince, geto," you sobbed into his tunic. your knight merely chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair as he let you stain the expensive clothing with your tears.

"i do too, your highness." his tone is light, but you still detect the underlying sincerity. it doesn't do much to stop your tears, though, until you feel one of his hands cup your face. these hold more evidence of him being a knight, with rough callouses marring his otherwise flawless hands. his fingers brush back the strands of hair that have come loose from your elegant updo, lingering a moment too long.

"besides, why cry, your highness? you and i both know that your heart does not belong to him." his hand's still on your face, fingers now hooking underneath your chin, raising your gaze to meet his. his smile's coy, and you both can read between the lines of what he's saying. it had been rather obvious for a while now.

that your heart lay a lot closer to home. that maybe the rumours were right.

"you'll always have me."

GOJO SATORU ⌇ he's two whole years younger than you

officially, the title of royal knight carries a certain air of poise, of authority and grace that forces your spine a little straighter whenever you cross paths with them. but never did you think that this man would be the one entrusted with your life and safety in general.

you were more mature than him, and that's saying something. and despite his insistence on being one of the strongest, in your eyes he certainly didn't act like it. but if he was appointed as your personal bodyguard, then that must mean that he did something worthy enough to fulfil the role, right?

despite your slight doubts, you didn't actually have anything against him. on the contrary, you rather enjoyed his presence. he wasn't afraid to make himself known, and you much preferred the thought of him as an animate person than some silent looming shadow that mirrored your every step.

besides, he wasn't half bad to look at.

you especially liked it when he was in the mood to humour you and your questions, opening up a little about his life before becoming a knight- of the small village he used to live in, the beauty of life beyond the castle walls, and his stories intrigued you, invoking a childlike wonder that hadn't been piqued in years.

satoru had told you of one particular festival- a lantern ceremony to celebrate a bountiful autumn's harvest. it was one you had heard of, had seen always from a distance, the faint lights of hundreds of paper lanterns floating into the sky mere pinpricks that blend into the stars from your vantage point of the castle window.

he has a knack for storytelling, too- for better or worse. he spins gold with his tongue, painting a picture so lovely and vibrant that you are compelled to see it in person- whether it is as wondrous as the knight claims it to be.

and gojo has always been up for a challenge.

"satoru."

"princess y/n." he's amused, already knowing what your proposition will be before you utter another word.

"how good are you at keeping me safe?"

"incredibly, why?"

"i'd like you to take me to see this festival in person."

he had to decline at first- he had a duty to fulfil, after all- but you demand, you implore, you even beg in order to get him on board.

he was willing to do so the very first time you mention it, the gleam in his eye giving his true intentions away, but he plays along, getting a kick out of the desperation in your voice. you whine about how you are the princess and it's his job to do what you ask- and he laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat with an obliging "as you wish, your highness."

and thus begins your daring expedition to sneak out of the castle and back in completely undetected.

it's an operation carried out under the guise of night, the pair of you in cloaks and dressed inconspicuously. it's a simple plan, too. the gardens below your bedchamber's window is not a commonly patrolled area, and it's laughably easy for gojo to slip out of the window first and jump down the few metres until he lands on grass. he lands like it's nothing, smiling back up at you and motioning for you to join him.

it's a leap of faith, the crossing of a boundary as you swing your leg over the windowsill, feeling the fear kick in as you see just how high up you are. but you see gojo, too, his bright hair and eyes looking up at you encouragingly, and you swallow that fear.

"i'll catch you," he promises.

and he does. it's a soft landing, all things considered, as you land in his arms that are deceptively solid beneath you. you yelp as you fall- it couldn't be helped- but it's short-lived as you find yourself face to face with satoru.

he seems as equally stunned as you at the proximity of your faces, but the moment passes quickly for him, his signature practised grin coming back on to his face as he gently touches your feet to the ground.

"good to go, princess?" you nod, still reeling. he offers you an arm, half-joking, and you take it with a pleased smile.

gojo knows the castle grounds like the back of his hand- leading you to a concealed door in the outer wall, slipping through it like a shadow with you in tow. it wasn't until now that you saw him in his element, not sitting around like a lazy cat like he so often did in your presence.

he's more alert, alive, lithe body moving with purpose. it's nice to see him like this, without all of the bulky armour and constraints of the castle walls. the tension leaves him, his gait changing, and you feel the adrenaline course through your veins as the two of you officially make it outside of the castle.

you try to memorise every step you take, the way the ground feels against your shoes, the feeling of the breeze rushing unfiltered against your face. it's surreal, this taste of freedom, and you feel the urge to laugh like a maniac.

your hand slips from its grasp of gojo's bicep, letting you drift away from your knight in favour of pausing to squat down and inspect the brightly coloured flowers that grew on the path.

it was a mere tulip- nothing that you had ever seen before, the castle favouring more exotic species to showcase than some simple thing that you could pluck from the ground. but it was beautiful, all the same.

you felt gojo pause, letting you have your moment uninterrupted before you stand, beaming up at him.

"the outside world is very beautiful."

"indeed it is, princess. just wait until you see the lanterns up close."

it wasn't too far to reach his hometown, so he said. it was a comfortable walk, the terrain not too demanding. and finally, with the last stretch of land, you saw it.

"oh, wow."

if anything, satoru didn't do it justice in his stories. there's another element that you had never anticipated, of the music coursing throughout the town, breathing life into the people. everything was so much more colourful, more beautiful up close.

the closer you approach it, the more it comes into focus, and you don't try to hide your awe as you take in the surroundings. you don't turn your head to see the way your knight is smiling down at you, a soft look in his eyes.

and while it may make his job a pain sometimes, satoru's thankful that you're so oblivious to his surroundings and the ways he pines after you gone unnoticed. he had never exposed this part of himself before, the small nostalgic part of him that treasured unblemished memories of his childhood, now walking arm in arm with a princess and pointing out each little nook and cranny that he used to play in.

the pair of you finally make it to the inner part of the festivities, where there are countless stalls set up with all kinds of goods being sold. satoru stands back, letting you pour over each individual item, oohing and aahing as the vendors explain what they are.

you do this for... quite some time, until you settle upon a small jewellery stand. it was nothing like you had ever seen worn by nobles, fashioned out of colourful stones and leather cord instead of the gold and silver inlaid with precious gems. it intrigued you, the beautiful polished stone somehow being the most elegant thing you had ever laid eyes upon. and like a bloodhound, the lady running the stall sidled up to you and satoru.

"and for the beautiful couple, what can i interest you in?"

"oh, we-" you laugh, all pitchy as you get flustered, but satoru takes this in stride, simply wrapping his waist around you and pulling you closer together. he always had been one to toe the line.

"i think that my darling here had her eye on that necklace." he nods towards the very one that had caught your attention, you glancing at him in surprise, unaware that he even noticed such details. he merely winked in return as the lady beamed, taking it off its hook and holding it out to you.

"a fine choice, indeed! the rose quartz is said to bring luck to you in all romantic endeavours." you blush as you accept the necklace, satoru paying for it before you could get a single word in. he waved off any protests, merely taking the necklace from your hands before lifting it to fit around your neck.

his fingers brush against the soft skin at your nape, a little shiver rippling from it as he moved your hair onto one of your shoulders, out of the way of the cord.

"it looks beautiful on you." you try not to read into the sincerity emanating from his gaze, bowing your head graciously from the compliment before looping an arm around his, letting satoru guide you through the rest of the village.

you ended up in the main square, watching as some officials released the lanterns, how each one floated upwards until they became pinpricks in the sky. your gaze drifted towards the castle looming, and you felt some heaviness return to your heart.

the night had to come to an end, after all.

satoru sensed your shift in mood, offering a sympathetic smile before the pair of you trudged back, retracing your steps to return to your chambers without getting caught.

for a few minutes, before you properly laid down to rest, you caught yourself toying with the necklace, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face as you thought of the magical night with satoru, and his unseen side.

and as you woke up the next morning, the events of the past few hours were hard to see as more than a dream. but as you rise, you gaze at your reflection in the vanity next to your bed again, and you see the cord of the necklace still peeking out past the neckline of your nightgown.

there's a knock on your door, too, and you see your knight's face peek from around the corner.

"good morning, satoru."

"good morning, princess. did you sleep well?" there's a practised formality in his tone, but you don't miss his expression, the smile that threatens to slip onto his face.

it'll be a secret between just the two of you.

CHOSO KAMO ⌇ there wasn't a single doubt in your mind that this man wouldn't put his life on the line for you

however, it wasn't so certain from the start. when you were first introduced to choso, he was polite. he looked you in the eyes, kneeled to you, pledged his allegiance, but what struck you most was the anger that his gaze met you with.

it was like being scalded, making you shrink back from the sheer intensity. you couldn't get a read off of him apart from that cool anger, one that you weren't even sure was directed at you or not.

it was only through gossip overheard by the maidservants that you learnt of his prospects before being appointed as your bodyguard.

the most promising of his rank, on course to become the youngest commander in the military in the past century. he would have been set for life, the salary enough to support his entire family- yet he's now responsible for babysitting a spoilt princess.

it's what they had said, after all.

and the more you thought about it, the more awful you felt. you understand now why he looked at you like that, that pointed gaze with all its burning intensity. why he looked like he would rather be anywhere else within the castle than at your side.

it's improper to assume responsibility for anything as a member of the royal family, but you do so anyway and apologise to him one night- borderline tearful, your emotions besting you as you finally cave in and tell him about how you think he hates you.

and he stops you mid-sentence, confusion written across all of his features.

"milady... i'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

it was an awkward conversation, to say the least. you had never really been exposed to someone like him before- to have such a rigid sense of duty and seriousness that it translated as hatred was unheard of, even for the castle.

and despite this revelation, choso's stiff upper lip did not waver. his intertwined sense of duty was a tricky thing to peel away from him.

but it's a task that you were willing to commit to. you'd be spending a lot more time with him, after all, and you'd much rather get to know choso as a person if that was the case.

and so began your futile efforts of breaking down choso's barriers. you felt like a petulant child, always asking him questions that he would either blank or answer with an occasional grunt.

you were glad that news travels fast within the castle- any gossip about the princess' handsome new knight was a snippet of information that you hung onto eagerly.

it appears that you weren't alone in harbouring an interest in the young knight- if the excited chattering of maidservants and the way that they squealed over every interaction with him was any indicator.

for some reason, hearing them gush over the way his muscles looked when he was practising swordfighting in the barracks, or how strong he was when he helped carry in heavy sacks of grain rubbed you the wrong way. it lit a fire underneath you that made you all the more eager to get to know him well and truly before anybody else did.

you seemed to have struck gold about sir choso when you overheard one maidservant admit to having grown up in the same village as him- how she remembered that his family used to own a horse that him and his brothers loved more than anything else when growing up.

amidst the oohs and aahs of this revelation, a plan started to hatch in your mind. one that came into fruition the very next day as choso accompanied you on your morning walk around the royal gardens.

"say, choso, have you ever ridden a horse before?"

out of all of the questions and hints about him that you've posed, you've never seen such a reaction from him before. he starts, and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost puff up with excitement, and your ears strain, eager to hear what he has to say before you see him school his features once again, and the moment is bitterly over.

"it was part of my training to become a knight, milady. why do you ask?"

it was no matter if he didn't want to open up yet, you can be patient. and spend a little longer playing dumb about just how much you know about him.

"well, i was thinking of doing something slightly different today." he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "i wanted to go horse-riding." he pauses for a good few seconds, ever so stoic, before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"as you wish, milady."

you clap your hands togeher excitedly, beaming up at him.

"perfect!"

you set off in the direction of the stables, your knight following closely behind you, and dare you say with a slightest improvement in the upbeat of his gait. despite all of his professionalism, he still had his tells.

the smell of fresh hay and the less pleasant odour of manure reaches your nostrils before you can properly see the horses, but you let your nose wrinkle in displeasure and resolutely keep marching onwards to the stable entrance. you had a purpose to fulfil by being here, after all.

now, as a princess, it was imperative that you had acquired several different skills as part of your royal upbringing. how to eat properly, how to speak properly, act properly, including when riding a horse.

but, try as you might, you just couldn't quite manage to get a proper grasp on that last part. but, if it meant getting to know choso, you'd simply grin and bear it and hope to god that it didn't buck you off directly into a patch of mud.

the horses can smell your fear, you had been told as a child. even the stubbiest pony accustomed to your eight-year-old self's stature still towered above you, nostrils flared and rubbery lips dripping with saliva, making you hide behind the legs of your tutors as you cowered away from such a ferocious beast.

such childlike fears seemed to resurface now, as the snort of a nearby horse makes you twitch, visibly enough that it doesn't go unnoticed.

"are you alright, milady?" he's eyeing you sideways now, having caught up with your stride with his much longer one. you wonder just how eager he must be to ride a horse that it would warrant him breaking his usual pattern of tracing your footsteps and now meeting them with his own as the pair of you walk.

the thought brings a pang of guilt to accompany it, so you plaster on a smile and nod at him brightly.

"of course i am! it just caught me off guard, is all. not to worry, i'll have two horses be arranged for us."

you look at the nearest stable hand expectantly, and the young boy seems to comprehend your message as he dashes off to affix saddles and leashes to two fine stallions, befitting of royalty, to ride. you don't miss the doubtful look choso still gives you out of the corner of your eye.

it's better than focusing on the huffs and snorts of the beast before you as it's brought forwards, close enough for its putrid breath to curl in warm tendrils against your face. you feel your skin shrivel at the sensation.

but being a princess means putting on a brave face, and to never crumble in the face of adversity.

you march over to see the stirrup, level with your chest, inviting you to step up and onto the horse's back. it's funny, all these years later you would have dwarfed that little pony, so now they've brought an even larger horse to maintain order.

you can feel your heart hammering in your chest as you approach it, and you think that the horse can feel it too, because it snorts, twisting its head, the stable hand sounding panicked as the rope is prised from his grasp by the powerful strain from the stallion.

and then there's those painstaking moments, of the horse bucking and neighing, free now, and you really regret not providing more foresight into this plan.

how exactly will you get to know choso more if you've been trampled to death before he opens his mouth again?

you think this is the end of your short and silly life, if not for the hand that shoots out, grabbing the reins, another smoothing over the horse's snout. you watch in awe as your knight, your personal bodyguard, does just that and saves you from what would have been an imminent and painful death.

and like some horse whisperer, the stallion was now rendered meek and docile, following where it was led as choso turned to you, expression impassive as always.

