#I have a schedule to get things done but my legs are not functioning without pain again today

[bamsara]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgauhghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuhghgg

[inwhichidoaheckinart]

Curiosity

The boat swayed under Pix, gentle as the tides rocking it. Peaceful as the day was, all clear skies and gentle clouds. They leaned back, got comfortable as the sharper wooden edges would let them. It was a new boat, and the edges hadn’t worn or dulled with time yet. But they would. Time and ocean and their own touch would smooth the edges eventually.

It was cherry wood, this time. They’d found a grove not far from where they’d settled. They usually didn’t build much with cherry, but they liked to plant the trees around, and they liked to use the wood for little things like this, to add another touch of color to their world.

The sun was bright and warm, and the water was cool, nigh on cold where their leg draped off the edge of the boat. Maybe not the safest way to sit - lay, more like - but they liked the feel of the water even if it chilled their blood, and they had spent enough time in their life afloat to keep the boat from rocking.

They had their fishing rod tucked under one arm. The bobber bounced with them on the waves, the line slack. They weren’t paying much attention to it; they’d caught plenty of fish for their next caving trip, and the smokers stocked with blocks of dried kelp would have them cooked in no time once they went back ashore.

No, of much more interest to them now was their comm, held in their other hand, fingers curled all around and their thumb sitting on the control buttons. Typing was… slow, on this thing, using directional controls and a few extra keys without the benefit of a full keyboard or touchscreen like they’d seen on other comms. But it was a tradeoff for not having to leave it on the beach every time they went out in the water, or needing extensive repairs or even a new one every time they forgot to.

Waterproofing was worth slow typing.

It was harder while only using one hand, obviously, but they didn’t want to quit fishing just yet, especially with how long their new rod could last. Indefinitely, really, if they were smart about it. Mending was a beautiful thing on a well-used fishing rod. And they were a little too focused on the new contact in their comm - one [twistedquill] - to think about tucking it away anyway. 

It had shown up after they’d done some fiddling with the settings - just to reset for some glitches with coordinates - nothing system-wide, but they never were good at this. They were worried that maybe they’d messed up their chat history - that maybe this wasn’t a new contact at all, but an old one, one they’d accidentally wiped the chat history for and reset the name to a default they didn’t remember. They wouldn’t put it past themselves. An even worse possibility had crossed their mind before - that they’d messed up the chat function itself - but when they’d gotten a reply to their first couple of messages, that fear, at least, had been extinguished. 

[twistedquill] Hi? [twistedquill] I don't think it's broken, I'm getting your messages just fine [twistedquill] who're you?

Slowly, they picked out the letters for another message, longer than the last.

[PixelDragon] Oh yeah sorry, this is Pix. Had a hiccup with my comm, had to reset some stuff, might be showing up as a different number, you know how it goes. Although I don't think I recognize your number? Sorry, some of the contacts stuff got reset too, so I might just not recognize you with all the defaults on.

They weren’t expecting a reply immediately, of course. They had no clue who this was, and as such, no clue what their schedule was like. And even if it was aligned with theirs - well, who knew what they might be up to at the moment.

They did a quick check of their notifications while they had their comm out. Just some messages they’d yet to respond to, seemed like. They’d save most of them for later; they weren’t urgent, and they’d hopped off to a solo world for some time alone anyway. A few, they did respond to - just simple messages with simple replies that wouldn’t take twenty days to type one-handed and keyboard-less. Then - wait, at the bottom. What was that? A notification they didn’t recognize… Their brows furrowed, lips pursed as they tried to puzzle out what it was for. 

[An update from Quill has just been posted.]

That wasn’t a message notif - or one for anything they recognized, even from a hub world. Quill - wasn’t that part of the user they’d just messaged? Their confusion morphed in part to curiosity. They selected the notification and opened - well, whatever it would open.

It turned out that ‘whatever it would open’ was a sort of newsletter, about the new world of this Quill, about lacking memories and…

They hummed a half-idle and interested noise as they scrolled through and read the posted ‘updates’. There were those newsletters, whatever they were, and messages, it seemed, between others and Quill. Something seemed… odd to them, as they read. Off. The missing memories were probably part of it. They’d heard of circumstances where people had had memories obscured or lost, and it was rarely a good sign. They didn’t remember anything that would’ve led to them getting these updates, either - nothing they signed up for - no one they recognized who was a part of this. And something else… something they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

But they didn’t want to worry too much. They didn’t know what was going on just yet; they hadn’t even gotten a second reply yet. 

So they decided to let it go for the moment, to bide their time, to relax as they’d been relaxing before. It lingered in their mind, though, fast as it faded to the back of their mind, the mystery of it all. They tied their comm back to the string they kept at their waist. No sense in it getting lost in the ocean or left in the boat. 

There was a clacking from the other side of the boat, opposite where their comm was now tied. Their head whipped around - and they nearly capsized lunging for the fishing rod that they’d dropped and which was now flying out into the water, a salmon caught on the hook and diving down into the kelp below.

-----

Just a quick thing from the POV of my character for @for-quill-with-love (please go check it out it rules). More probably to come as I figure out more of their lore and get back in the swing of writing.

The waterproof comm is def canon now btw @youllnevertaketheskyfromme Thank you for the galaxy brain take on that :D

Here are the posts referenced:

Is this thing still working?

Oh yeah sorry, this is Pix.

Plus general references to the first few days!

[coarsely]

in-character OC interview!

I'm jumping on from @noblebs because it looks really fun! I'm doing this for Saccade, because she's a good mix of blunt and having fairly distinct speech patterns.

Are you named after anyone?

"Naw. I don't like anybody enough t' name myself after them."

(In Nod, most people choose their own name, typically around 10 but can be done from whenever a child chooses. There are no legal records since the collapse of organised society, so.)

When was the last time you cried?

"Hrmph. Cryin' cryin' or pain cryin'? Latter, yesterday, but former... well I don't got time to cry about my feelings."

Do you have kids?

Her expression contorts, a glimpse of brief mournfulness before smoothing back into blank stoicness. "... No."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Nah. Sometimes, but shit, I'm busy. Not enough time to fuckin' think up witty remarks or be smart about shit. I'm on a schedule."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"What they're wearin'. Tells you a lot out here. Mr Vítor fuckin' Cadogan, for example, in his nice fucking pressed coat, sticks out like a sore thumb. Shit looks ridiculous, I don't know how he got so far without gettin' robbed. I might've done, if I saw him walkin' down the street. Other folks, you can tell if they're likely to take a shot at ya from how many spikes they've welded to their masks, how stained their rags are. Folks dress the way they are out here."

What’s your eye colour?

"Uh..." She drifts off for a moment, concentrating. "Brown, I think?"

(They're dark grey)

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Neither. Don't got time to be watching shit."

Any special talents?

"Sure. Shutting up smart motherfuckers." She looks to the side, then sounding almost embarrassed, hastily adds "Dancin', too, before my little mishap."

Where were you born?

"Old Rhapsody. Before Eden dropped a fuckin' nuke on us, obviously."

Do you have any pets?

"Naw. Hard enough lookin' after yourself out here, no need to add a fuckin' animal into the mix."

What sort of sports do you play?

She gestures to her leg, in it's large but sleekly designed knee brace, and to the slightly dented cane with it's chipped red paint and barbed wire wrapped around it and offset handle that rests beside her. "Do I look like I'm in sportin' form? Don't be ridiculous."

How tall are you?

"Tall. Somewhere around 180cm, but you ain't getting me up to check."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"History. 'S interestin', learning how stuff was made, or why somethin' looks a certain way, or why things are the way they are. Apparently, before things got ugly, before they were buildin' nukes to 'baptise' us with, Eden n' Nod used to trade with each other on old, old train tracks. Some of 'em are still there, if you look, but out of service n' out of functionality. Ain't that wild?"

What is your dream job?

"Nobody dreams about workin'."

I'm gonna tag @ashfordlabs, @spideronthesun, @author-a-holmes, @revenantlore, @sparrow-orion-writes and @albatris, but naturally anyone interested in this is welcome to consider themselves tagged! Questions under the cut for easy access!

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye colour?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

Do you have any pets?

What sort of sports do you play?

How tall are you?

What was your favourite subject in school?

What is your dream job?

[luckyshotwrites]

Part 5 - What did you do?!

Contents (Warnings/Mild spoilers): Cassie sends an outlaw flying? (g/t, vore mentions, slight angst, goofiness, and lore dips)

Wordcount: 4,600+

Tune for this Chapter: None to report

Side note: I'm going to try to get back on schedule with this again at least once every two weeks if not more! Sorry it took a while and I hope you all enjoy~

_______________________________________________

Cassie

She couldn’t see that well without her glasses, but she could hear his weakened and worn out tone. Not that she felt any better. 

She had fought hard to get out of him and was as exhausted as he was.  She tried to hide that fact and calm her accelerated breaths. “Where’s your room?” 

Her eyes bounced around. She had never seen a bathing house like this one. Ofuda talismans lined one of the walls along with runes to trap any Yokai that possessed people in them, and bright floating lanterns twirled carelessly in the air to bring a comforting gleam to the room. 

“Upstairs,” Cliff said. 

I should retrieve my stuff then. Cassie thought. She turned toward the door, her soggy clothes squelching heavily with each step.

She stopped once Cliff stumbled to get in front of her. “Little miss, you can’t go walkin’ around and leavin’ puddles behind ya.” 

That is a little disrespectful, isn’t it? She shrugged, “I don’t have a way to dry off.” Or a clean pair of clothes. Those were also in her bag. 

Cliff’s gaze darted to the towel, then back to the door and Cassie. He took a second to adjust his robe and make sure it was tied right. “How ‘bout this, you wring out your clothes and use that towel to dry off,” he gestured to the door with his head, “and I’ll be right out there.” 

“Okay,” Cassie said with a nod. When he opened the door, she made sure to let out a thank you, before he closed it behind him.

…

Cliff

He kept his back against the trim of the door and his arms crossed over his chest. I ain’t never gonna live that down, am I? He had acted calm in front of Cassie, but the embarrassment he still felt rode in circles around his head, pointing and laughing at him. 

That’s fine. No one ain’t gotta know. He played with the trim of his robe, following it down to his abdomen. Except Cassie. While he wouldn't openly admit it besides the sore feeling in his stomach, he was bummed he wouldn’t eat another. He hadn't thought about eating a stunted before today, nor had he ever been close enough to one to feel so eager to eat it.

I wish I had something to fidget with. 

…

Cassie

She waited a few minutes after he left to turn and focus on the big and empty space. There were things within it, but it wasn’t like her town. Rooms were never big enough to fit someone like Cliff, let alone twenty of him comfortably. 

She spanned out her arms and legs when she walked as if that’d take up more space.

I probably feel like this because I’m no longer inside of him. 

It wasn’t suffocatingly tight in Cliff as she feared it would be. It simply held her. 

Cassie undressed near the water and re-examined her body. I don’t see any burns or marks. The only ‘blemish’ she had on her skin was her oddly duck-shaped birthmark on her right hip.

I guess he didn’t lie about it being safe. Cassie wrung out her clothes, but her head was bursting with questions. Why would his body do that? He digests things, doesn’t he? And what function does it have to glow inside him? How could he talk to me? How could I talk to him? 

She wished she knew more about Kuna anatomy—not that she knew much about her own.

She dried herself off with the towel and put on her damp clothes. 

Don’t worry about it, Cassie, she assured herself. It’s over. I’m not in debt anymore. She walked to the sliding paper door and fought to open the panel. “Done!”

Cliff’s hand curled around the top and slid it open the rest of the way. She was face to knees with him again. You all are so much smaller from far away. She craned her head up to look at him properly. 

Cliff tilted his head and smirked. “Much better.” He walked past her. “Now, if you don’t mind facing the wall while I take my bath.”

Cassie turned around to follow his steps. “Aren’t we going to your room for my glasses and sandals?” 

He flipped around. “I ain’t clean, Cassie.” He walked backward to the edge of the pool, “I ran out of cleansing pods, so taking a nice dip sounds good to me.” Cliff stopped perfectly before he reached the edge of the pool. 

Her voice left with urgency. “I have to find the people that took my bag.” I can’t wait any longer. 

Cliff flicked near his head, as if he had his hat on. He sighed when he realized he didn’t, “I guarantee ya, they’ll be in town, miss Cassie.” He pointed north. “There’s a shrine celebration goin’ on in town and ain’t no one’s missin’ that.”

Shrine celebration? Is that a Kuna holiday? “What’s that?”

He squinted at her in bewilderment. “You don’t know? It’s when people give money to shrine owners, asking for good harvests, relationships, and so on.” He fiddled with the rope of his robe, tightening it, “and at the end of the festival, the most rewarded and praised shrine owner grants those of their territories some kind of gift for the year.” He exhaled and muttered under his breath, “at least that’s what people think.”

He motioned for her to look away, “I’m gonna take a dip, okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Cassie shook her head in exclamation. “If that’s the case then it’s imperative that I do this, this instant!”

“Just give me-”

“If you give me the room number I can get it myself.”

Cliff dropped down, watching his stance with the red robe. “Is the stuff in that bag more important than waiting five minutes?”

“Yes.”

Cliff puffed out his cheeks, then smirked. “Really? So important that you wanna roam out there with other Kuna?”

Right. She hadn’t thought about that. Cassie met his cocky gaze. He’s trying to get me to back down. Well, I’m not falling for it again. “It very much is.”

Cliff’s smugness still held some doubt, but he relented. “The room’s unlocked then, 13 on the second floor. Good luck.” He stood up straight.

“Thank you, Cliff. Nic-” I wouldn’t say it was entirely nice. She corrected herself, “thank you for your, uh, help.”

He faced the water, “very grateful, aren’t ya miss Cassie?”

“YOU ate,” she swallowed her conflict. I shouldn’t make him reconsider letting me walk away. “I am grateful…and good luck to you too.”

Cassie turned herself around and faced the exit. She walked toward it, every step building her fear. Cassie hated to admit it, but he was right. She was somewhere she didn’t know in a place filled with Kuna. Beings that she was normally supposed to avoid. 

I’ve never been in a place like this. Not like her comfort zone was present anymore, anyway. Just be careful, Cassie. Avoid them like usual. She didn’t know if that was realistic or not in this setting. 

Compared to the stories I’ve been told…She thought of Cliff's behavior. She wouldn’t categorize him as bad. If they’re all like Cliff, I need to simply be careful with how I ask for help. 

Cassie stood in front of the door, her hands hesitantly rested on it. 

“Miss Cassie, if you’re a little too shaken up, I’ll meet you up there soon.” Cliff teased.

 She grumbled, opened the door enough for herself to squeeze through, “thanks.”

She shut the door behind her without looking, though she wasn't at risk of seeing him without his robe because of her lack of lenses.

In the hallway, her sight went left and right. Right was a dead end with a few more bathing rooms, and the left led back to the gambling floor and up the stairs she needed to climb.

