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writeroutoftime · 8 months ago

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pawns in your game (part 2/2)

part one

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: upon waking up, cassian and the rest of the inner circle are relieved, but it seems there are still some wounds that need healing.

warnings: none, but some conversations that need to happen in ACOTAR canon lol

words: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for all the support and love for part one! sorry for the wait on the second (and final) part, I just had so much trouble! the conversation between you, cass, rhys, and feyre was written like 3 different times lol. anyway, now that it is finished, please enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think! have a fabulous day! '

(also, if you have any other requests for our acotar men, please send them my way!)

oOoOo

Two days passed since Rhys and Cass had their conversation. Neither male spoken to the other since, and word had spread through the rest of the Inner Court over what had occurred. Cass, however, couldn't find it himself to care as he continued to keep vigil over your bedside, only sleeping when he could no longer force his eyes open through the weight that threatened to drag them down.

Suddenly, body feeling as though it weighed a thousand tons, you opened your eyes, groaning at the soft sunlight that streamed into the room. The sheets beneath you felt scratchier than normal beneath your body, and it took a moment to realize you were in the med wing.

You felt a heavy weight in your left hand, and carefully, you shifted your gaze to see Cassian gripped it tightly. His back and wings were hunched over as he slept in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Although you were hesitant to wake him, you needed water and to know what had happened, so you shook your hand to wake your mate up.

In response, Cass shot straight up, his siphons pulsed a warning red as if he thought you and he were in some kind of danger. But once his mind and body had more than a moment to react his hazel eyes found yours and widened to the size of saucers.

"You're up!" he shouted, tears lining his eyes. Without thinking, Cass leaned forward and engulfed your body in his, and you didn't miss the way his body shook slightly in relief.

"I'm here, I'm okay." you whispered, running your fingers through his tangled hair. "H-how long have I been out?" you whispered, voice scratchy and rough.

"Nearly a week." Cass explained, pulling away and hurrying to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, drink."

The cool relief of water slipped down your throat, and you already felt better. Sore, you tried to stretch your body out to the best of your ability while trying to recall everything that occurred after leaving the Spring Court manor. "What happened?"

Cass barely held back a growl at the thought. "While you and Rhysand were in the Spring Court, there was an armed guard looking to shoot him with an arrow. But you, being the selfless female you are," Cass chided. "jumped in front of him and were shot with an especially strong dose of poison."

Silence rested between you both, and you could feel the waves of grief that poured down from Cassian's side of the bond. You could only imagine what he must have felt like the past week. If the roles had been reversed, you would have been a mess, tearing apart anything and anyone that got in the way of your wrath.

"I-I think I remember jumping in front of Rhys. He killed the Spring Court solider right away and didn't know what to do. Somehow, he managed to winnow us both back here, and that's all I remember." you admitted.

"That damn bargain." Cass said, growling this time. "We could do the same thing, and then how fucked would the Night Court be."

There was an anger that pulsed from Cass which went deeper than just being worried about his mate. Slowly, you shifted from your spot and moved to sit up against your pillows. "Cass," you began slowly. "what else happened while I was asleep?"

Cassian did not look the least bit guilty as he looked you straight in the eyes. "I told Rhysand off. I told him how I felt about his precious bargain that allows him and Feyre to stay protected while the rest of us suffer the consequences."

An odd feeling washed over you at Cassian's words. On one hand, you can't believe that Cass spoke those words to his brother - to his High Lord. On the other hand, you always felt a small pang of pride that Cassian stood his ground, and yours by extension. But you knew neither of those feelings fixed the larger issue at hand.

"Cass," you started, before he interrupted you.

"I'm not sorry for what I said. It's something we've all been thinking since before Nyx's birth, but, apparently, I was the only one who had the balls to actually say something.

Your teeth caught against your lips, trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh at your mate's words. "I did not protect Rhys because of his and Feyre's bargain, nor because of my oath to him as High Lord." you began carefully. "I did it because he is my friend, and I know he would do the same for me." you confessed.

Cassian was disgruntled at the suggestion. Opening his mouth, most likely to spew more insults against Rhys, you beat him to the punch.

"But," you continued. "I also feel as though sometimes it is overbearing to have to be even more responsible for Rhys and Feyre's survival, especially now that Nyx is involved. I think we need to talk to them." you admitted, motioning for Cassian to rest against you so you could lean your head against his solid shoulder.

The two of you laid there for quite some time before there was a tentative knock at the door. Your High Lord and Lady stuck their heads in, trying to read Cassian's mood. However, Feyre's eyes widened when she noticed your eyes open, and body propped up in bed. A wide smile overtook her face, and she abandoned her mate to rush to your side.

"You're awake!" she cried, grasping her free hand in yours and squeezing tightly.

Rhys continued to stand by the door, wary of Cass' razor-sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through to his soul. Only the tiniest bit of his guilt alleviated seeing you up after so long. "How are you feeling?"

"Still sore, but doing alright." you admitted, shrugging your shoulders as though you had merely scrapped a knee.

There was an awkward silence that descended upon the room, and none of you knew how to fix it. Cass pulled you even closer to his side and threaded his hand in yours. Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhys shared a private conversation, silently debating who should be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

"I think we need to talk." you finally began.

At the same time, Rhys blurted out. "I'm so sorry that this happened, y/n."

You both stared at one another, really taking the other in. Rhys noted the bandage wrapped around the shoulder where the arrow had met its target. He noticed the way your eyes would flinch in pain whenever you pulled at your muscles wrong and the look of fatigue that overtook your features. From your perspective, it was impossible to miss the dark shadows under Rhys' eyes and the guilt that remained present in his eyes and across his face.

"I don't blame you for what happened. I hope you know that, Rhysand." you said, squeezing your mate's hand, as you stared straight into Rhys' violet eyes.

"But I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings. After everything that's happened with Spring, I don't know why I wasn't already expecting something like this to occur. That arrow was meant for me, y/n, and you saved my life." he said, eyes flickering to Feyre for a brief moment, his meaning clear. Rhys cleared his throat, trying not to sound as choked up. "I don't believe it's been said, and you deserve so much more than this, but thank you."

The words were simple, yet heartfelt all the same. You didn't need to be a daemati to know that Rhys meant every word he spoke. Feyre nodded her head in agreement, sending a message of thanks and gratitude your way. Your heart warmed at the gesture, but a look towards Cassian told you he still was unimpressed.

"You are my friend, no thanks necessary. Though it is appreciated nonetheless." you smiled. "But," you continued, letting the word hang in the air. "I know little of what happened before I woke up, and it feels like we need to talk about that too."

The male holding your hand at least had the decency to shift uncomfortably at the thought. Though, he still did not start up any conversation, instead, feeling justified in the words he said to defend his mate - the love of his life.

Feyre must have been filled in on the details of Rys' and Cass' conversation because a haunted look morphed across her features. "We never meant for our bargain to become a burden on our family." she whispered, staring down at her tattooed hands.

Cass scoffed at the statement, and you smacked your hand against his chest and narrowed your eyes in his direction. "What?" he protested. "I thought we wanted to have an honest conversation here?"

"Cass is right." Rhys spoke. "I don't think we every really had a discussion about what this bargain means for us as a family. So," he paused, glancing at Feyre who nodded. "we want to hear how you feel about everything that has gone down."

"I think it was a fucking stupid idea." Cass spoke up, not caring how it sounded.

"Harsh, but fair, I suppose." Rhys said with a stilted laugh, trying to ease the tension.

"I think what Cass is trying to say," you began. "is that, of course, we know what our oath to you as our High Lord and Lady means. But, when you told us about the other bargain, it felt as though the weight of the world fell on our shoulders."

Feyre reached out to grasp Rhys' hand for support. "Cassian is right, it was stupid on our part. We weren't even thinking when we made that vow."

"What would you have done, Cassian?" Rhys added, trying to appeal to his brother.

A part of your heart ached at Feyre's words. Turning your head, you gave Cassian a soft gaze and sent a wave of love and adoration down the bond. He and you both knew there wasn't anything the other wouldn't do for you. It could have just as easily been you and he with the death bargain hanging over your shoulders.

"Love may not always make sense, but that doesn't make it stupid. It's not like Cass and I wouldn't have done the same thing in a moment of high emotions." you admitted. "Though, our deaths don't necessarily lead to the Night Court being thrown into chaos."

Rhys and Feyre both looked ashamed at the statement. "That is a conversation Rhys and I have had many times. And something we've been planning to share with you all. Soon." she promised, nodding solemnly.

You and Cass both nodded at the sentiment. It was a relief to know all this worrying had not been one-sided all these months. However, Feyre's words did not - nor could not - suddenly fix everything. There was still an acknowledgement of their actions that had yet to be addressed. An acknowledgement of the fear you and the rest of the Inner Circle had felt since and all the sacrifices which had been made.

"Feyre and I see the effort you and Cass have put into keeping us safe, I hope you know that." Rhys offered. "I can't say for certain what will continue to come of this situation, but Feyre and I promise to keep looking for a solution and to make sure you, and the rest of our family, feel heard. I'm sorry it's taken until tragedy struck for us to have this talk." he finished, baring the guilt and fear that had been marring his soul for the past week to you and his brother.

Cass looked his brother in the eyes, holding the stare for a few moments. Your breath stopped as you braced yourself for another blow out, but through your squinted eyes you noticed the way the tension had dissipated from Cass' body ever so slightly.

"It doesn't fix everything," Cass started, and all three of you in the room tensed, waiting for another raging display of anger. "but it's a start." he relented.

The two Illyrians locked eyes, and Cass tightened his grip on you as he and Rhys had a silent conversation. The two knew there would be much more talking and healing that needed to happen first, but eventually you were sure things would turn out all right.

After all, it was a start.

oOoOo

a/n: there it is, part 2! like I said, I was really nervous about posting this, and I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations!

tagging: @captainsophiestark, @eerievixen, @kylaisra, @tele86, @starsinyourseyes, @lisanna2000, @highladyivy

#cassian x reader #cassian imagine #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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xlpoww · 1 year ago

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LOVE

what is

Anonymous asked: okay okay i just read your sanji imagines and maybe make a part where the roles are reversed? like the reader gets flirted on by someone else and she flirts back and sanji doesn’t understand why he feels jealous all of a sudden? part one and two can be found here: SOUR GUTS

this one goes out to my lovely friend @honnelander <3 i adore you!! thank you for being my biggest supporter<3 you don't know this but you inspired me to begin writing again!! so thank you.

warnings: none!

word count: 930

opla! sanji x f! reader

you were fuming, why wouldn’t you be? zoro had instigated an argument with sanji that turned into a full fledged fight.

and it was about you

there were a million thoughts racing through your head, but the biggest one hurt you the most. you’d upset him? your best friend? how could someone as insignificant as you have the power to upset sanji vinsmoke so deeply? he had women falling at his feet, the gorgeous man. the biggest flirt in all the seas was hung up over, you?

that man that you’d left with last night, he didn't matter to you at all really. he was sweet and funny, but he wasn’t him. would sanji feel a bit lighter if he knew you couldn’t even remember that guy's name? no, that might make it worse, wouldn’t it.

you don’t know where to go from here, sitting on the deck left alone with your thoughts. after the blow up fight in the kitchen, you’d chewed zoro out to hell and back. so much so it even felt like he felt some remorse, but you figured it was a trick of the light. if he had truly cared about the cook’s feelings, he wouldn't have pushed him so far. he wouldn't have exposed him like that, made him so vulnerable without a choice in the matter.

how would you feel if your heart was left so defenseless by someone else’s words? if you had no say in the matter of confessing your feelings?

you take a deep sigh, leaning back onto your hands. your head falls back as you look to the sky. not a cloud in sight, it felt wrong for a sight so beautiful to appear on such a gloomy day.

so deep in thought, you fail to notice the sound of footsteps walking towards you. the man stops silently besides you, hands in his pockets. from one of them he pulls a cigarette, a lighter from the other. still, not a word leaves his lips as he begins to light it, only the sound of the lighter catching your attention. with wide eyes you turn to your right and see sanji, tagging a long drag of his cigarette. he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye.

“hey y/n” his voice was devoid of the usual flirtiness, it sent a pang through your heart.

“hey sanj, how are you doing?” you angle more of your body towards him, speaking softly. the conversation felt so delicate. he blows out the smoke from his cigarette before responding.

“could be better darling, that wasn’t how i wanted you to find out about my feelings.” his words are paired with dry laughter, and he’s avoiding your eyes.

“so it’s true? you’re in love with me?” your hand has come up to grasp your other arm, your eyes finding their way to the ocean as you speak.

“since the moment i laid eyes on you, back on the baratie.” his words sound like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. “you sitting there at the table with the rest of our lovable group- you’d looked scared to order the wine, like was going to rat you out to the marines or something!” he’s laughs, the sound warming your heart.

“i had never sat down at such a fancy restaurant!” you defend yourself with a huff, continuing on exasperatedly, “anyways. that can’t be true, you were just as flirty with nami back then- you couldn’t have liked us both could you?” you turn to face him once again, your eyes frantically searching his own. how could you have missed this, how could everyone in the world have known but you?

“something about you, it just stuck with me. i don’t know how to explain it y/n, but ever since you came into my life, i haven’t gone a day without thinking of you.” he takes a moment to take another drag, the smoke falling from his mouth as he continues on. “all those other girls, they never really meant anything. i was just hoping to be distracted from you, though it never worked. no matter who i talked to, it was always you who held my heart captive.” there’s a bitter sweet tone to his words, yet they’re elegant and thoughtful all the same.

“sanji, i- don't really know what to say. i can’t believe i didnt notice-” you’re scrambling to find the right words when he cuts you off with a smile.

“no-no it’s fine, you don’t have to return my feelings or anything love.” he dropped the cigarette, leaning towards you slowly. it’s like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. when you don’t he gets closer, bringing his hand to rest softly on your cheek. the light touch causes a burning blush, and you smile softly at the man sitting in front of you so bravely. “i just wanted you to hear it from my lips. i love you, y/n.”

you want to say more, but when you open your mouth he shakes his head softly, and you close it. there are a million combinations of words, yet no one feels right at this moment. with the way sanji is looking at you, it feels right to stay quiet. to sit in the silence, next to a man that loves you with his whole heart.

and when you close your eyes, leaning into his soft gentle touch, a smile graces your lips, only one thought on your mind.

‘i think i could begin to love you too.’

Taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @shuujin @untoldshortsofthefandoms @roronoaslover @katiemrty @stayacarat @thebadassbitchqueen @fandomsunited @luna0713hunter @pinktravelerluminary @caramelcandescence @everyonehatescarmen @littleplantofdeath @gcldtom

#sanji x reader #opla sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #sanji #xlpoww #opla #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #opla zoro #opla cast #requested

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urdadsceilingfan · 26 days ago

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Could you imagine Canon Ford having a conversation with Reverse Portal Stan and Ford. I’d imagine it’d go somewhere like this.

(C!=Canon ) (RP!=Reverse Portal)

C!Ford: so, you two are from an alternate universe where, if Stan had fallen into the portal instead of me?

RP!Stan: yup, basically

C!Ford: but you two seem so close, as if it had never happened

RP!Ford: well yeah, that’s because we’ve worked on repairing our relationship, though admittedly it was just Stan doing most of it in the beginning. I had felt to guilty to even try cause he’d had forgiven me almost immediately, and I felt like I didn’t have the right to his forgiveness, despite everything I’ve done, and how it all could’ve been avoided if I was more opened.

C!Ford: what do you mean by ‘opened’?

RP!Ford: well looking back, It was I, who was always pushing people away, and blaming them for it. I had allowed father to kick Stan out over a small mistake, and therefore leading him having to survive in a car whilst running from the law for years. And then there’s Fiddleford, who had seen what was on the other side of that portal, and warned that it had to be destroyed, but I was to blinded by my own ego to realize what it may have done to him..what he had to see, if I had just listened to him…none of anything that has happened would’ve happened, and Stan wouldn’t be missing an arm..he had to suffer so much cause of me, and instead of helping, I made up the narrative that he was dead all to save myself from the guilt, which was cruel and selfish

RP!Stan: hey now, it wasn’t your fault, I mean, I was of course angry at you for not even attempting to bring me back, but looking back through what I had to do survive in that hell, what I had to endure…I can understand why you didn’t want to risk opening it back up again. Though of course, I still do sometimes can’t help feel upset that you had done nothing, so that’s something I still need to work on

RP!Ford: and you have every right to feel way, hell, I wish you’d show more of it often towards me, I was the one who created that portal, and Fiddleford had warned me about the dangers of it, I didn’t listen, and in the end you had to play the price of my foolishness. And what makes it worse, is that I knew that if the roles were reversed, you would’ve done anything to bring me back

RP!Stan: hell yeah I would, even it took me all my life to figure it out, I would’ve gotten you out of there

C!Ford: …well, in my world you did just that, and I had punch and berated him for it

RP!Stan: wait- what…why?

C!Ford: I was upset that he didn’t heed my warnings..and that he could’ve ended the world as we know it..that he could’ve let Bill out

RP!Stan:…wait..what warnings

C!Ford: the warnings I had put the journals, and had written in-….in…(realizing)

RP!Stan:…in what?

RP!Ford: (also realizing and mumbling)…o-oh..he means in invisible ink

RP!Stan: huh? Say that again

RP!Ford: invisible ink

RP:Stan:….

C!Ford:…

RP!Ford:…

RP!Stan: (putting his hands together) so…let me get this straight..YOU are upset that he didn’t heed the warnings that you had put down, in all three journals..two of which you HIDE..and were all written in INVISIBLE INK?!

C!Ford:….