"are you scared of horses milady?"

how foolish of you to think you wouldn't be all these years later. there's no use lying, and you dejectedly nod at his question. a beat of silence, before confusion graces his features.

"then why decide to go riding today?"

"because i heard that you like horses..."

it sounds so truly pathetic coming out of your mouth, but your heart still skips a beat as you see an entirely new expression on his face. a smile, one that he bites back as he looks off to the side, shaking his head in disbelief.

and then he looks back at you, really looks at you, with that coldness in his eyes parting like clouds to give way to something softer, warmer.

"allow me to help you then, your highness."

you give him a shy little nod at his proposition, and choso turns to the tearfully apologetic stable hand, signalling to him to return the other horse. you're confused as he approaches you, horse in tow, and you eye the animal with suspicion as it meets you face to face.

"the first thing about any animal is to establish a connection with it, milady." choso speaks so softly, voice barely above a whisper, and you watch in amazement as the horse's ears prick up, as if hanging on every word that he says alongside yourself.

"you've got to talk to it, introduce yourself." he motions for you to try, and your eyes flick back to the horse.

"hello, horse," you whisper to it. you feel like an idiot, but choso's nod of encouragement and second rare smile convince you to keep going. "it's nice to meet you."

it seems to have turned its attention towards you now, its nose snuffling at you, and you rear back a little.

"it's okay, milady, he just wants to smell you."

you look at choso again, expression doubtful, and he holds his hand outstretched, prompting you to place your palm in his.

he's warm, deliciously so, a decisive strength resting behind each finger as he guides your dainty hand towards the maw of the beast. its nostrils flare, snuffling against your hand, and you giggle girlishly at the odd sensation. choso's smiling now, no charade as he lets his joy shine through, matching yours.

"see? he likes you, your highness."

the pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, tentatively stroking the horse, until you feel comfortable enough to suggest riding them. choso nods, a flicker of responsibilty taking over his expressions as he guides you towards the saddle.

you're uncertain all over again, for different reasons now, as the distance required to get your foot in the stirrup seemed a little too high to achieve. and then choso's behind you, a hushed "may i?" whispered into your ear as his fingers curl at your waist.

you're flustered now, nodding all the same, gasping at how easily he lifts you until your feet dangle adjacent to the sturrup, and you let yourself slip a foot into it and swing the rest of yourself up and over to be seated on the horse.

you peer down at choso, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his head was directly next to your lap. it was absurd- you were the one riding atop a horse as he remained on the ground, you were the one of royal descent- yet in this very moment you were entirely at his mercy.

you clear your throat, nodding to him.

"if there aren't any more horses, how are you going to ride one?" and now he smirks at you, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"well, if you're so scared of horses, i thought that i'd continue to help you get over that fear."

the penny doesn't drop until he places his foot in the very same stirrup that you had used to hoist yourself up, doing the same in an admittedly much more fluid motion, and positing himself flush against your back.

if it weren't for the light armour he wore, you were certain that he would be able to feel the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

you look down to your lap, watching as his arms reach forwards, practically embracing you, before his hands take a willful grip of the leather reins.

"how does that sound, milady?" he's practically purring into your ear, and he must know the effect he's having on you, if not before then definitely now as you sharply inhale, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the slight sensation of his breath.

you don't even trust yourself to speak eloquently without making a fool of yourself, so you nod instead. the message is not lost on choso, and he chuckles right into your ear before starting to guide the horse as easily as breathing.

the animal lurched forwards, and your hands shot out, instinctively latching onto the nearest solid thing. whether they were your knight's hands or not wasn't important. but choso took this in stride, guiding your hands to take hold of the reins, and then encapsulating them with his own.

it sent a little thrill jolting through your spine, especially as he shuffles even closer to you, just to make sure that he could see properly.

your plan was working brilliantly after all.

and for all the trouble it took to situate yourself on the horse, your initial fears melted away in the presence of choso, as he spurred the horse to start a slow walk out of the stables, and onto the vast grounds surrounding the palace.

and as you gaze back to catch a glimpse of your knight, catching the way he smiles down at you so freely, faces a breadth apart, you realise that your fates are well and truly intertwined together.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... there's no release, i feel you in my dreams

(i don't have any other jjk fics FOR NOW ㅜㅡㅜ) best friend!aventurine x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my jjk masterlist here!

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jiminjamms · 9 months ago

Text

sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline.

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation.

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that.

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this.

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown.

He did not understand where your annoyance came from.

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel.

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance.

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare.

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!"

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown.

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.”

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh.

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze.

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime.

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?"

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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hayakawalove · 7 months ago

Text

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

Summary: You're happy with your husband, you swear. Except you actually aren't. You're so unhappy in fact, that you find yourself in a cheap bar late one night. Two men find you, and it leads to a night of fun.

A/N: Yeah. It goes without saying that I DON'T CONDONE CHEATING! I don't know why I wrote this. I actually used to really hate cheating fics, so much so that I would filter the tag out. They used to trigger me super bad. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe as a way of doing exposure therapy, maybe just to practice writing things I normally don't write. Whatever the case is, here you go. I hope y'all enjoy! As always, I appreciate your guys comments so much, seriously!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cheating (You Cheat on Your Husband), Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Protected Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Cum Swallowing, Hook-Up, No Strings Attached, Reader Feels Bad (Doesn't Last Long), Hair-pulling, Female Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 6,154

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

You’re happy.

You really are.

Those are the words you find yourself repeating like a mantra, a self assuring prayer on a loop in your mind.

You have a great life.

A wonderful job, a nice house, the perfect husband.

People live their entire lives searching for what you’ve been so graciously dealt.

So why did it feel like you were lying to yourself when you repeated that mantra?

The words felt uneasy in your mind at first, the weight of them feeling unknown on your tongue. You’d never really thought about it before. Were you happy? The more you told yourself that you were, the more the saying turned your stomach sour.

You were happy. You were happy. You were happy.

You weren’t happy.

At first, it began like a tingle in the back of your throat. Not disruptive, but most certainly there, no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It was the most obvious when you felt like you should be grateful for something.

Before going to bed at night, finishing a big project at work, when your husband kissed your cheek.

The doubt simmers in your gut, barely a blip on your radar.

It was hardly noticeable, until it wasn’t.

The thought became a raging forest fire, drowning out all your other senses. Every day was the same. It was so boring. Nothing lit a spark in you.

You weren’t sure how to even remedy it. Not only that, but you would listen to your friends talk about their lives, and how it was monotonous for them as well. Maybe life just had to be like this.

There’s a pit in your stomach as you walk to your car. You really didn’t want to go home tonight. Not when you knew your loving husband would be waiting for you; not when you knew you had all the reasons in the world to be happy, but you just weren’t.

“Hey, sexy lady!” A man’s voice rings out around you.

When you flick your head around you see a man who’s much older than you sizing you up. Your knee jerk reaction is to be disgusted, but you aren’t, not fully at least.

You’re flattered.

When was the last time someone paid you a compliment like that? Your husband told you you were beautiful all the time, but it felt rehearsed, like the words had lost their meaning. Sure, a stranger calling you sexy was a bit half assed, but at least it was real.

“Thank you! But I’m married-“ you reply, even though the man is long gone by now.