Cassie ran barefoot across the wooden floor and wouldn’t stop until she got to the stair railing. Everything is so big. She huffed. Lucky for her, her stamina recovered quickly. 

Though these were huge stairs, so she had to partially jump or crawl up them. I feel like a baby. Her confidence faded with each step. Almost there. I’ll get my glasses, sandals, and then find the people who took my stuff. This was the more optimistic outcome, as she didn’t want to go back to Cliff and hear his teasing. 

It took some time to make it all the way up. She had gotten to the top without being spotted. Fortunately room thirteen was near the first set of  stairs.

 As he said, he didn’t leave the door sealed. She slid open a wide enough space to slip inside. I feel smaller and smaller the more I move around here. She looked around the room, seeing his clothes neatly folded alongside a bag. 

She dove for it and fiddled with the latches on it before she flipped it up. She ran her hand through the bag. It was relatively empty, besides what she assumed was a rather hefty coin purse, a book or two, her lovely sandals and her…broken glasses. 

Cassie’s smile dropped. She lifted them up and parts of the cracked frame fell to the floor and in the bag. He said he’d take care of them.

She bounced onto her feet. You owe me new glasses. Cassie rolled her tongue in her mouth, slightly frustrated that she continued to lose item after item today. 

Her gaze shifted to the bag once more. She put her head in to see the heavy coin pouch, which she assumed broke her glasses in the first place. 

I could take the coins I need to get them fixed. She yanked her head from the bag in disbelief. Wait a minute, Cliff trusted me to go up here alone didn’t he? I could rob him blind! Her small digits hesitantly grabbed the string to undo the simple knot around the coin pouch. Her fist held it firmly. 

It’s only fair, Cassie. 

She shut her eyes and turned her head away. Come on, do it. I need the money. She imagined the action and soon let the string go. She wasn’t a thief. 

She walked next to the crack she left open at the door and crossed her arms, “I’ll just wait for Cliff.”

Her ears, however, said otherwise. There were voices coming from the hall that she recognized. 

“We gotta get upstairs to the floats, Stephanie!” the male said, running a little ahead of his partner. “Don’t you want to know who’s gonna be dominant this year?”

He was one of the people there with my bag. Cassie thought as the woman came into view, she supposed it was Stephanie. A tall blonde with two back braids twirled up into two buns on either sides of her head. She had a kabuki mask strapped on her hip, and wore a costume similar to Cliff’s, signifying that she was an exterminator too.

Her singular working red eye darted to Cassie, who quickly hid back behind the door.

Cassie held a hand over her mouth to keep her breathing under control. It was like being up in the rafters all over again. The woman finally broke the silence. 

“It’ll most likely be Kaudio.” She didn’t sound close to the door. 

The male whined from further down the hall. "No way, you saw the mess that shrine owner made last year!" 

Cassie listened. The voices got quieter, and she peeked through the slit. No one was there, so she pushed her head through and watched them head up the next flight of stairs. 

Both of them were there. Cassie slipped out and cautiously observed the two. The one with twin buns seemed rather reserved while the boy with the tall hat was very giddy. They got to the top of the stairs leading to the next floor. Should I confront them? she questioned. What would I say if I did, and what would they do in response? 

Cassie put her glasses frames into her pocket and followed them. Worst case scenario, they’ll tell me to bug off. She couldn’t let her worry keep her from getting her bag back. Or more importantly, her scrolls. She had spent far too much effort collecting them. 

She floundered up the stairs in an effort to catch up to them, not bothering to put on her sandals and instead carrying them over her shoulder. Once she made it to the top floor, she pushed herself near the closest wall.

They were walking together, and her nerves stiffened. Should I be doing this? They were nearing the end of the hall and stopped. Cassie quickly pressed into the softwood and hid behind one of the beams. 

She heard Stephanie, "Wait, did you even get the chips exchanged for tokai?" 

The male laughed nervously. "You wanted me to do that now-"

"Jackie doesn't like to be bothered without a purpose, you idiot." 

“Ow, ow!” 

Stephanie passed the beam holding the male's ear. Cassie was lucky the girl was facing him more and she had an embroidered eyepatch on the eye that would have seen her. She tugged him along while he protested. 

"Come on, Stephanie, I’m not some snot-nosed brat-" He pleaded for her to let go, almost like he was too scared to fight her. “You’re embarrassing me!”

"Good, we were aboutta be knockin’ on his door and you didn’t have a thing for ‘em."

Cassie watched them thump back down the steps. She peeked over the beam and saw the few doors beyond it, three in particular. They were standing in front of the one on the left. She cautiously walked around the beam and to the door. She couldn’t tell if anyone was inside or not. 

Are there a lot of people in there? Maybe he’s by himself? Maybe he’s not even in here. The thoughts swirled in her head like a fine stew. She couldn’t hear anything. What if they already sold my stuff? Could I get enough money to collect it all again? Her head dropped. I can’t fight against much without those scrolls. 

Cassie put a balled up hand next to her lips. I just need the one my dad gave me. She bent closer to the door. She wanted to see if any figures laid beyond it. She couldn’t—she only noticed a small tear in the paper above her head.

She lifted her hands up. I’ll knock, that’s the proper thing to do. Her curled fist fought with her. Knock, please. She threw her hand back and groaned audibly. I know this goes against everything I’ve learned, but I’m too far past the point of no return. The other two can be back any moment.

Cassie didn’t hear the footsteps, so when the door slid open, she jumped. He looked taller than Cliff as she was further below his knees with him standing upright. 

The man didn’t notice her at first, not until she made a sound. 

His head angled downward, showing off his wild and fiery crimson red irises. He had a few scars that littered his features, like he decided to wrestle a few feathery fiends with only his face. A lot of them were in X’s that were slightly carved out in the middle. 

That’s him. Cassie noted, especially when he smiled. She recognized those reflective silver fangs where the canines should be. “What do we have ere’?” He dropped down quickly, his male kimono fluttering up—a deep shade of red like his eyes. 

Cassie took a step back, smelling the heavy, clove-like liquor smell of sake on his breath. “H-hi, my name's Cassie and you picked up my bag earlier today from a shrine, I came back to get it.” She kept her hands and arms close to herself. 

His amused smile had yet to drop, “I took a bag?” His gloved fingers stroked at his dark brown scruff. He was thinking and then after another minute, nodded. “Ah, you mean that tiny bag I found, eh?” He leaned on the balls of his feet, near her. 

“Yes. I dropped it. If you want to check, the name embroidered inside the bags trim is Cassie Valentine.” Cassie insisted. 

His eyes trailed up and down her body, curiously. Does he not believe me? She opened her mouth to say more and he beat her on the draw.

“Should keep better track of your things, Miss Valentine.” He said as he stood up, “I tell ya what, I wasn’t able to sell everything, you can have what’s left.” He turned around and left the door open to his room. 

What did he sell? Did he sell all my scrolls? 

“Come in,” he ushered her inside, while he stayed back by the door.

“I can wait,” she said.

He waved and started to shut the door. “If you don’t want what’s left-” 

“I do!” Cassie begrudgingly stepped inside, still carrying her sandals.

It was in a much richer shape than Cliff’s, paintings around the room, all hand made of figures or landscapes she wished to visit, and other decorative, warm decor. Even the floor mats looked nicer. What caught her the most was outside the balcony a short distance away. The sun setting sky, coupled with the bright lights, thumping drums, and illuminated cheers brought a sway to her hips. She enjoyed a good tune. 

The sound of the door shutting called her attention back to him. He pointed near one of the mats. “Right over there.” 

She traced his line of sight and walked to her bag. She huddled over it and put her sandals down beside it. Her spare glasses were gone, her cleansing pods, a majority of her scrolls, even the empty ones, and her extra clothes. Nearly everything, except a few loose items.

Her eyes softened upon the rough touch of one of the only scrolls she had left. It was old, barely held together by sewn thread she did herself. “Is this all of it?” She didn’t see him by the door. 

He was crouched down behind her. How did I not hear or feel him move?!  

He clenched his hand around her and his mouth opened above her head, dripping pelts of saliva onto her. 

Her legs thrashed and grazed the scroll with her toes—it was just enough to absorb the scroll’s power and make her body sizzle with electricity. He didn’t feel the shock, yet let her go.

Her hair raised and split as two horns curled up from her head. Her eyes slipped up to him, the pupils changing to slits and when she swiped her hand to grab the scroll from inside, clawed fingers tapped its metal edges. 

She backed off when he did too. She steered her way toward the balcony. 

The man wore a look of pleasant surprise. “I’m glad you aren’t a dud.”

Dud?

It only took him a second or two after to sling a pistol up from his kimono. Her eyes locked onto him and narrowed. That’s a salt shooter. They were designed to really hurt Yokai, and normally might leave a welt or two on a normal Kuna. As she was, using the magic she did, Cassie was stronger than normal, but left vulnerable to salt shooters or other runes. 

The magic continued to flow between her and the contact with the scroll, and her voice left in an echoing, gravelly hum. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” the scars curled in around his dimples when he smirked, “just drop and kick the scroll toward me, miss Valentine. And we’ll…talk.” The word came out so thickly honeyed it left her feeling trapped in its sticky texture. 

“I can hear you fine from here,” Cassie replied.

He took a step towards her, “Three,” he counted down. 

His voice drowned out the cheering from outside. I can’t jump. She didn’t want to risk such rampant exposure. 

“Two.” The barrel of his gun was trained on her with his finger itching to pull the trigger. She wasn’t going to be able to move fast enough to avoid it. 

It got to the point where she heard the rubber of his glove start to curl. “One-”

BANG.

That’s what she expected. Instead, it was more of a CRACK and SNAP as if someone slapped air at his back like a whip. He was thrown past her and right off the balcony. 

Her magic broke and she ran over to it, peeking between the bars to see his body crashed below onto one of the boats holding a fake shrine. She flipped her head back to see a giant hole in the door—it was torn open by someone, and who it seemed to be was from the room across from this one. 

What? 

She couldn’t see any figure—she only heard the shouting from below.

“A STUNTED PUSHED HIM OFF!” Oh no. She pulled back from the railing and went to run. 

“Who the hell is that?!” Cassie recognized the voice as Stephanie from earlier. She couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing, but she did see the red splotch, indicating that Stephanie was putting on her kabuki mask. 

I don’t have a choice! The scroll she currently had wasn’t her strongest by any means. She activated the scroll in her hands and her body changed again, enhancing as it did. She quickly squeezed through the railing bars before she felt the burning gaze of the Exterminator on her back. 

She jumped down and the crowd split seeing her. It seemed they didn’t know what to make of her. 

“YOU LITTLE SH-!” The man tried to climb off the shrine float and reach the sides of the railing, only to fall into the river. 

Cassie disregarded it for now—she had to run before anyone else tried to catch her. Lucky for her, the shrine owner of the float started to make the water bubble as it grew angry seeing its money and gifts were sinking into the water. 

She twisted to move through them, quickly, catching the eye of a particular vipkey that she recognized. Upon seeing her, it howled out, spurring the other mounts. It thrashed in the post, snarling and pulling the post free. 

It couldn’t release itself from the reins, so Cliff’s vipkey decided to take the whole post and the other mounts with it. 

…

Cliff

He didn’t take long in the bath, mostly because Cassie didn’t come back. He expected her to. She’ll be fine, right? He questioned when he got into his room. What’s the worst that could happen? Plenty of exterminators are here, there ain’t gonna be no Yokai attacks. He didn’t even consider anyone being interested in eating her like himself—there was plenty of delicious food to be had at the festival. 

She seemed like a fine, young woman. She’s alright. 

He got dressed and took his coin pouch down with him. Time to go down and gamble. 

Cliff made his way down to the hall and started to hear the shouting and commotion from outdoors. Everyone started to crowd around and peek out.

“A yokai!” 

“It’s so small and gross!” 

Cliff raised a brow, heading to the sounds too, and his ears heard a sharp woman whine. “My mount!” 

His shoulders tensed up. KACKLES, you better not have done anything! He shoved through, throwing out apologies as he caught the tail of his vipkey whipping around a corner and heard the howling of a shrine owner.

He went after Kackles, hearing a few people say they saw a stunted and then a yokai, so things didn’t add up. He dashed around the corner, a few mounts that had escaped their ropes running past Cliff and into the streets with everyone else. 

He saw Kackles scraping up the red tiled roofs, going after something. His eyes focused on it. Is that a yokai? He quickly recognized the clothes and form. No, it’s Cassie.

"Kackles, heel!" he ordered, but his mount was far too fixated on the hunt. Kackles was closing in on her as she was so small. 

He sprinted down the alleyway and felt his hands stir with magic. His rune engraved boots hummed and when he went to jump, it shot him up—high enough to cling to the roof and throw his body up. He did it a few more times before he made it to the curve Kackles nearly cornered her on. 

“CASSIE!” He yelled her name.

Her form dropped as soon as she saw Cliff, and Kackles skidded to a stop. He looked back at Cliff too. 

He exhaled and approached her. "What did you do? Why are you running? Why are they looking for you? What and how do you change like that? You gave off the same energy as a yokai.” 

There were too many questions. He saw she didn’t know how to answer. She looks terrified. 

He cautiously stepped closer. “Answer what’s going on down there first.”

“I don’t know. I found the outlaw that took my stuff, he threatened me, then I think someone hit him and he fell off the balcony and onto one of the floats.” She huffed, out of breath. “His friends came back, I had to run, the shrine owner started to go crazy, your mount chased me, and-and…” Cassie held her face. “This is bad.” 

“You’re tellin’ me.” He pointed behind him. “You said someone else hit him, so we’ll go down and explain it.” Or did she do it? She could have been mad he took her stuff. “Unless you did it.”

"No! Even like this I don’t have enough strength to push down a Kuna! Maybe my other scrolls, but not this one!" She showed the ratty scroll to Cliff. 

It looks gross. His eyes gently passed to Cassie. If she was still tiny, of course she couldn’t push him. He thought more about it. No one is going to believe her, are they? She’s a stunted. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth as he thought. Should I even get involved? This is her mess, not mine. 

He saw the tides of the river calming. They were getting a hold of the shrine owner. Their time was dwindling. He took one last look at her face. She was small and though she stood proudly, he noticed the trembling at her feet. He lifted his head up and muttered under his breath. 

“Momma had to raise me well, didn’t she?” He got lost in thought for a second before coming back to earth. She’s gotta get outta here and let it all blow over. 

“They’re gonna be looking for ya at the borders of the city,” Cliff said, moving to Kackles that now sat still and well like a pooch. He undid the reins. 

“I don’t want to fight anyone if I don’t have to,” Cassie replied. 

“You ain’t gonna fight anyone.” Cliff got the ropes off, examining Kackles's saddle bags. They might check em’, so she can’t hide in there, and the whole city’s gonna be looking high and low for her. 

