#she's been busting her butt off to get it all done this fast but it's payed off! she's gotten a few excellence awards for her papers too

[definitellie]

super proud of my mom, she went back to school less than a year ago to finish out her bachelor's & master's and she just passed her master capstone today!!

[lemonhemlock]

tried watching the new queen charlotte series but was immediately put off by the ridiculous anti-corset propaganda, so get ready for another rant.

first of all, this is the georgian era so what she's wearing are called /stays/ - corsets are a victorian invention. why do we still not know this in 2023 when period productions have remained consistently popular throughout the years? the concept of tighlacing (the goal being a reduction of the waist) is also victorian and was not the norm at all and v much an extreme practice. this understanding of history is so superficial, it's as if an alien were to open up People magazine and conclude that all human women resort to butt injections and lip fillers to stay with the fashion of the times. also, no, you cannot tighlace in stays to obtain a waist reduction because they are shaped like a funnel (picture 1 = long stays, 2 = short regency stays, 3 = corset)

charlotte goes on to complain about how dangerous whalebone is and that it might kill her if she makes the wrong move. what the actual fuck? whalebone was actually the very best material to use for this because it was sturdy yet flexible and allowed the /stays/ to completely and comfortably mold around a woman's unique body shape. one of the reasons why today it is v difficult to replicate the same effect in corsetry is because we do not have access to whalebone (killing whales is not cool for obvious reasons) so corset-makers have to resort to other materials like plastic or metal, which CAN break. whereas whalebone doesn't really break as easily. furthermore, stays/corsets were NEVER worn on bare skin, but with a chemise/shift underneath.

why did women in the past resort to this type of undergarment, you ask? well, apart from the fact that women need bust support, the stays also serve the purpose of allowing all the many skirts and petticoats to be placed comfortably onto the waist. you try piling on that much fabric around your bare waist and see how you like it and if you can even carry it all around without it cutting into your stomach.

clothes throughout human history did cater to the popular fashions of the time, yes, but they also reflected the technological limitations and there was thus a practical aspect to it. this is a time before elastic bands, before industrialization and fast fashion, clothes are v difficult to make, everything is done by hand, so a lot of care is put into preserving them, because they are /expensive/ and labour intensive. you don't want your fancy outergarments to get ruined so you wear a lot of undergarments to absorb your bodily fluids since those are easier to make and don't have to look "pretty", can be stained and patchy etc. again, why do you need so many layers in the first place? because this is a time before comfortable heating, with poorly isolated and drafty houses, and it's bloody cold otherwise.

the third reason why that monologue was so dumb is because CHARLOTTE is the reason regency court dress was so preposterous. long story short, in a few decades, the fashionable silhouette changes wildly from the late 1700s to the 1810s.

the regency waistline was much higher and the gowns were much more flowy and unstructured than the late georgian ones (what's commonly known as the empire waistline). the long stays of the late 1700s were now replaced with short stays that really were similar to modern bras. the scene in the first season of bridgerton where they squeeze penelope's sister into what looks like a pair of long stays (?) is bonkers bc no one would wear a waist-constricting boned undergarment under a regency dress. why would they? the natural waist is not even emphasized in any way. this is just another reason to peddle the women-were-oppressed-by-their-lingerie agenda. so if charlotte really hated long stays that much, regency would really have been her time to shine, right? wrong. the woman loved the fashions of her youth so much she forced everyone who came to court to still comply to them, which is why we get the absolutely atrocious regency court dresses - essentially a combination of the georgian style with side panniers, but with an empire waistline.

yeah, this is how daphne SHOULD have looked like when she was presented at court in front of charlotte. i can understand why the showrunners decided to just leave her in a regency silhouette because this is ugly af. but, anyway, queen charlotte is the last person on earth to be complaining about how uncomfortable stays are.