You straighten your shoulders and open your car door, accepting the fluke.

~~~

You’re craving the attention again.

You feel like an addict craving their next hit. You didn’t want anything else, other than a bit of attention from a stranger. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Over the next couple of days you craft a plan. You were going to get dressed up and go to a bar, nothing major. You just wanted to put yourself in a situation where you could receive attention, maybe get a couple of compliments. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Your husband texted you to inform you that he would be at the office late tonight. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that shoots through you when you tell him that it’s okay, you wouldn’t be doing much anyway.

Liar.

The dress you’re wearing feels a bit too tight, fitting to your form like another layer of skin. You hadn’t worn it in years. There never was any need to. You and your husband didn't go on dates much anymore, instead choosing to settle down for movie nights or dinner.

Your makeup is more extreme than usual. It highlights all your favorite features, and the colors are a bit dramatic. Even though it felt different, you had to admit that you looked good.

You fiddle with your ring, watching the way it catches the light. Reluctantly, you pull it off and put it in your purse. You feel naked not wearing it. Hopefully, more people would compliment you if you didn’t have it on.

You sling your purse over your shoulder and turn your phone off, you wouldn’t be needing it anyway, sliding your high heels on.

The bar you decide on is on the furthest edge of town, in a much seedier neighborhood. On any chosen day you wouldn’t be caught dead on this side of town, and neither would any of your loved ones. Which is precisely why you chose to be there in the first place.

Nobody would recognize you. Not that it would be a problem if they did, you remind yourself. You weren’t doing anything wrong.

The bar is loud as you enter, eager voices discussing a variety of topics over cheap alcohol. The smell of liquor is strong, the astringent scent nearly burning the inside of your nostrils.

You slide over to the counter and take a seat on one of the rickety stools. It’d be a miracle if it doesn’t break under your weight, it looks like it’s two seconds from collapsing on its own.

You order a mixed drink and smile as the bartender passes it to you, your heart fluttering at the way he grins back.

Validation springs throughout your body. It feels like you’re being rejuvenated, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

See? What you were doing wasn’t so bad.

“What's a fine young thing like yourself doing over here?”

When you turn around to catch a glimpse of the man shamelessly hitting on you, you feel your stomach turn. You had never seen someone so attractive before.

A head full of soft white hair, messy in an almost endearing way. You can’t catch a glimpse of his eyes due to the sunglasses that rest on his nose. On anyone else it would come off as douchey, it was dark out and you were inside a bar, but for him it seemed oddly fitting.

There’s a cocky grin on his face as he leans against the counter where you sit. He’s close enough that you can smell the soap he used to scrub himself with. An intoxicating scent, cedarwood and bergamot.

“Enjoying some alone time.” You reply, deciding on playing hard to get.

It would be nice to see him continue to try, even if you didn’t make it easy.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just had to tell you how gorgeous you were.”

He didn’t sound sorry, didn’t look it either.

“I know.” You take a small sip of you drink, staring up at him as you do so.

You would never be so forward in your day to day life. You much preferred to be humble. Humble was cute, humble was safe.

You were tired of being safe.

The strangers lips spread even further and you catch a glimpse of him running his tongue along his teeth. You can’t see, but you feel like he’s staring down at you, gaze assessing your features. You hope he likes what he sees.

“Sir, can I get another one of these for her?” He flags down the bartender and motions to your drink.

“I didn’t tell you I wanted another one.” You reply, stirring the drink you’re currently nursing.

The man beside you raises a brow, before sliding out a wad of cash. He hands it to the bartender without looking away from you, confidence leaking from his pores.

“You shouldn’t have to. A gentleman should be able to notice.”

You feel a heavy weight drop on top of you. He was right. True gentlemen should take note of the small things, right?

Your husband hardly ever did.

The crack inside your heart begins to deepen; you know there’s not going to be a way back from this. Do you mind that you won’t be able to recover?

No.

You don’t.

You grin at him and toss back the rest of your drink before taking the new one from him. It’s cold against your hand, a sickly sweet scent wafting up from the cup.

“Who’s your little friend?” A second voice enters.

You flick your eyes from the man beside you to see who’s talking. Long black locks and chestnut eyes.

“Suguru. This is…” The first man talks.

You state your name, nerves beginning to take hold in your chest. When it was just one of them it was fine, but two of them?

“I’m Satoru Gojo, and this is Suguru Geto.” The original man says. “Pleased to meet you.” He finishes, dipping his face down to look at you above his glasses.

Electric cerulean greets you, nearly taking your breath away.

He smirks and pushes his glasses back up before tossing a look over his shoulder towards his friend.

Suguru circles around you, and you can’t help but let your eyes follow his movements. It feels like he’s sizing you up, a dark gleam in his gaze as he settles in the spot beside you.

It feels a bit like the walls are caving in on you, except the metaphorical walls are in the form of two bulky men.

You wanted attention, that much was true, but you weren’t sure you were ready for this amount.

“What brings you to this dive bar?” The one called Suguru questions.

You take a sip of your drink as you ponder a response. What should you tell them? You were here with friends? The truth?

“Needed to get out of the house.” You decide on.

Well, it wasn’t completely wrong.

“So you decided to come to this shit hole?” Satoru says.

“You decided to come here too, didn’t you?” You reply back.

Satoru looks away, his bottom lip pouting out. It was a shit hole. The two men looked oddly out of place. Their clothes looked to be worth more than half your rent, and there was an effortless elegance flowing from them. You were sure that they belonged anywhere else.

“We were just passing through town, and this was the first place we found.” Suguru responds for Satoru.

You wonder how true that statement is.

Could it be that the both of them are also running away from something in their personal lives?

You could only hope.

Maybe it would make you feel less guilty.

Suguru’s nursing a whiskey now, lips shining in the low light from the tantalizing liquid. It’s a bit hypnotizing, watching the way his lips pucker as he takes measured sips.

You feel like nothing can break you from the trance you’re in, nothing that is, until something brushes your thighs. It’s Satoru’s fingers, skimming your skin under the guise of tugging your dress down.

“I like your dress,” Satoru murmurs, his knuckles causing goosebumps to erupt along your thighs.

You watch as he slowly drags his fingers back, letting your eyes trail up until you reach his face, only to see that he’s already staring at you.

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless.

Satoru hums and flicks his gaze back down to your legs. There’s lead in your stomach as you watch his pupils flicker. You can only guess what’s on his mind.

“Say, do you have any plans for the night?” Suguru questions, settling his arm around the back of your chair.

His thumb brushes against your shoulder, making your breath stagger. The ambiance is more than heavy, a thick understanding settling over the three of you.

“No, I don't.” You take one last sip of your drink before looking at the boys once more.

“Want to go have some fun, then?” Satoru asks, an evil glint in his eyes.

You begin to understand how Eve could not resist the temptation.

“Please,” you all but plead.

You reach a hand out and Satoru laces his fingers in yours, tugging you along until you’re forced to navigate through the crowds in the bar. There’s a heat behind you, and you register it as Suguru’s presence shortly following after you.

There’s something bubbling up in your stomach, anticipation you think, as you watch the back of Satoru’s head.

He’s so tall.

You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. Would it be soft? Would he like the way it feels?

Satoru pushes the bar door open, a gust of wind whipping your face. The sensation almost shocks you to your senses, but Satoru doesn’t allow it.

He slows down and stops beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re being tugged beside him, smooshed against his lean frame as he walks you to their car.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he comments, whispering into the crown of your head.

Your stomach flips. You think he may be right.

Suguru walks ahead and spins keys around his fingers before unlocking the car. You’re unable to recognize the brand, only able to see that it’s expensive.

Satoru opens the passenger door and you’re greeted with fine black leather. It dawns on you that someone’s going to have to sit in the back.

How was this going to work?

Were you supposed to sit in the back?

Wouldn’t that be weird?

When you come to, you see that Satoru’s already sitting in the front seat, his hand holding yours as he looks up at you with an expectant gaze.

“Come on.” He murmurs.

He pulls you closer, spreading his legs to make room for you. He wants you to sit on his lap?

You look around, noticing how empty the parking lot is. You were already making bad choices, so you figure you may as well go all in.

You inch in the car, settling on top of his lap. His thighs are warm beneath you, your exposed legs shifting back and forth. He shuts the door, settling his hands on your body while Suguru starts the car. You never once stop to think about how this may be considered dangerous, all you can think about is how you want more of it.

“Ready, princess?” Suguru’s voice is like velvet as it comes out.

As ready as you’ll ever be.

“Yes.” You fake confidence, shining a grin that feels entirely too exaggerated.

Suguru chuckles and reverses the car, the action fluid. Satoru’s still holding onto your thighs, the proximity to him causing your heart to race. You don’t know who to focus on. Even their hands have you in a trance. Suguru’s fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles making your mouth water, while Satoru holds your legs, his palms suspiciously moving further up.

You can feel the outline of something beneath you, and you think you know what it is, but you want to be sure.

You shimmy your ass a bit, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Satoru. There’s a dangerous grin on his face as he looks at you over his glasses.

“Careful there, baby.” He warns.

Your mouth immediately dries, desperation crawling up the back of your throat. The outline below you is much thicker than it was several minutes ago. He was hard.

The engine stops, and your stomach turns over. You’re stopped at a hotel. It’s on the nicer side of town, luckily the part of the city none of your friends ventured to. The building in front of you is at least twenty stories high, the air of wealth floating over to you.

Just what did these guys do for a living?

“Come on.” Satoru says, patting your thigh twice.

You snap out of it and hop out of the car, eyes drawing to the two men next to you. Suguru stuffs his keys in his pocket and slides beside you, snaking his arm up your back. His hand rests against the nape of your neck, softly holding you. The act feels borderline protective.

You peer up at him and he grants you a smile before leading you next to him, guiding you by your neck towards the hotel entrance. It’s even nicer on the inside than it is on the outside.

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, you know that it must be made of glass but at first glance it looks like diamonds. There’s little dots along the walls from the reflection of the fine material, hypnotizing you. A soft tune echoes in the background, Mozart you think, that lulls you into a sense of relaxation.

“Good afternoon.” The check in attendant nods at Suguru.

Does this scene look weird to him?

Suguru acts as though it’s completely normal, dipping his head down in response before facing forward again, heading towards the elevators. Maybe it was normal for Suguru.

Maybe they’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t special. You have to remind yourself that that’s the point. You weren’t any better. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re objectively worse. Tonight wouldn’t mean anything. Just a quick, nasty fuck.

Out of your periphery you see Satoru jab his finger into the elevator button. He seems a bit impatient. Excited, maybe.

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking up as the numbers on the screen decrease, indicating the elevator was inching closer and closer.

He’s a bit beautiful.

You knew that before. But his beauty looks different under the fine chandelier light of the hotel. The way he looked in the dingy bar, although still incredibly attractive, was a far cry from how he appears now. Almost ethereal, you’d say. The warm glow of the lights above make him look like a painting.

Suguru’s the same as Satoru. The lighting and surroundings of the hotel are making him appear even more stunning than before. When you peer up at him, he glances down and grins back at you. It feels like you’ve been caught red handed. You look away quickly, just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open.

Satoru hops in and waits for you and Suguru to enter before pressing ‘18’.

The music inside the elevator is much more quiet, yet you’re still grateful for it. You’re nervous, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. It was hard to believe that you were really doing this. The soft piano helps soothe your nerves, as you will your mind to stop racing.

Suguru’s hand slides off your neck and you find yourself almost missing the sensation. The warmth from his palm fades away, along with the sense of protection it provided.

You only have a moments reprieve before the other man jumps at you.

Satoru’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his tongue smoothing along your bottom lip. You groan in surprise before following along, letting your hands slide up his shirt.

He’s muscular.

Images flash in your brain of what he may look like shirtless. Your mind paints up a mouthwatering scene, full of hard lines and bulging muscles.

Your mouth opens to accept him, his tongue quickly entangling with yours. It’s hot and messy. Spit dribbles from the sides of your lips, and you can hardly catch your breath.

“Don’t be so greedy, Satoru.” Suguru chides.

Shit, you had almost forgotten he was there.

Embarrassment fills your veins instantly. It suddenly hits you that you were going to have sex with both of them. How was this going to work? The idea seems daunting.

Satoru grunts in retaliation and you almost think he doesn’t want to share. The man proves you wrong though, when he tugs you forward towards him. His body crashes against yours, and you have to hold his firm biceps to stabilize yourself. Suguru glides behind you, his hands quickly finding your hips.

You’re trapped.

Satoru parts from your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping once he removes himself. Your mind is crowded by lust as you look up at him with heavy lids.

You want more.

It’s a good thing there were two of them.

Suguru grips your chin from behind and turns your head sideways, pressing his mouth against yours. His lips aren’t as sweet as Satoru, but it makes your knees weak all the same.

Suguru is more methodical in his approach. He waits until you’re reaching a hand down, squeezing his arm against your waist. With a chuckle he parts his lips, sliding his tongue along your mouth, the movement painfully slow.

Satoru has moved his focus to your neck now. He’s kissing and biting down the column of your throat, the heat from his breathing making you shiver. You use your other hand to glide through his hair, urging him forward to continue his attack on your throat.

Only when he starts sucking do you realize the severity of his actions.

“N-no hickeys.” You tear yourself away from Suguru to say.

Satoru looks at you for a second before chuckling, dragging his tongue up your throat. “Sure thing, princess.”

Your shoulders sag in relief as you feel Satoru begin to go easy on you, only licking and kissing your tender flesh. You’re grateful you caught him in time.

Suguru kisses you once more and you moan, a sound that spurs the two men on. Satoru raises a hand to paw at your breasts through your dress, and Suguru’s grip has tightened.

The elevator dings just in time.

Your entanglement felt longer than a life time, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes. Suguru reluctantly tears himself away from you, watching as you catch your breath. Satoru is a bit more stubborn, only stopping once you say his name.

Luckily the hallway in front of you is empty. The three of you step out, and you let them guide you to their room.

“Here we are.” Satoru murmurs.

Suguru, apparently master of the keys, lifts up a card and unlocks the door. When it opens he pushes the door in, letting you and Satoru go first.

The room is huge.

There’s a living room with a decent sized kitchen, along with two doors that can only lead to what you assume to be bedrooms.

“Home sweet home,” Satoru lifts up a hand, waving it towards their hotel room. “Well, I guess hotel sweet hotel-“

“Satoru.” You all but plead, looking up at him desperately.

His eyes flick down to you and he grins before stepping closer.

“Sorry baby, you need something, huh?” He crashes his lips against yours again.

The kiss is even more urgent this time around. Satoru lifts his glasses up blindly, before walking backwards to lead you further inside.

You reach behind your back and pat around, trying to feel for your zipper. You need your clothes off now. When you don’t feel the flimsy tab, you turn around and look over your shoulder as if that will help any.

“Keep having your fun, princess.” Suguru murmurs, his fingers expertly finding the elusive zipper.

You whine and face forward again, kissing Satoru once more. Suguru carefully pulls it down, a cool rush of air grazing your back once it’s open.

He leans down and kisses your spine, slowly making his way up while you shove your tongue down Satoru’s throat.

The room’s spinning, you’re sure of it.

Suguru takes his lips off your back so he can slide the dress off your shoulders, his hands grazing your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps.

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you exposed in only your bra and underwear. It was an expensive set, one you had bought years ago yet hadn’t gotten much of a use out of.

Satoru pulls his lips away to glance down at your figure before looking back up at your face. Your lips are swollen, eyes fluttering in need.

“Shit…” he whispers to himself before kissing you again.

Suguru’s hands roam your body, letting you have your playtime as he explores your skin. His palms glide against your stomach and thighs, moving slowly.

You must be soaked already.

Satoru tears himself back again, hands reaching for his shirt. He undresses in a matter of seconds, leaving himself only in his underwear. His body is even more amazing than you had conjured up in your mind.

He was muscular without being overtly so, leaning more towards the body of a runner. His skin is pale, matching the tone of his hair.

You run your hands up his stomach to his chest, letting your fingers dance along the grooves of his muscles. His head hangs low as he watches you drag your nails against him.

Suguru stands next to you as he pulls his shirt off his head, the action catching your eye. You turn around and allow your gaze to float down to his chest. He looks just as perfect as Satoru.

You tug Suguru closer and kiss him, his slow pace allowing you a chance to recuperate.

“Want you to sit on my face.” Satoru says, his hands skirting along your body.

So much for recuperating.

“O-okay.”

Satoru leads you and Suguru into one of the bedrooms before making himself comfortable on the bed. His form takes up the whole length of the bed, head at the end as he looks up expectantly.

You look over your shoulder to see Suguru watching you. His lids are heavy as he stares at you, desire unmistakably falling over his features. He dips his head as if he was comforting you, or giving you permission. You slide your underwear off before tossing a leg over Satoru’s face, lowering yourself just above his mouth. You’re facing the end of the bed, Suguru standing in front of you.

“So fucking wet.” Satoru mumbles to himself before sticking his tongue out, tugging your hips down until he meets your pussy.

“F-fuck!” You moan, your hand latching onto his white locks.

“That feel good?” Suguru asks.

You bite your lip and look up at him, watching as his hand reaches down to unbuckle his pants. The sight makes you flustered. He maintains eye contact as he tugs them down, his cock still contained behind his underwear.

“Open.” He says in a hushed tone.

Your lips part, jaw dropping open at his order.

“Atta girl.”

Suguru eases his thumb into your mouth, watching as your lips wrap around him. You suck softly, bobbing your head as you lick the sides of his thumb.

He looks delighted as you perform for him. You try your best to focus on the task at hand, but Satoru is making it increasingly difficult. His tongue is sticking out, flicking against your swollen clit. He drags it down before teasing your entrance, poking in several times before retreating to suck on your nub.

You tug at his hair, grinding your body down against him. His hands have a tight grip on your ass, helping you hump against his mouth.

“There you go, ride my fucking face.” Satoru growls below you.

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure coursing through your body.

Suguru uses his other hand to pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. Everything feels too good. When you look back down, the sight makes you lightheaded. His cock is hard, tip leaky with anticipation as he watches you.

He pumps it several times before reaching down to grab your free hand. Suguru wraps it around his cock, giving you free reign to pump him.

His thumb never leaves your mouth. You’re sort of glad it doesn’t. If it did, you aren’t sure how loud you would be moaning.

Suguru looks at your face as you begin to jack him off. He’s far more interested in watching you suck his thumb.

Satoru sucks on your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your body. You can feel yourself drip into him.

“You gonna cum for us? On Satoru’s face?” Suguru coos.

You moan around his thumb and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck, you were going to cum on Satoru’s face. Soon, probably.

Your palm slides down Suguru’s cock as your fist fucks him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, his precum making the glide that much easier.

Satoru speeds his actions up, his lips wrapped tightly around your nub. Your body tightens up in response, and you begin to cum.

Satoru aides you through your orgasm, sucking the entire time as you twist above him. Your hand slows against Suguru’s cock as you pant around his thumb.

Satoru flicks his tongue against your clit slowly before removing his mouth from you, allowing you to slide off his face.

He sits up once you’re off, his chin completely covered in your essence. You’re almost embarrassed. Satoru looks unaffected, letting his tongue clean the cum on his lips.

“Let’s go baby.” Satoru says.

Suguru eases his thumb from your mouth, chuckling at the whimper you let out. You were really starting to get into it, too.

Satoru helps you get onto your hands and knees, facing forward towards Suguru. Suguru reaches down to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your body before tossing it to the side. Your nipples instantly harden from the cold air.

Satoru smoothes his hands down your back while admiring your trembling form beneath him. Aftershocks from your previous orgasm were still racking through your body. He tears his gaze away to look at the bedside table, grumbling before he finds what he’s looking for. You hear the sound of a condom being opened as you stare at Suguru’s cock.

Would you be able to fit that in your mouth?

“Alright,” Satoru mumbles, sliding the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance.

You part your lips, waiting for Suguru to slide himself in your mouth. Satoru’s cock pokes at your entrance, pushing past as he sinks into your pussy. You groan, your walls rushing to accommodate the stretch.

Satoru’s jaw is clenched as he looks down, watching your pussy greedily accept him, squeezing his cock until he’s finally all of the way in.

He pauses for a moment, and you slip Suguru’s cock into your mouth. His tip eases past your lips, precum dripping onto your taste buds as he pushes himself in further.

You gag a bit, nose flaring as you try to breathe around his cock. It’s more difficult than you anticipated, drool sliding down your chin as you go as far as you can.

Satoru begins to shallowly pump inside you, while Suguru starts to rock his hips.

It doesn’t take long before Satoru is fucking you properly, the slick of your cum making it easy to glide inside you. Suguru lets you control the pace, bobbing your head against his cock as you swallow around him.

Satoru pushes against your gspot with each thrust, the sensation making you moan around Suguru.

This felt so good, you were left wondering why you didn’t do it sooner.

Satoru groans behind you, feeling like his cock was being choked by your pussy. He reaches down and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You moan and your pussy tightens around Satoru in reaction.

“Thaaaat’s it.” Satoru sounds almost breathless. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you this good, does he?”

You stutter around Suguru, confusion sparking inside you.

Husband?

How did he know?

Satoru laughs loudly, continuing to fuck into you.

“What? You didn’t think we’d notice?” Suguru inserts himself into the discussion. “There’s a tan line around your ring finger, darling.”

Satoru thrusts into you even harder. “No hickeys? Come on.” His fingers speed up around your clit, making you moan against Suguru. “So I’ll repeat myself, your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?”

The humiliation was almost suffocating, yet it turned you on so badly you could hardly stand it.

Suguru pulls himself from your throat, watching as you loudly gasp for air.

You feel ruined. But you like it.

“N-no,” you moan out.

“No? That’s right.” Satoru mumbles under his breath.

With each thrust it feels like he’s knocking all common sense from you. Your fingers dig into the sheets below, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure but all it manages to do is crumple the bedding.

Suguru presses himself back into your throat, throwing his head back as you bob your head along him. You run your tongue down the sides of his cock, stroking him as you suck.

“Can tell you aren’t happy with him, you just needed to be fucked properly, is that right?” Satoru continues.

You moan around Suguru, unable to reply. Satoru understands the sentiment, pressing harder against your clit. You tighten up around him again, unable to control the way your cunt squeezes him. He keeps filling you up, his cock somehow pressing into all the right places. You’re getting close to cumming again, body begging for the sensation once more.

Satoru’s hands are gripping your hips hard, so hard that there’s a voice in the back of your brain telling you he may leave marks, but you’re in too deep already. Drool is seeping from your lips, hanging in strings down your chin as you swallow Suguru’s cock. You wonder who’s going to cum first.

Your orgasm inches closer, made possible by the strum of Satoru’s fingers against your needy clit. He’s groaning behind you, the sounds spurring you on.

“Come on, come on baby. Cum on my cock.” He urges with a groan.

Your pussy clenches around his cock hard and you release, cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Just like that, just like that.” He talks you through it, a whimper breaking his voice.

Suguru makes good use of your slack jaw, pounding so hard into your throat that you surmise it’s going to bruise. There’s no oxygen in your brain, no thoughts in your head, just pure bliss as you cum on Satoru.

“You’re gonna make me-“ Satoru lets out a long moan, hips jerking against you, his cock twitching as he fills the condom with his cum.

You’re trying to breathe heavily through your nose as you come down, allowing Suguru to use you as he sees fit. His face is concentrated as he stares down at you, admiring the mess you’ve become as he fucks your throat. He swears under his breath before coming to a stop, spurting hot cum in your mouth.

You struggle to swallow it all, briefly feeling like you were drowning in the fluid, before you gulp it down. It’s messy, some of his cum paints your lips as he slides his now softening cock out of your mouth.

The room is filled with the sounds of your mixed panting, bodies all entering a state of relaxation. Satoru eases himself from your pussy, inhaling sharply as he slips out. He removes the condom, tying it before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. You’re in complete bliss, fucked out from every orifice.

Suguru smoothes your hair down and finds a washcloth to wipe the filth from your lips, smiling to himself at your expression.

“You can stay the night, if you’d like.” Satoru says as he relaxes on the bed.

He glances at the clock and ascertains that it’s much later than you were intending. You mumble to yourself and nod, not fully comprehending what ramifications may be waiting at home for you.

Satoru opens the blankets for you, waiting as Suguru cleans between your legs. The actions are a bit sweet. Everything is. You were expecting them to kick you to the curb after you had sex, so you’re pleasantly surprised when they slide in bed next to you, laying on either side.

Satoru’s arms are wrapped tightly around your frame as you nod off, and you feel truly happy for the first time in years.