The commotion below moved closer to their current one. Think, Cliff, how am I gonna get her out of here without being-

He took a deep breath and walked to her. “Okay.” He ignored her flinch and he crouched in front of her. “You’re not gonna like this and I swear to you, it ain’t for my personal gain.” He saw the worry spring into her eyes.

“N-no way!”

“Look, I gotta get you outta the city or they’re gonna put you in an unfair trial.” Cliff hunched closer to her and shook his head, “I can’t think of another way to do this without you gettin’ caught.” He nervously swallowed and sympathetically met her gaze. “Unless you got something better, hold still and please try not to move so much this time, alright, Cassie.” 

…

Thank you for reading! And have a swell rest of your day, folks! :D

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Wild Escape Master Post

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

- stole some Magnets, built some Actuators. all in a day's work.

Ingram: That's all four actuators… delivered and done. Nice work. Li: Right on schedule. I've completed the restoration of Prime's basic functionings and he's ready to go. In fact, it's getting difficult to explain to the system why it can't move right now.

- ?! we have a giant robit who is compelled to run around before it even has legs??? the robit has adhd???

Ingram: Well, as soon as my scribes get those actuators in place, we'll have his arms and legs installed in no time. Which brings me to your next assignment. It won't be long before Prime can walk and talk, but he's missing one last important element… his nukes.

- his

WHAT!?!?!??

Ingram: Without them, his offensive systems aren't operating at peak capacity.

- Li, What, and i cannot emphasise this enough, the Fuck????? You designed a giant robot that shoots nukes????? in a place called the Capital Wasteland????? remind me how it got that name, again?????????????????

Cat: What's Prime armed with? Ingram: The eye laser can target a hostile from hundreds of yards out and take it down with pinpoint accuracy.

- ….laser theory for the win……. i fucking guess……..

Ingram: His nukes are modified Mark 28 Nuclear Bombs. They used to drop the things from bombers during the war. Just one of the nukes is equivalent to about three or four Fat Man shells. Basically, whatever it hits isn't getting up again.

- You Don't Fucking Say.

Ingram: His eye laser is almost ready to go, but without nukes to load into his pack, he's fighting at less than half his capability.

- Good??????? i thought you motherfuckers were all about /preventing/ the war from happening again?????? fuck's sake.

Cat: I'll run down to the Super-Duper Mart and pick some up. Ingram: Cute.

- *facepalm*

Ingram: Prime's bomb pack is fitted for Mark 28 Nuclear Bombs. The same type of bombs that were dropped from aircraft during the Great War.

- YOU KEEP REEMPHASISING THAT WHILE REMAINING APPARENTLY OBLIVIOUS TO THE IMPLICATION THAT MAYBE WE SHOULD NOT DO THAT AGAIN!

Ingram: The Commonwealth was a major staging area for the military's air force, so we assumed we wouldn't have trouble finding them. But since we arrived, our scouting teams haven't located a single bomb. Li: That's going to be a problem. Without a fully loaded nuke pack, Prime won't have the firepower to take on the Institute.

- the Institute is a sub-sub-sub-bunker full of of nerds, some stealth assassins, and a few gorillas! WHY do you need nukes? Why.

Cat: Can I build the nukes like I built the actuators?

- and fill them with newspaper and rocks?

Ingram: I could build you a thousand nuke casings right now, but we've got nothing to put inside them.

- how about this rock?

Ingram: The Mark 28's have a specialised nuclear payload that requires the correct balance of fissile materials in order for them to detonate properly. In other words, I'd love to mix you a cocktail, but I'm all out of liquor.

- the most eligible wlw-magnet in the Commonwealth strikes again.

Ingram: But before you give up hope, there's actually a silver lining here. Proctor Quinlan has located some records regarding a military installation which was used as a nuclear weapon storage facility. We're fairly certain this included a stockpile of the Mark 28's. The catch is that the installation is located somewhere within the Glowing Sea.

- good! sounds like a lost cause! what's plan b?

Cat: What do you mean you're only "fairly certain". Are they in there or not? Ingram: The Glowing Sea is so heavily irradiated, it's giving us echoed readings and false positives. We're just going to have to trust the records on this one. Scribe Haylen's established a communications point on the frontier of the Glowing Sea. I suggest you head out there first and establish a signal protocol with her so that the nukes can be airlifted out once you've located them. Hopefully by the time you've returned, we'll be ready to wake Prime up and you can say hello. Good luck, Knight.

[jjoelswatch]

Big ol' health rant under the cut.

I'm beyond frustrated with my care team and how hard I have to advocate for myself to get tests/labs done.

I've been not feeling well symptomatically for over a year, and been dealing with lack of appetite issues for about three years. Started with right side stomach pain last August that led to potential gallbladder issue concerns. I had every test under the sun to rule it out (abdominal ultrasound, upper scope, HIDA scan, stool sample) and everything came back okay aside from some inflammation (no H. Pylori, no celiac, no gallstones, no ulcers-- gallbladder, liver, pancreas, etc function all normal). So it was just like "well okay, I guess nothing's wrong with me except that my right abdomen hurts from time to time" and I tried to move on with my life.

I started having strange neurological symptoms back in March of this year (tingling/numb sensation in my face, strange senses of touch in parts of my face-- like parts of my face felt like a balloon). I've always suffered from ocular migraines with aura and no pain (and flashes of light/visual snow), so I thought it was just fun new migraine symptoms. They went away for a few months then came back in full force with even more fun symptoms (tingling in my hands and feet, lack of sensation in my right leg but not total numbness, a gradual increase in forgetfulness/short term memory issues that are SO not the norm for me, middle back pain??), so I scheduled an appointment with a neurologist and went to my shitty CNP "doctor" (disclaimer, CNPs are not doctors despite how the American healthcare system treats them like doctors) and basically pleaded with her to run bloodwork on me and to try to do anything to get me into for brain scans or something. Because weird neurological symptoms are super scary and it's hard not to assume the worst when you're experiencing them fairly suddenly.

She ran my bloodwork and found that my B12 levels were really low. I learned that B12 can cause literally all my symptoms, so I was relieved and they put me on 4 weeks of weekly B12 injections, with the plan to start monthly injections afterwards. She also told me they were going to test my bloodwork for folate levels and talk to one of the doctors in the practice to get to the bottom of what's causing my deficiency since I wasn't anemic or vegan/vegetarian. I felt...hopeful? and like we were headed down the right path.

Well, the office failed to click "submit" to order my blood to be tested for folate. So my CNP couldn't work with the other doctor to try to puzzle out what's wrong with me.

I was feeling pretty good during those 4 weeks of injections. My memory was sharper and my symptoms were gradually reducing (there is apparently something called "nerve wake up" when dealing with neuro issues from B12D, which can still cause symptoms to show). I knew that recovery would be gradual, as it can take 6 months to a year to really recover from neuro damage/issues from B12D, so I tried to stay positive. But a week and a half out from my last weekly shot, my symptoms returned with a vengeance.

Now my symptoms are a right leg that wants to cramp up from hamstring to calf, a left toe that just...twitches of its own accord, other random muscle twitches/tenseness, and (possibly unrelated?) increased acid reflux issues. My neuro appointment isn't until the first week of October (because the US sucks and it literally takes 5-6 months to see specialists at the bare minimum), so I messaged my doctor in a bit of a panic with some questions about my symptoms and asking if we could more aggressively treat the deficiency, because like...I'm concerned about perma nerve damage at this point?? And she tells me she's going to refer me to a neurologist without answering any of my other questions or trying to see me any eariler.... If she'd looked at my file or remembered our last conversation, she would know that I already have a appointment with one.

I caved and did several things. I tried to switch to the other doctor in the office she said she was going to work with to get to the bottom of my issues, because...why not go straight to the source? That failed, as the practice "doesn't do that, as a rule" which like...okay? Desperate for relief, I started sublingual supplements of B12 (fucked up at first at did the methyl version which just didn't agree with my body and switched to the same form as my shots were). I started seeing some relief in my symptoms, including my muscle tension in my leg (which was previously causing me to have trouble walking) and some of my muscle twitching.

I also called the neurologist's office like, "listen I know you guys haven't seen me yet, but can you order some scans to give me some peace of mind?" and they finally agreed to send me in for a cervical spine MRI and an EMG. I did the MRI only to find out that the reason they had me down for one was "neck pain" which I've literally never said I had and they didn't include a brain MRI like I'd expected given my symptoms. MRI turned out fine, which was a relief as much as it was kind of expected. The EMG is yet to be done (on the 28th).

I finally had my appointment with my CNP on Monday for my first monthly shot and to do labs, including the folate lab they screwed up. I told her that I wanted her to run labs for the missed folate, iron, vitamin D, magnesium, and copper. She sort of...laughed at me?? and told me that we ran those labs already. I told her to look at my chart because we didn't, and she obviously had to walk back her sentence and was like "I don't think we need to run labs for vitamin D but we can if you want?" and of course I said that I did. She refused to run labs for magnesium because that was "a more serious lab" and then said she "didn't know how to even test for copper because that's a heavy metal". I get my labs done, get my first monthly B12 shot. She sends me on my way with "depending on how your labs turn out, we'll see if we need to continue B12 shots"...when it can take a year for my symptoms to correct themselves.

Go figure~ my labs come back - the labs I had to TELL her to order for me - and out of a desired 30+ range for vitamin D, my level is 7 lmao. Thankfully I still am going to be getting monthly B12 shots since my levels are higher (due to self-treating) but still low. I also have to take vitamin D and a multivitamin now. She also referred me to a hematologist because I brought up the MTHR gene that can affect B12 absorption since I'm not anemic or vegan. I just want to know what's causing this deficiency, because she seems to have dropped the ball on the matter altogether.

I'm close to a week out from my last shot now and my muscles are getting tense and twitchy again. It's so, so hard to sit here and tell myself that this healing process is just going to take time-- trying to reassure myself that my muscle twitching is just "nerve wake up" and not a sign of something much worse. I've been going quietly crazy worried about ALS, Parkinson's, or MS because these deficiencies can mimic their symptoms. I just want it to be the 28th so I can get my EMG done and over with, and then see my neuro on the 2nd of October. I so tired of going to the doctor. I'm tired of feeling like they don't take me and my symptoms seriously. I'm tired of feeling like an annoyance. I'm tried of having to go out and do my own research and then bringing that research to my doctors, because between the two of us, I don't have a fucking medical degree. I'm tried of hearing "don't consult Dr. Google" when what else am I supposed to do when you're not doing your job thoroughly?

I'm just tired and I want to feel better.

[yoroiis]

He was something else, Aceline decided. How he could go from so over the top, a man with his heart on his sleeve and emotions constantly on edge to so quiet and focused like he had... The way he leaned over his drafting table, how his brows furrowed, the movement of his hand as he hesitated to mark something down - Kaveh never failed to both surprise and draw a soft smile to her lips, and she could never get enough of simply watching him.

Was this what it'd be like, she wondered, if they managed to save enough to finally get a place they could share? A chance to watch him every moment of every day, to see his smile and hear his voice without the reminder he'd eventually have to leave again? She'd like that... No, love that. Circumstances kept them apart for now, but Aceline looked forward to the day this was their normal, carefully pushing herself off the doorframe she'd been leaning against.

Slow steps brought her closer to her husband's form, ever-gentle hands reaching out to skim over his back once she'd come close enough. She could never say she didn't love his back... He was a powerful yet gentle man - One who deserved more affection and love than he got as far as she was concerned, a tilt forward allowing for a gentle kiss to press itself against his back. A silent I love you she knew he'd pick up on, snaking her arms around his middle; would he mind a little bit of company while he worked?

"Mmm... Something troubling your mind, my Light?"

Just a few minutes. Work could wait - It was time to make him smile.

'Was something troubling him?' Wasn't that a loaded question! If it wasn't the clients who were demanding their prelim design sketches be done ahead of schedule, it was this particularly difficult rough draft of a schematic that he'd been trying to work through -- never mind that his table had all of a sudden decided to work up a wobbly leg.

He'd fixed the latter with a small book that he'd shoved under the offending piece to stop the table's jostling and had just sat back down from that much by the time Aceline had walked in, leaving Kaveh to give an irritated sigh.

" These deadlines, " he'd huff back. " I don't know how many times I've told them that the time table for this project is too unrealistic, yet no one seems to want to listen! All they care about here are the results and less about the time and effort that goes into making something both functional and pleasing to look at! "

Another grunt would find Kaveh's pen flopped on the table as he paused his work to lean back into Ace's hold -- but that wouldn't stop his sudden flare of irritation just yet!

" You know! If all they wanted were a few port elevators that just served their purpose with no thought given to the artistic design, then maybe they shouldn't have hired an actual architect! " 'These things take time!' he would've argued back, but simply let his attention collapse back down to his messy blueprints instead.

[mangodestroyer]

I'm so sorry to hear that you've been going through this as well!

I'm not even physically disabled myself! But retail sure as hell makes me feel like I am sometimes. I used to be that person who could just stay thin with very little effort and walk a fifteen-mile hike through some rough ass terrain like it was nothing! People worried about me and thought I was starving myself. Others joked and called me hollow leg. People thought I was too thin to be strong, but I have always been tall and muscular for my bio sex. I used to work another job where I lifted up to fifty pounds all day for ten hours, forty hours a week. Non-stop. I'd work outside in blizzards, dragging huge grocery orders through the snow. As an awkward, lanky 20-year-old who only weighed 120 lbs.

But this job? This job has me lying in bed for most of my free time. My joints sometimes get so sore and I feel like I have to take so many measures to reduce inflammation. Despite still being a physical job... that weight I put on is being so fucking stubborn. I've started reducing my calories by quite a bit too. I do think about exercising, but I cannot bring myself to get out of bed to do that. I think it's the mental exhaustion doing this. I'm mentally disabled and really, I probably shouldn't be working a job like this. I'm already a high risk for mental health (moderate depression and anxiety). I have a diagnosed disorder that basically means I'm borderline autistic. And I think I might also have ADHD and cPTSD as well. You're right, the scheduling doesn't help with your social life. Not that I have much going on anyway, but it doesn't help me build one. Nor does it make me a fun person to be around because I am always burnt out and often in a bad mood. I probably seem boring, bitter, and borderline crazy. I'm also now addicted to weed and caffeine. I'm not even functional without those things.

No, it doesn't have to be like this. I genuinely believe that capitalism has set things up like this on purpose. If you look all throughout history, tons of empires had a slave class. Wage slavery IS actually recognized as a form of slavery. It just doesn't seem like it is because we still have some semblance of freedom and you can, in theory, work your way out of this. But let's be real here, who often ends up working these jobs? People from rough backgrounds/those who are desperate and can't find anything else. You have zero bargaining power in this line of work and the general public thinks you're a lesser being for working a job like this. The company treats you like dirt and acts like nothing you do is ever enough. And the scheduling literally makes it so difficult to decompress from a shift and think about/do other things with your life. I feel like the whole point of it is to keep you trapped/stop you from thinking you can actually work your way out of it. And keep you too tired to even want to try. I mean... it would actually be easier for them to give everyone a set schedule and it would reduce the overturn by quite a bit if they made things even a little bit easier for us. I think they need to convince people that they are trapped and can't bring themselves to find something else so that they can continue to give shit pay and horrible working conditions. Look into the phenomenon of "tolerable level of permanent unhappiness." It's literally a tactic used by ab*sers.