RP!Stan: did you tell him, that they would be in invisible ink..or where to find to the other two..or DID you just think that he’d figure it out somehow on his own? Cause I can tell you right now as we are the same person, he certainly would have NOT

C!Ford:…yeah I see where I went wrong

RP!Stan: yeah, no shit, you both have messed up, but you are more in the wrong here

C!Ford: I see that now…

THIS CRACKS ME UP!! anon you gotta become a fanfic writer because this is so good

Rp!au Ford and Stan getting along like bros, lots of apologizing and self reflection and then there’s canon Ford just staring at them

In the 2 other journals they show Ford’s slow decent into madness without the use of black lights but lets be honest Stan would still open that portal even if the first thing he read was “don’t open portal it will kills us all”

(I know you sent this awhile ago I’M SUPER SORRY)

#i answer things #reverse portal au #SLOWLY ANSWERING ALL INBOX QUESTIONS HOLD ON!!

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save-the-villainous-cat · 5 months ago

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Heyyy idk if you've done this before but Maid x prince ( or any other monarch) but it's kinda smutty and angsty because they can't be together ❤️

She knew there was one thing he loathed more than dancing: social gatherings.

He bored himself to death when he had to talk to other people. When he had to pretend to be interested in others, when he had to smile and laugh all evening. He wasn't a very talkative person and he was certainly not a social one.

She knew that he could come across as harsh or cold but she was also aware of his many interests. And how passionate he could be about them.

However, she had not expected him to return this early.

She looked up from the bed she was making, fearing the worst. Although he didn't like it, these social gatherings were incredibly important to secure their country's alliances.

Admittedly, she was interested in politics and power. But she also knew her place.

"Are you alright, my lo-" She swallowed the my lord. He had asked her not to call him that quite a while ago. But old habits were hard to kill for her. "Are you alright?"

The prince looked at her, exhaustion painted all over his face.

"...no," he admitted. He was always someone who buried his true feelings and replaced them with indifference. Today, he seemed frustrated enough to start crying.

The maid's heart clenched in her chest.

"If there is anything I can do for you-" She walked up to him and took his hands.

She knew what they had been doing for the last weeks wasn't right. She knew they weren't supposed to do the things they did, but...she couldn't help it. She loved him. And she didn't want this man to fall apart.

They had spent their entire childhoods together and for some reason, he only smiled when he was with her.

The maid couldn't watch her prince, her friend turn into someone callous. He was too important to her for that.

"I'm tired," he said. He gave her hands a little squeeze and kissed her temple before he was heading for the bed. "I wish you could join me next time. You make these things bearable."

"I think it would be quite strange to let your maid join you," she said. She watched carefully as he took off his clothes.

"I wish it wasn't," he said. "I can't help it, I am not good at it. Whenever I see so many people in one room, the world starts to spin. I loathe it. I loathe what they are talking about. Do they seriously think I care for their dog? Or their third cousin? Do they think I actually enjoy their presence?"

Good heavens, he was almost naked.

He slowly crawled under the blankets but he kept talking.

"What about literature? What about warfare? Are these people not interested in anything?" He groaned. "My head started to hurt as soon as I had to dance. Horrible. I left as soon as I could."

He was laying down, head buried in a pillow. His entire back was exposed. The maid could see a few scars she recognized. One time, he had fallen from his horse. Another, he had survived an assassination attempt. There were other scars she didn't recognize.

She wished she could name every single one. She wished she could know him so thoroughly that she wouldn't have to read his lips to know what he desired.

The maid walked up to him and kneeled beside the bed. Her hand went through his hair a couple of times before she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"It may seem irrelevant to you but appearing to be interested in someone's family or dog can be quite helpful. It's even better if you remember those details. You need to know your allies. You need to maintain good relations." Her gaze stayed on a new scar. Absentmindedly, she let her fingertips follow it.

He shivered.

"Forgive me," she whispered. But all he did was turn around and take her hands into his again.

"Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if our roles were reversed. If you were a princess and I was your knight..." He kissed her knuckles and her heart started to pound. Witnessing his softness was a privilege exclusively reserved for her. Sometimes, he really made her feel like a princess. "You understand all of this so well."

"The court was a good teacher, I suppose," she said. "Books can only get you so far."

That made him smile.

"Are you doubting your prince's way of education?"

"Well, he is misanthropic. So something must have gone wrong," she said. She seized the opportunity to get on top of him and focus on some other scars on his chest. Somehow, she ended up with her palm pressed against his chest right where his heart was.

"Still beating?" he asked. The joke didn't really come across though. She had stopped counting the many instances where she had had to tend to his wounds.

"Still beating," she said. His eyes didn't leave her.

"I don't think I will ever get married unless you are my bride," he said softly.

Instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed him. Deep down, she knew he couldn't afford that. In his world, the court and politics had no real meaning. But she knew it dictated all their lives, especially his future marriage. He was a quiet dreamer.

But some couldn't even dare to dream.

So, she kissed him softly. Kissed him until she could swallow her own tears and forget about all her worries.

#sometimes you guys are cooking with your asks frfr #writing snippet #kingdoms and royalty #maid x prince #prince x maid #f/m #an answer for an ask #request

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scarabsinthestardust · 3 months ago

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Better in the Morning // Ch. 2

MASTERLIST

word count: 2700

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking, language, arguing, insults, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, drunk creeps harassing women in bars

Over the course of the next few months, Jake and I grew closer than I ever imagined we would. We had our separate lives, giving each other plenty of space so as to not smother ourselves, but lately we had been spending more and more time together. He was attentive- we talked daily, and I was getting used to the ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ texts. Since coming to Tennessee, I hadn’t had much time to explore but he remedied that, and we experienced what Nashville had to offer together.

It felt as though we never ran out of things to talk about, and we were constantly learning new things about each other. I loved that we never let the banter die down; having fun with him, joking around, pushing each other’s buttons, it all came naturally. His laughter made me feel like I was home.

Oh, he was always a perfect gentleman, careful not to overstep any boundaries, but when the time came (pretty early on if I’m being honest), the sex was phenomenal. It was full of fire and passion, and usually ended with us both so fucked out we couldn’t form actual sentences. There was a perfect balance of sensuality and roughness, being given and received on both ends. I was more than happy to let him take control, to exert that dominance that made my knees tremble and lit a fire in my gut. But being with him, exploring each other, made me realize that occasionally, I quite enjoyed reversing those roles. More than once he got on his knees and begged me to give him release. And damn, he sure was pretty like that.

The first time he brought me around to meet his brothers, there was almost an immediate connection. I really enjoyed their company and for the most part, they treated me like I had been a part of the group forever. Josh was slightly standoffish at first, but he was always kind. His personality was so different from Jake’s, but the unmistakable link between them was surreal. Sam was a goofball, always making everyone laugh. I pretended I didn’t notice the way he watched Daniel like he was the most precious person on the planet.

Even Richie was starting to warm up to Jake. I was thankful they, at the very least, had one thing in common when they could bond over guitars. The occasional grumble from Richie when Jake would flirt in front of him became less threatening, and more of something we would laugh about later.

Jake was able to witness my excitement firsthand when Richie and I finished restoring the Gretsch. He was just as fascinated when I opened the case, now cleaned and restored as well, to show it off. I watched his eyes light up at the sight of it.

The 1957 6-string electric guitar had all new hardware, including two single-coil pickups and a Bigsby vibrato tailpiece. Jake examined the wood, astonished at how smooth it all looked, like it was brand new. “It’s got a chambered mahogany body and neck, a maple top, and the fretboard is rosewood,” Richie explained, clearly proud of our work. I was especially proud of the finish, in a dark Cadillac green. Jake carefully ran his fingers along the neck, examining all the details like he was trying to memorize it. Judging from the way he looked at it, I’d bet if it didn’t already have a buyer, he would have been first in line.

With how smoothly everything was going, it figured that we would hit a road bump soon. And we did, when we had our first actual argument.

We were at a local bar with the guys, having a good time drinking and chatting, and generally shooting the shit. I made my way to the bar for another drink, Jake absorbed in conversation with Daniel. While I waited for my drink, I felt the approach of the stranger before I saw him. I didn’t turn to look at him until he spoke.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing buying her own drinks? Your man not taking good enough care of you?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. First chance to take the hint and back off, buddy.

“C’mon, don’t be like that, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink, and later I can show you how a real man oughta treat you.”

“I’m not interested. Beat it.” Second chance.

He closed the distance between us until I could feel and smell his disgusting breath on me. Give me just one reason, please. I was preparing to defend myself if it came down to it, as I’d unfortunately done many times before. There was never any fear, just annoyance at this guy’s utter audacity. If there was one thing that I was thankful for from my father, was his insistence on me learning how to fight.

I heard the man chuckle as he took his third and final chance before I got to the part about kicking his ass. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I think you-“

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Everything happened so fast, I barely had time to register Jake forcing himself in between myself and the stranger and shoving the man backwards. “Back the fuck off, asshole.”

The guy shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Fucking crazy,” he mumbled, disappearing into a group of patrons. I can’t say I wasn’t grateful; I had never seen Jake fight so I wasn’t sure how things would have gone on that front if that man decided to fight back. But I sure was livid.

Jake turned to me. “Are you oka-“

“What the fuck was that?”

The confusion on his face was clear but did nothing to quell my own irritation.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Jacob. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious? Pardon me for trying to protect my girlfriend-“

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” I’m sure we had turned a few heads by then. I let out an exasperated sigh and marched past him, towards the exit. He followed closely, continuously trying to argue his point.

“That creep was fucking harassing you.”

“There will always be creeps in bars harassing me! I had it under control.”

“Yeah? And what if he got physical with you? Got violent? Then what? I was just supposed to let him hurt you?” He was still hot on my heels when we made it outside, the cool air a welcome change from the stuffy bar.

“Then I’d get violent right back. I know how to protect myself; I don’t need a man to do it for me!” I’m sure I was yelling at this point, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.

“You really think you’d be able to fend off someone that’s twice your size?”

“I’ve done it before! I’m not a fucking damsel in distress, Jake. I wasn’t raised like that. I’m not afraid of some pathetic, drunk asshole who isn’t even capable of walking straight!”

“Well maybe you should be! I get that you want to play the ‘I’m a badass and don’t need help’ card, but you don’t have to be stupid and reckless!”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m stupid and reckless because I didn’t come crying to my boyfriend to save me from the mean ole’ frat boy trying to buy me a drink? I’m not the one that was trying to start a fight in a crowded bar. How do I know you wouldn’t have gotten your ass kicked?”

“I was trying to help you; don’t you see that? But fine, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself for trying to be chivalrous!”

“What you’re being is a pain in the ass.” I’ll be the first to admit I was stubborn as a mule often, when the situation called for it, but I could recognize when it was time to walk away. We were both heated for our own reasons, and I didn’t see anything happening other than the situation escalating. I was seeing red, and the more he talked the worse it got. “I’m gonna go.”

“No, Kya, wait-“ He made like he was going to reach out and touch me. Sighing, I put my hands up and stepped back.

“Jake, right now I need some space, and we both need to cool off. Go back inside, enjoy the rest of your night. We can talk tomorrow.”

He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, but he didn’t argue. He had a dejected look on his face that tugged on my heartstrings. I wasn’t enjoying this, and I hated making him feel bad, but needed to understand this about me if we were going to make our relationship work. I refused to let anyone walk all over me, whether it be a stranger or my own boyfriend. I was sure we would talk later, and I could nip the issue in the bud and hope we could move past it.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered sadly as I walked away from the man I definitely did not want to walk away from.

I still wasn’t feeling good about the whole incident when I walked into the shop early the next morning. I should have known Richie would notice right off the bat.

“Why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios? Do I need to kill someone?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. Jake and I got into an argument last night, is all.”

He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes back and forth like he was thinking. “So, I can kill him? ‘Cause I gladly-“

“Shut up,” I chuckled. “You’re not killing anyone. I’m sure we’ll talk it out later.”

“Ugh, fine. You wanna talk about it?”

Throughout my life, I could always rely on Richie to have my back for almost everything. He was the parent that I did have, the one I could open up to without fear of judgement or being brushed off. So I explained what had transpired and what was said during the argument, how I chose to distance myself, and how shitty it made me feel to walk away from Jake.

“Ah, shit. You love that fucker, don’t you?”

I groaned at his forward, but very true, assumption, bringing my head down to meet my arm on the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably?”

He patted my shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He just made me so mad last night!”

“And I’m sure it won’t be the last time. Hell, you’re bound to piss him off plenty, too. Doesn’t mean it ain’t right. It’ll be hard sometimes but you’re tough, and if you love him, you’ll work through it.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“Ha, I’ve always been wise, young grasshopper. Now, listen up.” He lowered his voice, putting on a more serious tone. “You’ve always been bullheaded. You’re the most stubborn but one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through some shit that toughened you up and made you into who you are now. The world you were brought up in, you needed to be tough to survive. That’s why your dad and I made sure you could protect yourself and taught you push back fear. And it’s great; it means I don’t really have to worry about you. Now, I don’t know him all that well, but I think it’s safe to assume Jacob didn’t grow up in a world like that. If I had to guess, he probably has a mom who raised him right, and raised him to be a man who, drumroll please, protects his woman. I know you ain’t used to that, but I bet he ain’t used to having a woman he doesn’t need to protect. He intervened ‘cause he cares about you.”

He was right. I knew that. I felt like such an asshole. I treated Jake badly and he didn’t deserve that. “This is where you tell me that I’ve got to learn to compromise, huh?”

“Let him take care of you, Kya.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Jake <3 – 8:13 AM

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk?

I’m sorry, too. I can come over after work. If you’ll have me.

Jake <3 – 8:15 AM

Of course. I’ll make dinner.

I smiled at his offer. He was still willing to go out of his way and put forth an effort, even after our argument. It made me feel better and gave me a little hope that I hadn’t completely fucked everything up.

It was about 6:30 PM by the time I pulled into his driveway. I swallowed my nerves, walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Why the hell am I even nervous?

It didn’t take him long to answer, greeting me with that sweet smile of his. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few stray hairs peeking out, and he had a dish towel draped over his shoulder. “Hey.” He stepped to the side, allowing me to cross the threshold, and shut the door behind me.

“It smells really good in here.” He demonstrated early in our relationship that he was an excellent cook, and he really enjoyed it. He always jumped at an opportunity to cook for other people. I wondered if it would have been his calling if not for the music.

He grinned. “Thanks. It’s Bolognese. Uh, it’s got to simmer for another ten or fifteen minutes, but it’ll be ready soon. Do you… want a drink? You know, since you never got the one you ordered at the bar last night?”

I furrowed my brow. “Shit, you’re right. I forgot about that drink.” I noticed him fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the cuticles. He’s nervous, too. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pulled him to me so I could plant a kiss on his lips. “I’ll take you up on that drink. Surprise me.” I smiled sweetly at him, the interaction seeming to calm both our nerves.

He brought me a glass of Amaretto on ice. “My favorite. Suck up.”

Laughing, he retorted, “Babe, I’ll gladly suck up to you however I can, whenever you want me to.”

“I’m not complaining.” Rubbing my thumb across the glass, I averted my gaze to my lap. “I’m sorry about last night, Jake. I know you had good intentions, and I overreacted. I don’t want to make excuses, it’s just not something I’ve had a lot of experience with, someone standing up for me like that. I had to learn how to fend for myself when I was really young. It’s not an easy mindset to break. But it doesn’t give me the right to act like a bitch.”

Jake leaned back on the couch and tilted his head back. “If I’m being honest, I think I was jealous.” He drew in a deep breath. “I saw that guy practically breathing down your neck and it pissed me the fuck off. He had no right to be that close to my girl, you know? But you were right, you had it under control. I shouldn’t have gotten involved like that. And I don’t think you’re stupid or reckless. That was really shitty of me to say. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Finishing off my drink, I placed the glass on the table and leaned into him. His arm landed across my shoulders, and I rested my head on his chest. “Of course I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me, too. I just need you to trust me, let me do my thing. If you can promise me that you’ll try, I promise to try to let you do your thing, too. To let you take care of me.”

He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed the top of my head. “I can definitely do that.” The beeping of a kitchen timer rang through the room. “C’mon, baby, let’s eat.”

#gvf #jake gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #josh kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #josh gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction

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hollyhoneybear · 1 year ago

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【 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 】 - reversed fates

What if the roles were reversed? Instead of Athy being reincarnated, what if it was Jennette? ... a hypothetical au I've been musing about

Let's imagine: some girl from, I'm gonna say Belgium (just something other than Korea) read Lovely Princess, but died in some tragic accident.

I wouldn't say.. she liked the book. She recognized it was very childish, and most of the characters were quite shallow. She didn't understand how certain characters, like Claude, were paraded as Paragons in the book, when they were clearly bad people.

She didn't have much of an opinion on Jennette; just that everything catered to her. Now.. a character she really genuinely liked, was Athanasia.

Despite being a threat to her position, Athanasia taught Jennette the ways of the Palace, and never tried to harm her, even as her dream of Claude loving her slipped away into Jennette's hands.

So this (for now nameless) girl was shocked and appauled when Athanasia was accused of poisoning Jennette. She couldn't be more angry! The one character who seemed to have some sense of morals (aside from Jennette, generally) was mercilessly killed off in the most gruesome way imagineable.

It's not very clear in the Manhwa what state Jennette was in when she was poisoned (the Manhwa and Novel are DIFFERENT, people). But in my interpretation, Jennette was unconcious dealng with.. y'know, being poisoned. It was too late by the time she woke up.

Our protagonist rage-quits the novel after that, having no desire to read the "happy ending" everyone gets despite her favorite character's demise.

She's ready to move on with her life and forget that awful book, but.. looses her life soon after.

...

Now is the start to my ideas for after she reincarnates. Yay!

...

After reincarnating, it doesn't take her long to realize the perdiciment she's in.

She'd become Jennette, the Female Lead of "Lovely Princess"! Unlike most heroines in her position, her fate seemed to be pretty good. Seemed.