~~~

You aren’t sure what wakes you up in the morning. Your internal clock, maybe. Your body is sore as you groan, flipping onto your back. The hotel ceiling greets you as you crack your eyes open. A brief bit of panic courses through you.

So last night was real, huh?

You turn your head and notice the bed beside you is completely devoid of anyone else, both men seemingly having vanished. You aren’t sure if you feel more sad or relieved. Sad because you enjoyed their presence, but relieved because now you could pretend like nothing happened.

Is that what you wanted to do?

You were having a hard time believing that that would be easy, that you could go back to your old life and be content when you knew there was so much more out there.

You sit up and look towards the clock. You were in deep shit. There’s a note on the beside table that catches your attention. You lift it up, reading the words on the page. It fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction once you notice a phone number on it.

“Call us if you want to have a good time. -Satoru and Suguru.”

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

If you want to be tagged just let me know, please specify what you want to be tagged in

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fuck-you-upmusicbracket · 2 months ago

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Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken/Remember the pact of our youth/Where you go, I’m going, so jump and I’m jumping/Since there is no me without you

How, the most dangerous thing is to love/How, you will heal and you'll rise above/Crowned by an overture bold and beyond/Ah, it's more courageous to overcome.

You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It's all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste your self on this roof

Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down/Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

"I'm sure you'll get other submissions for this one. I have no idea who this band even are outside of this song but it fucks me up like it does everyone else. It's the tragic love of it all. The desperation of trying to save your loved one from themselves. Or are the narrators of the song Achilles' own conscience representing his indecision on whether to kill himself or not? It can mean so many things and SO many parts of the lyrics are very poetic and powerful. (also again for me this makes me cry over a Specific Blorbo in this case Dimitri Blaiddyd but that doesnt matter)"

"The cellos in the background, the lyrics, telling the story of Achilles, the fact that it's fucking 7min long, it's beautiful, it breaks me to then pull me back together, it gave me hope in a moment where I wasn't in the best mental space, it's like getting undressed to your very soul only to be cover up with a weighted blanket afterwards and be told "it'll be alright." It's like that image with the guy that's like "this is cinema" but with a song, god I love this song so much"

"Ohhhg my god. It’s so. It’s a fucking heartbreaking song but it gives hope (^^see abovw lyrics. there may not be meaning so find one and seize it gets me the most). I can’t say anymore about it but yeah"

"Achilles is about to jump off the roof, his lover is trying to convince him not to. the vibe of this song itself is so unique, the violin and the segments of French reading really grip at your soul. Towards the end there are two voices seemingly arguing. One voice is Achilles’s inner monologue and the other is his lover trying to yell over it. This part is my favorite, especially if you’re envisioning your blorbo. Tbh in my darkest times I would fall asleep to the ten hour loop every night. It felt like laying on a rooftop and looking out at the stars and the street lights. I think maybe it kept me from doing things I would regret."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

#fuck you up bracket #tournament #polls #gang of youths #tracy chapman

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newbiespud · 6 months ago

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I'm sure it's been said before but I'll say it myself because why not

The game In Stars and Time makes for a revealing contrast to the movie Groundhog Day in how they treat their final time loop and how that reflects on the main character. (Even though, if I remember right, the dev largely wasn't aware of Groundhog Day when they came up with ISAT.)

Spoilers for both after the break, I guess.

In Groundhog Day, Phil starts out narcissistic and self-centered, has the realization that he can live life without consequences, gets depressed after having tried and done everything that he's got everyone and everything memorized so that nothing can delight and surprise him anymore, and finally escapes when he performs a loop that proves that a better, happier world is within his grasp to make, not something owed to him, and that he is happy with the life he has today, not always pining for his ambitions for the future.

In... In Stars and Time, Siffrin starts out deflecting and aloof, has the realization that they can do this perfectly - 'this' being not only the impossible challenge of defeating the King but navigating their relationships with their party - gets depressed after hitting wall after wall and repeatedly fumbling into faux pas after faux pas with their party, and finally escapes when they perform a loop where their true feelings come out, no matter how ugly, and they're honest about their own desires and wishes rather than trying to keep up an ideal façade.

Plenty of people have pointed out that In Stars and Time subverts the 'escaping on the perfect loop' time-loop trope that Groundhog Day largely codifies. Not only does the 'perfect' loop completely fail, Siffrin escapes on arguably the 'worst' loop, the one where they rightfully worry that they've hurt and alienated their loves ones forever and cannot escape those consequences anymore.

But I don't think this contrast is as direct as it seems, even though one could say that Phil got away scot-free compared to Siffrin and that In Stars and Time is the superior story for portraying a harsher outcome. (I do think that exploration and advancement of tropes is just inevitable and even healthy over time, and Groundhog Day came out in 1993 so of course it and the tropes it spawned deserve modern critique, but I digress.) I actually think that it reflects how both stories and the mechanics of their time loops are built around their main characters. (There's also something to be said about how genre shapes narrative since GD is an existential comedy and ISAT is an action-adventure focusing on interpersonal drama, but that's another digression.)

ISAT makes an impact on the whole time loop genre with its clever subversion, but like all the best subversive stories, it's couched in strong characters that embody its themes.

And to take a broader perspective, the best time loop stories are allegories for the real-life situation of making the same mistakes over and over again caused by your own deep-seated personality flaws, and being forced to finally confront your inner demons and overcome them and become a better, healthier person. (Relatable, much?)

Phil is a man who's never happy with his lot in life, so he needs to learn to find the eternal richness and beauty of what he has within his grasp, and that a better, happier life is something he can make for himself. Thus, he escapes on the 'best' loop.

Siffrin is a person who refuses to share their true feelings and problems with others to the point of self-destruction (and complete reinvention in one aspect), so they need to learn that no matter how ugly and twisted they think they are, being open and honest doesn't mean their loved ones will care about them any less, even when Siffrin is seen at their lowest point possible. Thus, they escape on the 'worst' loop.

It's not just clever subversion, it's holistic circular story structure!

...Though maybe I'm just drawn to these stories because I, too, would like some extra time to Figure Some Shit Out and have that time come with some superpowers along the way, even if it nearly destroys me in the process.

#isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #literary analysis #groundhog day #writing #story structure #I'm dead certain I'm not the first one to make this write-up #but I gotta get this outta my head you know how it is

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omegalomania · 1 year ago

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the thing is that i can still remember the way it felt.

end of november, 2022, suddenly every feed lights up. they're doing something. people are posting images of the chicago tribune, a full page ad that has this bicolored logo, a face both happy and sad, black and white, and it simply says: FOB8.

"is this real?" quite a few people were skeptical after the years-long pause between mania and now. "i'm not convinced."

"it's a full-page ad in a single chicago newspaper out of nowhere, right after joe got finished doing a whole book tour where he insisted they had no new music to speak of," i answered. "of fucking course it's real. it has fall out boy all over it."

i remember so vividly the sense of wonder that arrived on christmas morning of that same year, when i woke up at the exact right moment to learn that fall out boy did something again. an eerie, playful, earnest, weird claymation video with a haunting soundtrack, featuring a little black and brown dog. it was mystifying and bizarre and striking - a sprinkling of stardust on the dog's muzzle that prompted it to sneeze - and the adrenaline rush i got from the snippet of heart-pounding drums and guitar was the best gift i'd received all year.

so much (for) stardust. i've said it before and i'll say it again - it's a damn near perfect title. it's a play on words, it has multiple meanings nested into one another. given enough time, we all fall apart like so much dust, like so much stardust because that's where we came from. we are made of and from stardust. for stardust. so much for stardust. so much for the cosmic clay that shaped us. so much for this life, so much for the very foundational fucking firmament from which we we all sprang, so much for this whole strange weird existence. it's exhaustion and anger and spite and frustration and, at the same time - it's wonder. it's love. it's a doberman frozen in an instant of elated play, snapping at bubbles. it's a dog breed conventionally associated with danger captured in a moment of buoyant delight. it's an oil painting, surrounded by words shaped from sparkling clay.

it's love.

it's a record full to bursting with love. it's in the very first song they sent to us, sending us their love from the other side of the apocalypse. it's a record that says yes, the world is a mess and it feels insurmountable. maybe existence is meaningless. maybe it's all fucking pointless and we're all gonna die anyway. but like hell that means i'm not going to love life with all that i am. like hell i am going to let that stifle me. if nothing matters, then love is what matters.

and they committed to it, too. if there's one thing we can take away from so much for (tour)dust, it's that fall out boy loves us the way we love them. they'd have to, right? they could have called it quits years ago. hell, they could've packed it up after the hiatus and just never come back. they'd have to really love doing this to want to keep at it, years later, and look at that. they have.

fall out boy, at the end of the day, is propelled by love. they have to really love what they do to keep doing it. they have to love each other, love the music, love the fans, to keep doing what they do. this is something they've repeatedly asserted over the course of this tour and record cycle: the sheer, shared joy, the positive feedback loop of creative energy that comes from sharing something you made with the world and seeing the world respond in turn.

the world is a wreck and it feels, at times, like nothing you do matters or changes anything. so much (for) stardust is the antithesis to that kind of existential apathy. look, it says. look at what your love has changed. because as desolate and nightmarish and inescapable as the pitfalls of this strange, oftentimes terrifying existence can be - we have laughter, we have good friends, we have good music, and we have the ability to not let our own ennui defeat us. there are things in this world worth living for. there are things in this world worth loving. you have to love one another. you have to laugh and do whatever silly, inane thing makes you feel alive. you have to hug your friends and sing with them, cry with them, and savor every drop of this life that we get. prioritize love. be seriously unserious.

a week before this record came out, i spent some 6-7 hours in a car driving to a record store to hear it with a bunch of people, many of them strangers. i heard so much (for) stardust in its entirety in a record store with one of my favorite people, surrounded by awed chatter as we all drank it in. we didn't catch all the words, but the ones we heard sank into us and took root. i almost couldn't bear to wait for to hear the record properly.

a year later, it's sunk into the recesses of my soul. i'm not sure it'll ever come unstuck there. i don't think i want it to.

thanks for the stardust, fall out boy.

we love you back.

#fall out boy #*making poasts #ok emotional wordvomit that just HAPPENED right after i got groceries #didnt plan this but im letting it happen. this is all freeform hope its not riddled w errors lol

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vulpixisananimal · 1 month ago

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[A:4 C:68]

(Ramos)

“Wh, what is. . ." "Ramos!?!"