My advice is to try and fight through it and do whatever you can to find something else. Learn some tricks to improve your resume and interviewing skills. Learn how to market yourself. Talk to people who work in the hiring process or who just happen to know some things about it (I found out that I actually have a lot more skills than I thought I did). Try to get any amount of education that you can and seriously look back on everything you've done in your life to see how it applies to a job you're applying to. I was surprised to find that my experience working in a lab in school, working with Excel, and writing lab reports was desirable to an office job I was hired for (part-time on campus). Someone mentioned that my minor in mathematics probably helped make me more desirable as well. I also got hired for a theater job and the person interviewing me was delighted to find out that I was in choir, orchestra, and theater all the way back in grade school. And even that performed on stage multiple times for many years. That was so many years ago! And... neither of these jobs has anything to do with anything I've studied in college.

Just get out! It doesn't get better!

Not that I want to talk about it too much or anything, but now that I'm actually leaving retail for real (because I finally secured something else and can afford to leave), I'm kind of thinking a lot about how shitty this job actually is. And how I sort of just got used to it after a while.

I mean, first, there's the obvious of retail being a hella toxic environment. You're constantly facing the public, and have zero ways of standing up for yourself and avoiding it. Companies also push for you to reach extreme goals and push for workers to be super competitive over the metrics. All this micromanaging, as well as the bs from the customers, can easily cause co-workers to become burnt out and bitter. Leading to toxic work relationships as well.

Secondly, it's so much physical labor. And my job in particular also requires a high level of social intelligence. I mean, you have to actually SELL things to customers, on top of balancing a thousand different tasks (and completing them within a certain time frame while also putting out other people's fires). I mean, seriously. It's difficult to draw the energy to have a whole-ass sales pitch, individualized to the customer you're speaking to when you've been rushing to complete three projects.

It's also the scheduling. You can never have the same schedule every week. And the shifts are always all over the place. One week, you might have six four-hour shifts, the next week, you have an eight-hour shift where you work till nine at night, and then have another eight-hour shift the next day requiring you to come in at five or six in the morning. Maybe you worked nothing but evening shifts for the past three months. Now you're suddenly being scheduled morning shifts after you've gotten used to going to bed at four a.m. because you hate waiting to go to your job during the day. Maybe you're scheduled two 35-40 hour weeks because it's a very busy sales period and there is A LOT OF WORK TO DO. Then you're scheduled for nothing but 8 to 16-hour weeks and there's nothing to do/you have no money. You're scheduled for every weekend and holiday. You can no longer feel excited about those while everyone else is having a blast. In fact, you forgot that going to the store is something that people sometimes do for fun. If you ask to limit your hours and have certain times/days off, you'll get heckled for it. Sometimes, you're asked to cover shifts and people get annoyed if you decline. You're asked to find someone to cover your shift if you can't make it in. People get mad at you for being sick or for just wanting to use vacation days.

The pay. The pay is shit. All this for the lowest pay they think they can get away with giving people.

It is... exhausting! Even a simple four-hour shift leaves me feeling like I can't decompress. I have to take things to help me relax after work and to help me tolerate it the next day. Even then, I can't truly get myself to focus on my hobbies or anything. It's also made going to school difficult. It's so hard to think after being worked like that. Or to have the energy to stay on top of things. Also, I've gained weight since working this job. I was... 125 lbs when I started. I got all the way up to 165 lbs in three years and struggled to get down to 157 lbs these past few months. I feel like my stomach can't even digest a lot of food these days. Like, if I eat too much dairy or fruit or something, it feels like it just sits in my stomach for a long ass time until I get cramps and feel bloated. I never used to be like this. I also feel like I have more inflammation in general. And God forbid you have issues happening in your personal life. It makes all of this so much worse! Back when I was in a toxic relationship, I straight up wondered if I was developing b*polar/sch*zophrenia, d*mentia, or c*ncer. The stress was affecting me both physically and mentally THAT MUCH.

I spent three weeks away from my job a few months ago. I actually started feeling like I had some energy. I started feeling human again. It was pretty telling. Before then, I thought I'd finally gotten used to working that job and that maybe it wasn't so bad. Then I came back and was like, "Holy, fuck! This place is shit!" I started putting in job apps like my life depended on it for ANYTHING that wasn't retail or food service. ANYTHING. Even if I was underqualified.

And that's that. I will never do a low-paid customer service job again. If things ever get rough in the job market and I don't have a choice but to return to shitty work... I will literally do the actual SHITTY work of scrubbing toilets before I return to retail. I'm DONE.

[fruitcoops]

Hi! I don’t know if you’re still doing requests but my anxiety has been super bad recently and was wondering if you could write something about either coops or the cubs I don’t mind where one of them is having a bad anxiety day? Like constantly being distracted and overthinking, picking their nails or biting their lips and just struggling and their s/o helps them out? Thank you :) xx

Fic O'Ween Day 1: Superstition! Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for anxiety attack, mentioned medication

“It’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

“Baby, it’s okay.”

I’m not—

“Just hold onto me. You can do this.”

Sirius gasped for breath, his chest aching and vision sputtering. His neck burned with an itch he needed to scratch, but one hand was still locked tight around cold fingers and the other was paralyzed next to him. The itch spread to his collarbones, his ears, his chest, his knuckles hurt from the tension he was going to break, shatter right into a million pieces if he couldn’t get one more fucking breath.

“One more deep breath.” Some strangled noise tried and failed to escape him. The gentle hold at the nape of his neck pulsed. “For me, baby. Try one more for me.”

That wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair to ask that of him, Remus you know better— “Non,” Sirius choked out around his leaden tongue. The shivering wouldn’t stop, his body frozen as the air from the open window cooled the sweat drenching him. Blackness crept in.

“One more.” Remus shifted, pressing their foreheads together harder. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta try one more.”

Left skate, right skate, tap-tap-tap-check, tap-nametag-stall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

Left skate, right skate, taptaptapcheck, tapnametagstall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

Leftskaterightskatetaptaptapchecktapnametagstall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

His stomach flipped and he clenched his eyes shut, his jaw, his fists, anything to stop the jerk of his body. Remus made a soothing noise; there was a hand between his shoulder blades. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. A forced inhale through his nose would have to be enough.

Fucking pharmacy, closing early. Fucking doctors, inputting the wrong pill count. Leo fucking Knut, putting everything off schedule because he needed an extra run that damn bad.

Sirius’ own horrible, useless brain, unable to function without a perfect routine. Heather had promised he was getting better. She promised.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Remus Lupin, lying to his face because nobody in the world could be proud of a shaking wreck.

“Non.” His voice broke. He didn’t loosen his grip on Remus’ threadbare sleeves.

Remus’ thumb pressed into the divot at the base of his skull and another tremor rocked through him. “I am,” he said into the space between them. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re doing great. You’re almost done.”

A sob became a wheeze halfway out of his throbbing lungs and Sirius clung to him, moving to push his face into the folds of his hoodie. There was one hand clasped between them. The other pressed tight to Sirius’ neck, firm and reassuring. There were no guesses with Remus. No surprises to fear.

Left skate, right skate, three taps check, tap nametag stall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, knock, out.

All of this, the trembling and the crying and the nausea, for a knock on the doorframe. A single superstition in the sea of nonsense his hockey brain convinced him was necessary.

His ears rang as the world shuddered into focus again, blurry even as he blinked. There was the floor. The rug they had picked out together. Remus’ knee, red from kneeling and knobbly. His own skewed legs, denim-clad and stretching out to his ankles, then his socks, those stupid pufferfish-covered things from last year’s Christmas party.

Sirius exhaled.

“Great job,” Remus breathed. “That was so good, baby.”

Inhale. His torso hurt like he had a stitch in it.

Exhale.

“Hey, there you go,” came the half-laugh, dripping with relief as Sirius stared at one of the colorful fish by his heel. Six spines. Two fins. One eye. Remus rubbed between his shoulders and gave the back of his neck another squeeze.

He gulped down another breath. His knuckles were rusted over, a lost cause, but he could wiggle his toes again. Progress.

Sirius made a disgruntled noise when he tried to move and pain shot up one hip. “Am I holding you too tight?” Remus asked. He shook his head. “Do you want me to move?”

Oh, no, Sirius wasn’t sure he would remain a solid person if Remus budged an inch. He pushed his face deeper into the bend of his neck in a silent request and felt Remus relax, his fingertips sliding along the curve of Sirius’ spine.

Remus inhaled like he was about to speak, then let it out long and slow. Sirius didn’t know what he was going to ask. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. There was too much rawness that he wished could stay in the dark.

“How long has it been?”

Sirius’ shoulders slumped. “Deux jours.”

“Oh, Pads.” It sounded like his heart was breaking.

“I can get them tomorrow. A refill. I called.” His thoughts felt too fragmented in his head, but hopefully Remus would be able to put it together. Sirius had been so grateful that the phone call hadn’t sent him spiraling before practice. It felt like forever since he hung up with clammy hands. “They—they didn’t give me the right number. The one on la bouteille.”

“Really?” There was an edge to Remus’ voice and Sirius’ stomach sank; he pulled him in closer by the fistfuls of hoodie he couldn’t bear to release, nuzzling into the worn edge where it smelled most like Remus, soapy and minty and something sharp like arnica.

“I should have checked,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “Desolé.”

“What? Oh, no, I’m—" Remus gathered him closer, one knee sliding out of Sirius’ view to bracket him. “I’m not mad at you. God, no. I’m mad that your doctors can’t fucking count.”

“I should have checked.” It all wound up being Sirius’ fault, at the end of the day.

Remus slowly rested his weight on his heels; Sirius mourned the loss until lips brushed his stubbled cheek. “It’s not your job to check,” Remus said. He tucked a strand of Sirius’ hair behind his ear and cupped one side of his face, drawing him gently from his hiding place. From the little Sirius could see in his peripheral vision, Remus’ expression was nothing but kind. “They need to make sure you have the right medication. That’s what they get paid to do. This is not your fault.”

Sirius swallowed hard. He pulled his aching legs to his chest and rested his chin on top, then let himself ease into Remus’ chest. Instantly, Remus’ arms came up around him. “I…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I feel awful.”

“Cuddle?”

“Ouais.” He slid a hand under Remus’ shirt, just for some contact. “And a shower?”

The answering kiss to his temple almost made him smile. “I’ll wash your hair.”

[bucky-barmes]

♥︎ Platonic Soul Mates ♥︎

[ gif from @topgundaily ]

bob floyd x gnc!reader

in which you finally meet bob's friends in Miramar

created off of this prompt from @givethispromptatry

never thought i would be one to read let alone write anything for bob floyd, but here we are and i adore him

word count: 1,599 words

contains: general fluffiness, seresin being a shithead (whats new), reader mildly threatening someone but all in good faith, just nice wholesome gentle fluff

As always, my blog is 18+ only, minors dni

[ all my work is my own and not to be reposted or translated anywhere else ]

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You and Robert Floyd went way back. Like way back. We’re talking all the way back to kindergarten. You knew the second you saw the bigger kids picking on him in the playground that you would be there to stand up for him.

From that first time you shoved the bigger boys away from him and stood between them and him, Bob Floyd knew he would always be friends with you. Forever.

And you both stuck three to your 4 year old selves promises. All throughout your school years, you were side by side, ready to take on the world together.

It wasn’t until Bob left for the Naval Academy that you truly separated. You hated to admit it, but it made you feel like a lost puppy, heading off to college without your best friend, your partner in crime. It was like you had to learn how to function all over again. It was so foreign, doing things you would have normally done with Bob, all by yourself or with other people. Like moving into your college dorm.

Nevertheless, life continued on and you learned how to live without him. The two of you talked as much as your schedules allowed, and you were present for each other’s graduations. He had to pull some strings to get the leave, but Bob would have done anything humanly possible to see you on your big day, even leaving base without permission if he had to. You were his best girl, and nothing was more important than the precious and now limited time he got to spend with you.

And that’s how you ended up here, at Miramar, AKA Fightertown, staying with Bob on base for two months.

After the Dagger teams’ success with the Uranium bunker bombing, they were all able to remain on base to rest and recuperate. Along with this, they were able to invite one person onto base to spend time with for the duration. Immediately, you were Bob’s choice, no questions asked. At this point, it had been years since you had seen each other and you both were feeling it. You were more than best friends, you were soulmates. Those two people that are just destined to be in each other’s lives forever. Two peas in a pod.

“Bobby!” Your high pitch squeal could be heard through the outside rec ground as you dropped your bags and sprinted towards your best friend. Everyone was staring dumbfounded as Bob wrapped his arms around your waist instinctively when you wrapped yours around his neck, lifting you off the ground and spinning the two of you around. Your legs had automatically wrapped around his waist and you stayed like that for what felt like hours, your head nestled in his neck, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Neither of you feeling the burning stares from Jake Seresin, Bradley Bradshaw and the other Dagger teammates. All of them staring in utter shock. This was not what they expected in the slightest when Bob had told them about his friend from home coming to visit.

“Well, well, well, good ol’ Bob does have game.” Seresin smirked as he sauntered over to the two of you, bringing you both back to reality. Bob gently but quickly dropped you from his tight grip, hand flying up to the back of his neck to scratch shyly. The rest of the group made their way over behind Jake, everyone equally as curious, just trying the more subtle approach.

“Are these your friends, Bobby?” You turn to beam up at him after giving the group a once over. God he missed your smile, and he automatically mirrored it back at you. "Hi, y/n! You're new here, right! Let me present you some of my... Uh well I guess I can call that a family." Bob gestured awkwardly to the group standing before them. There was an unspoken understanding that after the events of the Uranium bunker mission, the group was now more than just a team, they were a slightly dysfunctional, makeshift family. And it worked.

“We’ve got Jake Seresin, Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha Trace, Mickey Garcia, Javy Machado and Reuben Fitch. The others are… around somewhere.” He smiled at you sheepishly. “Guys, this is y/n, my best friend.” You felt your cheeks grow warm as everyone was staring at you, some eyeing you up more than others.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n.” Jake reached out his hand, smirking harder than before if that was even possible. He brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss to your knuckles, making you blush even harder.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Hangman.” “All good things I hope.”

You could sense Bob stiffen next to you and you nudged his shoulder with yours. “How could you keep a girl like this a secret from us, Bobby?” “Don’t call me that.” Bob’s teeth gritted together at the sound of Jake using your nickname for him, you chuckled at his reaction.