You see, she never finished the novel. She had no idea what happened after Athanasia was executed. It's an assumption to say that Jennette, Claude, Ijekiel and the Duke had happy endings.

Despite that, she knew there wasn't any kind of impending doom awaiting her. So for a while, she was pretty chill.

By the time she was a few months old, the reality of this world had been weighing on her. This was her new life; it wasn't a book, the people in it were real. Athanasia was real.

For a while, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Should she just.. not get introduced to Claude? But defying the Duke wouldn't exactly be easy. And even if she never gets introduced, it's not like Claude would just start loving Athy anyway; he never did, so why would he start out of nowhere?

There wasn't much she could do yet as an infant, anyway

...

After she turned 4, she realized Jennette's "Happy Life" wasn't as glorified as it was in the novel.

Ijekiel was nice enough, for the time. But the Duke was another story. He wasn't outwardly cruel like Claude, but it became apparent to Jennette that the Duke in the novel didn't have Jennette as his ward because he "just wanted her to be happy".

Jennette was being used by the Duke to get to the throne. That much, she understood early on.

It made sense to her then. He must have conspired with Jennette's aunt to place her on the throne. I mean, why else would Rosalia frame Athanasia? For kicks and giggles?

..That made our current Jennette very angry. In the novel, Jennette didn't even care about the throne, yet she was used by everyone around her for power.

Both Athanasia and Jennette were failed by the adults around them. It wasn't fair that just because she existed, Athanasia was going to die..

That's when she decided. With the OP powers and plot armor as the Female Lead, she was going to make Athanasia's dreams come true, and give everyone a happy ending!

She knew that she couldn't avoid being used by the Duke, being introduced to Claude in some way. So she decided it would be on her own terms.

If Claude loved Jennette in the novel, he could love Athanasia. Right? In this world where everything exists to make the Protagonist happy, if her one wish is for she, Athanasia and Claude to be a happy family, surely it would have to happen..

..Right?

#to be continued?#wmmap #wmmap jennette #who made me a princess #who made me a princess jennette #whomademeaprincess #wmmap x reader #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap athanasia #athy #athykiel #lucathy #lucajen

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anachronisticmech · 6 months ago

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I want to start sharing my headcanons more instead of just telling myself to write my nine chapter fic so people get it because. My writing isn’t the best and I just want to directly get my feelings and ideas across

So, here are my thoughts and headcanons on Brian and Jonny’s relationship!

I want to, as I most always do, give credit to @carmillatism. I get most of my ideas and headcanons, if not directly from them, then while in conversation with mech.

Warning for unhealthy relationships, both romantic (or queerplatonic, if you wish) and parental (between Brian and Jonny, Jonny and Carmilla, and Brian and Carmilla)

Brian was not the first to be mechanised under similar circumstances to the one in which he was, as I believe Brian was the last to be mechanised by Carmilla, so Jonny had definitely seen this before. Random person being picked up and brought back to life, or rather, having their life given back in full force.

I do believe, however, that he was somewhat jealous of Brian, and kept a close eye on him during the time in which he was being mechanised. It would have taken Carmilla a long time, which meant he would have had less of her attention, which came as both a blessing and a curse to him (thanks to trauma).

I think he would have been relatively nice to Brian at first, like he is with the other mechs, though more cautious as I imagine he would be around new people. He would have sympathised with him, and the whole ordeal of being mechanised, even if he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be changed to the extent Brian had.

But, his feelings, I imagine, would slowly turn to malice as Brian starts to work as somewhat of an apprentice to Carmilla, learning about his and other’s mechanisms, assisting in surgeries, etc. (Side not, read carmillatism’s fic on this, it’s really good) he would start to see Brian in somewhat of the same light he sees Carmilla, as he would not be able to see the turmoil within Brian’s mind, and how internally wretched he had become.

Brian, meanwhile, would be quite fond of Jonny, though understood the other did not exactly like him. They could hold a conversation well enough, but not to the extent Brian wished they could. Most days Jonny was actively antagonistic towards him, some days worse, so he learned to keep his distance.

After Carmilla left, they started to find a good middle. Jonny did not forgive Brian yet for helping tinker about with his heart, but he couldn’t find it in himself to hate him when he had apologised so profusely and done anything and everything to gain his trust.

He still left Brian on Avalon until he couldn’t bare it anymore, missed him too much, and fished him out of that hell.

Brian, however, found himself becoming more and more spiteful towards Jonny while burning and burning day in and day out. When he was back, it seemed as though their previous roles were reversed. He was the one giving Jonny nasty looks, while Jonny hugged himself and mourned the time they, at least, semi- got along.

Slowly, gradually, they find a way to be healthy, to love each other and accept love in return. Jonny had always been unable to receive and express love like most would like him to. He hated being vulnerable, hated not being the all day actor, not keeping up facades that might not be facades. Brian was scared of being too much, and too little all the same.

It was never easy in the beginning of their newfound trust for either of them, but it ended up working out.

So, that’s my headcanons for their timeline and feelings. My brain fog is quite bad, so I feel as though im leaving much out, and couldn’t exactly get everything across the way I wanted.

If you find this interesting, please look out on my ao3 for my WIP fic ‘Our Lady Of The Broken Spine’, a nine chapter fic I’ve been working on since august, about Brian, his anatomy, timeline, feelings, and relationships. I am still working on the first chapter, but I only have a little bit to go, really.

Thank you for reading!

#long post #the mechs #the mechanisms #bear growls #jonny d'ville #drumbot brian #two of hearts #headcanon #headcanons #the mechanisms headcanon #the mechs headcanon

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tamlinweek · 10 months ago

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Prompt List, Part 1: Days 1 - 3

It’s January! Tamlin Week 2024 is in April, and it will be here before we know it! Are you feeling the pressure to make something, but you’re not sure what yet? Here are some ideas to get you started!

Day 1: Heir of Spring/Human Tamlin

“Oh, I can play a mean fiddle, but High Lords’ sons don’t become traveling minstrels. So I trained and fought for my father against whomever he told me to fight, and I would have been happy to leave the scheming to my brothers. But my power kept growing, and I couldn’t hide it—not among our kind.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Heir of Spring

What was Tamlin's childhood like when he was growing up?

What was his relationship like with his mother? His father? His two older brothers?

How did his blossoming powers manifest?

When did they start to appear?

What would his life have looked like if he had become the traveling minstrel he had always wanted to be?

As the last of his line, what does it mean for the future of the Spring Court if he does not produce an Heir of his own?

Human Tamlin

In ACOTAR, Tamlin was born a High Fae, and a High Lord's son at that. In the original Ballad of Tam Lin, the female protagonist named Janet asks him if he was ever once a mortal man. Tam Lin says he was, but he was kidnapped by the Queen of the Faeries when he fell off his horse.

How would Tamlin's story have changed if he was once mortal, like Feyre?

What if the roles were reversed, and he was the mortal hunter, and Feyre a High Fae?

What if Tamlin found a way to become human, to forsake his immortal life?

Would that be a selfless act, or a selfish one?

Day 2: Poet/Warrior

Poet

“Your list of words was too interesting to pass up. And not good for love poems at all.” When I [Feyre] lifted my brow in silent inquiry, he said, “We had contests to see who could write the dirtiest limericks while I was living with my father’s war-band by the border. I don’t particularly enjoy losing, so I took it upon myself to become good at them.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

When did Tamlin first start writing poetry?

When he wanted to become a traveling minstrel and play the fiddle, did he write his own songs?

What were the dirty limericks contests like?

What other kinds of poetry did he write, if any?

Warrior

“I never expected—never wanted—my father’s title. My brothers would have never let me live to adolescence if they had suspected that I did. So the moment I was old enough, I joined my father’s war-band and trained so that I might someday serve my father, or whichever of my brothers inherited his title.” He flexed his hands, as if imagining the claws beneath. “I’d realized from an early age that fighting and killing were about the only things I was good at.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

How old was Tamlin when he was forced to join his father's war-band?

When did he first meet Rhysand? How did they meet?

What was it like living in the camps with his father's war-bands?

We know that Tamlin participated in dirty limericks contests. What else did he do while training?

What was training like?

Who else could he have met in the bands?

Which side of Tamlin do you find more captivating? The warrior, or the poet? Or do you prefer the dichotomy? Romantic vs destructive; soft vs sharp; light vs dark? There is no wrong answer!

Day 3: Mates/Flower Language

“High Fae mostly marry,” he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. “But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way. High Fae wed without the mating bond, but if you find your mate, the bond is so deep that marriage is … insignificant in comparison.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Tamlin may not have a mate in canon, at least not yet(!), but what if he did?

Who is it, and how do they meet? Or, perhaps, is his mate someone he’s already met?

If you’re not fond of mates as a trope, how would he woo a significant other? With flowers, perhaps?

Flower Language

There will be a separate post in the future discussing the Language of Flowers in depth, but for now, let's take some inspiration from Shakespeare:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance: pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: [Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5, Line 175]

"Rosemary is particularly associated with remembrance of the dead, and pansies get their name from pensées, the French for thoughts. Fennel represents marital infidelity and columbine flattery or insincerity. Rue, also known as herb of grace, is very bitter and stands for regret, repentance and sorrow. Daisies are a symbol of innocence and the violets, now withered, mean faithfulness." - source

Now let's consider the language of flowers as it pertains to ACOTAR:

After a while, I paused in the rose garden. The moonlight stained the red petals a deep purple and cast a silvery sheen on the white blooms. “My father had this garden planted for my mother,” Tamlin said from behind me. ... "It was a mating present." ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Tamlin's father planted the rose garden for his new mate. What do the roses represent, and how do the colors impact their meaning?

What other flowers might be important to Tamlin?

Aside from expressing affection, what other messages could be sent using the Language of Flowers?

Consider flowers signalling a secret meeting, or sending a warning, or, if you want to get cheeky, consider the Tumblr-based Flower Shop AU: "How do I passive-aggressively say "F*ck You" in Flower?" as a way to explore floriography in the Spring Court.

Even though the prompt encourages the use of Flower Language, there is more symbolism to plants than flowers alone. What trees or herbs could be used to enhance a message in the Spring Court?

Let your imagination run wild!

We hope these questions and prompts have inspired you! Part 2 discussing the next three days of prompts will be coming soon!

#tamlin #pro tamlin #tamlin week #tamlinweek #tamlin week 2024 #tamlinweek2024 #tamlin week prompts #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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piipaw · 5 months ago

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[☺Gum- Unrenoun Cleric of Mystra☺]

1. [CHARACTER INFO]

OC NAME: Gum

OC PRONOUS: He/Him, They/Them

AUTHOR: @piipaw

2. [DIALOGUE]

1. Greeting message:

Hmm? Did you need something?

2. Identify yourself:

Who, me? You can call me Gum. I’m a cleric of Mystra, but it’s best if you don’t discuss it too loudly. Let’s keep that between us.

3. Tell me about your Creche:

[He looks distant, as if lost in thought] … Did you say something?

4. I need to know how you fight::

I was once skilled with a sword, but I prefer a mace and shield when my spells can’t support my allies. Healing wounds and supporting suits me better, though I’m not sure the others appreciate when my support comes in the form of the undead.

5. Can I ask a more personal question?

Depends on how personal, but proceed.

6. What is your relationship with the divinity?

[He looks around uneasy] … I am devoted to my Goddess, Mystra. It is through her guidance I have found my true self, my freedom, even at a price. Oh, wait, did you mean Vlaakith? [a deep hurt crosses his face, a hand rising to the scar on his throat] I have no loyalties to someone who has taken so much from my8self and my kin.

7. What do you usually do in your free time?

Read, I practically live in a library now, it’s a contrast from the humble books I plucked from the stores my creche’s raiders would bring back. It’s… comforting to be able to store them in the open, rather than hide them under the floor panels of my bunk.

8. What is your life goal?

I know my kin fight to unite us under one sky, some may even call me hshar'lak for not taking up arms in the rebellion, but I am better suited on the ground- far from the backs of dragons. So long as I live I can continue to prevent any untimely deaths, continue to provide life to the living, I can die at peace knowing I did all I could.

9. How is your relationship with your allies?

Unlikely. I never had many companions at my creche, even when I was looked upon in favor. I never saw myself to find allies and family among istikis, yet here I am with more friends than I have fingers to count.

10. Do you have someone special in your life?

[His neutral face breaks into a soft smile]. I do,and after living so long with only the goal of survival as a reason to move forwards, he has reminded me what living can truly feel like. I am talking too much, but perhaps it cannot be helped as no one else has ever shown me love so pure.

11. Say something you would never do, and why?

I would rather die than return to my creche. The reasons for that are not of your concern.

12. What is a perfect day to you?

A perfect day once would be any day bathed in the blood of my enemies. Now? Any day where I can relax with a nice soak, perhaps with slices of apple and cheese if I’m feeling extra luxurious.

13. How do you celebrate a victory?

Victories are best spent with good company. Be it a large affair with wine flowing, or a magical night under the stars. Perhaps after our next win I shall help prepare a feast?

14. How do you deal with defeat and losses?

Loss… [He pauses, touching the scar across his neck] I am too familiar with loss. When we lose things, things are often gained in ways we could not imagine. It is best to keep going forwards without forgetting what got us to our destinations along the way.

15. How do you think you will be remembered after death?

Who’s to say anyone will remember me after my time? I am but a star in the sky, and countless more shine hotter and burn brighter than myself. That is not to say I would not miss my friends if they were to pass before my time, and I hope they would not feel too much sadness should the roles be reversed.

3. [GRAPHICS]

(i was really fighting my program making these i really hope it saved transparent)

4. [BONUS RESOURCES]

I really adore my Tav sorry for a mini pic gallery ;w;

I sadly haven't finished coding the page on my website for Gum, but I'll include a little blurb on his backstory here!

After experiencing the preventable death of his rival, G'lyth, Gum had his faith in Vlaakith shattered. Turning to Mystra's guidance after discovering some contraband tomes brought in on a raid, Gum practiced magic and medicine in secrecy, though many had suspicions of his wavering faith- none could find such proof of his treachery to their queen. He soon secured the position of ghustil of his creche to ensure his safety- knowing it was temporary. After being abducted from his home and enduring a long journey, Gum had found a group of unlikely allies to stand by when things seemed hopeless. Along the way he discovered much about himself, his connection to the divine, and decided to settle down far from his creche. While he hates the cold climate, he will accept any chance to enjoy his new found freedom.

Thank you again, @vikintor. I don't believe we have ever spoke, but seeing you combine two of my favorite interest (Doom and the Gith), I really wanted to take a chance and submit something as well. Thank you for giving me the opportunity C:

#githmap #githmapoc #gumposting #my tav #bg3 tav #githyanki

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strangerthanfictive · 1 month ago

Text

Recognizing You Have a Fictitious Identity

An Informal Discussion Between 2 Fictive Headmates Key - Sorrel - Sorrel Accent Text - Aster - Aster Accent Text Why am I me? Why did the brain choose him out of countless other characters to make a pitiful clone of? That was the first mystery I had to solve; the homework the doc gave me. And I know it was for the best that things move fast, yeah? A head-start before I get a chance to start to feel things about this "life," these "memories" I have that are just fabrications of a broken mind. But then I also needed to recall those memories of this person that I really am (but feel like I'm suddenly inhabiting) to figure it out in the first place. I remember thinking; how in the hell am I going to go about this? Rewatch the show, and take notes whenever I feel like something aligns with our trauma? Is the doc expecting me to, like, draw up a venn diagram and bring it next week? Do I just think about the two of me—of body and fiction—and the answer will just come to me? Honestly, I didn't even think about that question for months. I asked myself why I was here moreso in the sense that I was stuck in someone else's body and needed to find a way to get home so that they could get their body back and I could get back to my family. It took me nearly a year to actually realize that we're all part of the same whole; that I took on this identity and more importantly, that I could part with it should I want to. I remember that call with our therapist very vividly. I was seeing her—"my" mother—as in, hallucinating her corpse in places nearly nightly beyond just nightmares. Her body is never explicitly shown in the comics, and our imagination filled in the blanks. I had broken down crying, and I was telling our therapist; "I'm so tired. I don't want to be him anymore!" Without hesitation, she told me,

"You don't have to be."

...And I was gobsmacked. I was thinking, What do you mean? I have all of these memories and I've held onto them for 11 months! It cannot be that simple. Ironically, just as I had that thought, I realized...yes, yes it absolutely was that simple. I did not have to subject myself to someone else's trauma—let alone someone who isn't real—when, frankly, I have my own tonterías to deal with.

I had the privilege of being your successor, being the second fictive on the block, and you told me pretty much day 1 that I don't need to have any sort of connection or feeling about my source. That of course helped, but I think it was also easier on me with it being a show. I could just look up the actor and see yeah, he's got a whole other life and other roles. On top of that, by rewatching it, I'm seeing the stuff I remember as my memories from the perspective of an omniscient camera—how I'm supposed to in the first place, and not through a character's eyes. Being a fictive of live action media VS illustration...it's no contest on what's easier to shake yourself out of.

But still, that question just loomed over me. Why him? Obviously, the doc didn't tell me I had to completely figure it out in a week, but I do love a distraction from my own existential dread challenge. So I hyperfixated on unpacking every bit of trauma this sorry bloke had to see if there were any parallels for basically every bit of free time I had. I honestly don't remember how long it took; whether I got it done in the week. I just remember the moment it clicked for me. I find it so fascinating how she handled our cases in reverse. We didn't start to unpack the "why" of my source until after I had changed my name, appearance, and age.

That might be thanks to you, mate. You didn't know any better than to treat your "memories" as real off the bat.

That's a very good point. In the event that there are more fictives in our system going forward, they may reach a point of understanding fact from fiction even quicker than you. But I digress.