(You were. . . You’re in the greenhouse.)

"Look out, everyone!"

(This. . . Moment. You remember, remember. . .)

"Loop please!!! We can handle it, please! Just go rest!"

(You can’t move. Vines of mint entangled your legs, arms, body. You could hear, you could hear them, your, friends-)

"I'm fine! I, I can't leave you guys to, to do this alone."

(You, you just wanted to be strong. You just wanted to be strong. You, just. . . There’s water filling the green house.)

(Black, inky water.)

"We might not have that luxury. If we . . . figure . . . . . op them . . . then. . ."

(Fading, you can hear them, fading. FADING!! No, no no no!!! You can barely hear them now, the water, the ink, the void it, it’s flooding in, up to your ankles, no, your KNEES now!!! You struggle against the mint. No, no no NO!!!)

". . .ine! B. . . . . .er fo. . . . .ste. . . ."

(You can barely hear them!!! Please, PLEASE NO NOT THIS!!!!)

{WHAT DIFFERENCE WILL IT MAKE.}

(What, w-who was--)

(A tendril of that void rose from the ink and grabbed you by the shoulder, pulling you down to a knee. Water rising, mint not, letting, go! You, you-)

{WHAT DIFFERENCE WILL IT MAKE. YOU. ARE. NOTHING. TO. THEM.}

(N-nonono!! NO!!!)

{YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE. ISABEAU THINKS YOU ARE WORTHLESS. ISABEAU IS JUDGING YOU. YOU ARE HOLDING. HIM. DOWN.}

(Another tendril bursts from the water and drags your head closer to the water, it’s, inches away. You’re panicking, breathing faster. No no no no no stop talking, STOP TALKING!!! You, y-you need to, go, help--)

{YOU DIDN’T HELP, LIKE ALL THE OTHERS. YOU LET ISABEAU GO OFF ALONE AND NOW HE’S LEFT YOU ALONE, AGAIN. AND NOW YOU’VE RUINED. THEIR. LIVES.}

(You see a ripple in the water, and take a breath just in time for the void to surge upward, engulfing you in the chilling waters.)

{YOU’RE NOTHING. NOTHING. WILL ALWAYS BE. A. NOTHING.}

(You couldn’t see or hear anything through the water, it was cold, it was icy cold and thick as blood! It grasped at you, clung to you, squeezed you, begging you to give in! You, y-you don’t want to give in!!! You, y-you-)

{WHY DENY IT? LET GO. LET YOUR BODY SINK. ACCEPT IT. NOTHING, AND, NOBODY.}

(You, y-you can’t see a face but, the void it’s, it’s looking at you. You KNOW it’s looking at you! You feel it all around you, cold, gripping, clawing at you you, you, don’t. Want. To--)

{LET GO.}

(N-no--)

{LET. GO.}

(N-no! I won’t!!)

{LET!!! GO!!!}

(JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!!!!!)

(SO WHAT!!! WHAT IF I’M NOTHING!!! WHAT IF I'LL ALWAYS BE NOTHING AND NOBODY!!! SO WHAT IF I STAY AS USELESS LITTLE RAMOS WHO COULDN’T DO A SINGLE THING RIGHT!!! WELL I DON'T CARE!!! I DON'T CRABBING CARE!!!!)

(You open your mouth and let the air out of your lungs.)

(I’LL DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO!! MY STUPID! CRABBING! BEST!!! AND IF THAT’S NOT ENOUGH?!? THEN I’LL DIE!!! I’LL DIE HAPPY KNOWING I AT LEAST TRIED TO DO SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE!!!)

(The greenhouse is fading away. The memory is getting darker.)

(SO GO ON!!! DROWN ME!!! DROWN ME ALREADY, JUST DRON ME!!! KILL ME!!! YOU CAN’T KILL ME IN ANY WAY THAT MATTERS SO JUST DROWN ME!!! DO IT!!! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!!!)

{. . . . . .}

(The mint vines snap.)

(. . . . . . This was. . . Where the, the memory ended.)

(After this you turned back into a human, Loop fainted, and. . . You were. . . Welcomed in. . . ?)

(You’re floating in that void. . . Who, who, are you again? You’re. . . You know you’re, someone, and you, were. . . You were. . .)

(You feel something, grabbing, at you. You feel someone calling to you. . . It sounds. . . nice?)

(Something grabs your arm.)

(Ramos) [Alex] {?????} |Jasmine| <Altiare>

(In a moment you’re pulled from the well in the center of the garden. The liquid stained black like ink. You’re coughing up water and, a-and feel, exhausted, terrible, surprisingly refreshed-)

|R-RAMOS?!?!|

[STARS ABOVE!!]

(Wha, what? Who, what- You look up, the garden was here again? But, like some storm had come through, and things were still being put back together. Those three, the, imaginary friends? They-)

|WE’RE NOT IMAGINARY!!!! YOU!!!! BATFACE!!!!!!|

(Know what-)

[We’re a system, idiot.]

(. . . What? But, no I’m-)

|WE ARE!!!!!|

[Yeah we went through a whole two day long crisis over it. Welcome to the party.]

(But?!!? I’ve never had memory problems?!?! You shake your head and get into a sitting position. A-and, I don’t remember anything, super traumatic about our childhood so. . .)

<. . . . . You put a hand to your head. Buddy. . .>

(. . . You look away. Uh-)

(C-crab, rea-)

(OKAY I GET IT!!! You sigh. So, we were a system the whole time?!?)

[Yeah.]

(But, I mean, well. . . I haven’t heard from you guys in a while so, what. . . O-oh, oh.)

[Yeah.]

(O-oh Change, oh Change oh my fu- I, did, what’d he-)

[Buried us alive in the garden.]

(. . .)

[“I just wanna get stronger, clear up my head, be able to focus better” and I guess Perci mc’fuckpants heard that and said “alright, better burry these guys in THE BLINDING GROUND!!!”]

|It was, i-it was really scary.|

(. . . O-oh I. . . I’m, I’m so sorry. Change I’m, I’m so, so, so so sorry.)

[Yeah. You cross your arms. You better be.]

(. . .)

[. . . You better be sorry for leaving your PARTNER all worried for you.]

(WH- W-WAIT HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN!?!?)

|Uhm, three weeks? A month?|

(CRAB!!! I gotta go apologize and, a-and-)

[Yeah there’s that, too.]

(They’re all looking at you still. Uh, Huh?)

(You look down, and sure enough, there's a giant gash that tore through your shirt and left a scar on your skin. . . . Oh. O-oh. . .)

|YEAH!!!! I TOLD YOU IT WAS REAL!!!!|

[And I shoulda believed you little buddy, it sure was.]

(What’re you- okay. You turn aroundCRABBINGStARSWHATIS--)

{. . .}

|THE BUGGY!!!|

<Yeah, it sure is. You eye at the. . . The weird as hell bug mask thing with a cloak. Jazz’s been saying there’s been a bug wandering around here, first time me and Al’ get to see it it’s dragging your sorry ass out of the well.>

(T-that. . . That’s, y-you, you’re--)

{You crouch down, getting more on level with Ramos. Are. You. Hurt?}

<!!!>

|WOAH!!!|

[So it does speak.]

(W-wha- I-I mean, I’m, I’m okay, I think, ah, w-what. . .)

{You’re. A. Good. Swimmer. You stand up, and climb into the well.}

(HUH?!??!?!)

|WAAAA!!!! You run over to the well and peek in. BUT!! BUGGYYYY!!! WHO’RE YOU!!!!!|

{He-llo. You peek at Jasmine.}

|Hi!!! :D!!!|

{Name, is. . . Nihil.}

|Nihil!!! Good to meet you again!!! I wanna see you again and talk and do cool stuff again, kay?|

{O-kay. :)}

[. . . . What? What? That, that’s really the bug Jasmine’s been playing with?]

(. . . You feel like you’re going to pass out.)

[Oooh no ya don’t. I’m forcing you to be in charge today.]

(WHUH?!!??! You stand up, b-but, I just, got back?!?)

[And you have five months of experience and was the one fronting or existing the most or whatever. Congrats, get your ass in the greenhouse.]

(I-)

<We’ll catch you up, help ease you in. Got it?>

(. . . O-okay. Okay. Got it.)

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| +Rosmarinus+ =Socks= [Loop] [(Saffron)]

(You hopped up the stairs two at a time, heading to your shared room to grab your journal. There wasn’t any rush, you just wanted to be fast.)

(Right, that too. You hoped they were okay.)

<They’re fine, Siffrin.>

(R-right. . . You get to your door, quickly knocking twice before walking in. Oh! Groundskeepers were already getting dressed! Hair down today, with their vest and loose pants, and they were just putting on the bandana. They turn to you, mouth open about to say something, then pause. Wait-)

“. . R-ramos?!?!” (You ask, hopefully.)

(They sink into their shoulders shyly, but smile.) “H-heySif--”

(That’s all you needed to run and tackle-hug the defender-in-training. You squeezed them close, hold them close. They’re not gone. They’re here. They’re okay. They’re okay and alive and here and talking and okay. They’re okay. They’re, okay. You feel their arms around you. . .)

“. . . . . Miss me?” (They finally ask.)

“Very.” (You mumble into their shirt.) “. . . I’m sorry, Ramos, I-”

“Oh shut it.” (You feel them bonk you on the head.) “I was poking in business I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry-”

“YOU’RE SORRY?!??” (You look back up at them with a Look on your Face.) “YOU GOT STABBED AND YOU’RE SORRY!?!??!”

“I-I MEAN, I, DIDN’T REALLY-”

“YOU DISAPPEARED FOR A COUPLE WEEKS!!!!”

(They sink into their shoulders again.) “. . . O-okay, sorry, Sif- NO! N-not sorry!!! I-I mean I’m-- y-you get it!!”

(You giggle at that, and give them one more squeeze.)

{Cloak.}

(RIGHT!!!) “Oh yeah!!! We found something you might want.” (You step back and excitedly walk to the closet, and start digging around in it.)

“Huh? What is it?” (Ramos walks over, curious.)

(Then stops.)

(You found what you’re looking for, you hold it up. A white cloak, with segmented, petal-like ends.)

“. . . . . We, Alex and I, were looking through some of the things Eri left you and found. . . This.”

“That’s. . .” (You could see gears turning in their head.)

“Isa cleaned it and finished some of the stitching they never got to. He used the same ones that are on my cloak.” (You hold it out to them) “Eri made it for you.”

(Ramos was stunned. You could see the tears welling up. They eventually reached out, shakily, and took the cloak. They tossed it around them and put it on. You helped with the pins. After a moment, you step back, both to see them better, and let them look in the mirror.)

“. . . V-void. . .”

“We match!!!” (You flap your hands excitedly.)

“. . . Y-yeah!” (They turn to you, crying.) “We match!”

(They take your hands in theirs and jump in place a little. The both of you end up doing a silly little dance on the spot, giggling and crying just a little.)

“W-woah!! Rams?” (You turn, Isabeau’s in the doorway! His new glasses and cool jacket in place. You beam at him.)

“Hi Isa!!!” (Ramos replies, excited, but still teary. They go over and hug him.) “T-thanks for, for, for just being the best.”

“Aww Rams.” (Pat pat. You pat them too.) “Right back atchya, buddy- oh yeah!!! BONNIE COME UP HERE!!!”

(Isabeaus yell downstairs was met with an equally loud one.) “NUH UH!!!”

(Your turn.) “BONNIE HAS A CRAB FAAAACE!!!!”

“WHAT!!!!!” (NOW you hear the quick and loud footsteps of an angry preteen. You and Ramos step back.)

(Bonnie bursts into the room still wearing their own new attire. Ramos’ little gasp was all you needed to hear. Bonnie had their own little white cloak on, with extra fabric and pockets in the front so it can act like an apron. Upon seeing you and Ramos, who now had their own cloak, Bonnies eyes lit up.)

“. . . CLOAK BUDDIES!!!!”

“CLOAK BUDDIES!!!!!”

(The three of you do that same silly little dance as before.)

“WE GOTTA SHOW EVERYONE!!!” (Bonnie starts dragging you to the door.)

“Do you have one, Isa?” (Ramos asks.)

(Isabeau shakes his head.) “Nope, not yet at least. I wouldn’t wanna make one for myself, right?”

“Right.” (You nod.) “It’s given by a family member s-so, uh, I'm gonna be learning how to sew after this is all done!”

“Awww!!! That’s sweet of you, Sif.” (Ramos beams.)

“COME OOOOONNNN!!!”

“Okay! Okay! We’re coming, Bonbon.”

(The three of you hurry downstairs, Bonnie smugly leading the charge into the living room, with you holding Isa and Ramos hands! THAT earned a cheer from everyone!)

<Eugh.>

{. . .}

(What!!!)

{. . . . You smile, happily.}

“Looking good, you three!” (Mira claps.)

(Odile smiles.) “Glad you’re back, Ramos.”

“Oh crab Ramos’ back?!?” (You see Nille pop her head through from the kitchen, then a grin spreads on her face.) “THERE’S the idiot!!! Do you know how crabbing worried we were about you?!?”

“S-sorry, Nille-”

“You’re off the hook this time, buster.” (She smirks, before going back to what she was doing.)

(Stars this is nice. You sit down on the couch, Isa and Ramos taking the initiative to flank you on each side. Trapped!!! No!!!!)

<You’re a terrible tactician, Siffrin.>

(Ramos kisses your cheek, causing you to retreat into the cloak, which causes Isa to kiss your head! Stars help!! Help!!!)

{No. This is nice.}

(!?!??!?!?!?!)

<?????????>

{. . . . :) }

(STARSokay. You eventually collapse on Isabeaus lap. A moment later, Isa was playing with your hair, and Ramos started massaging your probably very overworked leg muscles. You lean into the touch, sighing wistfully. . . Stars above. . .)

(You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life.)

“Be careful you two, you might drag out Socks again.” (Odile chuckled.)