creative licence aside, the reason this pisses me off is because it is SUCH lazy storytelling. the show wants us to know charlotte is a spunky pseudo-feminist character so the easiest way to do that is to have her complain about the evil 'corset' trying to kill her. it is so profoundly ahistorical and does nothing to contribute to the conversation about women's true problems and true limitations during that time. instead of genuinely exploring social history and women's actual lived experiences, we are STILL, in the year of our lord 2023, diverting the discourse towards fabricated issues that never existed in the first place.

the reasons actresses complain about boned underwear in interviews are manifold. costume designers are very overworked, they have to produce clothes for hundreds of people in a very short time, so they simply do not have the time or resources to construct corsets/stays that fit the actresses like they are supposed to. in the past, these garments were made individually for every person and completely to their own requirements. they also make these actresses wear the boning on BARE skin to look extra sexy to the audience or to emphasize their oppression - that never happened, a shift was always worn underneath (hello dakota fanning scene in the alienist??).

moreover, they lace them up until they constrict their ribcages - these women are already super thin and their bodies cannot support more reduction - instead of relying on the historical practices of padding and illusion. nowadays, body parts are what's fashionable - that's why so many resort to fat transfers or breast implants or starving themselves to achieve a flat stomach. in the past, anyone of any size could have accomplished the fashionable silhouette because they had a wide array of accouterments to plop underneath their garments - panniers, bustles, hoop skirts, padding of any sort. it didn't matter how big your waist was, you just padded other areas until you achieved the desired shape. fat women wore corsets/stays, too. working women, who did a lot of physical labour, did the same. how were they able to perform all of their tasks if they were incapable of moving or breathing? even today, people wear medical corsets all the time.

TLDR the media's obsession with portraying modern women as so liberated because they wear bras instead of "patriarchal" underwear is so tedious.

EDIT: Some very basic chronological tadpoles to make this easier to place within historical context. "Georgian" is used to denote the 18th+ century when Great Britain was ruled by several kings named George, so roughly 1714-1830. Within this interval, we refer to the Regency period as encompassing the regency of Prince George, future King George IV, when his father George III was incapacitated by mental illness. The official political regency took place during 1811-1820, but culturally speaking, this was extended to roughly the end of the 18th century up to maybe 1830 or 1837. This is the time period of Napoleonic wars and Jane Austen novels, so all her heroines should normally wear Regency styles. Think "empire waistline" as in Imperial France and Napoleon. The Victorian era (and its corsets) follows throughout the rest of the 19th century. Queen Charlotte was a contemporary of Marie Antoinette's, so they should be dressed in similar fashions (robe à la française vs robe à la anglais).

[dailysabinasmuts]

Sydney's First Fan Gangbang

Sydney is hardly an inexperienced girl. She is known for having an adventurous sex life, a fascination with getting tied up, given some lucky fans the "special treatment", she's even enjoyed several partners at once. But what she has never done is gotten gangbanged by a rather large group of her fans, all at once, no holes barred, all on camera. When the OTV crew had let Sydney know that she would be filming her debut video, she had her suspicions about what it would be. After all, Jodi's debut video had featured her... um, to put it kindly, milking her slavishly adoring fans. Last Sydney had checked they were still cleaning cum off the ceiling; she can still hear the screams though... But anyways, Sydney can deal with healing her mental scars later! What's important now is that she is in that same room, surrounded by a lot of naked fans, with cameras set up all around her to catch every single angle. Well Sydney can do this, she's confident in her erotic abilities to drain this room dry!

Sydney's cheeks balloon as turgid cum spews out of her mouth and all over the floor, she moans in torment as her blown out hole sputter out yet more seed. Every inch of her body is sore from use and abuse, her curly hair is slicked against her back from the sheet quantity of jizz that soaks it; she's worried her asshole wont be able close properly again. She slaps the sodden ground, indicating her surrender, her utter defeat to her fans' dicks, Sydney can simply not handle get used like this! But how did this happen? It was all going so well...