I don't think I ever asked myself, "Why him?" An answer came to me without me truly seeking one out. That answer certainly explained a lot about me, but nevertheless, it just didn't occur to me to question why I took on that form. Perhaps if I had done so, I may have spared myself a lot of pain, but there's no instruction manual on how to cope with waking up in a strange body and everything you know to be your life being a work of fiction.

Well, that's the point of writing out our talks, isn't it? We're not really qualified to write, like, a whole scientific book on OSDD or the ✨plural experience✨ but we can definitely have chats about how we specifically feel and how we got to a...semi-stable place. Worst case, our thoughts go to the void. Best case, it might reach someone interested in our stories. Our real stories. Not to, you know, be confused to the ones we spawned from, haha. So if anyone actually is reading this, hi! Glad you dropped by. Let us know if you have any questions about ourselves. I think we got the ask box set up proper with anon and everything.

I think that's all for our discussion tonight. Perhaps, if we want to cover the basic aspects of being a fictive, we should speak next on grief. I briefly touched on mine already, but you have a unique perspective, Sorrel, as you've met and befriended another fictive from your source. Getting right into the angst, are we? Perhaps. But you've proposed we discuss our recovery process on this blog, and coping with grief is a sizeable portion of that process. You're right. Not chuffed about it, but you're right. We can talk about it next. Until then, I look forward seeing what happens with this chat, if anything. Good talk, mate. Good talk.

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justplainwhump · 1 year ago

Text

Raid

Adrian takes part in a WRU raid.

[pet safety masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU, frankly discussed noncon (by whumpers), implied forced prostitution, WRU things, reacquisition teams, biting, beating. It starts very fluffy, but most of this is in fact very much not.

Slowly, Adrian and Bea began to develop a routine. Marta helped, from a distance, sharing what she knew from years of safehouse work and adapting it to Adrian's reality.

Physical activities, she had recommended. Touch that is affectionate, yet not physical. Defining and defending boundaries for each of them.

It was a challenging journey for both of them, but Adrian found himself enjoying the ride.

Bea helped with and prepared cooking. She didn't have any words for it, and barely any memory, but there was definitely some physical memory to kitchen assistance - with the slight drawback, that that had been with full vision, as they'd learned the hard way when she'd seriously cut herself while chopping onions, and the ER had sent them off because they wouldn't treat pets.

From then on, there were weekly therapy sessions for Bea, a work therapist (WRU-licence for work with pets) visiting them at home and teaching her how to deal with her vision impairment.

Bea refused to leave the apartment without him, but he taught her how to order groceries via app and she took over that task, too.

And then, there was dancing.

Every day after Adrian came home from work, he'd put on a playlist and they'd dance in the small space of his living room for almost an hour. Bea was a great dancer - of course she was, he thought grimly, nobody came out of WRU's training who didn't have perfectly sensual movements and flexibility. But she also seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

They danced Salsa, New York style, and Bea took to it like a fish to water. When he was at work, she browsed YouTube playlists he'd set up for her to find new combinations or try out stylings and decorations, and after he had been the one to teach her for their first two or three sessions, the roles were quickly reversed and she became the teacher.

"That pet really does wonders on you," his colleague at work said. "Haven't gotten laid enough before, huh?"

"She's fantastic," Adrian would reply then, nonchalantly enough not to provoke any follow up questions, and he'd hate that it was true. He was better.

Happier.

Of course, this didn't last long.

---

Adrian was just filing away the reports on his last uneventful inspection, humming the tune of a Salsa song, when his phone rang.

"Hey, Delgado," Kelly's voice was pressed. "Need you for a raid downtown. Illegal brothel, WRU pets involved. Police have requested a WRU team to deal with them. Dispatching three handlers and you. Departure in five. You'll answer to Grimm."

Grimm. The asshole who'd performed 'quality assurance' on Bea. It was even more sickening to imagine now, than it had been back then.

"Grimm and I aren't exactly-"

She cut him off. "You're both professionals, Adrian. He's the most senior employee on the team. Deal with it." She'd hung up, before he could add anything.

Cussing, Adrian grabbed his protective gear and jogged to the car park.

"PSI Delgado," Grimm greeted him, as he eased himself in the back of the van. "What an unpleasant surprise. I don't exactly need moral guidance to raid a house full of second hand Romantics."

"Seems our bosses think you do." Demonstratively, Adrian reached to his chest and turned on the body cam. "Pet Safety means to keep WRU property safe and well-kept. Would be a shame for the company if that weren't your highest prerogative."

Grimm clicked his tongue. "How's your own little whore anyway, eh? You keeping her safe and well-fucked? Or you defending your moral-superiority-slash-virginity against her?"

Adrian grabbed the handle over the door as the van went into a sharp curve. "What happens in my bedroom is none of your business."

"Ah, I see." He chuckled. "Nothing much, then. She's fun when you get her to scream, you know? Three fingers up the ass should do the job."

Adrian forced himself to remain calm. "What about the mission, Grimm?"

"Illegal brothel, bunch of whores with bar codes on their wrists. Police are coming in for the gangsters running it, need us to secure and seize the pets."

"How many?"

"Half dozen Romantics. Guard Dog or two." Grimm smirked. "My handlers and I will handle the Romantics, so you don't need to burden yourself with that depravity."

"Called the wife already, not to wait up," one of the other handlers chimed in. "Going to be a long night evaluating the products. We'll need to make sure they're still functional."

"While Delgado here can check if the Guard Dogs are still functional," Grimm added cheerfully. "Excellent team work."

"Truly." Adrian grinned at him darkly. "Always a pleasure working with other departments."

In his pocket, a burner phone was holding connection to his sister's, continuously sending his location data in the background.

---

It was worse than he'd expected.

Somehow, it always was.

None of the Romantics were registered to the brothel's owners. Runaways, who had either been collected off the streets by criminals or even taken the job up by themselves, earning money by doing the one thing they thought they were good at.

All of them had one thing in common - they were terrified seeing the dark gray WRU uniforms.

Some of them folded into Respect position even without the command, crying and whimpering.

Some tried to make a run for it.

Like the young man Adrian was pinning to the wall right now, barely twenty, high cheekbones, tousled black hair that fell down his back. His translucent robe hid nothing, not the too thin shape of his body, nor the bruises on his neck and thighs.

"Please," he whimpered. "Please, Sir, no, I can't go back, I'll do anything, please."

Adrian pressed him closer into the wall and leaned in. The boy reacted by curving his body against him, baring his neck, trying to rub his ass at Adrian's crotch.

Adrian squirmed. No. He couldn't do this. "See that window to our right?" he hissed. "There's a roof underneath. You hit me, get out there, down, two left turns, there's a red car. Get there, and you'll be safe."

From the end of the corridor, someone whistled. "Delgado trying to get some after all, huh? Need help?"

Adrian flipped the handler off, while he wrestled the pet's legs apart with his knee in an effort to show her what she expected to see. "Not help, fucking privacy would be nice!"

She chuckled. "Sure thing. We help each other, don't we? Be quick." He heard her press a button on her radio. "First floor clear."

Adrian reached for his own pants, pulled open his belt, while watching her leave.

His lips brushed over the boy's ear. "Got it?"

"Sure." The boy pushed back his ass. "I give you a good time and you look away for a second," he purred.

"No. You don't give me anything," Adrian said sharply. "No time. You hit me, you get to the red car. You ran away once, you do it again. Now."

He loosened his grip, and luckily, the kid had understood.

He spun around and punched him in the stomach, then a knee between the legs.

Adrian's loud whine wasn't entirely fake, as he stumbled back and rolled up on the floor. The kid stared at him for a second, and then darted towards the window Adrian had indicated, long hair flying past him like a flag.

Adrian counted to five, before he hit the button of the radio and yelled "Fuck! One got away!"

He just prayed it was true.

"One whore doesn't matter," Grimm's voice cracked in the radio. "Found the jackpot down here, be useful for once, Delgado. Basement, now."

Adrian pushed himself back to his knees. His cheek throbbed where the kid's punch had landed, not much more, but the kick between the legs had been hard. He groaned, as he started to limp towards the stairs.

The police had mostly retreated, a bunch of well dressed people loaded in the back of police trucks, some other officers carrying out computers from upstairs.

Adrian's colleagues however were in the basement, where a group of four trembling pets was huddled up behind a huge Guard Dogs shielding them against the handlers. He was growling lowly, swinging a long iron bar in one hand.

The handlers kept safe distance at the bottom of the stairs, shock batons and guns ready.

"Why don't you just shoot the dude?", the woman who'd been upstairs with Adrian demanded.

"Big guy is worth a mill," Grimm said lowly. "Top grade. Has titanium enforcements and shit. Reacquisition have been on the lookout for him for months. He'll go to refurb in mint condition, and still be on the larger end of six figures."

"Go. Away," the Guard Dog growled.

"Ressource guarding." Adrian mumbled. "Classic side effect of that sort of conditioning. Question is, does he defend all of them, or just one."

"Check the files." Grimm gestured at one of the handlers. "Did one of them escape with him?"

"Twink at the left. Not even a Romantic by designation. Domestic. Valet to their owner. Worth... neglectable."

"Huh." Grimm raised his gun and fired.

The gunshot echoed from the walls, deafening by itself, multiplied by the inhuman scream that rose from the Guard Dog's throat when the Domestic went down.

He lunged forward, at the same moment something pushed into Adrian's back.

Adrian only had time to draw his shock baton before the Guard Dog was on him, metal teeth sinking into the armour on his neck, digging through it, tearing skin and flesh. Grimm, he dimly thought. Fucking Grimm had pushed him in the line of attack.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't even raise his arm with the baton, could only scream, as the man on top of him shook his head with Adrian's neck between his teeth.

Punches rained down on the Guard Dog, vibrating in Adrian's body, his bones, his skull, everywhere. He couldn't see straight, everything a foggy blur, the only thing sharp the teeth in his neck.

There were calls around him, screams and footsteps and groans, and then finally, finally a heavy weight sinking down on him, a release of the stinging hold of his neck, and the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.

---

When Adrian came to in the hospital the first time, it was for some minutes to a doctor changing the IV bag.

The second time was at night, when he woke up disoriented, trembling from a nightmare about Eric wearing a translucent robe, kissing his neck, then turning into a zombie biting him. Adrian's trembling fingers found a thick bandage around his neck. He rang the nurse for painkillers.

The third time, late in the morning, it was to Handler Grimm sitting in a chair next to his bed.

He closed his eyes, hoping to sleep again and make him go away.

It didn't work.

"Morning, Delgado," Grimm said cheerfully. "Man, you really went all in for the team there, didn't you?"

"Fuck you," Adrian rasped. "You fucking threw me to him as.... as bait."

"You wore armor," Grimm said with a shrug. "And you messed up right before. Plus, you're a fucking pain in the ass." He clasped Adrian's shoulder, and Adrian gasped in pain as it tore at the fresh wound. "And it worked out. I'll cash in the reacquisition bonus, and both of us will keep silent about the details, eh? I'll get you a share."

"What... about the pets?"

"Got more than half of them. They're on the Drip as we speak. Your cutie is still on the run, but don't worry, they all get picked up sooner or later. Until then, I'll make sure you'll get a little solace."

Adrian groaned, and Grimm just chuckled. "Was good working with you, eh? Cheers, PSI Delgado."

Adrian passed out, came back, and passed out again.

Somewhere in between, in the fleeting moments of consciousness, he felt someone curl up at his side, gentle hands brushing over his skin.

"I'm with you," a soft voice whispered. "I'm with you, Adrian Delgado, and I'm keeping you safe." She hummed against his skin, the cheerful tune of a Salsa song.

This time, when he fell asleep, he smiled.

---

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon n @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue

#bbu #pet safety series #adrian #handler grimm #noncon implied #forced prostitution #if you ever want me to write out #some of the soft stuff in the beginning #let me know

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voxofthevoid · 4 months ago

Note

5. First sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

Haha, I ain't lacking unpublished fics, but only two count as WIPs—from the role reversal fem!goyuu I'm currently tackling:

What she does have are stories.

Full passage here.

18. If you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I do keep them! Got a whole folder unflatteringly named "Trash" lmao. The scraps file is nearly 7k right now, which I guess isn't bad when it's out of nearly 1 million words. Here's a scrapped scene from the time-travel adult!Gojou/teen!Gojou/Yuuji fic; this was in my initial outline, between Chapters 3 and 4, and I got some 1k into the chapter before I decided to take a different approach.

“You’re good kids,” Yuuji says eventually, gamely ignoring the offended noise Satoru makes. Suguru wrinkles his nose too, safely away from Yuuji’s line of sight. “But honestly, I prefer this to teaching. It’s fine in the field, but I’m always worried in the classroom. I’m not really qualified to be a teacher.” “I don’t think the interloper is either,” Satoru points out. “Or most of our teachers. Even the windows and managers seem to be winging it half the time.” “I’m sure they’re still better,” Yuuji says. “I didn’t even finish my first year.” Satoru knew this, and he did tell Suguru the bare bones of what Yuuji and Gojou told him, but he must have skimped on the details because now, Suguru looks vaguely horrified. “You didn’t?” he asks. “But—how? Why?” “Well,” Yuuji says, voice calm but very, very dry, “halfway through my first year, there was no school. And then the world kind of ended.” “Ah,” Suguru says delicately. “That would…interfere with one’s education.” “Our seniors and other sorcerers helped out later, when things were a bit calmer,” Yuuji says. “But it was never particularly organized. We learned what we needed to.” “Bet the other Suguru enjoyed that,” Satoru says; it’s a little too easy to imagine Suguru lecturing a bunch of baby sorcerers in the middle of an apocalypse. “He likes to preach. Teaching should come naturally to him.” “Satoru,” Suguru says through gritted teeth. “Suguru,” he returns sweetly. And he almost doesn’t notice how quiet Yuuji is—almost. It’s nothing. It could be anything. They’re in the forest now, heading in silent agreement toward the seething mass of cursed energy they can feel to the west. There could be any number of things occupying Yuuji’s mind. But Satoru’s always had good instincts. “Yuuji,” he asks, “you’ve never said what Suguru did in your time.”

23. Pick three keywords that describe your writing

Hot. Emotional. Humorous.

Those should cover it!

And 1 is here! Thanks for asking, Joey 🤍

List of questions here

#fic: the way it follows you home #joeys-piano #ask game

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jxtina-86 · 1 year ago

Text

Bound To You

You always know exactly what I want, even if I don't know it myself. Seth/Siobhan See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Warning: Language/Smut incl. Bondage

Rating: MA

The apartment door closes behind me and I lean against it with a sigh. Home.

My purse slides down my arm and I catch the handle at the last second, slinging my keys inside before I dump it on the floor. My blazer is next as I move away from the door towards the bedroom, stripping as I go, desperate to get in the shower and clean off the travel stink that clings to me. By the time I reach the bathroom, I'm down to my bra and panties, my fingers tugging at my hairband. Minutes later, my eyes closed as the water beats down on my face, soaking my hair.

The only thing missing is Seth. I could really do with his arms curling around me right now, his chin on my shoulder as he whispers in my ear. His days off are few and far between at the moment. And when we get them, we strangle the life out of them, clinging to each other as the hours race past and I'm struggling to keep it together as I watch him pack his bag for another stretch on the road. It doesn't matter how long we've been together, it never gets any easier.

I sometimes wonder what I would do without friends like Lex and Becca. Even though we're displaced all over the country, there's something comforting in knowing that I'm not alone. All three of us know what it's like to devote time and effort to a man that's hardly ever in the same city, let alone the same apartment as us. We know what it's like to sustain a relationship using any means possible, whether that's phone calls, texts or just our imaginations. I never realised how much I'd need that support network – I thought I was as independent as they come, but even the most independent of us need a little help along the way.

I watched Lex do this for a long time before Seth and I gave it a go. Her resilience is admirable and I constantly questioned if I had the same determination to see this through. I couldn't imagine getting into a relationship with someone I would hardly see.

Somehow Seth changed my mind. And I don't regret it for one second. Even when the going gets tough, something pushes me to fight for what we have. I've realised why Lex was so hell bent on making it work with Roman. Because I want the same thing to happen with Seth. Life without him just isn't an option anymore. The thought makes my heart pound nervously, my throat tightening as I imagine what that would be like.

I blink away the stream of water, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind. But it won't stop them from creeping up on me again. I'm still scared. Scared that I'm going to fuck this up again. I came so close before and even though it was months ago, it still hangs over me, constantly taunting me. It's an ever present reminder of not only how much of a bitch I can be, but how forgiving Seth is. If the roles were reversed, I wonder if I could forgive as easily as he did. I was astounded by the way he brushed the whole incident aside. He never once let it come back to bite me in the ass, though I'm sure I gave him enough reason to at the time.

But I guess that's what love is. Knowing when to forgive and forget. And to be fair, the whole incident has made us stronger, made us more determined to make this work. Without it, maybe we wouldn't be here today. Maybe I wouldn't be in the process of moving the last boxes from my apartment. Maybe I wouldn't be spending my weekends unpacking and fitting my own possessions amongst his.

I took the plunge and gave notice on my old apartment two weeks ago. Just like he'd done all those months ago, Seth managed to convince me that this worth a shot, despite of my fears. I don't know if I will ever rid myself of those fears, but with him, anything seems possible. But now, I have no safety net. Now I'm clinging to him, grasping at the promises he made to me in that hotel room and praying that I don't fall. Or at least, I don't fall without him.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I pause as my fingers brush against my lips. I can't help the small smile that graces my face as I pull back my hands and stare at one finger in particular. The feeling of his lips pressed against the base still remains with me. The sincerity in his eyes and voice sent a shiver down my spine and even the memory still causes my skin to tingle today. His words hung in the air as I struggled to think what to say in response. His fingers slid between mine, tugging my arm up and over his shoulder as he moved closer, his forehead resting against mine as he repeated his words.