“Sorry, Hangman, that name’s reserved for me only.” Jake raised his arms up in surrender, but something told you it would definitely come up again in future.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Bradley’s eyes shifted between the two of you. There was certainly a stark difference between you. Bob and his famous shy and reserved personality, he was always one to keep a low profile and never get involved in a fight let alone start one. And there was definitely a look about him that was the total opposite of you.

You, on the other hand, were loud and in your face, never afraid to start a fight if necessary, hence how the two of you became friends. And there was no doubt about it, you were beautiful. Conventionally attractive, yes, but there was something about you that just lit up a room no matter what the energy was before. You radiated pure and unadulterated joy.

Except for when you didn’t. And only Bob knew the true gravity of a situation when you were anything but your joyous self.

“We grew up in the same town.” You spoke for the both of you, noticing Bob was too lost in his thoughts to answer Bradley.

“Met the first day of kindergarten, and the rest is history.” The group eyed you both again as you stared up at him with nothing short of adoration, him staring right back at you, a lopsided grin spread across his lips.

“Ah, childhood sweethearts, how sweet.” Jake had a shit eating grin plastered on his features, knowing full well that you weren’t dating, he was just trying to get a rise out of Bob. Which worked, Bob went bright red, hand flying up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck again.

“What? No we’re not-“ “We’re not dating.” You interjected, finishing his sentence that he was probably never going to get out.

“Just friends.” Bob added sheepishly.

“Oops, my bad.” Jake held his arms up in mock innocence. “Anywho, I’m not sure about the rest of you, but I’m ready for some grub.” The rest of the group all nodded in unison, mumbling some form of affirmation.

Bob had jogged back to where you dropped your bags, carrying them inside for you.

You trailed behind him, spying Natasha hanging at the back of the group.

“So, you’re the famous Phoenix I’ve heard so much about.” Slowing your pace to walk beside her, you eyed her.

“Should I be scared?” She mimicked your movements, eyeing you, only hers held a note of nervousness.

“Mostly good things,” you offered her a small tight lipped smile. “But I heard about that training mission.” Phoenix’s face dropped, not sure where this could possibly be going. She’d only just met you, Bob’s best friend, and she’d already ruined it.

“If he gets hurt, I’ll kill you.” You stopped in your tracks, deadpan as you spoke and there’s a beat of silence. Then another. You couldn’t see it, but Phoenix was sweating. When she heard her WSO’s friend was coming to visit, she couldn’t wait to meet her. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Until, you cracked a grin, nudging her with your elbow. “It’s my job after all, as his best friend and personal bodyguard.”

The sigh of relief Phoenix let out was definitely audible enough for you to hear, deciding ignoring it was best after the stunt you just pulled.

“I’m just glad you brought him back safe from that mission.” Your eyes wandered to Bob’s retreating form, smiling softly. You could see just from the way he walked how comfortable he was with his team.

“So am I, so am I.” Phoenix reassured you, a knowing smile playing at her lips as she watched the way you looked at your best friend. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Bob was pretty reserved with what he let on about you to the rest of the team, but he’s told me a lot about you, too.”

“Oh really, only good things I hope?” You smirked at her as the two of you started your walk back into the rec hall inside, getting to know each other along the way.

You didn’t notice it, but Bob was watching the two of you from the doorway, a content smile on his face as two of his closest friends were finally able to meet. He already knew that this was going to be the best two months he’s had in a long time.

[dourpeep]

WAIT. I'm losing my mind over that friends to lovers post you reblogged. All I can think about is college Albedo + mutual pining, romantic tension, and friends to lovers OTL

- Leaving little post it notes in his bag or inside the cover of his textbook to tell him to have a nice day or remind him to take care of himself because you know he has a tendency to work too hard sometimes!! And what if he meets up with Sucrose and Timaeus because they like to catch up and sometimes discuss their research or homework, and they see Albedo hiding a grin behind his books and think that he's solved a particularly difficult problem but it's just a cute little note you slipped him when he wasn't looking

- You stay up studying for exams with Albedo and he dozes off on your shoulder so you sit there afraid to move because you don't want to wake him but you're also dying inside

- The two of you go to the library to work but eventually get distracted so it turns into the two you sitting close together on a couch and reading each other sections from your favourite books

- I can also see him as someone who rambles about labs or new research he's absolutely taken by. Weeks later when you mention something he said before, he's a little surprised but you just tell him that you tried your best to understand everything because you know it's important to him and maybe his heart skipped a little

- Going off your headcanons: Albedo looking for little specimens and deciding it could be a fun outing with Klee so she can get some sunshine and you find the two of them in the park. You end up joining them and Albedo's heart softens seeing you and Klee laughing and smiling together!

- I remember this little headcanon you had where he snorts when laughing sometimes and imagine Albedo letting one slip out while he's with you, and Kaeya teasing him later on.

- Eventually, his friends start asking if the two of you are together because of the silent affection and teasing between the two of you. Albedo knows he likes you but he's scared a relationship will ruin everything and you're too important to lose even if it means he never says anything, but little did he know, you have feelings for him too.

Anyway, I hope you have a nice day and week! Sorry about this monster of an ask lmao

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR ALBEDO

NEVER

Like... there are two characters that I seldom, if ever, turn down and that's my beloved Albedo and beloathed Scaramouche- If you don't want me to shut up about a topic??? Like just utter word vomit???? Bring them up. Bring them up, I dare you--

Okay okay okay okay now lemme just--

oops. 1.4k words. Enjoy your headcanon drabbles, courtesy of me being a hard simp for Albedo--

College au Albedo is pretty close to how he normally is! Brilliant, though having difficulties with making friends and keeping said friends, getting carried away with experiments (did you know if you're on good enough terms with the professors, they'll vouch for you so you can use the lab when there aren't classes using them?? Yeah)...so the friendship that you have with him is certainly the closest one he has.

It'd be the kind where you knock on his dorm or apartment door at 11:45pm with some takeout and your textbooks and he'll let you in without a second thought. You slip inside and settle on the floor next to the coffee table cross-legged, setting the food out as if you don't live a good walk away. He wasn't going to sleep any time soon anyway.

Like the kind of friendship where your hand instinctively slips into his to tug him towards something cool you found or to the café where you tend to go after classes.

Even after you get to your destination, you don't let go.

Now that that has been established--the little notes you slip into his bag or on his books really began as a little reminder. Despite his keen intellect, Albedo tends to easily forget things because his mind is always going onto the next thing. So, being the great friend you are, would just slip a note to remind him to take breaks, eat a snack, or that you're supposed to go and meet Sucrose and Timaeus after class to prep for the upcoming exams.

Neither of you really know when they began to turn into doodles or 'seemingly platonic declarations of adoration'. It's normal for friends to write a heart besides "Don't forget I love you!", right? Yeah.

The smile that makes it's way on Albedo's face is unmistakable the moment that Sucrose accidentally stumbles upon a sticky note carefully tucked in one of his notebooks.

-

Speaking of Albedo and his tendencies to get carried away with stuff, he often functions on...minimal sleep.

Those nights that you pop up at his place to study or just hang out, he often ends up dozing off, glasses sliding uncomfortably down the bridge of his nose and hair tousled out of it's usual style.

You never plan to stay the night (though even when he's awake he insists you do because it's not as safe at night to make the commute home), but you can't just disturb his sleep when it's the first time in a while that he's probably gone without taking a capsule or two of melatonin to help himself back into some semblance of a sleep schedule.

It's these moments that you remember just how soft his hair is and just how nice his shampoo smells.

Also that he's a cuddler.

You awake in the morning, back aching and eyes squinting against the sudden brightness of the world around you and limbs tangled with your best friend. He's unbothered because his face is half-shoved against the crook of your neck.

-

With the library, you often find yourselves in a little game. There's so much to learn and so, so many topics through the old vanilla-scent found between pages!!

So trips to the library end up with the two of you digging and sifting to find a topic you've never heard of, sit and read for 15 minutes, then proceed to explain said topic the best you can (without looking!!). It almost always ends up with a few chuckles from Albedo as you fumble explaining (and half-making up) information and Albedo's (unfairly) great short-term memory winning out.

Speaking of...between actually studying and your little topic games, Albedo turns to you to bounce off his current observations and ideas. Sucrose and Timaeus, though both in similar majors as Albedo, are busy with their own projects and research to the point that they don't really have the time to help with stuff as extensive as his research.

Annnnd, naturally, since you don't have anything better to do and are almost always by his side, you play that part!

You listen intently no matter how dense the subject may be and no matter if you do or do not have the background knowledge.

When you ask him to explain something you don't quite understand, he can't help but blink in surprise because you were listening??? And wanted to really understand? You prove time and time again (even days, weeks later) that you listened to every word that tumbled out during his rambles.

And of course you do! Albedo's one of the most important people to you, so it's only natural that you want to show interest in his interests.

Also it's pretty cool to find out those random bits of trivia (like lobsters and their repairable telomeres-).

--

Klee!!!

Oh man, the first time that you met Klee was a pretty hectic day for Albedo. Due to his Aunt Alice's incredibly busy schedule, he tends to care for Klee on days that he doesn't have class.

However, that particular day he just barely finished class before he had to go and pick her up from school.

With you in tow, that is.

Immediately, the little girl brightens up at your presence, no doubt excited from what she's heard about you (listening in to Albedo's conversations with Alice and the embarrassed tone in his voice when he realizes that he's let your name slipped again and now Aunt Alice wants to know about this particular friend who's captured dear little Bedo's attentions). He's relieved when Klee doesn't immediately reveal that.

From then on, Klee insists that Albedo invites you for every outing they have.

The cafe for a quick treat? The bookstore to sit and read a few books?

"Oh, please please please?? Can they come Albedo? Klee promises that she'll be good!"

Who is he to say no?

But above all, those park days are his favorite. You end up running around with Klee, lifting her up so she can reach a particular leaf on a branch, squatting down to see a bug or lizard that she's entirely enthralled by--all while Albedo sits under the shade of a tree on a blanket, sketchbook and pencil in hand.

You don't know it (even though there's many occasions where he's shown you his sketchbook), but the pages are filled with your smile.

-

Around you, Albedo's found that he's most comfortable.

There's no need to hide insecurities or hold his tongue when something particularly exciting comes to mind...nor does he hold back in his laughter. Especially with your insistence that his laugh is cute.

That scenario with Kaeya is entirely an accident, proof of just how used to your presence he's become.

It's a late night and you're out with a bigger group of friends than usual, some friends that Albedo's only known since the start of college, but definitely good ones.

With a drink in your hand you all sit at a large table, chatting about anything and everything when you crack a joke and Albedo snorts.

Not like a snort with his normally quiet chuckle, either.

Instead, he's laughing hard, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and stomach hurting (and maybe it's because of the few sips of drink he's had) and he snorts. The moment the sound escapes him and he's trying hard to calm back down, Kaeya grins.

He's most definitely one of the first people to put two and two together.

After all, Albedo keeps to himself, even around them. But with you around? There's a certain spark of life that ignites.

-

It's no surprise that the two of you are close when all is said and done.

But that doesn't stop either of you from choking and cheeks from flushing when someone asks if you're a couple. It happens often--too often to count--and ranges between Kaeya's teasing comments and a few sweet words from an elderly woman passing by your table at the cafe.

And you laugh--you and Albedo--because no, no, you're just friends.

Right?

Then the light hits your features just right, illuminating you in a soft glow that makes your eyes shine and--

It's undeniable the way that he feels for you. The sudden quickening of his heartbeat is proof enough. You slide your drink towards him for him to try and he does the same, eyes unable to leave your lips as you take a sip and then smile.

Between the cracks of his appreciation, of this warmth, dread seeps.

Though...that was just over a week ago.

Sitting down back at his apartment, your head resting on his chest and your hands intertwined while you watch whatever's on tv, you shift. Your lips meet in a sweet kiss.

And Albedo wonders how neither of you managed to see it sooner.

[mandos-sluts]

The Botched Mission

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dubious consent, degradation, daddy kink, mutual masterbation, dirty talk, voyeurism

Summary: You work for the Empire and are tasked with spying on Mando. You don’t do a great job at concealing your efforts.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!!

You were born and raised in the Empire. Your mother was an admiral in the Imperial Security Bureau under Moff Gideon and your father died in battle during the Great Purge. The more you grew up, the more you questioned the Empire’s actions and ideology, but it didn’t really matter. There was no getting out for you— your entire livelihood was supported by the Empire.

Your commanding officer has given you a mission on Tatooine. You are to go undercover as a mechanic and surveill the Mandalorian Din Djarin. It was known that he knew of the force-sensitive child’s location and had dealings with other Jedi, thus, he was of great interest to the Empire.

***********************

The Mandalorian’s ship is scheduled to undergo maintenance for two days on Tatooine. You stand in the hangar and watch as the beat up Razor Crest lands. The ship’s hatch opens and there standing tall is the Mandalorian, covered from head to toe in shiny silver beskar. He walks confidently down the ramp and towards you.

You open your mouth to introduce yourself when he tosses a bag of credits to you. “I need the repairs completed by tomorrow afternoon.” He says in a deep voice, towering over you and gazing into your eyes.

Shit. You’re….you’re really attracted to him. The way he carries himself is so hot— his assertive demeanor, his voice. “Yeah, absolutely, no– no problem sir.” You stutter out. “Um, I’m y/n.”

Mando nods his head and then walks right past you, leaving you standing there with your panties damp.

He exits the hangar and all he can think about is you. Fuck, since when were mechanics so beautiful?

You shake your head and try to focus. Heading into the ship, you begin installing hidden cameras all over. An actual mechanic employed by the Empire meanwhile gets to work making repairs.

You consider waiting around for Mando to return for the evening, just so you can interact with him more, but once it gets dark, you head to the inn that you’re staying at. Mando arrives back to his ship a little after you return to your room.

Your boss made it clear that she wants you to watch him whenever he’s not sleeping. Which honestly is stupid, it’s not like he’s going to talk to himself and reveal important information? You lie back in your bed with the screen on your lap and watch the live feed of the cameras in the ship, already bored out of your mind. The camera’s are super high quality; the picture and audio are both crystal clear. A few minutes later, you see the hatch open and watch Mando enter the ship.

Mando notices the cameras almost instantly. To be fair, you always half-assed your missions; you really don’t care about advancing the Empire’s agenda or doing your job well. Mando lets out a long annoyed sigh. He knew you didn’t look like a mechanic!

His first thought is to take down all of the cameras, apprehend you, and turn you over to the New Republic. There are only a few lodges in town and it wouldn’t be hard for him to track you down. On the other hand...he figures he could have some fun with this.

Pretending he isn’t aware of the cameras, Mando puts his weapons away in his arsonal just like he does every night.

Shit, you think to yourself. His collection of weapons is massive, he could kill you with such little effort if he wanted to.

Mando heads up to the cockpit and slumps down in the pilot’s chair. He stretches his legs out and takes a deep breath. Bringing his hand down to his crotch, he starts rubbing himself over his pants.