Sydney remembers kneeling on the cushioned floor as her fans crowded close around her, slapping their cocks against her face as she took turns stroking them. She had reveled in the attention, making sure to give each and every cock some love as they took turns smearing their scents against here. And then, Sydney had responded in turn, slurping on as many cocks as she could fit in her mouth; making sure they were nice and hard for her. Of course, a few overeager cocks had busted on her some in her mouth as she sucked them off, and two hadn't even required much attention from her at all, just painting her face with their creamy loads! Now that had gotten the boys riled up, and Sydney was more than happy to help them out with that...

Dicks, so many dicks. The first cock inside Sydney hadn't been too bad, she had decided to bend over so she could deal with cocks on both ends. So while she was sucking off a nice chode, the other fan went to town plowing her from behind. He lasted... around average, before unloading his jizz inside of her; fuck that felt nice. And then the next fan took his place, and Sydney handled it for a while, sucking cocks dry with her mouth while others took their turns using her increasingly cum-filled pussy. But Sydney just wasn't draining her fans fast enough! So she consented to allowing them to use her asshole as well; after all, its not like she's a stranger to butt stuff!

The first double penetration left Sydney gasping, she had forgotten how intense it could be. But her fans never let up, the next one taking the formers place as soon as the last one finished. Flipping her forward and backward, she was given no time to rest, often times she would be jerking off a cock in either hand while a fifth speared down her throat. This Sydney could barely handle, and she became lost in a haze of exhausted lust, simply allowing her fans to slake their lusts upon her as she orgasmed again and again. She was given a rude awakening however, the first time someone shoved a second cock into her pussy instead of her ass. Now that woke her up. Sydney could barely even focus on stroking or sucking other cocks, so focused was she on the exquisite pummeling her hole was receiving. Drooling, she orgasmed spectacularly around their dicks, clenching them so tightly they swiftly followed suit.

Things went downhill from there. From then on, Sydney's holes were abused as if they were cheap fleshlights, stretched and pounded until they were gaping maws of bubbling cum. By this point, had already given up, but her mind was too broken by continuous climaxes to figure out what she should do about it. It was the triple anal that finished Sydney, that was too much! Screaming like a banshee she had collapsed off of their dripping cocks, spasming on the floor and she clenched at her ruined asshole. Which is how she ended up in her current situation, on the ground, groaning with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Before Sydney passes out though, she notices someone patting her on the head, soothing her to rest, telling her she did wonderfully. Sydney smiles, recognizing the voice and pleased by its praise.

What Sydney didn't know was that the cameras had cut out a few minutes before her collapse. And perhaps more importantly for her sanity, she didn't see a rather annoyed Poki berating Sydney's overzealous fans for their temerity. Triple penetration of a single hole was NOT allowed, double penetrating her ass was already pushing it too far, but sticking three in there? Scowling, Poki furiously lets Jaime and Lily off their leashes, allowing them to punish these imbecilic fans as they will.

Its a good thing Sydney did not have to hear their screams as well.

[alaydabug2]

@sparklenarniawizard

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Twenty-eight

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

This was it. It was the state championship for swimming. Sophie had been busting her butt all season to get to this point.

The event was all day. Half the school had shown up, including her friends. It was the first time the swim team made state in the past five years. She was determined to place.

As she made her way to the pool she needed, she glanced around her. It was quite daunting to be around so many people watching her. Staring at her. Her heart picked up pace.

At least she had the adrenaline pumping through her already. That was going to make life a little easier.

As she climbed up onto the block, there were tons of people cheering. Some for her. Some for the other schools.

She drowned it all out when she heard the whistle. Nothing mattered anymore. She dived into the water and focused on her strokes and keeping her breathing paced.

By the time she was done with her first relay, the chills she had worn off. She had become acclimated to the cold water and had been working enough to warm up.

The next two relays went smoothly. By the end of the fourth one, she was ready to be done. Her muscles ached, and exhaustion was setting in. She was also starving.