“One day.”

Despite the path of our conversation, I never once thought it would end in him promising me that. Scrap that – it's more like, in spite of our conversation, he still promised me that. After all, I had essentially told him that I didn't know if I wanted marriage or children. Yet there he as, still offering me that if I wanted it.

And I meant what I said. I wasn't saying no. I just needed time to think it through.

I'm barely getting my head around Lex and Roman's news. Whilst I'm beyond pleased for them both, there is a tiny tremor of uncertainty. I barely see Lex as it is. Add a baby into the mix and that leaves very little time for other things and Roman has to come first. I get that. I really do. But I don't want to lose my friend.

I feel sick with selfishness, frowning at myself for even thinking these thoughts. But that's what happens. I've seen it before with colleagues – a baby comes into their lives and those without cease to exist in their world. Things they once had in common are irrelevant and the conversation dries up. It can happen so easily, even for those friends who live in the same city. Lex and I barely scrape enough time for a text or phone call and we only seem to see each other when our paths cross at shows.

Yet when I see her, I forget that it's been weeks or months. We slip back into the same old routine, the familiar back and forth. Only last time, when I was back to sort out my apartment and she was visiting her mom, there was a visible bump on display, her hand caressing it tenderly as she joked and laughed. She glowed too. It was the same old Lex, just with an extra kick. It gave me hope that nothing will change.

Although maybe it will, but in a good way. Maybe it'll make me realise that I want that with Seth too. It astounded me that he thought about our future. Call me naïve but I didn't think guys thought that way. Rightly or wrongly, I thought that if anyone would be starting to have those thoughts, it would be me. But no, we swap roles and I'm the one who freaks out at the mention of getting serious.

We haven't spoken about it since. It was like we both made a conscious effort to not let things get too serious the next day. He snuck in a workout before I woke up and then we didn't leave the hotel room until absolutely necessary. I barely made it to the airport in time for my flight back to Iowa. It felt good to just have a day of nothing. Well, nothing mixed into never-ending kisses and slow, teasing touches that escalated more than once.

I feel like we need more of that. More of the slow. More of the gentle. Everything is always so rushed and heated. We're too frantic for our own good, racing to push each other to climax so we can start over again and again until there is no more time left. I love when we leave the apartment. It reminds me what it was like at the beginning, when everything was still fresh and new, that part of a relationship where you're always discovering something new about the other person. I like sitting in bars with him, watching him out of the corner my eye and wondering how I ended up so fucking lucky. I like the way his hand will always find mine without even looking, how his fingers will always brush against my thigh at least once under the table if we're at dinner. I love how when I get up to go to the bathroom or go to the bar for more drinks, I can feel his eyes watching me go. I love how on the way back to the car, he'll always try to steal kisses from me, pressing me up against the car itself, too eager for his own good.

I shut off the shower, a warm glow spreading through me as I remember that tomorrow I will have all of that in real life, not just in my head. And due to his recent hectic schedule, I'm fortunate enough to get him for longer than usual – extra vacation days a reward for his hard work and my patience. He suggested going away, escaping for a few days but I'd rather just be here. I like waking up in our bed together, I like wandering around the apartment and hearing his voice and seeing his bare back as he brews coffee and then sneaks his arms around me for a morning kiss. And sure, we can do that anywhere, but it always feels more luxurious here than elsewhere. Because whilst for some, that would be a regular, everyday occurrence, for me it isn't. And I savour the moments that we get to be normal.

My phone rings as I exit the bathroom and I have to run back to the lounge to extract it from my purse. I can't help the wide grin as I see his name flash up on the screen.

“Hey,” I answer, breathlessly.

“Sounds like I caught you at a bad time,” he chuckles.

“Is your mind always in the gutter, Rollins?”

“Don't act like you don't love it,” he shoots back as I head back to the bedroom.

“Fine, you got me,” I laugh. “Hate to spoil your fun, but you rang just as I got out of the shower.”

“That ain't spoiling my fun, sweetheart,” he drawls with another chuckle. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

I sit on the bed, lying back on the soft sheets as I chew my lip for a second, toying with whether to provoke or tease him. “Showering is only fun when you're with me.”

“Damn straight.” He pauses and I distinctly hear him lick his lips. My thighs instantly tighten, a cool shiver floating down my spine as he takes a shallow breath. “I just can't keep my hands to myself when you're all naked and wet.”

“I really hope you're alone right now.”

There's another pause. “I can be.”

“Seth!”

“What?” I can almost hear the cocky grin spreading across his face. “I'm messing with you.”

“So, you rang me. What's up?”

“Just checking in. So, are you really naked and wet?”

“Seth...”

“See, I got this image of you in my head now and I can't seem to shift it.”

“Se–”

“And you answering the phone all breathless and saying my name over and over again... Well, that ain't helping either, sweetheart,” he continues, his voice gaining an all too familiar rasp. The sound that creeps into his tone when he's crawling over me or scooping me back into his lap from behind. “Fuck, I've missed you.”

“Missed you too,” I whisper. “I was thinking of you earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“In the shower,” I admit. All thoughts of why he was originally calling have gone. I don't know if this was his intention or a happy coincidence but that voice of his is fucking with my mind and body.

“Go on,” he prompts.

“Like you say, it's more fun when you're with me.”

“How so?”

I close my eyes and think back to the last time he joined me in there. I swallow thickly as I realise it was probably one of the last times we saw each other before this stretch apart. The morning that he left in fact. We both had early starts that day, both heading to the airport but on flights to opposite sides of the country. He'd reached past me for the shower gel and I had pulled his arm around me before I could stop myself.

“Siobhan,” he prompts softly and I wonder if he's realised why I've gone quiet.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yes,” I say, the single word forced from my mouth before my real emotions can betray me.

He chuckles quietly. “You tasted so damn sweet that morning.”

My stomach flips.

“You think I haven't been replaying that morning over and over again?” he continues. “Fuck, sweetheart, it's what's been keeping me going for the last few weeks. The thought of coming home, crawling over you... Down you... Eating you...”

I bite back the moan that's threatening to break loose, only to let out a wanton whimper instead as I remember twisting in his arms, pulling his mouth to mine. My fingers tangled in his wet hair as he backed me up against the shower wall, his hands skimming over my sides to squeeze my hips, my ass. His dick was already hard against my stomach as I curled one leg around his thigh and brazenly humped, silently willing him to fuck me hard and fast.

But he took his sweet time. A cocky grin gracing his face as he pulled back and pushed my arms above my head, holding them in place with one hand as his other slipped between my legs. He made a big show of licking his fingers clean, his eyes closing as he moaned at the taste.

My mind is starting to fuzz, Seth's voice distant as I remember his mouth on my breasts, my stomach, my thigh. His hand gripping my leg as he pushed it over his shoulder, his breath hot against my clit. Every lick, suck, nip was slow and controlled. It was torture, my grip on his head tightening with every teasing stroke he made with his tongue.

“... Not this time though...” Seth's voice cuts into my thoughts.

“Not this time?” I question hesitantly, not willing to give away the fact that I've been day-dreaming about that morning rather than listen to him tell me what his plans are for us tomorrow.

This time there's a slight edge to his chuckle, an edge that makes my thighs clamp together as heat starts to pool in my stomach. “This time I'm not giving up so easily.”

“Giving up?” I frown at the ceiling.

“I'm not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not matter how much you want me to.”

“I...”

“I'm gonna pin those fucking legs to the bed and eat you out until you scream yourself hoarse.”

Fuck.

“Pin down those hands of yours too,” he adds, the sly grin that's blatantly gracing his face obvious in his tone. “No way are you gonna be able to stop me, sweetheart.”

“Seth...” I manage to exhale, squirming on the bed, desperately trying to keep my nerve as the thought of my thighs on his shoulders clouds my mind, his hands gripping mine as his hair tickles my skin whilst his tongue slowly laps at my entrance.

“That sound good?” He whispers breathlessly and I wonder what he's doing. The thought of him fisting his dick as he talks to me causes that previously held back moan to finally break free. He laughs darkly in response. “I take that as a yes, sweetheart.”

My tongue darts across my dry lips as I stammer out my agreement.

“We ain't leaving that bed for a long time,” he whispers, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone than before. But not for long. A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Well, at least I'm gonna make damn sure you can't.”

My mind, which has until this point been working at breakneck speed, suddenly screeches to a halt. “What do you mean?”

“That would be telling, sweetheart. You really want me to spoil the surprise?”

I pout at the ceiling, my stubbornness fighting to the surface. “You don't play fair, Rollins.”

“There was a time where you didn't play fair either.”

I frown for a second, before realisation dawns on me. “I gave you what you wanted in the end. And don't deny that you didn't enjoy every second of the build up.”

“I told you I'd get my revenge one day,” he reminds me. “And you know revenge is best served cold.”

“Ice cold in your case,” I shoot back. “That happened almost a year ago.”

“And I've never forgotten it. You sliding all over me, your fucking ass bouncing in my face... On my dick...” He lets out a soft groan at the memory and I'm right there with him.

He makes me feel like a fucking goddess at the best of the times, but that was probably the one time I felt like one even before he saw me. I remember standing in the bathroom, staring at my reflection, watching my hand shaking as I took a long sip of wine. I remember wondering why the hell was I doing this, why couldn't I just think of a regular anniversary gift rather than doing something so stupid. And then I took the plunge, opened the door and my nerves vanished with one look from Seth. The entire time he was shifting in his chair, his hands scraping along his thighs, swallowing thickly as I taunted him with my movements. Heat radiated from his skin as I touched him and his kiss was searing at the end, his words rough, his touch determined as he showed me exactly what effect I had on him.

“And I've never forgotten that I was due some payback for that as well.”

“Well, you've had enough time to think about it,” I tease with a grin. “This better be worth the wait.”

“Trust me, it will.”

There's a brief pause. Down the line, there's a loud knock at a door, a muffled voice calling through, followed by a muttered 'shit' from Seth.

“I gotta go,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Some people have impeccable timing.”

“Go,” I tell him. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I can practically hear the grin that spreads across his face. “Can't wait, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” I whisper as I hear him stand, a chair scraping across the floor.

“Love you too, sweet dreams.”

Silence. I stare at the phone in my hand, his singular image replaced by one of the two of us taken down in Tampa whilst stopping over at Lex and Roman's. I'm perched on Seth's lap as we sit in the backyard, my face scrunched up with laughter, my nose pressed against his cheek as he pulls a face at the camera. He has one hand around my waist, his fingers disappearing under the hem of my shirt, the other casually caressing my bare leg. I shiver at the thought of his calloused fingers dragging across my skin tomorrow.

I close my eyes and I'm right there in the hallway, pinned against the wall in a never-ending kiss, his hands pushing under my shirt as I claw at his arms, his hair, his neck, anchoring him to me in anyway possible. I bite my lip in anticipation.

Sweet dreams indeed.

The sheets and blankets hug me close as I twist beneath them, my eyes remaining forcibly shut as I fight the urge to wake up. I snuggle deeper into the bed, my head burying between the pillows as I breathe in deeply and catch a faint whiff of Seth's aftershave. A small smile tugs at my lips, my mind starting to slip back into slumber. My leg automatically shifts as I'm pulled into a world where he's already lying beside me and said leg is curling over his, waiting for his hand to brush against my knee and rock me slowly onto my side where he can claim my mouth in a lazy, breathless kiss.

A soft click disturbs my dream and I frown into the pillow as the image of Seth disappears and is replaced by the harsh reality that I'm waking up alone. I curse early rising neighbours as I open one eye and cast a bleary look towards the curtains which are slowly turning lighter from the rising sun.

A rustle beyond the bedroom door makes me freeze. I hold my breath as the rustling sounds moves closer, the door creaking quietly. My heart is pounding, my brain fighting with my nerves as I somersault from one thought to another as I sense someone behind me, next to the bed, staring down at me as I hide beneath the sheets.

Cool air slides across my neck as the sheets are slowly tugged from my grasp. A familiar scent invades my senses and my fear immediately subsides.

“Seth! What the fuck?!” I twist furiously to face him, but I only catch a glimpse of his arm, tanned and muscular, before his large hand slides over my eyes. “What the–”

His chuckles sends a shiver down my spine. “Good morning to you too.”

My hand scrambles against his, tugging at his fingers, but he refuses to let them slip from my face. “What's with the creeping?” I scowl into the darkness.

“I wasn't creeping. I didn't realise you were awake.” His warm breath tickles my cheek. “I was planning to wake you up in a very different way...”

His lips brush against mine, slow and purposeful. The hand still remains over my eyes, shielding my view as I feel the sheets being pushed away, the cool air hitting my bare breasts. I try to help him, desperate to feel him, all of him, pressed against me. But my assistance is refused, my hands knocked softly back onto the mattress.

I feel him shift above me, his jean-clad thigh brushing against my side, the roughness making me twitch, my body involuntarily twisting away. But rather than a sighed frown, my response makes him snicker and his fingers rub soothingly against my temple as he continues to block my vision with his palm.

“What did I tell you last night?” His voice has that same rasp from our late night conversation and my body reacts in the same way it did then, my thighs pressing together as he continues to drag the sheets down my legs, my nipples tightening slightly and not from the cool air alone. “Sweetheart...”

I swallow hard, trying to remember, but it's so damn hard with his other hand trailing from my ankle to my knee. “You're... You're not going to stop...”

“That's right,” he praises. “And what else?”

Something cool brushes across my stomach. The tip of it teases around my bellybutton and I gasp as it dips inside, my hips pressing into the mattress as I try and fail to squirm out of reach.

“What else?” Seth prompts.

It's silk – the softness gives it away as a large strip of the material flutters across my ribcage, heading north for a second before casually changing direction and curling under my breasts and back down to my stomach.

“I... I won't be able to stop you,” I stammer as the silk trails over my hip, my thigh, between my legs... A quiet curse leaves my lips. There's a pause and then the silk repeats its path. Again. And again.

“Anything else?” He murmurs as the silk drags back up my stomach, between my breasts, tickling my throat.

“You...” I start, but the rest of my sentence is lost in surprise as his hand slips from my eyes. I catch a brief sight of him as I blink in the light, only managing to note that he's shirtless and the top button of his jeans is undone, the dark trail of hair winking at me before my sight is cut off for good.

He leans over me, cupping my head as he ties the scarf, his touch gentle as he lowers me back onto the pillows.

“You okay?” he murmurs in my ear, fingers pushing my hair away from my neck.

“Yes,” I breathe back.

“Not too tight?” he questions as he traces my cheeks with his fingertips. I shake my head, my own hands coming up to adjust the scarf ever so slightly before he engulfs them in his larger ones.

A soft whimper escapes me as he presses his lips to my fingertips, his thumbs running over my palms and across my wrists as he does.

“So what else did I tell you?” he prompts once again.

“Pin my legs to the bed.”

“And?”

“My... my hands,” I groan as his lips brush against my wrists.

“Right.” My hands are pushed back, his grip firm as he pushes them above my head, unfurling my fingers and then wrapping them around the vertical slats of the headboard. “Stay there.”

I feel him move from the bed, feet padding across the bedroom. A drawer sliding open and closed. There's a pause and then the sound of a zipper being undone and I fail to hold back the soft whine. A quiet laugh drifts through the air and I scowl in response.

The foot of the bed dips and my legs naturally shift wider to accommodate him. A hand presses just above my knee, widening them still. The other hand... Fuck.

The cold metal makes me jump. My hands grip the headboard tighter and I hiss loudly as he slides the handcuffs up my leg. The chain clinks together as he adjusts his hold and lets the two cuffs drift over my hip. He straddles my thighs, his bare legs tight against mine, restricting my movements as lays the cuffs on my stomach for a second. His finger circles the restraints, tickling my skin at the same time before I feel his arms rest either side of my head and the warmth from his chest as he hovers above me.

“We can stop anytime,” he reassures as he nuzzles my neck. “Just tell me, okay?”

I nod. “I'm okay.”

His lips pucker into a smile against my skin as he reaches between us and tugs the handcuffs further up my body. The chain clips my nipple and my back arches, another hiss slipping from my lips as I hear one cuff click open. My wrist is captured a second later, the long chain winding through the headboard as he reaches for my other hand and snaps the second cuff into place.

“Much better,” he says and I can almost picture the smirk on his face, his head titled to one side as he surveys me, bound and blinded and completely at his mercy. My fingers feel along the chain, noting its slack and how, as my wrists slide inside the cuffs, I could probably pull my hands free if I wanted. I wonder if its a deliberate move on his part or a happy coincidence in his choice of restraints.

The tips of his fingers stroke my wrists, slowly working their way down my extended arms. They pause half way down, barely-there circles around the inside of my elbows which makes me shiver yet crave more of his gentle touch. I wonder how long the slow will last. Judging by his promises yesterday, I'm in for the long haul. But I have no place I'd rather be than right here, waiting for his next move as his fingers dance down the remaining length of my arms to my shoulders.

A small whimper slips from me as his lips make contact with my neck. He lingers on the edges of spots that he knows drive me wild. No matter how much I twist and turn my head, he refuses to give in, nudging me back to my original position where he can torture me easily.

“Seth...” I groan as the tip of his tongue traces along my collarbone, avoiding the sensitive skin just above it that he usually loves to suck and bite.

“All in good time,” he murmurs in response. “I'll get you there, I promise.”

His words, no matter how well intended, do little to satisfy my cravings. I let go of a frustrated whine, frowning as he pulls back completely.

“Patience,” he reminds me, a hand coming to cup my chin and I can feel his warm breath on my lips as he finally closes the gap between us and his mouth claims my own. He tastes of coffee and chocolate, presumably from his early morning breakfast and I desperately wish there was enough give in the chain so that I could at least run my fingers through his hair as he teases my mouth. His lips slip from mine and he starts to press open-mouthed kisses to my neck.