Your eyes widen and you sit up in your bed. Is– is he doing what it looks like he’s doing? You feel arousal shoot to your pussy as you watch a tent form in Mando’s pants.

Mando knows you’re watching him, and he saw how nervous he made you earlier today, so he knows that you’re too curious and horny to turn it off. He unbuttons his pants and releases his long, thick cock. He takes his length in his hand and spreads his precum around up and down his shaft, letting out a moan.

Your panties are soaked at this point and your pussy is begging to be touched. You bring your hand down and start rubbing your clit over your shorts, your eyes are glued to the screen.

Mando starts pumping his cock up and down, faster and faster. You’ve never been so turned on in your entire life. You trail your hand into your pants and start circling your wet clit. You know this is super creepy of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Mando’s breathing picks up as he fucks his hand even harder.

“Ah fuck.” He spits out.

Ugh his voice is so sexy–

“Fuck, y/n. Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Your heart drops and your hand freezes. He just said your name...He’s jerking off thinking about you. Did you even tell him your name?

“That’s right, y/n, ride my cock, pretty girl.” He breathes out.

You’re shocked and your cunt starts throbbing. Mando has the biggest cock you have ever seen, like...holy shit. You can’t handle how horny you are right now. The fact that you can’t hop on his lap and start bouncing on his dick makes you want to cry. You start whimpering as you glide your fingers along your slick and watch Mando growl your name.

Mando grips the arm of his chair as he feels his orgasm approaching. He’s so hard knowing that you’re watching him.

“Ahhhhhh fuuuckkkkk, yyy/nnn” Mando moans as you watch his cum spew out of him.

Feeling your own orgasm coming on, you quickly turn off the monitor, close your eyes, and start pumping your finger in and out of your hole. It takes you less than twenty seconds to cum, thinking about Mando saying your name while jerking off.

You don’t bother to turn the monitor back on for the rest of the night. You go to sleep replaying those images of Mando in your head over and over again.

************************

The next morning, Mando leaves his ship for the day at dawn and you head over to the hangar a few hours later. The mechanic is finishing up the final repairs when you arrive.

In case Mando asks you about the repairs, the mechanic gives you an overview of everything she did. You listen intently....for about a minute, but then end up inadvertently tuning her out, thinking about what you witnessed last night.

“Got it?” She says, jolting you back to reality.

“Y-yes totally.” You lie.

The mechanic leaves and you grab a seat at a table in the hangar, waiting patiently for Mando to return.

A few hours later, Mando struts into the hangar. He strolls right past you up to the Crest. “The ship done?” He asks shortly, not even looking back at you.

“Yes, everything is in order sir, have a good flight.” You say nervously, turning around to exit.

“Wait.” He says, stopping you in your tracks. “I have a few questions before I depart.” Mando says as he opens the hatch.

“Um, s-sure.” You say, following him into the ship.

Mando starts up the Crest and does a lap around the first level, examining all the areas where work was presumably done. The ship is in great shape, but he knows that you didn’t do any of it.

“Are the front deflectors operating at full capacity?” Mando asks in his deep, modulated voice.

“Uh, y-yeah.” You respond. You’re standing against the wall trying your best to keep cool and act like you know what he’s talking about.

“Did you fix the leak in the carbonite system?” He asks.

“Y-yes.”

“How did you get the ion acceleration chamber running again?” He questions without looking up, continuing to walk around and inspect the ship.

“Uh, um–”

Mando turns his gaze to you. “Did you rewire the calcinator or instal a new thruster nozzle?

“Um I did it by rewiring the– the thunder novel...”

Mando begins walking toward you. “How is the repulsor grille functioning?”

“I– I um...I just, I– the ship–”

Mando is now standing directly in front of you, staring into your desperate intimidated eyes. “What’s the matter, little girl, don’t know the answer?” He says moving even closer to you.

“N-no I know–”

“Can you tell me about the work you did on the engines?” He interrupts. “Or why don’t you tell me about these cameras you installed first.” He says, reaching over you and yanking one of the cameras out of the wall above you.

Your heart drops. “I-I didn’t put those there.” You stutter out.

“Drop the act, y/n. I know you’re not a mechanic. I know you work for the Empire.”

Fuck, you are so busted–

“And I know you watched me last night. Sweetheart, it’s written all over your face.” He says lightly, grabbing your chin and pulling your head up so that you’re looking directly into his visor.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel your face is bright red. You’re trembling with fear but you are also so turned on. Your pussy is throbbing as your breath heavily and stare into Mando’s visor with doe eyes.

“I—”

“Tell me, pretty girl.” He interrupts you again. “Did you like watching me jerk off?” He asks in a deep tone as he runs his other hand down your body to your waist.

“Y-yes.” You whisper with humiliation.

Mando brings his hand between your legs and dances his fingers on your crotch. “Did you touch yourself while you watched me?”

You nod your head slowly.

“What a fuckin naughty girl.” He says pushing you hard against the wall. He pushes your shorts to the side and slides his fingers into your panties. You let out a high-pitched exhale, still maintaining eye contact with him

“Damn. So wet already.” He says in a low rough voice. “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Those Storm Trooper boys can’t fuck you good, can they?” He says mockingly. “Maybe I should turn you over to the New Republic.” He utters as his other hand lightly grabs your throat. “Or, maybe I should come up with my own form of punishment for you.” Mando says as he thrusts his middle finger up inside of you.

You let out a gasp and your mouth falls open as he starts pumping your hole. “I’ve never fucked a slut from the Empire before.” He says, tightening his grip on your throat. You’re so wet you can hear his finger moving in and out of you.

“What do you think, you little criminal?” He says in a sultry tone.

“Ahhh!” You moan out. “I– I think you should– ahh– punish me, Mando.” You whine, batting your eyes at him as he drives his finger in and out of your cunt.

Mando grinds his bulge against your stomach. “Yeah? Then you’d better be an obedient little whore for me.”

Mando pulls his fingers out of you. He abruptly shoves down your shorts and rips off your top. “What are you–”

“Shut up.” He snaps as he turns you around and shoves you back against the wall. “Hands against the wall.” You do as you’re told.

You hear your shirt rip again and all of the sudden your vision goes black as you feel Mando tying fabric around your eyes. You’re naked except for a thong and blind fold, with your cheek and palms flat against the metal wall. One by one, you hear pieces of Mando’s armor hitting the floor. *see gif* Then you feel his bulge grind against your ass and one hand wrapping around your throat while the other grabs your tit.

His lips come to your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a fuckin week.” He breathes in your ear. “Your pretty little cunt is gonna be overflowing with my cum when I’m done with you.” He growls, roughly kneading your tit.

“Yes daddy” You moan in response.

Mando loves that you called him daddy. He grabs your hair and pulls it back and down, tilting your head back and making your back arch while your hands stay flat on the metal wall. With his hold still on your hair, you feel his warm lips plant onto yours, his facial hair rubbing against your skin. His lips move down your cheek to your neck, and he sucks on your smooth skin while pulling your hair back. Pulling away, he can already see the bruise of the hickey forming on your neck.

Mando pulls away from you and steps back, taking a moment to admire how vulnerable you look, blindfolded and panting against his wall. Then you feel his hand smack your ass check, and you let out a yelp. He does it twice more against the other cheek and you can’t help but cry out.

“Shut up, slut. I told you I was gonna punish you.” He says as he pulls your g-string up, making its fabric drag and pull against your clit. He spanks you again. Arousal shoots to your cunt, and it is dripping wet.

Mando spins you around again and slams your back against the wall. He once more grabs your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck so perfectly for him. Mando grabs your ass and pulls you up against him. “Open your mouth.” He commands in a stern voice, still pulling your hair down.

Your lips part wide and Mando bites your bottom lip before spitting in your mouth. “Swallow.” He orders. You close your mouth and swallow his sweet saliva down your throat.

Mando picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. He sets you down on a metal table and rips your thong off of you. Your legs are wide open, your pussy splayed out on the table for Mando to admire as he pulls his shirt over his head. He runs two fingers up and down slick and then shoves them in your mouth. “You gonna be a good girl and show me how needy this little cunt is?” He whispers in your ear while you suck his fingers.

He removes his fingers from your mouth. “Yes.” You breathe out.

“Yes, what?” Mando says slapping your outer thigh.

“I– I’m gonna be a good girl for you, daddy. And sh–show you how– how needy I am for your cock.” You stammer out.

Mando hums in response as he lines his tip up with your entrance. One of your hands is wrapped around his neck and the palm of your other hand is flat against his warm hard chest.

You feel his warm precum against your tender skin as he pushes the head of his dick into you. Your mouth falls open and you gasp. He does a few thrusts with half his length and it’s already more than you can handle.

“Fuck!” You spit out in a high pitched voice.

“Shit–” Mando snaps. “How are you so fuckin tight?” He says, seeming genuinely frustrated.

You’re being so stretched out you can’t form a response. You just sit there, wrapped around Mando, breathing heavily with your mouth agape, trying your best to adjust to his size.

“You’re squeezing the shit out of my cock. Ah you feel so fuckin good.” Mando groans in your ear as he pushes more of his member inside of you. He then abruptly snaps his hips and thrusts all the way inside of you.

You scream out “Fuck!” And dig your nails into his back.

Mando starts pumping in you slowly. “You’re doing so good, baby girl, taking my big cock in your tight pussy so well.”

He brings more of his length out and picks up the pace.“Ahhhhh Mando! Fuck!” You cry.

“What’d you call me?” He says, snapping his hips into you hard.

“Daddy!” You squeal. “Daddy! I–I’m sorry! Daddy fuck your cock is– is so big!” You wine between thrusts. He puts his lips on your mouth.

“I know, pretty girl” He whispers in your mouth. “You’re doing good.”

He starts thrusting faster and you lose control of the moans that escape your lips. You’re holding onto him for dear life as he pounds into you, his hands clutching your hips. Mando pushes you down so that you’re lying on the table and swings one of your legs up on his shoulder, providing him an even better angle, allowing him to drive his cock right into your G-spot.

“Ahhh daddy, yes! Fuck! Right there, please!” You scream.

Mando holds your leg against his chest with one arm and brings his other hand to grip your throat.

“Do– do the Imps know they have a filthy– ahh– filthy fuckin cockslut working for them?” He mocks. “What would they say if they knew you agreed to be your target’s dirty little fucktoy? Huh?”

All you can do in response is scream and moan. Mando removes his hand from your throat and drags it down your stomach. He starts circling your clit and you begin to see stars. Your whole body starts shaking and your cunt clenches down on Mando’s cock. “Fuck, I– I’m gonna cum!” You exclaim. Your pussy starts pulsing like never before as you feel your orgasm overtake you.

“Yes, ahhh fuck! This pussy was– was made for my cock, shit.” Mando says as he rides you through your orgasm. He loves watching you come apart on a table in his ship, blindfolded and helpless.

Mando can feel his own climax nearing and he clasps your hips tight. His fast thrusts lose rhythm and you can feel his cock getting stiff in your cunt. He pumps his cock a few more times and then you feel his warm cum surge inside of you. “Fuuuccckkk.” Mando grunts as his white juices fill your hole.

He pulls out of you and scoots you to sit further back on the table as he redresses. You can feel his cum trickling out of your pussy onto the cold metal table beneath you. You close your legs— without him pressed up against you and without your sight, you feel so exposed and awkward.

You hear the hiss of his helmet and then feel his hands pushing your legs back open again, displaying your abused and leaking cunt. Mando unties the makeshift blind fold, and you see him standing fully clothed and armored in front of you. He wraps one hand around your waist and pushes your thigh further apart with his other hand.

“You look so pretty like this.” He says in his deep, modulated voice. “Come on.” He says with his hand still around your waist, motioning you off the table. You hop off and your legs immediately give out, your body falling to the floor.

Mando scoffs and pulls you up. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.”

“You’re a man of your word.” You say sarcastically.

“Guess that means I’ll have to uninstall all the fuckin cameras you hid all over my ship.” Mando says as he sweeps you off your feet. He carries you into his sleeping quarters.

“No. Keep them.” You say with a side smile as he lays you down on the bed. “I like watching you jerk off. Especially when you jerk off while moaning my name.” You pull the blankets to cover you.

Mando sits on the bed that you’re lying on “Fuck.” He says caressing your cheek. “If you didn’t work for the Empire I’d take you with me.” Mando says bluntly.

“Take me with you, Mando!” You say sitting up. “I don’t wanna work for the Empire. Fuck the Empire. I’ve been looking for a way for so long.”

Mando smiles underneath his helmet. “Well, good thing you did such a shit job at your mission.”

**************************************

Masterlist

**************************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425

[tommyspeakycap]

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

“So, Andrea asked me out, today.”

“Fucking finally,” Sam mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes at Lena as if Lena’s an idiot who should’ve seen this coming.

“I’m sorry what? What do you mean, ‘finally’?” 

“Oh my God, do you seriously have no clue about it?”

“About what?” This time it was Kara who speaks up. They were having a Girls’ Night tonight, well, usually it was just a Kara and Lena night, but Sam came in for a rare visit and here they all are. 

“About how Lena apparently is an idiot who still doesn’t know that Andrea has been making heart-eyes at her since Day 1,” Sam deadpans and Lena’s eyes widen, brows shooting up to her forehead.

“What? What- No, she doesn’t. Oh my God, Sam! She’s my best friend. We go way back, there is nothing— Sam! Stop laughing, I’m serious!”

“Oh, honey, ever since boarding school she’s had a thing for you. She wouldn’t ask if it was nothing. Remember the first time I met with her?” Sam asks and Lena just nods because, okay what the fuck she really needs time to process this.

“She was jealous, she thought I was coming on to you or something, but then you said I was just a business associate and she calmed down,” Sam finishes and flashes of memory zip unto Lena’s brain. Yes, she does remember that day, how Andrea had acted hostile and odd until they met up again with Sam again during that merger and-

Oh my God. 

 “Ah, there it is. Moment of realization hit hard much? Here, have a drink, buddy.”

Sam thinks this is funny. 

Sam thinks this is so funny and she is so smug about being right and Lena wants to wash the damn smugness off of her face. Sam was too busy laughing and Lena was too busy plotting to kill Sam that they failed to notice how Kara completely turned silent. 

“Good of her to finally have the guts to ask you out. Been a long time coming,” Sam rambles mindlessly sipping at her wine. 

“Wait, I’m still processing— Why didn’t she say anything?” 

“Probably didn’t want to ruin your friendship.”

“Then why now?”

“I don’t know, maybe because she tried not asking you out to keep your friendship. But shit happened and your friendship was lost anyway, but now she doesn’t have anything to lose so maybe she thought, might as well...” Sam shrugs as if it were nothing, but Lena, Lena’s brain was scrambling and— 

“Man, am I glad, I chose this week to visit. Say yes already, and me and Kara would even help you choose a dress. Right, Kara?”

They both turn to Kara, who has been uncharacteristically quiet this past few minutes.