“Hehe, activating their kitty cat mode.” =Mira giggled along.=

=Too late :3=

(STARS--)

=You nuzzle close to Isa, mumbling softly into his lap and letting yourself melt a little. You close your eye, bliss. . .=

“He is so cute. . .” =You hear Ramos whisper.= “How can someone be this cute?!?”

“They’re just adorable!!” =Isabeau whispers back.=

“. . . You know we were supposed to have a meeting about dealing with the Monets.” =Odile starts.= “But. . . I think that can wait until later.”

“Yaaay. . .” =You say softly. Oh right. You’re not getting front back. I want cuddles.=

(. . . It’s okay, so do I.)

=You’re happy to stay then!=

(Yay!!!)

#THERE WILL BE JOY #THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL #isat #in stars and time #art #isat au #siffrin system au #sifstem #isat art #isat fanart #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat ramos #isat isabeau #isat bonnie #isat fanfic #isat oc #isat ocs

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onyxsboxes · 5 days ago

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Ninth and last card I got from @mota-collab's birthday even. I had such a great time filling them in throughout the event.

Bookshop/library -> He May Be The Reason by @c-goldthorn. Gaaah, I love this fic. I must confess I've never seen Notting Hill but it doesn't matter because you're hooked from the start with this beautiful writing.

Standing up for someone -> Three Times A Lieutenant Got His Ass Kicked (And One Time He Didn’t) by @crubblessnowglobe is such a badass Crosby's fic as we like him 🥰

Touch-starved -> When the bones are good by @aramblingjay A beautiful post-war fic where Buck and Bucky help each other through love and care, love it soooo much

Share your favourite quote from a fic -> This chat between Marge and the Buckies @sweaterkittensahoy not really fic but this one always cracks me up 🤭

Stealing clothes -> 100th founds out self rec with this one and especially chapter 5 with Wolf!Gale hugging his emotional support sheepskin (it's Bucky's one 😉).

Soulmate au -> Nothing But Blue Skies Do I See by featherwords I'm still reading this one, but it's so damn good. Poor Bucky is going through a hard loop (🤭) in this one.

Re-read a favourite and comment again -> Sous Le Ciel de Paris by @rambleonwaywardson I love this fiction so much, it gives me such a warm and comforting feeling. I remember reading it just before the Olympics and it felt so real (a bit like we were going to see Bucky and Buck during the Games 🤭). Rereading it makes me love it even more 💕

Tattoos and flowers -> the heart is a muscle by @swifty-fox Beautiful au, full of feeling, with details that make you feel like you're there with the characters and beautifully written. You get so many feelings, it's a real experience to read this fic (or any other Swifty fic) 💜

Breakfast in bed -> Bubbles taking care of Croz after his top surgery by @trashbag-baby666. They are so sweet, love how Bubbles takes care of Harry and Harry's happiness

Comment on a fic with more than 5k words -> gossamer by @mercyedes ("crosby suffers from crush on hot blonde guy syndrome <3"). Croz's POV is a delight to read, his thoughts are spot on and just feel so real (love this ship)

Reblog/comment on a gifset -> Meatball and Buck dancing by @cloudyfacewithjam The beautiful gifset that introduced me to mota 🥳🥰, thank you for this 🫶

Theater/actor au -> Such stuff as dreams are made on by @amiserableseriesofevents It's such a beautiful fic, it takes you straight on stage with the characters, you follow them and it's like you're right there next to them. Once the story begins, you're sucked in and it's an incredible experience, and the details added make the reading even more enjoyable 🤩

Send an ask to a creator you love highlighting your favourite works of theirs -> Ask about What else should I be? (all apologies) by @heretoobsessstuff Sam's writing is so beautiful, it conveys so much emotion and makes you feel like you're in the characters' shoes. And this fic is so freaking good, it lives rent-free in my head. Gale's guilt and pain are so well written and perfectly balanced by Bucky's comfort and care 🤗

Read and comment on a fic in your "to read" list -> Packages and Pet Names by @recmeidareya A lovely story full of fluff, sweetness and beautiful moments between the Buckies. I love this author, sweet, cute, fluff, hurt/comfort or angst they have a beautiful writing style that works for all 💕

Sharing food/drinks -> since we've no place to go by @rangerelizabeth Sweet, comforting fic with soft meals shared between the Buckies 🥰

Comment on a fic an artwork posted a year ago -> This Betting on Us AMV by @bucking-mustangs-with-wings It's not fic but a beautiful amv that captivates you, the song and clip used paint such a gorgeous picture of their relationship, I could (I have) watched this for hours 😍

#so hard to choose only one #rec #mota collab #mota 1st birthday bingo #mota #clegan #brenny #ame reads #cleganmarge #crubbles #nine cards done 🥳🎉

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escape-music1432 · 10 days ago

Text

Prologue l

(MCU!Adam Warlock x Ex-Avenger!Reader)

Description: I live for angst, and this is going to be just a short few parts where reader rejects Adam's advances but slowly finds themselves being hit with the realization that they do indeed harbor feelings; although, not as strongly, but they were beginning to grow.

Warnings: mentions of canonical deaths, swearing, reader fell for Steve Rogers,(more will be added accordingly)

Word count: 1,456

If you're reading this then, yes, the description is clickbait cuz it doesn't happen till way later in this short ahh story I'm writing.

None of this is proofread.

Follows the mcu timeline so keep up!

However I’d like to inform you that this is very much simplified and is based around vol.3 of Guardians of The Galaxy as well as Endgame, a small brief moment of Love and Thunder and the Holiday Special.

Enjoy and pls don't come for me, I'm just having fun and simping for this golden mf :)

Your life growing up on Earth was normal, it was simple and easy. You defiantly had it a lot easier than most kids your age, your parents weren't wealthy by any means, but they worked enough to keep you through school, annual trips and any interest or hobbies you had. Life was definitely complicated; it has a way of going so smoothly then immediately taking a quick turnaround.

You noticed many changes and small things you never noticed before, as you got older you started to realize some things didn't add up. You were one of the only kids who never had a story of hospital trips or broken bones. That is until you realized, in your early youth, that you weren't like many of your other peers. You had a condition, or so you thought.

You had an inhuman amount of strength which didn't fully begin to develop until your early teen years. The early signs in your youth were a healing factor you didn't even realize you had. Your mother called it a "blessing," a display of a Devine power watching over her only child, and your father couldn't agree more but that didn't stop them from worrying for your safety; not wanting you to make outrageous decisions. You had been through more than a handful of dangerous things, not limited to pretty hard falls, sporting accidents and worst of all. a car accident.

Your mother thought it was a blessing, but it was far from it, it was a horrible curse that tore you away from your family. That was a day you'd never forget, it was the day you lost both your parents. It was supposed to be a simple run to the grocery store, but you wanted to get ice cream with the money you earned at your first job. What growing young adult wouldn't want to spend their first paycheck on something they love?

What a sick way for life to show you just how horrible it can be.

"I want to do something nice for my favorite parents."

"We're your only parents, goofy."

"The best."

It was so wholesome, so relaxed. Nothing in that moment mattered. Then, just as your father slowed down at the stop light a car driving way over the speed limit rammed into the back of your car. It wouldn't have been as bad if it stopped at that but as traffic was picking up a semi slammed into the right side, everything spiraled from there. more than five to six cars were crumbled, tossed and turned. It wasn't just your parents you lost; many others were critically injured with only four deaths.

You woke up in the hospital weeks after, your body resting to heal all the wounds that the accident caused, it didn't take long for the world around you to haze together in a never-ending loop. You spent years fading in and out of consciousness, hurting more people than you'd like to just to get some sort of feeling within your chest.

It was mid-April when they found you, 'they' being SHEILD. They had been watching you for a long time, according to Nick Fury, an odd fatherly figure you had become close too.

They trained you, made you a strong independent young adult. They helped you control your strength, to hide your weaknesses and to be just what they needed for years to come. One question always plagued your mind and that was how you came to be. It was a mystery even to the knowledge of anyone in SHEILD, but you were still accepted, loved, happy even especially when you found out they had their own group called the Avengers.

In those years you made friends, or at least that's what you considered them. It was like a small group of friends that you worked with, but it was all you ever knew, and what you needed. You had met someone too, someone who rivaled your raw strength and endurance, his name was Steve Rogers. He was a superhuman from the past, a past you only head from in history books without any mentions of Hydra.

You fought alongside them before the Snap.

You became close to Rocket and Nebula during the aftermath of Thanos' cleanse. Their whole friend group was gone and with no one else to turn to, you welcomed them in without hesitation, letting them bunk in your small space. Yes, the remaining Avenger's welcomed them too but not as closely as you had, not as emotionally intimate.

You were nothing short of sweet with an even shorter fuse, a surprising mix the two didn't expected from an innocent, young looking Terran. You and Nebula had various heated arguments, although none of it was taken to heart due to missing the ones you've lost, which none of you could blame the other for. As much as Nebula was easy to annoy, she was just as hardheaded, completely stubborn to any of your helping words or actions. Rocket was just about the same dare you say a little less.

It took you years to break Nebula down enough to even have her talk about her sister; Rocket folded after a few to many drinks after only a year, speaking little of his younger years, mostly his inability to form a decent connection he didn't ruin.

They both came to you to deal with their sadness, and guilt. Each time one of them came to you, you'd dropped everything to welcome them in with open arms and sweet words to help them through each panic attacks, wants of self-harm and fears.

You weren't just Rocket and Nebulas rock; you were everyone's remaining will to keep pushing forward during those dark days. You lost so little compared to them... so little. It's funny, your lack of loss felt like nothing compared to the hardships they faced. You lost most of your friends from joining SHIELD then the Avenger's and your parents were lucky enough to not see what the world had come too. Everyone in the Avengers were close to you but none of them were as close to you as the only person you had left. Steve had been your stone during the whole five years of collapse on Earth. It may not have felt like much, but he was the closest thing you had to family left until you met Rocket and Nebula, then life felt just a little fuller.

You and Steve had an understanding, a mutual agreement to keep yourselves afloat. You knew he still missed Peggy, even after all these years. That didn't stop you from catching feelings, feeling you knew were wrong and forbidden, but those five years opened up your eyes to what kind of person he really was. Just like everyone else he would come to you when it started to really gnaw at him, and those nights spent talking, crying about anything and everything were just that... everything to you in the most bittersweet way possible.

After everything happened, defeating Thanos for good, losing a close friend not only to you but to Steve, gaining back the ones that were snapped away, Rocket had come to you after everything had been set back to semi-normal lively hood. He offered you the possibility of joining his crew and becoming a Guardian, but you refused at first, saying you had things to make sure were in order, but it was mostly to stay beside Steve but like everything good, it didn't last long.

When Steve left to travel back in time to return the stones, you already knew the outcome and every ounce of your being ached with betrayal, not at him but at yourself. You still harbored small feelings even after his dull blue eyes looked up at you, his soft hug embracing you so gently you thought you'd melt. He may have been much much older but that didn't stop you from bursting into tears at losing not only a friend but a love interest.

"You have a life to live too, don't let anyone stop you from living it."

You knew he finally got his wish, his happy ending living life with Peggy you knew the hold on your feelings for him were fantasy and delusion. It hurt more than you would like to admit but you were happy, happy he got everything he dreamed of having and more.

After that you found no real reason to stay on Earth and with everything that had led up to that, you said good-bye to your life on Earth and started a new chapter as not only an ex-Avenger but now a Guardian of The Galaxy.

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ilikekidsshows · 2 months ago

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Hey, what are the chances that Ladybug actually evolves into a supervillain (ala Light Yagami per chance), but the narrative might spin this as a REALLY GOOD THING™?

---

The show already kinda does that. I mean, Miraculous isn't the kind of show where you just kill people, but it's the kind of show where you bully people just for having a crush on the boy you like, install a spy mirror into a public girls' bathroom and isolate your school bully to live with her abuser. And Marinette is framed as being right for all of this because her victims “deserve” it.

Even when Marinette does something the show acknowledges as indefensible, like gaslighting her boyfriend and [insert Sublimation spoiler], the show goes out of its way to give her every excuse imaginable to try to make her the real victim in the situation. Even when Marinette does something wrong, the writers try to spin it in a way where they play down exactly what she did wrong and how hurt the other party is while also playing up just how hurt Marinette is over her own actions.

This makes it so that, while on paper the show might admit that Marinette is in the wrong for something, the show will never actually treat her as being in the wrong. Being rewarded for her misdeeds is not the same thing as the show making it clear Marinette is in the wrong. At best it's giving contradictory claims, at worst it's giving far more attention to all the ways Marinette was in the right over in the wrong to make it seem like she didn't actually do anything bad. I'm talking about the "she had good intentions" defense and how it ties perfectly with the "but she feels so bad about it" one. Why should Marinette's feelings over what she did wrong matter over those she hurt? Because Marinette will be vindicated, she will be treated as being in the right, even when the writers know she isn't.

Like, the narrative loop of Miraculous functions like this in practise:

Marinette does something wrong -> Marinette is upsette -> Marinette gets comforted / Marinette gets rewarded -> Marinette never has to make up for what she did wrong -> Marinette changes nothing about her behavior -> "Marinette did nothing wrong actually"

I'm just saying, if Miraculous was the kind of show where murder happened, Marinette would get vindicated. I can just see the alternative version of 'Volpina' now where Marinette is on her way to murder Lila to keep her away from Adrien, and, either during this errand or right after, she discovers Lila only ever eats orphan meat so Marinette killing her is celebrated by the fandom as a sign of how heroic she is, despite her actual motive still being jealousy.

The fandom and canon already use retroactive justification for her bullying someone, they would do the same for murder. All the times Marienette already acts like a villain protagonist, the show either makes it out like the victim being a bad person makes it justified, or makes it out like Marinette feeling bad for it means she should be instantly forgiven with no repercussions which, as I illustrated, creates a very strong mental impression that she didn't actually do anything wrong.

For a show with a focus on emotions and a protagonist who constantly hurts others to create drama, there is very little focus on how to mend bridges when your actions hurt others. It does show you exactly how to manipulate others into instantly forgiving you without you needing to make up for your actions, though.

#ml salt #ml critical #dats chats

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revelboo · 2 months ago

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Girl, you're making me wanna write fanfictions of your fanfics!!!! I'm at least gonna make some fan art! Can we share them anonymously with you??