I hold my breath in anticipation as he makes his way around to the sweet spot just below my right ear. Once again, he pauses, latching onto the less sensitive skin for a second before...

“Yes,” I hiss, a grin tugging at my lips as he suckles, his lips tight. My back arches, my breasts hitting his bare chest as my fingers curl around the chain once again for leverage. “Please, don't stop.”

He sucks harder, his teeth scraping much to my delight as I curse happily at the never-ending sensation, praying that he won't stop until he leaves a mark. I've got no meetings for at least a week, enough time for marks of our adventures this weekend to fade without trace. But he's soon pulling back, a finger tracing the spot and I know there must at least be a faint bruise.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, his lips brushing across the spot once again before he slides down to my collar bone, nipping at the taut skin.

Fingers edge their way under my breast, running along my ribcage, making me flinch as they hit the ticklish spots that are fully exposed thanks to my position. Back and forth they move, inching higher every so often and then back down, until my breathing is ragged from anticipation and pleas consistently fill the air.

“Seth... Please... I can't... I can't stand... You... Teasing...”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” he responds, his mouth still at my collarbone and I can feel his lips slide up into a small grin. His legs, which until now have been pushing mine further apart, move so that he is straddling my right leg and his thigh slowly pushing against my panty-clad core. “Aw, sweetheart... Seems like you're enjoying this more than you think...”

I feel my cheeks redden as my arousal is completely exposed to him. He's right though. Despite the teasing, the touches that don't quite reach where I want, he still manages to make my skin tingle and my insides clench in expectation.

His lips flutter across my heated cheeks. “Nothing to be ashamed about,” he reassures. “I've always loved how you know what you want. I love how you grab my hand and place it where you want. It's fucking sexy, Siobhan... But you know, sometimes you need to explore a little... You might find that there's something else you like. But you gotta let me show you for once. Let me show you that I know exactly what you want.” His hand gradually engulfs my breast, squeezing softly before pulling back, his fingers pulling at the flesh, until only the tips of his fingers cling to my nipple and he tugs gently before releasing.

I'm gasping for air, straining against the cuffs as my back arches, desperately trying to find his hand once again.

“See?” he whispers as I wantonly grind against his thigh. I can feel him against my hip, his boxers doing little to hide his own arousal. If only I could touch him right now. I want to feel him in my hand, I want to pump my fist around him slowly and see his eyes close as he groans.

“Again,” I beg, moaning loudly as he obliges me with another drawn out grope of my breast. This time his fingers pinch a little harder, making me yelp and then mewl as his tongue carves a path from my neck down between my breasts.

His warm breath makes me shiver as it ghosts over my hard nipple and I grind fervently down on his thigh again as I hear him lick his lips. The tip of his tongue makes never-ending circles, slowly closing in on its prize and I hold my breath as his mouth closes over my nipple, only releasing it with a sigh as he tugs softly.

“Fuck...”

His other hand is teasing my previously neglected breast, his fingers mimicking the pattern of his tongue and mouth. My head feels like its about to explode from sensory overload as he hums around my breast, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. His teeth scrape against the hard tip as he pulls back for a second and I gasp loudly, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard as I strain to push my breast back into his mouth. But all I can feel is cool air hitting the wet tip as he shifts above me and his focus turns to my other breast.

“Just how I like 'em,” he grunts as he finishes teasing with me with his sinful mouth. “Hard... Wet...” He pinches each nipple for emphasis, making me cry out, both my legs wrapping around his thick thigh as I try and push myself closer to the edge.

But he's having none of that. A strong hand grips my left leg and pushes it back onto the bed. “No fucking way,” he murmurs. “You're not gonna get off that easily, sweetheart. I'm gonna take my time, remember? There ain't gonna be any shortcuts, understand?”

A finger curls under my chin, his lips brushing against mine. “Understood?” he repeats and I nod with a whimper. “Good girl.”

I've never felt so vulnerable. I've never felt so charged. It's a weird combination and I'm struggling to understand how it makes me feel. There are many times where he's pinned me to the bed and teased me until I'm on the verge of crying, but this feels different. His words, his actions, whilst they still carry a tenderness that I recognise, there's a hint of something else. It makes me feel dizzy. I have a sudden urge to be praised again, a desperation to show him good I can really be. It's like he's tapping into something I never knew existed within me. It's as if he knows already that his behaviour is having a deeper effect on me than I could even begin to fathom.

Fuck, I love him. I love how he can read me, how he can play with me and push me to places I never thought imaginable, but that I end up craving more of. He has me on the edge already and I can't even begin to imagine where else this is heading. I'm almost at breaking point, my breathing ragged and heavy as his hands fist my breasts again, harder this time, his fingers unforgiving as they pinch and twist, yanking breathless moan after moan from my throat.

His mouth is warm and wet as he sucks on one nipple again and then the other, his fingers spreading the wetness he leaves across my chest before they climb up my neck and slip into my own mouth. I suck fervently, listening to him groan as I scrape my teeth along his fingertips. I inwardly grin at how so small an action can have an effect on him and I'm reminded that this is a two-way street – that despite my predicament, I still have a power over him too.

Hands brush against my sides, fingers curling under my arched back as he bites at my breast. They slip inside the waistband of my panties, causing my hips to buck up as well, my weight balanced between my shoulders and feet. But I smirk as I feel him rub against my hip, a soft curse floating through the air as he grips my ass harder and grinds his length against me.

“I need you,” I tell him. “I need you inside me.”

“Patience,” he groans, but I can tell his resolve is starting to slip, those deliciously sinful hips of his bucking against me as he fights to maintain control over his body. I twist my head in attempt to loosen the blindfold, desperate to see his face, to watch him struggle with his own urges. Watching him come undone is fascinating. I love when I'm on top, staring down at his beautiful face as he bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut as I clench my pussy around his dick and ride him hard and slow. I like to bat his hands away as he clamours to hold me down on him so he can thrust up into me instead and reach his climax his own way. Sometimes I let him, but most of the time, I giggle at his frustration, knowing full well it's worth it in the end to see him fist the pillow instead as he jerks beneath me, feeling him pulse inside me as he lets out a long moan, my name punctuating the air.

But not today. Today it's my turn to give myself over to him and let him control what happens to me from here on in. He eases away from my leg, pushing it and the other wider as he settles between them and my breath catches in my throat as his mouth moves away from my breast and his beard starts to tickle my stomach.

He's as slow as ever, open-mouthed kisses pressed to my heated skin as he sinks south, fingers tugging me panties along with him. His tongue swirls around my bellybutton, his hands quick to press me firmly into the mattress as I try to squirm. I'm forced to surrender to the torture, a soft cry tearing from my mouth and my head threatens to burst from the overwhelming frustration.

Sheets rustle as he rises, my legs sliding over his as he pulls me down the bed, the chain tightening, the cuffs digging into my wrists.

“Fuck, you're perfect.”

Tears prick my blinded eyes as I struggle not to break. His hand is running up and down my thigh, a tender stroke that matches the tone of his voice.

“I mean, I always knew I was a lucky fucker to have you in my life, but Christ, Siobhan... You are perfection.” His hand squeezes my hip. “I wish you could see what you look like right now.”

My throat is dry as words escape me before I can stop them. “Take a photo then.”

Seth's hand freezes on my hip. “Are... Are you serious?”

Am I? I don't know. All I can think about is how I want his hand to keep squeezing, how I want him to keep talking. How I want him to describe to me what I look like right now, but better yet, I want to hear the click of a photo being taken when there is nothing I can do to stop it. I want to see, in all its technicolour glory, exactly how I look blindfolded, handcuffed and completely exposed to him.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Please, Seth. I wanna see.”

His hand leaves me and the bed moves beneath me as he steps away. I can hear him scrambling on the floor and then his weight dips the bed again. His hand makes me jump as he cups my face, his thumb brushing against my lip.

“I love you,” I hear him say, but my response catches in my throat. “It's okay,” he breathes against my cheek. “Tell me afterwards.”

He moves back, his hand squeezing my hip again as he presses my legs further apart with his thighs.

Click.

The phone bounces on the floor and I feel his hand curl around my ankle, tugging my leg up so he can rest it on his shoulder. His lips brush against my calf and I whine in frustration as he presses his still confined dick against my aching pussy. He rubs steadily, deliberately, hissing at the wetness that is obviously soaking the material between us.

“You're dripping, sweetheart... Just how I like it. I'm gonna clean you up good and proper,” he groans. “And then make you wet all over again... And again... And again...” He thrusts against me a little harder with every word, his grip on my ankle tightening as my leg threatens to slip from his shoulder.

His tongue blazes a path from my ankle to my knee, his hand slipping to grip my thigh instead, bending my leg back towards me and I can feel his length press against my entrance.

“I'm gonna fuck you hard and slow,” he tells me with authority. “Until you scream for me. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” I hiss as his lips reach the back of my thigh.

“Good girl,” he mumbles against my skin and I have to bite my lip hard to stop myself from... From what, I don't know, but the pain in my lip, the softness of his lips and the grit in his voice is becoming too much to bear. My hips buck against him, my frustration obvious.

Too obvious.

A hand cracks against my ass, squeezing hard. “What did I tell you before?”

Fuck. I can't cope with that bass in his voice. It's too much. I can feel my own juices slipping between my ass cheeks as his hand squeezes again and my head is spinning and I can't find the word I need right now.

“Tell me,” he commands, his fingers digging into my ass roughly.

“Patience,” I manage to squeak.

His fingers sooth my aching flesh, his mouth soft once again on my thigh as he eases my leg wider, pressing it down onto the bed. He shifts above me and I jump as I feel his breath on my stomach once again, his tongue trailing a path south. His beard brushes against my lower abdomen and I fight the urge to raise my hips.

His nose settles against the small triangle of hair, his mouth so close to where I need it the most, warm breath tickling me insane as he inhales deeply.

“You smell divine,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through me as I whimper and whine and mewl in order to let him know how fucking torturous this is.

His hands grip my inner thighs, slowly pushing them wider. My feet scramble on the bed sheets until I give in and let him manoeuvre my legs any which way he wants. My feet leave the bed as he eases my legs up, still bent at the knee, all the while his breath is still hot on my clit, his nose still nuzzling against me and I know that the second his lips touch me, I'm going to lose my fucking mind.

Something cool hits my entrance and I realise with a lurch of my body that he's spat on my pussy. I can feel it sliding over my exposed lips and then I cry out as his tongue slowly starts to lap. A muffled moan makes my back arch and I groan as his forearm slides over my hips and presses me back onto the bed. His hand twists over my pubic bone, his fingers tracing the edges of my entrance as he pulls back the skin and licks from the bottom up, stopping short of my clit.

“Seth!”

He chuckles and I can picture the cocky grin on his face as his fingers spread me wide and he repeats his motion again and again, his tongue eating up my juices just as he promised. I'm a mess already, my body completely restrained now, my sensitive core at his mercy as he swipes that devilish tongue up and down, still avoiding my clit. He pulls back for a second and I can hear him lick his lips, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

“Delicious,” he mumbles, fingers replacing his tongue as he catches his breath. One finger dips inside me, twisting slightly before retreating.

And then I can smell my scent, his finger brushing against my open mouth, slipping inside and I can taste myself. I suck his finger clean, much to his delightful groan and I whine softly when it falls from my lips and trails back down my body.

Two fingers push inside me now and he lazily thrusts them back and forth as his arm moves from my waist to push against the back of my legs, pressing them back further and further until I'm almost bent in half.

Hot breath just where I need it the most and I find myself holding my own breath as I silently pray for that mouth to cover my clit. I need it. I want it. I...

“FUCK!”

My voice is a strangled shout as Seth's lips finally close around me and tug slowly. He releases me a second latter and I'm panting, begging him for more, cursing him as he chuckles and refuses me. His fingers slip from me, the sound of my wetness filling the room as his mouth covers my entrance instead and his fingers find their way up to my mouth once again.

He kisses me as I suck them dry, his tongue pushing inside me, my resulting moan muffled by his digits. His forearm flexes against the back of my legs as he pushes his tongue deeper inside me, humming as he does and making me twitch and jerk against my restraints.

I'm so fucking close already. I've never cum this quick in all the time we've been together. He might be working me over slowly, but I'm unravelling at breakneck speed and I know the second his lips find their way back to my clit I'm going to–

My mouth twists away from his fingers, a howl ripping through me as he sucks hard on my clit, the sensitive flesh pulsing in his grasp as my whole body starts to spasm. I can feel tears breaking free, my lungs working painfully fast to gasp for as much air as possible as I writhe in his grasp, my body shutting down with every second that passes and that mouth of his still works my clit with no sign of stopping.

My body goes rigid, my mind blacking out and then nothing.

A cool hand strokes my cheek. A soft, warm tongue laps between my legs, which are now resting on his shoulders. Fingers dance across my stomach and up to my breasts, teasing my nipples as I let out a groggy moan.

“Sweetheart...” Seth mumbles, his lips moving to my inner thigh. “You okay?”

“Seth,” my voice cracks.

“What? Tell me.” His voice has lost that earlier grit, as if he knows exactly what I need right now.

“Please,” I whimper and I feel him smile against my skin. He presses another kiss to my burning flesh, another slow, long lick of my pussy before he shifts.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything.”

His boxers are long gone it seems and I can now feel him, all of him pressed firmly against my thigh. He's rock hard and my tongue automatically slips out to lick my lips, a gesture that earns a rumbling groan from Seth.

“You want this dick, huh?” The rasp, the grit is back hard and strong.

I nod.

“Where, Siobhan, tell me where?”

“My mouth.”

The silence is palpable.

“Shit...” he exhales.

“Please...” I'm fucking begging. My mind is screaming, my body still trembling from aftershocks of what he's just done to me, but I need him. I want to taste him. I want to feel as much of him as I can.

The bed moves beneath me, his legs brushing against mine as he climbs over me, beside me. His scent drifts over me and my mouth starts to water. His hand tentatively cups my cheek, slipping to the back of my head, easing me up from my pillows.

The tip of his dick slips against my lips and my tongue darts out to tease his slit before he can jerk away.

“Fuck,” I hear him groan as I lean my head further forward and wrap my lips around the tip completely.

I hum in satisfaction as he slides further into my mouth and I let my saliva coat as much of him as possible before pulling back. I know what gets to him – he loves watching me suck hard on the tip, loves it even more if I trail my tongue from his balls to tip, goes fucking crazy if I take him all the way into my mouth in one go. But it's hard for me to do that when I'm bound and blinded.

“Help me out,” I murmur, hoping he gets the hint.

His grip on my head tightens as he angles my mouth just right and I shiver as I feel him guide himself into my mouth, my tongue pressing against the underside as he pushes more and more, making me groan as he hits the back of my throat.

“Holy fuck, Siobhan... Jesus... Oh fuck,” he grunts loudly as I start to bob on his dick, relishing in the way he feels in my mouth, how his fingers are digging into my scalp, how even though I've been at his mercy for the majority of this morning that I'm still able to bring him to his knees as well.

His hips buck forward and my throat tightens around him as I struggle to push back against his hand.

“Oh shit,” he gasps as I squeal around him and he's pulling back fast, his grip loosening as I gasp for breath. “Fuck, fuck, Siobhan. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Shit!”

I can feel his hands on mine, fingers fumbling.

“Seth... Stop.”

“I am, I am. I didn't mean to do that. I really didn't. I'm sorry.”

“Seth,” I repeat, my voice calm. “Leave them.”

His fingers still. “Are... Are you sure?”

I smile into the darkness. “Of course.”

“I don't deserve you,” he mumbles and my heart threatens to crack.

“Come here, please...” I feel him settle beside me, his fingers stroking my cheek. “Kiss me, Seth.”

He's slow and gentle, silently begging me to forgive him. But I already have. I kiss him back, my teeth nipping at his bottom lip, encouraging him, pushing him to give me what I want.

“Now fuck me,” I breathe as he pulls back for a second. “Hard and slow, remember?”

His forehead presses against mine. “You're too good for me,” he whispers.

“Hard and slow,” I repeat. “Make me scream.”

I want him to take back the control. I want to push him back to when his voice was deep and raspy and he called me a 'good girl' and made me cry with want and need and pure deprivation.

“I'm all yours,” I whisper.

“All mine,” he growls and I grin in satisfaction as he moves beside me, in front of me, his hands sliding up my legs as he pushes them into the air and holds them wide, his fingers digging into my ankles.

His dick slides against my pussy as he rocks back and forth, the tip rubbing over my clit, making me hiss and curse.

“That's right,” he groans. “Slick my dick up, sweetheart. C'mon, move those hips for me.”

I do as he commands, rocking against him as his dick thrusts back and forth faster and faster.

I yelp as he pushes inside me, the intrusion a blissful surprise as I take him all in, my walls clinging to him as he breathes heavily above me.

“Damn,” I hear him mutter, his hands squeezing my ankles as he twitches inside me and I groan out of desperation to feel him move. “You're so... fucking tight... And so goddamn wet, sweetheart. Fuck...”

His hips rock against me, his dick pushing deeper inside me. He slowly moves them in a circle and I cry out as he brushes against my G-spot.

“Shi-it... Seth...”

“That's right, sweetheart. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He rocks back and then thrusts forward with renewed strength, making my breasts jerk violently, my fingers tightening around the metal chain for leverage as I try to steel myself against his thrusts.

“You're... It's so fucking deep,” I choke out as he thrusts into me again and again. “Harder... Please...”

He grunts as he gives me what I want, pushing my legs further out, spreading me wide before him as he pounds my pussy and makes me choke on my words, my moans, my inevitable screams.

“You're so wet,” he tells me again. “My dick is covered in you, Siobhan. And you're dripping everywhere. Jesus...”