They had little stations with snacks and water, along with bringing some of her own. But eating crackers that were soggy from just getting out of the pool wasn't the most apatizing thing in the world.

Sophie passed by her friends as she tried to hurry to the next pool she had to be at. They started hooping and hollering at her. She managed to smile and wave at them. Edaline threw something at her. She caught it and-

A granola bar! A life saver. She shoved it in her mouth, hurrying across the aquatics facility.

Two more. Just two more rounds, and it was over. She hadn't even thought about what she was placed at the moment, but she'd deal with that later.

Coming up on her last round, Sophie was ready to collapse onto the floor. Still, she climbed up onto the block.

Her arms were ready to give out on her. That was, of course, until she saw that one of the girls was ahead of her by several feet. That gave her the motivation to push through.

She swam as fast as she could. When she got to the edge of the pool, she flipped around and repeated.

She was the first one out of the pool.

Sophie stumbled over to her friends to sit down with them. Everyone started to congratulate her and tell her how good she did.

Now that she wasn't constantly moving about, the cool air was finally getting to her. Her chilled her soaked frame.

Keefe saw her shivering and grabbed her towel to wrap it around her shoulders. She couldn’t help but lean into his warmth, laying her head onto his shoulder.

She could feel her their other friends staring at her. She chose to ignore it for the time being. They would have to figure it out eventually. Plus, she was pretty sure they had all caught on at this point, they weren't exactly the best at being slick. Their friends were just waiting on some solid proof.

Finally, it was time to announce the winners. Sophie was in the edge if her seat the entire time, waiting to see who would be called.

Finally, the intercom announced, 'The third place overall state champion is... Sophie Elizabeth Foster!'

The people from her school started screaming. Her friend jostled her around, shaking her shoulders.

She went up to collect her trophy and have her picture taken. She ran back down to where her friends were celebrating.

Keefe got to her first. He caught her when her feet skidded in a puddle. That's what she got for running by a pool.

What she didn't expect was for him to lean in close, tuck a soggy strand of hair that escaped from her swim cap behind her ear, and kiss her. In front of all of their friends. And her parents. And the school. And other schools.

That was one way to tell people, at least.

She didn't mind. For the moment. She would probably end up embarrassed later, but the adrenaline from the swim competitions, and winning, and the fact he was kissing her, drowned all of that for the time being.

She pulled away from him and dared a peak at their friends. Them seem slightly surprised, but not necessarily shocked. Dex had the smuggest grin on his face.

Keefe's smirk was downright evil as he pointed between Dex and Biana, wiggling his eyebrows, and making smoochy noises.

Dex turned the same shade as a fire engine, while Biana's eyes went wide. Sophie couldn't help the snort that escaped her nose. Fitz, Tam, and Linh were able to be heard snickering.

Keefe turned back to her. "Do you think he'll ever learn?" he questioned.

She shrugged. "Honestly, at least until they get together, probably not."

[lara-legomonkiekid]

EP.0 a hero was born

{eleventh part}

(He drives off)

Demon Bull King: The little thief returns.

(He tries to blast MK, with him dodging the shots. He drives onto the cannon he than uses his Golden Eyes of Truth)

MK: Uh what? Why is everything gold again? (he sees where the staff is) The staff! (He drives himself into the hole of Demon Bull King's armor.) Ahh!

(Sandy runs over to cover the others)

Demon Bull King: (he laughs) Now this world is truly mine! (He then stumbles back losing his power.) What is this? (A stone pops out of the hole in the armor. It opens revealing MK with the staff in hand.) Monkey King?

(MK punches the Demon Bull King. The Demon Bull King attempts to blast MK.)

MK: (he laughs) Missed me! Nope! Over here! (He pushed Demon Bull King down with his staff. He then grabs the top half of a building with the staff.) Ok, here we go!

Demon Bull King: No! (MK then tries to push the building down on him.) Not again! Enough! (He blasts MK then knocks him into a building, injuring him.) You thought you could stand against me. I am the Demon Bull King I will not let a little thief take victory from my grasp!