Sure, go for it! Just let me know if you don’t want them posted! I like sharing y’all’s stuff

Where I Belong Pt 11

Bluestreak x Reader

• Marveling at the feel of your little hand in his as you idly line your palm up with his and even mass displaced, you’re so small. “What was your home like?” You ask and it’s an innocent question, but it seizes him by the throat. Knows you’re just trying to get to know him. That you don’t know better. Have no idea how much that question hurts him, cutting deep to the spark. “Bluestreak?” Tries so hard to not remember. Can’t forget, can’t let it go.

• Looking up at him when he doesn’t answer, his expression is oddly empty, optics staring at nothing. “I remember the air raid sirens,” he says slowly, voice oddly flat and distant. Like he’s recalling something he’d heard of, not something he’d lived through. Survived. Heart in your throat, you want to tell him it’s okay. He doesn’t need to tell you if it hurts. “The heat and force of the blasts. The smell of molten metal. There wasn’t enough warning to get out, it happened too suddenly.” And you shift in his lap, cupping his face in his palms.

• Optics focusing on your worried expression, feeling those soft hands on him, he forces a smile for you. “Sorry. Got a bit lost there. Bad memories,” he says awkwardly, leaning to bump his helm gently against you. Wants to wrap himself around you, hide his face against your neck. Can feel his servos shaking, because no matter how much time passes, it doesn’t get easier or better. That horror, losing everything and everyone, still hurts. It’s still as raw as the day it happened. So is the consuming hate. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Sorry.”

• And he’s back to smiling as if everything is fine, as if he’s not really messed up. He’s grown, but sometimes you look at him and only see a scared kid acting brave. “Don’t you dare apologize.” Like this is his fault. Like he’s a burden. Looping your arms around his neck, you hug him and he vents shakily, stiffening against you. And then his arms curl around you, holding you almost too tight as he shakes. Buries his face against you, the sharp point of the chevron on his helm scratching your cheek but you don’t say a word. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay for me.”

• Needs this so badly. Those words. Because he’s not okay. Hasn’t been for a very long time. Hands tightening on you, he curls himself around you. Aware that he’s brokenly babbling, unable to stop. Telling you of that day, about how the Decepticons had razed his city to the ground. Of being trapped in a collapsed building with the dead, starving and terrified. And so young. When he’d finally been dug out, learning he was the last and only survivor. Holds onto you and grieves, voice breaking. Spark breaking as he finally tells someone, letting it all out.

#transformers x reader #bluestreak x reader #idw bluestreak

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atimeofyourlife · 1 year ago

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Wake up every morning to this groundhog day

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: time travel au | rated: t | wc: 552 | tags: time loop au, pre steddie Steve gets stuck in a time loop, but is he the only one? Title from Rio by Mika

The first day, Steve thought it had been a weird dream when he woke up to everything being the exact same as it had been the day before. He tried his best to convince himself, despite the fact he felt like he was repeating everything he'd done the day before, the strangest sense of deja vu.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Soon enough, Steve had lived a week of the same day. Waking up to the clothes he'd worn the day before clean in his closet again. The leftovers he'd eaten for dinner were back in the refrigerator. The weed he'd purchased was gone from the pocket of his bag, the money he'd spent on it tucked in it's place. It was really starting to freak him out, but he knew he couldn't bring it up to anyone without them thinking he was insane. Not that he had many people to bring it up to, he no longer spoke to Tommy and Carol, everything was awkward with Nancy since the break up, and there was no way in hell he was going to mention it to the kids, because they would convince themselves that it was somehow Upside Down related and panic and throw themselves into trouble.

So, for the most part, he just tried to follow the motions. Hoping that it would resolve itself. He kept a look out to see if there were any tiny details that changed in each repetition of the day, but came up blank. Even if he tried to change parts of his routine, skipping buying weed, skipping school, changing where and what he ate, it didn't make much difference. He still kept waking up to the same day over and over again.

He ended up buying and smoking weed everyday. It helped calm him down, stop him from freaking out so much. He guessed that because the day kept resetting itself, the weed disappeared from his system when the time moved back. And it wasn't like he was wasting tons of money on it, was he was spending the same money each day, he'd even memorized the serial numbers on the bills, checking them each morning.

"Jesus Christ, Harrington. Chill, you seem so on edge today." Eddie said as he watched Steve from the picnic bench in the woods. Steve had stumbled into the clearing for the daily deal, feeling more and more out of it each day.

"Sorry. I just. I feel like I'm going insane." Steve mumbled, dropping to sit on the opposite side of the bench. He buried his face in his arms.

"I've been feeling like that ever since I started high school." Eddie replied, pulling out baggies of weed from his metal lunchbox. "Tell me what's going on, if I'm feeling generous I might throw in a little extra for free."

"It's. I keep living the same day over and over and over and over. Everyday, it's the Third of April, and it's been like that for so long I've lost count. No matter what I do, nothing changes. I just wake up the next day and it's the Third of April again."

Eddie didn't say anything for a few moments, instead just watching Steve closely. Then finally, "It's been happening to you too?"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #pre steddie #time loop au #steddieholidaydrabbles #atimeofyourwrites

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tetsunabouquet · 4 months ago

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Hi! First of all, I'm so glad you still take requests! You're my favorite KnB writer, especially for Akashi stories! <3

In one of your headcanons you wrote that Akashi and his special other would have their little hideout moments. So, I have this little reader-chan in mind who, like Akashi, comes from a powerful family. Both Akashi and reader-chan have been arranged to marry someone they don’t love, but they’re secretly in love with each other. Because of their circumstances, they can only see each other in secret, so they’re essentially having an affair.

Now, for the hideout part, could you write a oneshot of their secret "meetings"? Something with a lot of softness, inculding soft smut, where they feel safe and cozy for this little moment where they're together. Basically a moment where they feel like the rest of the world doesn't matter.

Akashi hummed against the skin of your throat, the light of the rising sun tickling the inside of your family's cabin through the window. Though his arms kept you warmer still. The howling of wolves earlier had woken the two of you up, but you weren't scared of it. Your bravery was one of the many things Akashi loved about you. Many of the other rich girls were so pampered that none of them had grown a spine and would burst into tears at even the thought of adversary or danger as they were used to being protected and sheltered. Not you. You weren't a princess who was happy in the confines of a tower with bodyguard aplenty. No, you were the kind of young woman who frolicked around in the woods, looking for adventure even if it was as innocent as befriending a beaver and holding a conversation about how tough it must be to build a dam and if you could help. Besides, you knew you were safe inside and had snuggled up to Akashi with a relaxed expression. However, Akashi had a wonderful pleasant dream about you and not having to force himself to pretend otherwise and squash his feelings like he usually would have to when waking up next to his witch of a fianceé, had grabbed hold of you just as he dreamt of. Just having you in his arms, knowing you were actually there, had his heart perform loopings in his chest. "You're so lovely in the morning sun," came his sweet compliment and you smiled warmly. "Lovelier then you?" "Of course." He said, the red in his hair glowing even a more vibrant red in the light of dawn as he started suckling on your collarbone, relishing in the rare moment he was allowed to leave makrs on you when your own bethroted was away on a business trip for your father-in-law's company. "You're such a liar," you said breathlessly. Akashi chuckled against your collarbone before playfully biting down. You yelped and shivered under the administrations of his touch, the sensual caress of his hands on your hips. Truly, he knew exactly how to touch you and leave you speechless. He alwas seemed to know everything about you, but you knew this was because he cared for you. Unlike the pathetic manbaby your parents had set you up with. He was the definition of selfish and entitled incarnate. It's one of the reasons why your love for Akashi had only grown in the steps advancing to your wedding. He was everything you needed as well as wanted. Nothing could compete with the way Akashi made you drunk with a primal need and how your heart would explode afterwards when he smoothed down your hair and pressed a kiss on your nose. Just the thought of it, made you push at Akashi with all your strength who fell down the bed out of surprise as you climbed on top of your lover. You kissed him posessively, hating to think of the life the two of you were actually living, just wishing you could have more of this. That this sweet lie was your life. You could feel his rockhard member poking you from below and moaned against his lips. He chuckled against your lips. "You're so adorable when you're needy and trying to dominate me. It reminds me of a kitten trying to imitate a tiger." You pouted at him, to which he responded by peppering your cheeks with kisses. It felt a little ticklish and you giggled as you straddled his lap. "Really, so I'm adorable?" You asked as you playfully grinded your body against his, Akashi's bashful grin slipping into a blissful expression. "You're adorable and so much more, sweetheart," Akashi's whispered in your ear, his voice as soft and pleasant as silk. It made shiver run down your spine and you couldn't help but dig your fingers into his shoulders, drunk on the sweet sensation of his breath brushing your ear. "I wish I could stay wrapped in your arms forever" you whispered and Akashi kissed your temple tenderly. "I know, me too. " You sighed and kissed him, positioning your entrance above the tip of his cock. "Let's make the best of this, shall we?" You asked and your bodies connected as one as you sunk into his desire and love, always his love.

#kuroko's basketball #knb #akashi #akashi seijuro #knb x reader #knb akashi #akashi seijuro x reader #forbidden love #Thank you so much for this request #It's good to see you back sweetie!

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climbthemountain2020 · 5 months ago

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time won't fly (it's like i'm paralyzed by it) - Chapter 7/Loop 33

I Know You, I Walked With You Once Upon A Dream

Summary: Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter.

Until one day, it doesn't.

Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact.

A "round robin" style fanfiction with different authors. This work is meant to be read from beginning to end, but each chapter is written by a different author with their own spin on the time loop prompt.

Warnings: mild canon-typical violence, NSFW, sexual content

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Word Count: 4k

Notes: Surprise! I am part of the hivemind! I am not subtle, lol.

I literally cannot tell you how much fun I have had with this wonderful group of people plotting and planning and cackling over all these chapters. @feysand-hivemind it’s been so fun to match your freak! I’ve had such a blast being a part of this. <3 Thank you @popjunkie42 @tunaababee @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta help! <3

Tumblr Masterlist | Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Dead again.

This time he hadn’t even known that something was wrong. He’d had a grand plan, a measured procedure for how things were going to go. Perhaps, he’d thought, if no one interfered at all, she would make it through the trials on her own and then the two of them might start with a cleaner slate.

He should have known that she wouldn’t survive without any interventions at all. She was so lovely and beguiling, so smart and scrappy, so willful and stubborn, that it was so simple to forget she was also so tragically fragile and human.

It had been two weeks since the last death, the reset having taken him by surprise, but he was biding his time now. Not intervening hadn’t worked, intervening too soon was equally disastrous. So instead, Rhys was performing his least favorite activity as he wiled his time away Under the Mountain: he was being patient.

Blessedly, Amarantha had been sidetracked. Two uprisings in Day and Winter had kept her furious and occupied since he’d last awoken in her bed. The silence and privacy he’d been given in her distracted absence had left him time to think about what other approaches he might take to see this through to a different end.

He sat on his bed in the darkness, the stress of the past two weeks compounding as he wondered where his little painter–where Feyre –might be now. He let his head sink into his hands, the pounding headache moving from his temples to the base of his skull. After fifty years, he thought he’d grow used to this living space, these bare, windowless walls, the stuffy and stagnant air. Normally, he could shove that claustrophobia, that need to breathe , somewhere deep down and far away. But today? Today Rhys had reached the end of his rope almost immediately upon waking, the walls closing in and sending his mind racing against the base need to feel open air on his skin.

How many times was he going to live this torture?

He had wondered more than once about the potential merits of writing all the details down, even just to see them there on the paper. Would it make it more real? Would it make it more tolerable? At the end of the day, he’d decided over and over that it would be no use. He took nothing with him when the loops restarted–nothing but memories and the ever-growing desperation that this might be the punishment he’d earned for a lifetime of idiocy.

And truly, he had earned this. He had done everything for the selfish benefit of keeping his home and his family safe. He would beg, barter, kill, and steal to keep them well and away from this, even knowing what torturous and questionable things he’d be required to do by Amarantha. He thought of his family as he so often did– Azriel’s brooding kindness, Cassian’s easy, teasing smile, Mor tossing her head back in laughter, and Amren’s harsh but loyal nature. He’d do it all again for them.

This time, though, the images didn’t end with them. They floated effortlessly into swirls of golden hair, freckles, and gray-blue eyes. They echoed with her taunting tone, her words–both sharp and curious–, her smile. Feyre was the key to this loop, somehow, and Rhys was going to figure it out even if it killed him. Again.

Tonight had seen Rhys plagued again by nightmares. He had awoken in a cold sweat, the guilt and nausea eating at him as he’d shot awake in the dark room. Every night, he’d relive the light leaving her eyes as she died, that bright spirit guttering out as she searched for him across a sea of faces.

Feyre. Feyre. Feyre.

He felt her name pulse through his mind like the beat of his heart.

He was overcome by a need to see her, to assure himself that she was alright and unharmed in Spring.

Without further time to hesitate, Rhys shot from the bed, tossing on clothes and sliding into the hallway. There were no sounds in the empty night, everyone having retired for the evening. The halls here were eerie even in the best of times, but Rhys hated the creeping feeling that was unique to this cursed place. He crept along the rock-hewn hallways, moving as silently as a specter and listening for even the smallest of sounds. There were no signs that Amarantha had returned, her quarters still quiet as the grave as he walked past. He sensed no thoughts from within, and hoped it meant that she was asleep or gone.

He walked through the last of the halls to the tunnels, easily finding the door where he’d released the bogge. It had only been days ago, but lost in these loops it felt like it could have been years, lifetimes. As soon as he left the stifling swell of the wards, he was winnowing, taking the short bursts to Spring. The closer he got, the clearer the air smelled, that comforting and familiar tang of moss and honeysuckle and grass prickling at his senses. Long ago, he’d considered this place another home.

He shook his head at the thought on his final winnow, arriving at the edge of the Spring woods, the magic of Tamlin’s wards shattering at a mere touch.