He lets go of one ankle, my leg dropping to the bed as his fingers once again brush over my lips.

“Suck.”

I wet them enthusiastically, moaning as they slip from my mouth and then hissing as I feel the tips of his fingers slide over my clit.

“Aww, shit... Seth...”

“Cum for me,” he grunts. “Now. Do it. Cum. For. Me.”

He rubs furiously, his other hand slipping from my ankle as well, reaching forward to grab my breast, squeezing it hard. My leg is caught between his arm and body, bending backwards as he leans forward over me, his fingers still working my clit over and over as I feel my orgasm hurtling towards me.

“Now,” he growls against my mouth, my scent still fresh on his breath.

He swallows my scream, his tongue plundering my mouth as I shudder and shake and rut against him, his fingers relentless as I spill over his dick and he slides in and out of me with renewed gusto. I'm broken beneath him, but he doesn't stop. Just like he promised.

“Again,” he mumbles against my lips. “I wanna feel that pussy tighten again. I wanna feel you cum on my dick again.”

“I... Fuck, Seth...”

I can feel a small after-tremor start to build inside me, my clit too sensitive for more, but I can't move away and he's not stopping and I'm crying out, pleading, begging, torn between wanting more and wanting it to end.

My orgasm washes over me once again, his fingers easing off, only tickling as I gasp for breath and curse him and his dick and his fingers. He chuckles into my mouth as he kisses me tenderly.

“Good girl,” he tells me again, his hand releasing my breast and coming up to cup my cheek and I have to bite my lip to stop myself moaning. Once again I wonder if he realises the effect those words are having on me this morning. And just like that... “You like it when I call you that.”

I nod, my cheeks burning.

Another chuckle. “Roll over.”

I whimper as his dick slides out of me and he slowly eases me onto my stomach, the chain scraping together as it twists and my arms are pulled tight. But he's quick to make me for comfortable, moving me higher up the bed, moving pillows to under my head and twisting me so that I can rest my head on one side.

He straddles one leg, his knee nudging the other wider. His hands fist my ass, squeezing with alternate hard and soft kneads. A palm shifts to my lower back, pressing down gently so that my hips rise up and I can feel his dick sliding between my ass cheeks. I raise my hips a little higher, desperate for him to be inside me once again.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as I rock back wantonly and his dick slips inside me with ease. “That's it, sweetheart, fuck my dick like a good girl...”

I moan in response, his words sending endless shivers down my spine. His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me back and forth on his length. My arms are starting to ache, my wrists sore from the metal cuffs that despite their looseness are digging in thanks to this position, but I don't care. All I care about is how good he feels inside me, how his fingers are digging into my ass and willing me to rock back faster and faster, how his panting is driving me insane and how desperately I want to cum again.

His hand smacks my ass and I rear up, crying out as the restraints scrape against the headboard. He smacks me again, groaning as my pussy clenches around his dick. A hand slides up my spine, followed by his lips as he flattens his body against mine. The same hand curls in my hair, twisting thick strands around his wrist as he tugs my head up from the pillow, his mouth on my neck, my jawline, my cheek, my lips.

“Again?” he mumbles.

“Please,” I croak as his hand presses between me and the mattresses, his fingers starting to work me over once again, unrelenting as always.

His chest sticks to my back, slick with sweat. His fist is tight in my hair as he pulls my head back further, his mouth latching onto my neck, refusing to let go as his hips continue to snap back and forth against my own. I want to push back on him, but I can't move, my body completely his as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

His teeth scrape my throat, his fingers relentless on my clit and I cry out loudly, my skin on fire, my mind fighting to stay focused, but unable to decide on what to focus on thanks to the havoc that he continues to wreak on my entire body.

“Fuck, Siobhan,” he groans in my ear, his tongue curling around the sensitive shell. “Cum with me. Please... I wanna feel you grip me as I cum inside you.”

“I'm close,” I promise. And I am, my body slowly starting to shut down as all focus turns to between my legs, his dick still pounding my pussy, his fingers still rubbing my clit.

The first wave washes over me with a groan... The second crashes against me, sending me flying, screaming as he holds me close, his mouth seeking out mine, warm and comforting as his hips snap against me one last time and he freezes, his dick pulsing as he empties inside me with a grunt.

My mouth slips from his with a gasp. My lungs are on fire as I struggle to breathe, his weight too heavy, my arms screaming in pain as I try to shift beneath him.

“Seth–” I start to choke out, but he's already moving, scrambling above me, his hands on mine, the cuffs clicking open. I breathe deeply, my lungs still burning, my body aching as he rolls me onto my side, soothing fingers brushing along my cheeks, behind my head, the scarf loosening and slipping free.

Warm, brown eyes greet me and I blink back tears that threaten to fall again. I've missed him so much and even though I've felt him and tasted him and heard him, seeing him before me is something else.

“Hey,” he whispers, his hands running down my arms and pulling my hands up to his face where he slowly inspects my wrists. “Are you okay?”

I nod, watching as he kisses the red pinch marks that adorn my wrists. His eyes flicker up to mine once again.

“Hey,” he breathes again, fingers reaching out to brush against my cheeks. “Fuck, Siobhan... I... I didn't mean to push you like that.”

“You didn't,” I swallow thickly, my vision blurring. “That was fucking insane, Seth. In a good way, I promise.”

But it doesn't stop him from pulling me closer, as he fumbles with sheets and blankets and tugs them around us, over our heads so we're engulfed by warmth.

“You're incredible,” he whispers. “I was ready to stop at anytime. I would have stopped before we'd even started if you wanted me to.”

“I know. But I didn't want you to stop,” I smile shyly and then giggle. “How long have you been hiding those handcuffs?”

He grins. “A while... I was waiting for the right moment.”

“How long?” I push with a pinch to his bicep.

“A few months,” he admits. “I remembered you told me once that you wouldn't mind being tied up and teased. Figured it was the perfect way to get you back for teasing me on our anniversary.”

“And last night?”

“I wanted to make sure you were still open to the idea.” He pushes back my hair from my face. “But I still wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me well and truly surprised.”

“In more ways than one?” His eyes glint and I lower my gaze.

“Perhaps,” I admit, thinking back to the way he commanded me, how turned on I was by his choice of words. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember the click of the camera, how much I want to see that photo so that we can relive this over and over again. And I wonder...

A finger slips under my chin, nudging my gaze up. “You know that's okay, right?”

“I know.”

“You just tell me,” he smiles reassuringly. “You want this again, you just tell me.”

“I know.” And then my emotions take over, all the pent up wants and desires of seeing him in front of me and not having to imagine any more. For now at least. My voice cracks. “I just want you, Seth.”

I watch as his face visibly softens. “You got me, Siobhan. Always.”

His fingers lace between mine and I watch as he pulls my hand up to his lips.

And I'm right back in the hotel room, watching him hold my gaze as he kisses my ring finger again and again. And I'm wondering why I was so hesitant. Because why the hell would I not want to live the rest of my life with a man who cares for me, who craves me, who wants to make me happy more than anything else in the world? Why would I give that up on a maybe?

And I want to give him everything I have as well. I want to be the person he calls when he has good news or bad. I want to be the person that he turns to in times of happiness and sadness. I want to be the constant in a life that is full of ups and downs. I just want to be his. And I want him to be mine.

All I want is for him to know that I am as serious about us as he is. I want him to know that moving in with him is just the beginning. I want him to know that sure, it might take some time, but I do want everything and more with him. I want to share a million other moments just like this. I want to explore my limits, my desires, my entire life with him by my side, pushing me to try new things, whether that's in bed or out of it.

All I want is to give him a sign, no matter how big or small, that I'm here for the long haul.

Because...

One day.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too,” he tells me, rocking me slowly onto my back, his mouth covering mine.

Always.

“Mine,” he mumbles against my mouth.

“Yours,” I breathe back.

One day.

My hand curls around the back of his head and I tug him up, staring into his eyes as he hovers above me.

“I...” I stammer, pausing as the rational side of my brain starts to scream. But I strive forward, ignoring the doubts and the worries that always seem to surround me. “I want it all, Seth.”

He stares at me, his eyes shining, his mouth curling upwards. “Siobhan...”

“I want it all,” I repeat, my voice steady and firm.

His eyes lower to his hand in mine. “I wasn't pushing.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

Am I?

But I already know the answer. And so does he.

Fin x

#seth freakin rollins #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins #sethrollins #seth rollins smut #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction

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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

Text

Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: XV

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: You arrive at a village by the sea in your quest to find the girl.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: the way y/n and kashimo have basically just been doing side quests for the past five or six chapters

“It smells like salt,” Kashimo observed. You gave him an amused look at that.

“Have you never been to the sea?” you said. “Of course it smells like salt; we’re quite near to it now. I assume we’ll be in the village you suspect her of being in very soon.”

“I usually avoid the sea,” he said.

“Really!” you said. “I’m rather fond of it. Is there reasoning to your aversion, or is it just one of those things that you can’t bring yourself to like?”

“Water and lightning don’t mix well,” he said. “When I’m in the water, I’m completely defenseless. I can’t risk discharging my cursed energy for fear of harming myself in the blast, too. Even bathing is the most paranoid ritual for me.”

“You must still do it, though,” you said with a frown. “After all, you do smell nice.”

Kashimo coughed strangely at that but nodded, his face reddening for some unknown reason. “Of course. But always alone, my staff with me, the doors and windows tightly sealed.”

“That’s a sad existence,” you said. “Not just the bathing part, but the sea, too. You’ve never felt waves against your feet?”

“No,” he said.

You had been foolish to ask. When a person was as taken with his own strength as Kashimo was, they would never dare do anything that’d compromise it. Furthermore, he certainly had made so many enemies that even a second off guard could spell his doom. What would Hisashi, Kichiro, and Naoki do if they knew of this weakness of his? How would they respond to the discovery that their greatest opponent was not invincible?

It was simple to imagine. A shove into the water. A sword through the head. Kashimo would be dead before he even knew what had hit him — after all, the leaders of the Big Three Sorcerer Families were no slouches in the power department. It was Kashimo’s brilliantly fast, all-encompassing lightning that they could not avoid and feared so greatly, but if they had a way around it, then there was nothing stopping them from defeating him, especially if they teamed up.

You vowed never to tell them. Kashimo was not theirs to defeat, anyways.

“Do you tend to remain inland, then?” you said. He nodded.

“I avoid the coasts if I can help it. Maybe that’s another reason I haven’t seen her yet — I never did manage to muster up the courage to go near these fishing villages where she likely might be,” he said.

“What changed?” you said.

“You’re here now, and you need to find her,” he said. “Since that’s the case, it’s what we’ll do. But don’t expect me to enjoy myself greatly.”

“I was hoping you would,” you said. He clicked his tongue, equal parts derisive and fond.

“We’re not on a vacation. We just have to find the girl and get back to Daisuke. There’s no time for playing around in the ocean or lounging about on the beach,” he said.

“What a role reversal,” you said. “That you are the one so serious about these affairs and I am being so lackadaisical. You’re right, of course; we should endeavor to be quick so that our time is not wasted.”

You hadn’t been to the beach in so long. The Gojos thought it by-and-by below them, so you rarely visited, but when you were younger, it had been your parents’ special treat to you, something you did to celebrate whatever small miracles were going on in your daily lives. Even though Kashimo was right in reminding you that this was a trip for business, you could not help the childish excitement brewing in you at the thought of being by the ocean again.

It was a bustling village you entered, people milling about the streets, a market in full swing. Trotting around carts of fruit, you looked back at Kashimo, who seemed entirely bewildered by the crowds of people. It was interesting, seeing him so out of his depth, and you laughed softly at the expression he made when a child thudded against his leg and ran off without so much as an apology.

“It’s strange not being recognized,” Kashimo said. “I’m used to people cowering when they see me. This is different.”

“It is different, but I like it,” you said. He tilted his head at you, reining his horse to a walk so that you two could travel side by side on the widening path instead of one after the other.

“How is it for you?” he said.

“Hm? How is what for me?” you said. His thick lashes were lowered, his brow heavy with shyness over his eyes, like he was doing something extraordinarily uncomfortable by asking you that simple question.

“When you walk into towns. You said this is different, so how is it usually?” he said. You raised your eyebrows — Kashimo asking about youwas unprecedented. It was usually the other way around, after all.

“You were there that one time,” you said. “With Hisashi and Kamin. It’s always like that. People recognize him. They recognize the Gojos and the Kamos and the Zenins, and so they rush to win their favor, tripping over themselves in order to be heard and seen and recognized by them. I am usually a victim of that, as well.”

“But you are not Gojo, nor are you Kamo or Zenin,” Kashimo said.

“Still, I ride with them,” you said. “I am their weapon. The dog of the Big Three Sorcerer Families; even affection from a dog with such high status is enough for most of these people, who would not understand true power if it slapped them across both cheeks.”

“How can you be considered a dog?” Kashimo said.

“Am I not?” you said rhetorically. “It’s something I’ve realized. This life I live…it is full of debts. I am always owing somebody. The Gojos. The hummingbird. Even, in a sense, Ten. There is nowhere I can go where someone does not expect something from me, where I am not leashed by these very expectations.”

You did not expect him to fully understand what you were saying, as you could not fully understand what he meant when he referenced his own life. Your upbringings, your pasts, even your lives at present…they were exact opposites. You would never know him as Daisuke did; he would never know you as Hisashi did.

In that moment, you were overcome with a wave of longing for your fiancé. Maybe it was a little strange, that you rode beside Kashimo and were suddenly missing Hisashi, but it was nevertheless the case. He was your friend, after all, the boy who had known you for much of your youth. These many stories you were telling Kashimo were ones you never had to tell Hisashi, for he had lived through them himself or had heard them before.

You remembered when you were younger, when you had still been afraid of lightning and thunderstorms, how those nightly summer squalls had always frightened you. The boughs of the cherry blossom trees would beat against your windows, and without fail you’d awaken from your nightmares of your parents’ death, screaming about how Ten was coming for you next. When they first began, Kamin Gojo permitted you in his quarters during these episodes, telling you stories of his past until the rain abated, but eventually he grew tired of it and told you you ought to face your fears and leave him alone.

Of course, it did not work like that. You wailed and you sobbed in the isolation of your chambers, each crack of lightning convincing you that Ten had arrived to kill you, each snapping twig akin to his footsteps. When you could not bear it anymore, you ran to Kamin’s door despite his adamance that you leave him be, but to your chagrin discovered it was locked.

It was there that Hisashi had found you, weeping and clutching the carpet. You hadn’t expected much from him — after all, he was still at that point in his life where he found you to be on the whole an annoyance — but he had knelt beside you and hugged you carefully to his chest.

Look, he had said, I’m turning my cursed technique on. Limitless. That means nothing can touch us.

You had asked him then — not even Ten? And he had responded in turn, promptly. Not even Ten. You had not understood the exact, minute details of his cursed technique back then, had not known that Limitless could only ever protect himself and not another, so in the moment you were soothed by the supposed invulnerability he had provided you with.

You won’t let go? you had whispered. I don’t want him to come for me. I don’t want him to kill me like he killed my parents. I am so afraid of him, Hisashi…

You thought he might belittle you, tell you to face your fears as Kamin Gojo had. After all, to Hisashi, you were nothing more than the irritating girl he would one day have to marry, the child his father had taken in for the sole purpose of eventually being his wife. Hisashi was still a boy himself, too, and you had briefly doubted that he possessed the maturity to care for you at all.

I will stay with you until all the storms are over, he had said to you. Until not a single stroke of lightning dares pierce the sky. Only then will I let you go.

What if Ten gets to us anyways? you had said, still paranoid, though you had no reason to be. But that was back when Ten was a faceless phantom to you, an abstract fear instead of a concrete threat which could be faced and defeated. Some children had a monster under the bed. You had a curse in the sky. It was like that. What if we still die, even with your Limitless protecting us?

He had not made any empty reassurances. Maybe he had thought that they would not help you; naturally, he had been correct in this assumption. For a moment, he had not spoken at all, his cheek resting against your hair, and then he had finally deigned to say something. I’ll chase you into the next life, then. But that time, I’ll be reborn as a Gojo with the Six Eyes as well as the Limitless, and then no one will be able to hurt us.

Okay, you had said, your body quaking with the relief that came after crying for a long time. Okay. That’s fine. I’ll see you then, if I have to.

Even though he was so infamously meek in personality, he was strong in his body, trained as a sorcerer from a young age as he was. At least, he was strong enough to stand and carry you to his room, setting you down in his bed and promising he’d watch over you until it was all over.

Walking down the sea-slick cobblestones, you childishly wished you had Hisashi watching over you even now. Of course, there was nowhere you were safer than with Kashimo, nowhere you were freer, but sometimes you longed for the comfort and familiarity of that cage of a mansion. It was frightening, this outside world, with its hurricanes and its beasts and its wild boys with their wild pasts.

“You should just kill them,” Kashimo said conversationally, like that was a perfectly normal thing to say. “Whoever demands anything of you. Kill all of them.”

“No,” you said. “I cannot. For as surely as they have taken from me, they have also given, and I cannot kill my greatest benefactors like that. Then again, maybe it’s nothing more than the affection a dog holds for its master. Either way, that’s not an option.”

“I see,” he said. “Anyways, it was only a suggestion.”

“The problems of my life cannot be solved with death, as the ones of yours cannot be solved with diplomacy,” you said.

“Are you saying we mustn’t advise one another?” he said.

“No. Only that we must keep these limitations in mind,” you explained. “Now how do we go about checking whether this girl is here or not?”

“I presume going door-to-door would be a bit excessive for your tastes,” he said.

“Inefficient, too,” you said.

“And you’d be opposed to me threatening the lord of the village?” he said.

“You know me so well,” you said. “Though it’s not a bad idea. Not the threatening part, but speaking to the lord, I mean. At least his servants; they’d likely know if someone like the girl lived around here.”