(MK looks up and sees the Monkey Mech arcade machine.)

Past Monkey King: Just believe in yourself. Even a smidge makes all the difference.

Demon Bull King: (he laughs) You might have that old fool's staff, but you are not the Monkey King.

MK: Your right. I'm the Monkie Kid! (He plunges the staff into the ground, creating the Monkey King Warrior Mech.) It's time for you and your family to be bought to justice. Here comes Monkie Kid!

Demon Bull King: Im…possible.

MK': Nothing is impossible if you just believe in yourself. Make no mistake, you just got MKO'd!

Red Son: You think this is over? It isn't over, bozo. Why don't you just get out of that dorky mech and fight me, you coward! (he rolls on the ground)

(MK tries to pick him up but is stopped by a big wind tornado.)

Princess Iron Fan: We know when we've been bested. But this won't be the last you see of us, Noodle Boy. (she laughs and disappears with her family)

MK: What? No! No fair! Come on, you can't just run away when I'm right about to win.

Mei: MK! You totally kick DBK's butt. Without us, the city'd be toast!

MK: (He laughs awkwardly coming out of the mech.) Yeah. But you know, I couldn't have done it on my own.

Sandy: (He hugs MK and Mei.) You did, little man.

Mei: Your basically the new Monkey King now.

Tang: Haha! Monkie Kid, didn't you say?

Pigsy: You did good, kid. You did real good.

Sandy: But, er... what now?

Mei: Isn't it obvious?

MK: Yeah! Bust up more bad guys!

Tang: Or we could go eat some noodles?

MK and Mei: Yeah! Noodles, noodles, noodles!

Lara⚪:Big Brother!!!(Lara throws herself into MK's arms hugging him)

MK:Lara you are fine!!!

Lara⚪:I'm not sure how Monkey King managed to heal me fast but I can walk again!!! See no injuries!

(Everyone hugs MK and Lara very happily)

(On top of the Monkey King Warrior Mech, Monkey King sits watching the gang. He then transforms into a bird and flies away.)

(Start)-(Next Chapter)

[nspdr-neo]

Rumors of the boombox spread. Volo rakes in the money. Cynthia still sonehow retains willpower, but not enough to break free.

Lusamine lure by Volo, with Annabelle, N and Gladion to investigate, as the merchant suggests ultra wormholes might be involved. It's a trap, unsurpisingly. As Annabelle gives into the twerk, her very confusefld snorlax looks on, deciding to take a nap until this whole thing boils over

All in a days work for Volo

Customer satisfaction guaranteed

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

"Good work today, Cynthia! Really bringing in the customers!!" Volo applauded. It's been a few weeks since Volo got his club up and running and he was in his office collecting the money from his top earner. Cynthia, dressing in a skimpy, reverse, Lopunny suit. She rolled her eyes as he counted the wads of cash he, or rather she earned.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, 'Master'..." she grunted. She had since regained a good bit of her will from the boombox's control, but its hypnotic power was still very much a thorn that had the busty, curvaceous, blonde still throwing it back for Volo.

"Awww, don't be so glum!~ You're helping a pal in need, and what could more important than that!!" he said cheekily, before his features turned contemplative.

"Hmm...though at this rate, I think we'll need to get more dancers on our side." Cynthia raised her eyebrow, looking curious, focused and, though she won't admit it, a bit jealous as well.

"Really? Like who?" To that Volo's merely flashed his pearly gates.

"Now that, dear Cynthia, is a surprise~"

-

"Welcome one and all the the Voloptuous Villa!!! The one place where you can find Gym Leaders to other elite trainers showing off their goods to you!!!" barked Volo, dressed in a fancy suit as her gone on-top of the stage. The crowd was packed and cheering. For good reason to as Volo had been advertising he had gotten two newcomers to the place.