Tamlin still couldn’t be bothered to fix his shitty border magic, despite the circumstances. No loops ever seemed to change that. Rhys could see the manor up ahead, a towering mass of marble and vines in the moonlight. The air around him was so warm it nearly felt like floating in a still sea as he moved closer and closer, following that lively trail of lilac and pear to the window he remembered as hers.

That felt like years ago now, too, since he’d come here to find her and Tamlin embracing in their sleep. He shook his head again as if to dislodge the image as he materialized on the balcony’s edge. The security here would be laughable if it didn’t make him worried for Feyre’s safety.

She slept with the balcony doors flung open, the gentle breezes of Spring dancing over her skin. This time, blessedly, Feyre was alone in the bed. She was faced away from him, curled on one side with her hands tucked beneath her chin. He could see the freckles across the bare expanse of her shoulders, and just like before, he ached to touch them. Rhys released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, the tension already allowing his shoulders to sink back down. Just the sight of her, her mere presence, worked like a balm on his soul.

He looked over to the door, laughing at the haphazard trap she’d rigged up for anyone daring to enter. By his calculations, she hadn’t been in Spring for long. She and Tamlin were clearly not together yet. An emotion flashed in his chest at the huntress’ rope and curtain contraption at the door, an odd flare of something at her audacity, her will. It was becoming harder and harder to not feel things for this ferocious human girl, the ache within him calling to her even when it would all be so much easier if it didn’t.

But there she was, sleeping peacefully and silently on the bed. She wasn’t dead, wasn’t broken. Her throat wasn’t ripped out, she was not being taken by wounds or choking to death, and Rhys could hear the steady thrumming of her heart from the open doors. It took every bit of his willpower to not slip inside the room, to inhale that sweet, light smell of her greedily like a man starved at his final supper.

Rhys knew what the right move was. Feyre was safe and dreaming and that should be all he cared about, especially since she wasn’t with Tamlin. But…

But…

No.

It was not Rhys’s place to be here. He had come to see that she was well, and she looked well. This Feyre didn’t know him, and even the Feyres that did know him wouldn’t have wanted him lurking in her bedroom while she slept. He had to admit he felt a little bad about skulking around Spring to watch her sleeping in the first place, and that creeping thought of truly being the creature of nightmares bit at him. But he’d needed to see her, assure himself that she was living and breathing and okay. Seeing her comfortable and at peace was enough for him. If all went well, he was sure he’d see her again soon enough.

After giving her one more look, committing the soft sighs and smooth lines of her face to memory, Rhys turned to go. But as he turned to step back through the balcony doors and take off into the night, her sweet voice permeated the air. He whipped around faster than a flash of light, worried he’d been caught, but Feyre still slept, turned towards him now, her eyes shut tightly and a murmur on her lips.

Rhys stood shell shocked, unable to draw his eyes away from her form, naked from the waist up. He couldn’t look away from her, even if he’d tried, his mouth suddenly dry and jaw slack. She moved again beneath the sheets, the seam of them dropping even lower down her waist against her writhing.

The smell of her arousal hit him like a brick, and suddenly he was grasping the door frame, cracking it beneath his hands in his grip before his mind could catch up. It was like getting hit with a tidal wave–a heavily perfumed, absolutely delicious tidal wave. Rhys wasn’t one to fall to his baser needs, but the scent was the most overwhelming thing he’d ever experienced. His grip on the doors tightened and the wood warped and cracked beneath his palms. He couldn’t inhale fast or wholly enough, filling his lungs greedily with the scent of her.

His Feyre.

He needed to leave right this second. He needed to get out of there before he did something he would regret.

Touch, claim, mine.

Turning from the room was the most difficult thing that Rhys had ever done in five centuries of living. Moving away from the delicious smell of her nearly broke him, but he needed to go before it was too late. As he turned to jump and winnow, her voice rang out quietly into the silence, so soft that he nearly questioned if he’d heard it at all.

“Who are you?” His eyes shot to hers, but he found them still closed, eyelashes settled on her freckled cheek. She moved her hand over her face, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye as she sank down further in the plush down of the pillows. “Come back.”

Now that she’d beckoned him, called out as though just for him, he knew he couldn’t leave her, even if he should. He could deny his painter nothing.

She rustled beneath the sheets again, murmuring and moaning softly, and Rhys slipped quietly and gently into her mind, just for a moment, he swore to himself.

Rhys was immediately struck by the smell of her, somehow even more potent than before. In her dream, she was on the same bed, the soft light of the moon filtering in through the windows. She was no longer sleeping beneath the covers, but kneeling, her legs spread wide and naked save for a pair of lacy, navy underclothes.

There on the bed, there was a figure curled lovingly behind her, his hand over hers as it moved methodically within her underwear. The figure was blurred, features not clear in the dreamlike state they were in. It looked nearly like a watercolor, the purples and blacks and blues all running together and unfocused. Rhys walked around the bed, keeping his eyes on Feyre’s writhing frame. The realization struck him as solidly as her scent had, the equivalent of running straight into a marble wall. It was him who cradled Feyre in his arms, the raven black hair and violet eyes beholding himself like a mirror as the hazy image came into focus.

He hadn’t projected that–hadn’t gone into her head to touch her. Had she been dreaming of him as he'd dreamed of her? His little painter…had some memory stuck, or was she dreaming of him in all the loops before they'd met? Had it been him the same way that he'd seen her in his?

He wove those tendrils of power out into the fabric of her dreams, caressing the fragments of sparkling night over the mirror image of him that had hands on her. With a flick of his wrist, dream Rhys was gone, the open air suddenly cold behind Feyre causing her eyes to fly open and land directly on him.

Rhys stuttered a step, ceasing his motions. She shouldn't be able to see him here, not unless he'd willed it. But she was staring right at him all the same, a blush rising on her cheeks.

Rhys was entranced by her, his eyes darting across her freckles, her smile, her hooded eyes, too much and not enough of every little bit of her, as though he couldn't pick just one thing to behold.

Despite dream-Rhys’s removal, Feyre had not removed her own hand, keeping it pressed motionless to herself.

“Hello.” Her voice was thick and smooth as honey, and just as sweet, the sound coiling around Rhys’s ears and going straight to the base of his spine. Feyre looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, and his body itched to step closer. “You came back.” Rhys nodded, the action entirely out of his hands, still completely unsure of how she could see him in this dream without him willing it.

She stayed as still as a statue, eyes firmly planted on Rhys. “Will you tell me your name this time?”

“Rhysand,” he answered without thinking, without planning, cursing himself inwardly as the word left his mouth. But Feyre just smiled demurely at him, the motion lighting up her entire face.

“Hello, Rhysand. I'm Feyre.”

“Hello, Feyre darling.” The greeting purred out of him as naturally as anything, and he could see her breath catch. She sat back on her haunches, that beautiful blush creeping to her neck and decolletage, but still, her hand remained where it was.

“I've dreamed of you before. But you never interact with me. It’s always just flashes, but you're here now.” Her voice had dropped, the husky tone of it driving home that force of arousal building within him. She was so beautiful, so lovely. And in this loop, even if it was just a dream, she wanted him. “This is another dream, right?”

He shouldn't. This was wrong .

She thought it was just a dream, that there was nothing to it. But the way she was looking at him, the way she smelled. He inhaled again, even halfway into her mind the scent was overwhelming. The loveliest thing he'd ever had the pleasure of scenting.

“This can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” He saw her breathe in deep, nostrils flaring as her wide eyes fixed on him.

“Would you, I mean, if you–” Her words failed her, but the intent was clear as she began to move those fingers that had been stilled the whole time.

It was an invitation. She wanted him, her open blue eyes begging for contact.

Fuck it.

“Would you like a hand, love?” He could see the hitch in her throat as she inhaled, her eyes sparkling at the timbre of his voice. She was so responsive, her nipples tightening against the thin lace of her top and leaving nothing to the imagination, and he took a single unbidden step towards her.

She nodded eagerly. “Please.” He felt delirious with want.

Rhys bit back a groan. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it in all these loops, what her skin would feel like against his, her soft warmth against the hard planes of his body. He circled the bed and watched as she took another deep breath, letting her eyes slip closed. He magicked his boots and tunic away, leaving him behind her in nothing but pants as he crawled into the bed.

It isn't a good idea, his thoughts whispered, but as he touched her shoulder and a crackle of something zapped through his veins, he knew he wasn't going to stop unless she asked him to.

She sighed languidly as his fingers danced over her shoulders and played up and down the sides of her neck. He pressed the length of his exposed torso against her back, her skin scalding against his at the contact. He swallowed back a sigh that seemed to emerge from him unbidden, but Feyre simply laid her head back on his shoulder, wordlessly expressing the level of comfort she already felt at his presence in her dreams.

Rhys ran his hands along Feyre's sides, watching as her flesh prickled in response. His fingers slowly crept higher and higher, the silky smooth texture of her skin driving him wild.

“Touch me.” Her voice was a whisper of smoke in the wind, but nothing had ever sounded clearer to him.

He didn't need to be told twice, his magic racing out to mist the thin layers of lace into oblivion. His deft fingers wasted no time in cupping her breasts, feeling the heavy weight of them in his large hands and tugging gently on her nipples as she let out the most delicious sound he thought he might have ever heard. Her soft sighs and gentle moans were like music to his ears, her whimpers a song that he’d been waiting for his entire life. He touched her chest, gently and playfully touching and circling them until Feyre was gasping and wiggling in front of him, her body rubbing against his like a cat in heat. He was painfully hard by the time she was begging and pleading for his hands to move lower, pulling them with her own until they reached her sex.

Rhys hardly managed to bite back a groan of his own when he ran his fingers through her wet heat. She was soaked entirely through, her arousal running down her thighs as he spread her open with his fingers.

“All for me, Feyre?”

“Gods, please .”

He grinned as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulders, dipping his fingers barely into her and circling them around her as she cried out. Nothing has ever felt as good as Feyre trembling against him, nothing had ever sounded as nice as his name on her lips.

“Rhysand,” she gasped as he pressed a finger into her warmth.

“Rhys. Just Rhys.”

“Rhys,” she murmured, turning her face to his and capturing his lips with hers. When their mouths met, Rhys swore the world shifted on its axis, the arousal and emotion and feeling in his chest threatening to explode under the pressure. The light around them went soft and hazy as they moved together, the glow blurring around them like the dream was ebbing in and out with their shared breaths.

He added another finger as she undulated against him, each and every point of contact shooting sparks into his bloodstream as he gasped aloud. She responded by doubling down, reaching behind her to toy with the waistband of his pants.

He felt nearly embarrassed, reduced back to a youngling as he bucked forward into her touch, his rhythm momentarily stuttering.

He tried to pull back, resuming his own ministrations, but she wrapped her fingers into his waistband and pulled him back to her.

“I want to touch you.” He couldn't argue with that.

Rhys shoved his pants down, his erection jutting against her back. Feyre wasted no time in grabbing it with enthusiasm, Rhys's mind reeling with the pleasure of it as she began stroking up and down the length of him. The movements were somewhat jerking with the angle, and Rhys still thought as he brushed against the cheeks of her ass, that it might be the most magnificent thing he’d ever felt. Despite the angle, the rush of it all overtook them quickly, the natural back and forth of it seeming as easy as breathing. Before long, they were both a breathy mess, her head resting back against his shoulder and his forehead against her neck while they moved together.

“You're exquisite,” he whispered into her hair, the smell of her so potent and overwhelmingly lovely at this proximity.

He could feel her fluttering around his fingers, feel the echoes of her impending orgasm grasping at him desperately while she moved her hand faster around him. Rhys was glad she was close because he was losing control, the feelings thundering through his chest and threatening to burn him alive wrapping down around the base of his spine.

He pressed the heel of his hand into her as he pistoned his fingers in and out, the movements becoming more intense as she responded in turn, their touch reaching a crescendo.

“Come for me, Feyre.”

She clenched around him. “Only if you come with me,” she responded huskily, even as she herself tipped over the edge. Rhys followed immediately, his vision nearly blacking out for a moment as he did.

He wasn't sure when he'd eased them to the bed, their breathing evening out between their twisted limbs, sticky with sweat and cooling in the Spring night air. Rhys felt weightless, the dream or the satisfaction allowing the pull of the world to work differently around them. He brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and tugging her back to his chest tightly.

“That was incredible,” she whispered, and Rhys fought the urge to preen.

“It was. You are.”

She laughed softly, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes looked like the sky after a storm, the heavy clouds that used to roll in over the snowy peaks of Illyria. Home.

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and Rhys wondered if he'd ever felt so sated in his life. His time here was limited, but he was going to enjoy every single second he had allowed himself.

She had dreamed of him, recognized him. She had wanted him here.

“Will I see you again?” she murmured quietly as he brushed his fingers up and down over her thighs and hips. Her eyes were already beginning to flutter shut.

“I would be willing to put money on it.” His voice was tinged with relief, with laughter, with joy he had not felt in ages.

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I do.”

She was mostly asleep by now, sighing lightly as her eyelids finally shut and stayed closed. “I’ll see you soon, Rhys.” He smiled despite himself, brushing his fingers lightly across her forehead then placing a kiss there as her breathing evened out.

He carefully eased himself out of her mind. Outside of her dream, he was still leaning against the door to the balcony, the distance between them feeling near-painful now, a throbbing ache in his chest that demanded he step closer. Rhys resisted this time, knowing that the dawn would be coming soon and turning from the room with one final look at his painter.

As he winnowed back to the grounds, walking around the property to the woodline under the cover of remaining night, his thoughts were lighter than they’d been since all this loop nonsense had begun. She’d dreamed of him, his face, his voice, his touch. If she could seek him out in her dreams this way, think of him as a soothing presence instead of something evil, how might that change the future of the loop?

Next time, it could be familiarity and not fear or mistrust that guided their interactions.

Why hadn’t he considered this before? It changed everything .

Rhys rounded the final corner of the manor that bordered the woods, light on his feet and his spirit buoyed with this newfound, unfamiliar, but welcome hope.

The last thing he saw was the form of a sentry, the sword already flying through the air and aimed directly at his neck.

Well, fuck.

#feysand #feysand timeloop #feysand hivemind #time won't fly (it's like i'm paralyzed by it)#acotar fic #feysand fic

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