Kashimo seemed pleased with himself for inspiring such an excellent idea, even patting his horse on the neck — something which his horse did not seem particularly amused by, snorting at the contact.

“Where would the lord of the village live?” he said.

“We just have to search for the nicest looking house,” you said, sliding off your horse and taking her reins off of her head so that you could lead her behind you. Kashimo seemed confused but did the same, though you noticed him furrowing his brow. Taking pity, you explained to him as you walked: “You’ll have to let me take the lead here. I might do things that seem confusing, but I’m much more used to dealing with this sort of person than you are, so you need to trust me. Intimidation and arguing will only make them shut their doors on you tighter; we must appear as supplicants come to the lord for aid.”

Kashimo wrinkled his nose. “I am no supplicant.”

“Today, you will be,” you said in a tone that brokered no argument. “First, let us find an inn to keep our horses and belongings at. If we come in finery, we will be summarily rejected at the door. The lord and his servants will believe us to be flexing our status on them for no reason, and they will resent us for it.”

“Fine,” he muttered. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, pitying him for having to do something so antithetical to who he was as a person.

“Thank you,” you said, expressing it as genuinely as you could. “You’ve done a lot for me, these past few days.”

After all, hadn’t he? Watching over your horse while you fought Nezumi and Usagi. Taking you to Daisuke so you could have a better sword. Helping you find the girl so that you could repay Daisuke. Going to the seaside when he was so afraid of water. And now, he was — albeit reluctantly — agreeing to bow his head and plead with a man who, by all accounts, he was stronger than. It was probably the hardest thing he had done in some time; he, who believed the natural hierarchy of the world was based on strength, allowing himself to be debased in front of someone who was unquestionably his inferior and weaker than him by far.

His eyes widened at the casual way with which you touched him, and he turned his head to the side, pouting childishly. His knuckles turned white around his horse’s reins from how hard he suddenly gripped them, causing the horse to pin its ears at him and stomp in warning.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “It’s only so that you live to fight me and are the best possible opponent when it happens.”

“Alright,” you said. “Still, I’m grateful anyways.”

The nearest inn was not terribly far, though it did back up to a small, sheltered cove, the songs of seabirds echoing through the thin walls. You knew Kashimo would not be fond of how close the sea was, but surprisingly, he did not complain, only handing his horse to one of the stable boys and turning to you.

“Can we share a room again?” he said. You had been about to tell the innkeeper to give you two separate rooms, but at his request — which was made in a small voice, smaller than you had ever heard him speak — you paused.

“Why?” you said. He gazed out the window, where the ocean crashed against the sand, white foam bubbling up at the meeting-points. Lightning arced between his fingers, small sparks dancing around his wrists, and then he clenched his fist and extinguished the electricity completely.

“I do not want to be alone,” he said. “In such a vulnerable place, I do not want to be alone. It is not your protection I ask for, of course, but if there was someone there who could perhaps…be aware of approaching threats…it might ease my mind.”

“I see,” you said. “So this is the one fear you will not conquer. Very well; one room, sir. This man and I will share.”

“One day, I will even conquer the sea itself,” Kashimo promised you as you followed the innkeeper to the room he had prepared for you. “But right now is not that time. There are more pressing matters to be addressed, and my discomfort with the water is not high on the priority list.”

“That is true,” you said. “Will you mind if I visit the sea, though? Since we came all this way.”

“Why would you ask for my permission?” he said, actually rolling his eyes. “I’m not Hisashi Gojo. I would never believe it to be my place to tell you what you can or can’t do.”

“Thank you,” you said, too pleased with the relationship blooming tenuously between you both to reprimand him for speaking against Hisashi. “I’ll go once we’ve spoken to the lord of the village, then.”

“Wonderful,” Kashimo said, with no small amounts of sarcasm.

“We should be off, then,” you said. “It wouldn’t do for us to go too late and be turned away due to the hour.”

“And we’ll have to walk, right?” he said. “We can’t even run?”

“We will walk,” you affirmed. “Sorry, Kashimo. You could just tell me the girl’s name and I could go by myself, you know.”

“Not likely,” he said. “Let’s not waste time, then.”

Walking through the town on foot instead of horseback was a different experience entirely. Now, you were in the midst of all the action, weaving around the stray dogs which ran underfoot, yanking one another out of the way of women balancing baskets of vegetables in their arms, following the twists and turns of the road until you reached an imposing mansion.

Well, anyways, it would’ve been imposing if you didn’t live in the Gojo manor. The residence you shared with Hisashi was ten times as large as this one, and the grounds were likely close to the size of the entire village. It took a lot to impress you after having spent much of your life surrounded by the luxury of the Big Three Sorcerer Families, but it remained that compared to the rest of the village, this place was certainly of a better quality.

“This is it,” you said. “Now, remember, Kashimo, not a word unless I say you may speak.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, voice whiny. “Hurry up so we can get this over with! If she’s not here, we should leave at once.”

“We already paid for the room in the inn, so we might as well stay for the night. Sorry. I know being this close to the sea isn’t preferable for you,” you said, raising your hand to knock on the door.

The sound rang and ricocheted around for a bit — no doubt the attempt of the lord to seem more important than he really was — and then, dimly and only because of your enhanced senses, you could hear the sound of shuffling footsteps.

It was with an ominous creak that the door opened, revealing an elderly, stooped over woman peering at you through the small crack. Behind her, the entrance was darkened, as if the house was in mourning, and to support that fact, her clothes were shapeless and black.

“Who are you?” she said. Her voice was hoarse, her stare shrewd with age. You exchanged glances with Kashimo before returning your attention to the woman.

“You may think of us as travelers. We are trying to find a relative, and we thought that the lord of the house might be able to help us,” you said. The woman looked between the two of you before nodding and opening the door a little wider.

“Lord Tachibana is inside. If you are willing to wait, I can bring him to you,” she said.

“That’s fine by us,” you said. Apprehensively, as if you might attack her, the woman opened the door ever so slightly more; it was barely enough for you and Kashimo to squeeze inside, one after the other, and then the entryway was slamming shut again and leaving you in the front hall of the Tachibana Mansion.

A few candles lit the way as you followed the woman into a small, dusty parlor. It was obviously heavily underutilized. You supposed the lord did not entertain many guests; it was a reasonable assumption, after all, given that he was so far in the middle of nowhere that likely very few people had reason to visit him in the first place.

“Wait here,” the woman said. “Someone will be in with tea while I go fetch Lord Tachibana.”

The door to the parlor closed ominously behind her, leaving you and Kashimo sitting there in wait. To his credit, he did not sprawl about the room as he usually might’ve. Instead, he mirrored your prim and contained posture, though you could tell by the muscle twitching in his jaw that he was none-too-happy about it.

When the door opened again, it was a small boy standing there, not the woman. He held a tray with two steaming teacups on it, and those he deposited before you with a bow. Despite his small stature and youth, there was an aged sorrow about him, and as he passed by you with the now-empty tray, you caught him by his small hand.

“Say, boy, do you work in this household?” you said. He seemed frightened when he responded.

“Yes, my lady, I do,” he said, cringing into another bow. You frowned.

“And is it a good household to work in?” you said. He looked around nervously, first at you, then at Kashimo, then at the door, and finally back at you. You nodded encouragingly, but right when he was about to open his mouth to respond, there was a commotion at the door. You let go of him as he gasped, collecting the empty tray and darting away before the newcomers could enter the room.

“What was that all about?” Kashimo muttered. You shook your head.

“We can discuss things later,” you said. “For now, we have company to entertain.”

This time, it was an aged, bombastic-seeming man who entered alongside the woman from before. He was probably about twenty years your senior, with gray creeping into his beard and streaking through his hair, his eyes heavily set into his severe face. His expression did not lighten any upon seeing you and Kashimo. The woman scurried after him like a mouse, as if she were afraid of the reaction he might have to seeing the two of you.

“I am Lord Akihiro Tachibana,” he said, his voice a gravelly rumble like falling rocks. “You say you are in search of someone. A relative. Who is it and why have you come here to find them?”

“She loved the sea,” Kashimo said, though you had expressly told him not to speak. You sighed but did not say anything, as technically his words had been relatively neutral. “That’s why.”

Akihiro Tachibana looked at you incredulously, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in all his years of living. You held his gaze levelly — not a challenge, but also a refusal to back down, an insistence to be acknowledged.

“We’d thank you kindly for your help,” you said demurely. “That is all, sir.”

“You are nothing,” he said. “No one. Why should I spend even a second of my time on you? Why should I care about your missing girl?”

“As the lord of this village, it is your duty to aid us,” you said. “It is your duty to know everything that happens in this village, and to assist those who visit it. Am I incorrect in saying such a thing?”

“What do you know of the duties of a lord?” he said with a snort.

“I am the lady of the Gojo house,” you said. Even though he obviously wasn’t a sorcerer, he’d understand the significance of that. The Gojos were well-known just for how utterly, obscenely wealthy they were, and just mentioning the name was enough to demand some modicum of respect. “I know better than you what these duties are.”

“How am I to believe you?” Akihiro said. “Anyone can call themselves a Gojo. It doesn’t make it true.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me,” you said, slightly irritated — you hadn’t wanted to play this card if it wasn’t necessary. “There is a chance, however slight you may think it is, that I am telling the truth. Will you ignore that chance? Will you dare disrespect one of the richest families in the country?”

He obviously didn’t believe you even still, but he swallowed his pride, the doubts you had sown in his mind taking root. He could not risk it, because he knew as well as you did that he and his village could not handle the full wrath of the Gojos if he dared incur it.

“Who is it?” he said, through gritted teeth. “The girl’s name. Tell me what it is, and I will tell you if she lives here or not.”

You motioned towards Kashimo, who leaned in and whispered the name into the lord’s ear. Akihiro’s face went white as Kashimo leaned back, coolly folding his arms over his chest.

“There is no one,” he said, the white fading rapidly to red, “who has that name in this village. Now get out. Get out of my sight, and never dare come near this mansion again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t lie, my lord.”

“It would be in your best interests to leave now,” Akihiro said.

“Hey, asshole,” Kashimo said, lightning swirling around him again, though of course Akihiro was none the wiser due to the lightning being composed of cursed energy. “What do you know? Where is she? Tell us now, before I kill you.”

“I don’t know anything,” Akihiro said. “You should go while I am merciful enough to not prosecute you for that kind of threat.”

“Come, Kashimo,” you said, standing up and interlocking your fingers firmly with his, wincing slightly as you were shocked by his cursed energy. Digging your nails into his skin, you pulled him after you. “We shouldn’t bother him anymore.”

“He knows something,” Kashimo hissed in your ear as you stomped out of the mansion. “Why are we leaving? He knows something about where she is!”

“Of course he does,” you said tersely, waving at the woman who had escorted you out. She did not return it, shutting the door behind you without so much as a smile.

“So? Why aren’t we questioning him further?” he said. You smiled, finally allowing your mirth to manifest now that you were far enough from the mansion that you would not be overheard.

“Kashimo, if you believe that dealing with nobles directly is the greatest way to get information from them, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

That night, you left Kashimo to stew in his confusion and anger in your shared room, promising that you were only going on a short walk by the sea and would be back once you were done. He had pressed you for answers to your earlier vagueness, but you refused to elaborate, only promising that you hadn’t given up quite yet and leaving it at that.

As you stared out at the horizon, where the moon hung clear and full in the sky, you felt the familiar burning against your throat. You laughed humorlessly as the burning ceased and there was a rustling behind you.

“Of course you could not leave me alone for even a little bit,” you said, turning around to see a large rooster staring at you. Its plumed tail was iridescent against the sand, the wheel symbol on its forehead faintly shimmering, like starlight. “Ten.”

“I am Tori,” the rooster said. “The mightiest of the Twelve Beasts of Ten.”

“The mightiest?” you said. “How is it that the mightiest has already appeared, when there are still nine to go?”

Tori squawked indignantly. “I am the mightiest of my siblings! Don’t doubt me, foolish girl!”

“I see,” you said, entirely unamused by the fact that one of the Twelve Beasts had appeared at such a late hour. Especially this one, who was as prideful as Nezumi had been fretful, cocky as Usagi had been kind. “Then I shall spare nothing in my attempts at defeating you.”

“You can certainly try!” it crowed at you before charging towards you, its beak poised to peck. Exhaling heavily, you sprung out of the way, twirling your sword in your hand to help balance you.

“There is a story in which the hummingbird is the best at diving,” you said, though there was no passion in your voice as you spoke. “So lend me that power, too.”

You have been given the Dive Power of the Hummingbird!

Shifting your weight midair so that your sword could best strike Tori’s neck, you used the power of your downward fall to slice through it in one fell blow. Landing behind it, you spun to watch its head fall unceremoniously in the sand.

Expecting it to disappear, you were surprised when the blue eyes of the rooster only glowed brighter, an indignant shriek ripping from its mouth.

“How dare you!” it screamed at you. “How dare you behead Tori, the greatest of the Twelve Beasts of Ten?”

“Clearly you weren’t the greatest, if I’ve already beheaded you,” you said, though you were a little warier now. Why hadn’t it died yet? Nezumi and Usagi had been simple to defeat, so it was a little strange that Tori still lived despite its decapitation.

“Even losing my head is not enough for me to die,” Tori said. Its body began to run around blindly, its disembodied head’s glare still fixated on you. Impossibly, the body was even faster without a head than with, so, swearing under your breath, you called upon the story that gave you the speed of the hummingbird.

You have been given the Speed of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the G-Force Resistance of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the Maneuverability of the Hummingbird!

You took off at a sprint, running away from the rooster’s body as you tried to gather your thoughts. If even cutting its head off had not been enough to kill it, then what would be? Although you did not believe Tori’s claims that it was the strongest Beast, it was certainly on another level compared to its predecessors.

In an attempt to stall for time, you jumped into the air again, but to your horror, Tori’s body flapped its wings and flew up after you, its head shouting at you all the while.

“What do you even have to be proud of yourself for, huh?” it said as you slammed into the sand, the loose grains cushioning the impact on your ankles as you continued to run.

“What do you mean?” you said irately, spinning to brandish your sword at the body, which ignored the weapon and continued to run straight at you.

“I mean what I said!” it said.

Unbidden, you took a second to think about what it was asking you. What were you proud of yourself for? What had you ever really accomplished for yourself? Nothing, of course. You were just an empty vessel through which others could channel their desires.

“I have no pride,” you said. “I know people who have so much that they can drown in it, but as for myself…it’s not a quality which I possess.”

Slashing your sword across its body, you groaned when it had little effect on it. Of course, it would be too easy for that to have worked, but you had been sincerely hoping it would’ve, if only because you had other things to do with your time.

Pride. That was the way you could kill it. It had to be; as Usagi’s defining characteristic had been its legs, Tori’s was its pride. If you could destroy what it was proud of, you’d surely win, but what could a Beast such as Tori be proud of?

Your eyes widened imperceptibly as an idea came to you. Turning your back to its body, you made a beeline for Tori’s head, pushing your legs faster and faster so that you could reach it before the body realized what you were doing.

“Foolish girl, foolish girl!” Tori sang. “What are you — wait! Mmph!”

You stabbed your sword into its beak, spearing the blade clean through and watching with grim satisfaction as a few steps away, the body began to thrash before abruptly vanishing in the same way that Nezumi and Usagi had. The head followed suit a second later, though the single-colored eyes gave you an accusing glare as it did so.

For a second, you simply stood there, your sword still buried in the sand, your fingers still wrapped tightly around the hilt as you heaved for breath, your shoulders rising and falling as you huffed with your head bowed.

They were getting stronger. There was no doubt in your mind that the final Beast would be a monster not unlike Ten himself; the thought both frightened and fascinated you. Would you be able to do it? Would you be able to defeat it?

“Well, I am proud of that,” you said, chuckling under your breath as you spoke to the now-clear blue third wedge of the wheel. “Killing you, I mean. You know, since you were asking.”

The ensuing silence was only broken by the sound of your body as you hit the ground with a thud.

You will now enter the Torpor of the Hummingbird.

You must have only been in torpor for a few minutes, as when you awoke, the beach was the same — placid, undisturbed, the ocean having smoothed away all evidence of the earlier fight. You sat for a second before shaking your head to clear it and wiping your sword on your clothes so that it was not covered in sand when you sheathed it.

“I got your token,” a soft, familiar voice said. You smiled slightly at the sound, turning to face the boy from the Tachibana Mansion, the one who had given tea to you and Kashimo. There was a wooden token in his palm bearing the insignia of the inn you were staying in, no doubt for advertising purposes. You had slipped it into his hand while talking to him — your suspicions that Akihiro wouldn’t be the most cooperative had been correct, after all, and you were suddenly grateful you had taken the precaution.

“Are you in any danger coming here?” you said. The boy looked around before shaking his head.

“As long as Lord Tachibana doesn’t see,” he said.

“I think we’re safe from that, secluded as we are,” you said. “Now, listen here. I’ll offer you a deal: if you can tell me the truth about the girl Kashimo and I are looking for, I’ll help you escape the Tachibanas. You can go work for my fiancé — you will be treated well and paid better there.”

The boy glanced at you, then at his feet, and finally at the sea, his large eyes full of longing as he stared out at it, at that never-ending expanse. You waited patiently, not wanting to rush him, knowing his cooperation was key to solving this mystery and finding this girl. It would not do to scare him off, not when the Beasts were appearing in such quick succession and getting more and more powerful with every iteration. You needed a sword from Daisuke as soon as possible; thus, you needed to find the girl, and to do that, you needed this boy’s help.

Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, he faced you once again, lifting his chin and beginning to speak.

#kashimo x reader #kashimo x y/n #kashimo x you #reader insert #canon au #hurricanes / hummingbirds #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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