"And who are we to disappoint?~ We got two new beauties for people to witness and toss their hard earned cash too! To my left she's tall, in charge, and has a temper that'll make you bow to this metaphorical queen - Leader of the Aether Foundation: Lusamine!!!" Stomping out onto stage with a set of strong, sharp, heels, was a MILF that would make even Cynthia think twice about going against. Cladded in a white bikini that just barely covered part of her nipples, and sure as Hell wasn't covering that jello back there, she stared down at the crowd with a look of sterness so fierce, anyone would defer to her as Mommy.

"To my right, who doesn't love of a case of a good cop gone dirty? Well, perhaps not THAT kind of dirty, only really in the most pleasurable sense!! From Interpol busting crimes, to in my Villa getting you to bust, it's Anabel!!" Walking out onto stage, in a much softer, tread was the former Salon Maiden herself. Her outfit was a sexy version of Kanto's police uniforms, wearing a blue shirt that had the top unbuttoned enough to expose her cleavage and rolled up to flasher stomach, while finishing the look with a short blue skirt that exposed a pair of frilly purple panties! Giggling, she gave a shallow wave to the crowd that loved her entrance.

"Now, without further a do, let's start the show off with a double performance! Bring out the Box!!!" The box in question being the golden boombox that, once it began to blare its hypnotizing beat, go the two women working in sync with each other, as well as bringing their own flair to the exchange.

For Lusamine, her big booty bouncing was done with a sense of force and loudness that demanded one pay attention to Aether Foundation's found. Lest they find themselves on the wrong end of her plush cheeks~ As for Anabel, her bubble butt was springy and incredibly fast. Almost like some sort of power was being used on it!

As the crowd began tossing money at the two women, Volo could only look back in pride.

Getting Lusamine was child's play. Under the pretense of connection his guild with the Aether Foundation, it wasn't long before the hypnotic power got to her. While she claims to dislike it, she was, in truth, more of a tsundere about her new situation. She totally didn't want people to look at her MILFy ass and gawk at it, while showering her with praise. Totally not~

As for Anabel, that was more on luck's side than anything. Anabel was apart of an investigation team with N and Gladion concerning the whole 'interdimensional rift to another, more despair riddled, world' was raising eyebrows. Thankfully, Lusamine was able to use her magic to acquire quite the catch. A member of Interpol under their belt would not only bring in the cash, but also info about any opposition trying to stop Volo's scheme!

Perhaps Arceus was really looking on him with fortune now~ (Bit too late though...)

[kaz11283]

Of Course I'm Here

Characters: Come on you know by now how this goes (Loki x you) (Team x you, platonic)

Warnings: None. And really if you ever see anything that I might need to able as a warning please let me know... I'm the person who forgets there are people out there that get offened by the word F*** if that is an exapmle of anything.

Summary: Mid battle and the avengers keep looking for an answer as to why the God of Lies hasnt showed up yet. Of course you have no idea but at least he proves them all wrong.

ANNOUNCEMENT TIME: hey guys Im back, I know it hasnt been long but I also know I havent been posting every single day like I was, i got into a weird little funk where I didnt want to do anything, I was just feeling completly drained, and I felt bad because I have my little and I didnt even want to play with her because I have just been so TIRED, but I'm feeling better. Work has been kicking my ass here lately and ive been working over 50 hours a week so ive literally been coming in, eatting / feeding the little, getting us ready for bed, and crashing as soon as she falls asleep. But im here now. I will probably be more active on weekends than during the week because I have more time to spend working on stuff but I will be posting also during the week just not daily. At least until after state comes. Thank you so much for the reblogs, likes, comments, follows, and messages please keep them coming! If you would like to be tagged please ask or message, and requests are open. Love you guys so much! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~

"Y/N, BACK UP I NEED BACK UP! EYES IN THE SKY!" Tony yelled from above, you and Clint stood back to back on a roof top shooting as many bad guys as you could. Clint took aim at another carrier, shooting at the engine causing the entire thing to blow up raining debris and hot metal around you.