“Huh? Wha- Oh, yeah. Yeah. Dress, right. Yeah,” Kara stutters out and Lena knows something is definitely wrong.

“Are you okay?” She asks and Sam just raises a brow at her.

“Oh, yeah. Just—  long day, you know?” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

But the answer was subdued and Lena wasn’t really all that convinced but Sam is interrogating her again and she really just wants to solve this Andrea Dilemma first. Besides, she’s staying over anyway, she can talk to Kara later.

“How did she ask you out? Spill, right now. Spare us no details.” 

Well…

***

“Well, I’m glad that we got that over with.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Andrea.”

“Mm, that’s nice to hear. I missed that, coming from you. I- I missed you.”

“Andrea Rojas, you’re getting soft on me. But for what it’s worth I missed you too.”

“Listen, I uh- I wanna ask you something, but you have to promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Is everything alright? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Gotodinnerwithme.”

“Did you say dinner?”

“Yeah, I- want to get dinner. With you. Possibly. As my date.”

“Oh.”

***

“Well, can you blame me? I didn’t know she— “ Lena trailed off, finding it hard to think of words.

“Oh?! Oh?! That’s the only thing you said?!” Sam screeches, wine sloshing about in her glass.

“Didn’t know she had feelings for you?” Kara finishes for her with an unreadable look on her face that Lena desperately wants to decipher. But can’t. Not with Sam hovering. 

"Yeah, that,” Lena says lamely, this is ridiculous. She feels like a teenager unaware of how to function in the real world just because a pretty girl asked her to dinner. But to be fair though, Andrea isn’t just some pretty girl.

Andrea was…

Something. 

Yeah, Andrea was Lena’s something. Once. 

“I mean, I did say I was going to think about it. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings but I also didn’t want to lead her on? But I think I kind of did? Did I? Oh, fuck this. Somebody get me more wine.”

Sam pours her a generous amount.

“Well, the question is, do you want to go out with her?”

“I don’t...know,” She admits and Sam just looks at her with the kind of  eyes she sees her make when she wants Ruby to understand something. 

“The question is a simple yes or no, Lena. If you don’t want to, then don’t. If you want to, then go. You don’t owe anybody. If she feels that way, she feels that way. It’s not your fault she caught feelings. You can always say no.”

“I know that, but— “

“But what?”

“It’s Andrea.”

Before Sam can give her another lengthy advice, her friend's phone buzzes and her niece’s face lights up the screen.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Sam says before picking up and telling her daughter that yes, she’s coming home soon. 

“I guess we should call it a night,” Lena voices out as Sam hangs-up. Sam gives both of them bear hugs, whispering in her ear, “You’re going to tell me everything, after.”

And Lena kicks her out of the apartment with an eye-roll. 

She hears Kara moving behind her, probably using her superspeed so Lena doesn’t have to do anything. 

“Hey,” Lena calls out carefully, she’s been eyeing Kara all night and she can’t ignore that something was up.

 “Yeah?” Kara answers coming from the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her pants as she approaches.

“Sit with me?” 

Lena gestures to the other unoccupied side of the couch. Kara plops down with a sigh, Lena automatically putting her feet up on Kara’s lap. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

To which Kara answered with, “No.”

Well, Lena wasn’t expecting that. Kara tells her everything, that was their thing. Lena has no idea how it happened but Kara tells her everything and Lena tells Kara everything, that’s just them. That was how it is. So, Lena was more than baffled at Kara’s silence. 

“Okay, then. Help me with my problem instead?”

“Fine.”

Cold. Wow, Okay. Okay. She wasn’t going to push but this is really odd behavior for Kara. 

“Do- do you think, I should say yes?

”“To Andrea?”

“To Andrea,” Lena confirms and Kara tosses her head back on the sofa and closes her eyes.

“I don’t know, Lena. That’s...your choice— “

“I know it’s my choice, I’m just asking for your input. How ‘bout a pro’s and con’s list?”“Pro’s first,” Lena says and begins a list, “She knows things about me, in a way that most people would never, that’s a good reason, right?”

“Yeah th-that’s good. She’s rich,” Kara adds and Lena laughs at that.

“Darling, I’m rich too.”

“Well, that’s another pro, you’re on the same level. No worrying about the media, no worrying about tight schedules because she’d understand, anyway. No worrying about gala dates because she’s going to be there, too. No worrying about what friends would say, it’s clear Sam approves and Jess would too. No worrying about long distances since I heard she’s staying around. She’s…”

Kara pauses and there’s this moment where Lena is just looking at her, Kara’s words looping in her head. As if Kara has thought about Andrea dating her a million times before, and what that might mean, as if—

“-perfect. She’s perfect for you, Lena. There’s— uh there’s no competing with that,” Kara’s voice trails off, “I don’t think there’s any con, about dating her. So, there you go. I helped didn’t I? I— You know what? I’m tired, I-”

Kara doesn’t even bother finishing her sentence, just pushes Lena’s legs off her lap and stands-up. Shoulders defeated and foot-steps heavy. Lena stays there on the couch. Usually, they’d get ready for bed together, but Lena has a feeling that Kara wants space, right now. So, she sits there, in the silence of Kara’s apartment, mind running a mile a minute about the implications of Kara’s behavior, listening to the way Kara’s flitting about in the bedroom, before she hears the duvet rustle and she knows it’s time. 

Lena takes her time, brushing her teeth, putting on the pajamas she keeps at Kara’s, combing her hair. She knows Kara never falls asleep without bidding her good night first. But the silence from Kara’s end makes her believe her best friend had already been taken by slumber. 

Lena slowly climbs into bed, Kara laying on her side, facing away from Lena. She claims her side and slowly leans into Kara’s back, she can feel Kara stiffen from the close proximity. Lena takes a breath and starts wrapping her arms around Kara, spooning her. Lena gives herself a moment to just breathe her in. Kara doesn’t relax.

“You know, there is a con,” She starts and she knows Kara’s listening, “There’s one con, about dating Andrea.” she waits for Kara to reply, hoping that she would.

“What?”

“She’s not you.”

“What?”

“She’s—“ Lena inhales, braces herself, fucking now or never, “She’s not Kara Zor-El. She’s not the woman I want to be dating. She’s not the one who I want to ask me to dinner. She’s not you, Kara.”

She feels Kara turn and Lena slowly loosens her arms so Kara can face her.God, her eyes are so blue even in the dark. 

“Lena, what?”

“Then why would you ask if you should date Andrea?” Kara asks, voice small and Lena clings to her tighter, puts a palm against her cheek.

“You already said that, darling,” she teases before clarifying, “I said, I want you. I don’t want Andrea. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“Okay, wow. I— give me a minute, wow okay, wow.” Kara stutters out in disbelief. As if Lena would want anybody but her. 

“I needed to know if you felt the same. I have been trying, Kara. I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel. Wishing you’d pick up on it but I don’t know if you don’t notice or you just really don’t see me that way, but tonight—”

“Tonight, what? What gave me away?”

“You don’t really think, I won’t notice when you’re hurting, do you? The moment I mentioned Andrea, your face fell. You were quiet the whole night. Not to mention you were giving me the cold shoulder once Sam left.”

“I thought I was being subtle,” Kara whispers sheepishly and Lena can’t fight the grin off her face. 

“You weren’t,” Lena breathes and becomes aware of the fact that Kara’s lips are right there, and she’s pretty sure that if she asks, Kara would kiss her. Kara would kiss her, right?

“Kara— “

“Can I— “

They say at the same time and Lena doesn’t really know nor does she care who leaned in first, just that their lips are pressed together, and it’s perfect. This moment is perfect and Lena wants to keep this moment tucked away in her heart, somewhere only she and Kara have permission to.

 And God, they were just as bad as the other. Idiots pining, sneaking glances, buying companies, heroic saves, but Lena guesses it doesn’t really matter, because now they have this.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Three weeks later, Lena receives a call from Metropolis, Sam’s name flashing briefly on her screen.

“You have a shit ton of explaining to do, Lena Luthor. What the fuck did Jess mean when she said, ‘Miss Luthor and Miss Danvers are out on a lunch date as of the moment.’?”

[harrieatthemet]

Mustache

He has never been keen on sharing. 

And Gemma’s mere existence, as well as the small indent on her left thumb she swears is a scar (though Harry vehemently denies it is), is living proof. 

Mr Ducky was his favorite bath time companion for a good bulk of his childhood. There were even times he’d carry it around with him in the house tied to a string like a pet, one of Anne’s fondest memories and favorite stories to tell whenever she found the opportunity. 

Maybe it was Gemma’s own fault; she was only six at the time and was foolishly under the impression that the stupid rubber toy was at anyone’s disposal, which is what led her to try and situate the duck in her backpack as she geared up for school. 

It’s also what led her to tears because Harry caught her on the way out the front door, Mr Ducky in tow, and he instinctively sunk his teeth right into the side of her hand in protest. And, okay fine, he may have bit down a little harder than he should have, but the overall message he was sending came across very clear. Gemma never touched anything he owned again for a very, very, long time; and eventually went on to tell everyone in her class she had a vampire as a brother. 

“What do we think of this little number,” your hip jut, innocent as it was, just now became a permanent memory in Harry’s brain, “too much, like.. revealing?”

You like nice in red; devilish, even, and in the best way possible. There’s nothing revealing about the dress at all. Somehow, though, he finds himself perched squeamishly at the foot of your bed in complete fucking anguish. In theory, no, the dress is not too much. It’s the perfect ensemble and flatters you so well he feels like whoever made the dress conjured it up with you specifically in mind. 

And no, it’s not too much, for literally anyone else except him. How is such a modest dress enough for him to think you up the way he is right now; bent over in front of him with your hair wrapped tightly up in his palm while that dress lays in a sloppy ball by his feet. 

“Would be nice with nude shoes,” he mules, “like, those sandals y’ave, yeah?” 

The way your eyes light up, that same way they always do when your mind starts to move at light’s speed as you start assembling a million different ideas into one, is enough to tug a grin onto his mouth. 

He didn’t really want to agree to this. When you texted first to ask he ignored it, that way you’d have just carried on without him and he could blame a busy schedule or an overrun nap on his delayed response time. It’s much easier to blame a missed text for no response. Of course it’s not in your nature to send a text, and he knew that already. So it came a son surprise when he was bombarded by 4 phone calls. By the fifth one he had picked up, succumbing to you and just the flat out unfulfilled urge he had to hear your voice at the other end of the phone.

“Seriously Harry,” your voice is like fucking honey, sweet and sullen like it always is, and he’s in euphoria listening to it as you poke your earring through the lobe of your left ear, “it’s just, y’know I don’t- I’m nervous and I appreciate you helping me do something as stupid as picking a dress.” 

“S’not stupid,” he reassures, “y’know I just like spending time with yeh, since y’so busy ’n stuff.”

Which is true. That’s the only thing that got him over here; and he rescheduled a zoom call just to sit in your bedroom for all of twenty minutes. Not one part of him regretted it, either.

“I’m busy?” You tease, “coming from the A lister who’s in London, than LA, than New York, London again, oh, than LA again oh, then ‘sorry love, m’in Tokyo.’”

Also true, he knows that, which is why he’s snickering at fault in response to your harmless teasing. He wouldn’t say it now, mainly because he doesn’t want to make it weird, but regardless of where he falls on the map he somehow still finds a way to fit you in. He’s never minded doing it, either. 

Twenty minutes isn’t enough. Maybe another twenty more could be a sufficient amount. That’s almost an hour, right? Forty minutes is almost a full hour with you and he’d love to get even that much. Or twenty more hours, even, would be that much better. It’s better for him to think of getting more time with you than to let his thoughts wander and remind him of where you’re getting ready to go off to. 

A date. It’s why he was so hesitant to come here. It’s hard enough as it is being a prisoner to his own thoughts, being around you and not getting to interact with you the way he actually wants; kiss you the way he wants, touch you the way he wants, hold you and talk to you the way he wants. Adding a new element to the mix, another man getting access to you the way he wants, well that’s just mental warfare. 

You don’t know anything about though. And thank God, because if you could get a peak into his thoughts and see just a preview of what he thinks he almost knows for sure you’d ice him out in a heartbeat. He’s got a soft spot for you, nonetheless, which is why he swallowed the massive-sized lump in his throat when you told him you needed help on an outfit for a date and b lined it over to your place.

“Who’s this guy, anyways.” He chimes, following you similar to that of a lost puppy as you start heading towards the staircase, “Like, wha’s he look like ’n stuff.”

Immediately after he asks he wishes he hadn’t. The way that pesky fucking lump reappears when you wiggle your eyebrows in response, stuffing your hand into your leather purse in an attempt to fish out your phone. A simple response like ‘handsome’ or ‘he’s a nice guy’ would’ve sufficed for him. Seriously, that’s all he needed. What he didn’t need was an entire fucking slideshow of an above average looking guy. And he had a cool mustache, to boot, which really pissed Harry off for some reason. 

“Should probably shave,” he squints his eyes at the photo you’ve got propped right in front of his face, trying his hardest to act like he isn’t so fucking jealous of that mustache, “kinda looks like a squirrel on his top lip."

“If I didn’t know you so well,” you tut teasingly, “I’d think you’re a dick.”

“You know me so well and still don’t think that?” 

He likes the way your laugh sounds, and it makes him happy that he said something amusing enough to drag it out of you. And the toothy smile you pair with it practically knocks the wind right out of him. Everything you do seems to wow him, corny as it sounds. It makes him feel so at ease, and the butterflies he gets each time gets him reminiscing to the days where he was just a kid and had the worlds biggest crush on the girl who sat three rows ahead of him in grade school. He’s giddy and he doesn’t want you to leave for this date. 

For a second he thinks about doing something elaborate; breaking his foot or faking an illness so that you literally have no choice but to hang back and look after him. That’s selfish though, and honestly just crazy and super fucked up, so he opts out of that. But he doesn’t want you to go so bad he seriously considers it, especially as you start sorting through the downstairs closet to find a coat that doesn’t clash with your shoes. 

He could just be honest. He could just tell you that he doesn’t want you to go, solely because he’s absolutely infatuated with you and for every hour he’s awake and functioning you manage to consume every thought he has. He could just be an adult and tell you he’s got feelings for you that very much surpass a platonic, friendly demeanor. That might be a better way into persuading you to stay back with him than breaking his fucking foot. 

“Ok now wait a minute,” he chokes, and there’s a painful twang that strikes his gut when you frown, “gotta tell y’somethin’.” 

“What,” you groan, and he swears he would rather die right now than do anything else, “it’s the shoes, right? They make my calves look like I’m a running back don’t they?” 

He wants to laugh but he thinks if he opens his mouth he would projectile vomit everywhere. But the thought occurs to him that if he does that than it would be an excellent excuse for you to skip the date. Though, of course, he runs the risk of grossing you out and absolutely humiliating himself all in one go of it. 

So he shakes his head no. In fact he loves the shoes, and they make your ankles look slender and really compliment your legs quite nicely. Still, he’s scrambling to string together a coherent sentence because his brain is working a lot faster than the muscles in his mouth are and it feels like someone just super glued his lips shut.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” you tease, and the cheeky wink you shoot him over your shoulder just edges him even more if that’s possible at this point, “Styles.”

“I don’t want y’to go on this date, (Y/N).” 

He’s well aware that he blurted that out in a way that he really, really, wish he hadn’t. Now the air in the room is stale and heavy, dense too, like someone just sucked all the air out and left the two of you here with nothing to inhale but words and unspecified tension. 

And he’s starting to get more anxious as your playful manner dissipates. He can tell your puzzled not just be the demeanor of your face, but by the stance of your body because your letting shoulders hang the way you do when you’re a little uncomfortable. 

“Oh,” you breath, and his chest starts sinking inward, “okay, I just- well why not? Do I not.. like, do I look bad or something?”

“No,” he coos, and he feels like the worlds biggest asshole when you start to frown, “No y’don’t- Christ, (Y/N) y’look amazing. Y’always look so fuckin’ amazing. It’s just-”

“What,” you huff, “than what is it, than? Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

He’s really done it now. The proper thing to do would’ve just been to let you go, walk out with you and watch you drive off before he headed home himself. The proper thing to do would’ve been for him to just go home and think about you on a date with someone other than himself, curled up in a ball watching a Friends episode he’s already seen four times while he felt sorry for himself. But that’s not what happened, and what he should’ve done was just broke the fucking foot like he initially thought to do. That would’ve been less agonizing than this. 

“Because,” he’s frustrated now, not with you but really just himself, “I should be taking y’out. M’absolutely in love with yeh, (Y/N), and I don’t have a cool mustache but I could take y’out on a date, ’n I want to so bad.” 

There’s still that dense energy looming in the room, and his gut now too as he feels it winding up tightly in an anxious bundle of knots and twists. You’re not saying anything and the only thing he notices is that you’re breathing is vaguely staggered and your clutching onto that purse in your hand like he’s about to snatch it and run off. God, he should’ve just broken the foot!

“Please don’t go out wit him,” and now, his voice is small, “think it might kill me.”

[firefly-in-darkness]

Go For Broke

Pairing → Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Characters → Brief mentions of Knives Out characters (maybe?)

Summary → A little bet has big consequences.

Word Count → 2.7k

Warnings → 18+, Swearing, Smut, Angst

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Prompts → Bee's 7K of the Week Challenge; Monday - Ransom Drysdale, Tuesday - Smangst, Friday - Work Function, Saturday - The Dating Bet, (a blink of a praise kink for Sunday).

AFG2021 Square Fill→ "I said 'be sexy', not be a fucking blowfish" @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/N → As I mentioned above, this is for @negans-lucille-tblr writing challenge - congrats on 7k baby!! (I even kept it under 3k for you it wasn't going to be!) This is my first time writing for Ransom, and it doesn't have any connection to Knives Out, it's an AU.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

Firefly’s Masterlist

You carried two steaming mugs of coffee and nudged the ajar door open with your foot to Ransom’s office. He had leant back on the large leather chair and was taking in the views through the floor to ceiling windows.

He spun round in his chair and you were hit with the scent of his cologne, it had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. His legs parted wide, and the sight was something to behold; the thickness of his thighs and the way his large hand rubbed the top of one.

It was never going to happen between you two. He was Ransom Drysdale, a well-known playboy and skirt chaser. And you, you were his assistant.

He wasn’t the type of man you were after. You wanted someone permanent, someone, that wasn’t just a fuck buddy. But at least you got a little something for the spank bank every now and then.

“Like what you see?” You were caught red-handed by his crystal blue eyes and the lopsided smirk that you adored.

You brought the iPad in front of him to life, “This is your schedule for today. Harlan said that he’s rescheduled the board meeting with Walt to next week so we can relax a little bit. Said there was something to do with taking a risk or gamble?”

Ransom’s head snapped up, and his tongue darted out across his lip, a nervous tick that you’d long ago discovered. You felt a warmth bloom at your core and tried to hide the way your thighs nestled together to ease the growing heat.

Ransom scooted backwards in his chair and announced, “I need to get out of here.”

“You’ve just arrived, you can’t play hooky, you’re the boss.” You protested.

“That’s exactly why I can,” Ransom asserted and pulled his coat back on. “Let’s get lunch at that diner we went to last month. It’s quiet and nobody knows me there.”

You had become used to the whirlwind that Ransom brought with him the second he entered a room, but this was different. He seemed on edge rather than angry and you weren’t sure what had happened in the ten minutes you were away making a coffee.

“But I just made us coffee.” You pouted at him; he knew that you needed that delicious nectar.

“I’m buying lunch now get your coat,” Ransom demanded.

You rolled your eyes and did what you were told, much to your chagrin.

Ransom had driven like a mad man in his classic beamer to get you to Ruby’s Diner in record time. You scolded him once or twice when he just missed the red lights. But he didn’t seem to relax like he usually did when he entered.

All was forgiven when the waitress placed two steaming plates of burgers and milkshakes on the table. You were in heaven and thanked the waitress as you dunked a chip in the sauce.

“What is wrong with you today?” You asked.

“What are you talking about? I’m just being my usual self.” Ransom shook his head and threw the raggedy napkin across the table away from him.

You remained silent and continued to eat, allowing him to stew over whatever it was that was eating at him. It didn’t take you long to demolish your lunch, but Ransom still hadn’t touched his food. All he had done since you told him off was chew on his lip and glared at the sugar dispenser.

“Okay, seriously, you need to start talking.” You challenged.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “Okay, but you can’t freak out.”

“What did you do?” Your eyes went wide as your mind ran wild with all the crazy things that he could possibly do in the last twenty-four hours.

Ransom looked up at you and laughed, “I can’t take you seriously right now.”

“What?” You frowned, feeling a mixture of confusion painted across your features.

His hand gripped your chin and his thumb swiped away at the sauce that you’d long forgotten. The heat on your cheeks grew tenfold and you coughed when he hadn’t removed his hand from your jaw.

“Ah yeah sorry. Sauce.” He stammered.

You smirked, you’d never seen him this worked up before, what had gotten into him, “So?”

“Okay, don’t fucking freak out on me but someone in the office wanted to make a bet with me. About you.”

You stared at him, all of your thoughts emptied out into the diner, “I’m sorry, what? I think you need to say a bit more than that.”

Ransom explained how one of your co-workers approached him and placed a bet that he wouldn’t be able to bed you before the corporate summer party.

“Who the fuck was it?” You growled; hands clenched on the edge of the seat.

“I’m not telling, I don’t want you to start a fight. You’re my favourite pers-assistant.” Ransom shook his head and began to nibble on the fries. His face screwed up at the realisation they were cold.

“Hold on. You agreed, didn’t you?” Your heart raced.

“I did. I have a reputation to uphold.” He smirked, “and was worth it, you should see your face right now.”

You scowled harder, “how much was the bet?”

“Ten thousand.” He shrugged.

“Fuckin’ hell Ransom, you’re cocksure, aren’t you?” You laughed at him, “why did you accept it?”

“That’s loose change to me.” Ransom shrugged and brought the replaced milkshake to his lips, tongue curling around the straw.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But I want half.” You explained, mirroring his action with your own milkshake.

Ransom choked on his drink and quickly rushed out his words, “you what?”

“We aren’t having sex, Ransom.” You rolled your eyes and placed the drink down, “If they ask, I’ll just say we did. It keeps your reputation intact. No harm, no foul.”

“They want proof.” He raises his eyebrow.

“Fuck sake, okay. Come over to mine tomorrow night and we’ll take some fake dirty pictures.” Without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the booth, “Now, I do have some work to do and funnily enough, so do you.”

“Anyone would think you were the boss.” Ransom playfully sulked and placed some money on the table.

“I might as well be.” You gestured towards the door, “Move it.”

The black baby doll was just perfect for this photo session. It was a little see-through, but your modesty was covered with the lace detailing skimming the tops of your thighs. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you had to get this over with sooner or later. With one final look in the mirror, you steeled your nerves and opened the bathroom door and slowly walked to your bedroom.

“Hello,” You anxiously stuttered, “Where do you want me?”

Ransom’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, his large hands rubbing along his thick thighs, just the way you had admired yesterday. You internally berated yourself, this wasn’t sex. It was all fake. It was an easy win for you both - Ransom kept his reputation and you got a nice little pot of gold for a rainy day, or week.

“Just lay down on the bed and look sexy.” He commented, unhelpfully.

You nodded and shuffled around until you found a comfortable position, with your arms draped above you. It didn’t feel sexy, it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Why is this so hard? You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body and turned to face Ransom. He’d moved the left side of the bed, his phone in hand ready to take the shot.

“Ready?” Ransom asked, and you thought you saw a sparkle of sincerity in his eyes with his one worded question.

“Yes,” you said and gave him your best pout and ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“I said ‘be sexy’, not be a fucking blowfish.” Ransom snapped.

You bolted up from your position, kneeling on the edge of the bed to get back on his level but it was no use, the man was still towering over you, “I’m trying, I’m not exactly in the mood.”

Ransom raised his brow from above, and you hadn’t quite realised how close you were to him, his stomach mere inches from your chest. The lack of response grated on you, his face was irritating, and you were ready to shove the five grand up his ass.

“Actually, this could work.” Ransom pulled off his shirt and revealed the tight muscles. Your anger morphed into desire; you wanted to reach forward and touch him but kept your hands refrained at your sides. “Now, look up at me and bite your lip.”

“Perfect.” He smiled down at you and cupped your face. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and paired with his words; a shiver ran down your spine.

Instinctively, you bit down your lip and unbuckled his belt to the sound of the camera shutter. Hands traced Ransom’s abdomen and he sucked in a breath as you stroked a sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and looked up at him, “maybe we should have some photos where your face is in it too?”

Ransom didn’t need to be asked twice, he pulled down his chinos and exposed his thick muscular thighs. Your mouth watered and warmth bloomed in your tummy at the sight of the black Calvin Klein’s hugging his groin.

You rearranged your position to lie down amongst the sheets while Ransom crawled onto the bed to kneel between your legs. His hand cupped under your knee and hoisted one of them up to his hip.

“You might need to take this one,” he handed the phone to you.

Just as you went to take the photograph, Ransom’s other hand slid underneath the baby doll. It sent another wave of pleasure through your body. His smooth hands stooped just beneath your breast and it almost made you whimper. Almost.

With an attempt to gather your bearings, you decided to focus on his phone and snap a few pictures of this new position. But seeing those little images captured and whizz into the corner made you want more. There was no point denying it as you felt the tell-tale signs of your arousal between your legs. But did Ransom want it?

Ransom moved the sheer material up and lifted your leg higher, over his shoulder. Before you could ask what, he was doing, his body dipped down, his lips so close to pressing against your stomach. Oh god. Your body instantly betrayed you as your hand went straight into his messy short locks eliciting a deep groan from Ransom. His hot breath fanned across your skin, goosebumps raising in its flow.

You took some more pictures, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties, the heat growing and growing up your body. Ransom returned to kneeling and you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and you finally got your answer. He did want it.

A mischievous smirk replaced the smile on your lips, “you’ll want to take these.”

You sat up and turned around so that you were kneeling in front of him and giving a great view of your behind. Ransom couldn’t restrain himself, his hands instantly gripped at your hips and pulling you back towards him. He growled and you whimpered as he rutted between your cheeks.

“Ransom, the photos?” You sang out and smirked into the pillow.

“Oh yeah, right.” Ransom spluttered and began to take the photographs from this new position then you heard the soft thud of the phone dropping onto the mattress, “hang on a minute.”

Gracefully, he spun you around and managed to get underneath you to seat you just above his hips. You were entranced by the dark lust-filled eyes that studied your body, following the hands that skimmed along your waist.

His touch sent sparks across the exposed skin of your chest, his fingers toying with the lace trim as they descended the plunging neckline and over your breasts. You rocked against his stomach, giving you just a little bit of pleasure from the friction at your core.

Ransom bolted upright, one arm wrapping around you while his other hand brought you closer until his mouth met yours. The kiss was heated, it pulled you deeper into the need for more, to have him deep inside of you. Ransom’s tongue swiped along your bottom lip, demanding access and you obliged without hesitation.

You’d only thought of him, like this, late at night and alone. It was nothing compared to your wildest fantasies to have him kissing you like this or to feel him hard beneath you. You squirmed to feel him better, but he broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” He panted.

Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him regretting what had barely started, “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have,” Ransom avoided eye contact and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than you already had done, “we just got carried away.”

“Ransom, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will kick you out.” You raised your eyebrow in a challenge.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Chatter and laughter filled the gaps of the song blasting through the speakers set up around the roof terrace. The large projector screen reeled through photographs of colleagues, in and out of work, successes in the tabloids and social media. Pool water splashed over the edges with each dive-bomb or flirtatious swish between colleagues. You watched on behind the sunglasses and relished in the sunshine beating down. It was rare to have such perfect weather and you wanted to soak up as much of the rays as you could.

The moment you spotted Ransom talking to a few people over at the bar, you thought now would be the best time to approach him. It had been a few hours since you arrived, and you only last saw him the morning before, and a few weeks since that first night. You both wanted to take things slow, it wasn’t how you expected things to happen but neither of you regretted it.

The nearer you got to the bar, you suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. Side glances from the Marketing girls, a laugh, and a grimace from a few others. Then you saw Ransom rushing up to you but also looking behind.

Before he reached you, you spun around to the projector and saw a display of all the photos you and Ransom had taken that night. Your stomach dropped, nausea taking over until you were about to collapse on the floor.

Hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you on the spot. You looked at the terrified gaze of Ransom. His lips were moving but your ears buzzed with the hum of blood pumping through. Unable to process what had happened, you tried to escape. To get away from the people that were staring, gawking, at you. At you and Ransom on the screen and then down to the pair by the bar.

“Please talk to me,” Ransom pleaded, “I didn’t know that’s what she was going to do.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You asked, your mind reeling with how this could be a vendetta against Ransom, and you’re caught in the crossfire.

Ransom’s eyes widened, “Yeah, probably a year ago.”

“You fuckin’ idiot. Get out of my way.” You tried to walk past him, but he blocked your path.

“Can I come with you?” He asked face paled.

You scowled, “No. Move.”

Ransom followed you, weaving between the crowds of sniggers and laughter. You could hear him pleading, almost begging for you to stop but you refused. You needed to get out of there and he was making it more difficult.

You skimmed the edge of the pool and Ransom grabbed your bicep, attempting to stop and turn you around. Without a second thought, you spun and shoved him. He fell backwards into the pool with a great splash. It only made you feel good for a split second until he resurfaced.

“Consider this my notice, I quit.” You turned on your heel and left the party, your job and Ransom behind.

The End.

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