"Damnit Clint! Farther away make sure they are farther away!" You yelled popping him on the head with an arrow before aiming it at the thing that was chasing Tony.

"Where is lover boy at? You.sent him the location right?" Nat asked into the com.

"Yes I sent him the location, no I dont know where hes at." You mocked.

"Did you send him the right location?" Sam asked.

"One time, one dam-"

"Language!" Steve chimed in causing everyone to groan. Gun shots where ringing all around you and you could here metal on metal paired with Hulk screams coming from another building over.

"Language." You mocked muting your com son that no one but Clint heard you. "I am a 26 year old woman, I think I'm old enough to cuss if I want." You drew back your bow and sent another arrow flying into another goon that had Nat trapped aginst a wall. She shot you a thumbs up before running off. You hit unmute on your com.

"Jesus, 26? Baby, you sure you don't need to be at a babysitter instead of on a building killing things?" He laughed.

"Dont worry Hawk, when we get done here I've already booked you a nice nursing home to be put into." You put your bow around you and stood on the edge of the building. "I need a better view." You looked round, the top of a taller building caught you eye. "There Hawk, we can cover a better radius from up there, get closer to the action."

"DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN THE GODS ARE GOING TO BE HERE? WE NEED MORE HELP WERE GETTING TIRED AND OUT NUMBERED!" Tony came over the coms screaming.

"How do we get up there? Or do I even wanna know?" Hawk came to examin where you were talking about.

"Im jumping, you cant tell me that someone wont catch me." You shrug.

"GODS WHERE ARE TH- Y/N DONT YOU DARE JUMP!" Tony stopped and hovered right were you was standing.

"Then take us over there. We need higher ground, we cant cover everyone from down here." You crossed your arms.

"Where are the gods at y/n?" He asked again

"I. Dont. Know. Jesus you guys act like I'm suppose to be there keeper!" A simultaneous you are came from everone through the com causing you to roll your eyes. "Hes gonna be here I swear it! Now take me to the building or I jump. 1.....2....-" Tony grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and flew you to the building.

God these things were everywhere and you were starting to run out of arrows. After shooting another ship and causing it to blow you heard what was unmistakably pounding on the roof top door leading to where you currently was at.

"I have some univited guests about to join my party. Anyone available for some assistance?" You yanked out the two emerald green and silver daggars that your boyfriend had given you not long after you had started dating after throwing your bow around you.

"Buy some time kid, I'm on ground level right now but I can try to get up there as fast as possible." Bucky called over the com.

"Buy some time? Ok. I can do this. I work better from afar but a little hand to hand never hurt anyone, just easier to get stabbed this way." The first of the things busted through the door running straight at you. You jerked out of the way missing his staff by just a few inches. Quickly turning you flipped the dagger like Loki had showed you and stabbed him in his side causing him to fall to the ground before the next one tried to impale you.

"I have two daggers and they have freaking staffs! Back up! WHERE THE HELL AR-" you were interupted by static in the air and a bright light. The bitfrost had just opened up leaving to gods standing in front of you and taking out the remainder ofnthe bad guys. "HES HERE! I TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WERE COMING AND THEY'RE HERE." You pulled two extra coms from you pocket and gave them to Thor and Loki.

"Always a pleasure to battle beside you Lady y/n." Thor smiled takkng the com and putting it in his ear before taking off again.

Loki sauntered over to you and put his arm around you waist, you put the com in his ear as he rolled his eyes. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

"You got a new outfit." You smiled at him. God the way he looked in his battle clothe always did something to you, the horned helment was a plus.

"You like it." He smirked down at you pulling you closer.

"Your wearing your horns to." You reached up and brushed a peice if hair behind his ear.

"STOP. STOP NOW. WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING AND ITS GROSS." Tony yelled causing you both to roll your eyes.

"Quick run down, bad guys everywhere, no end in sight, and I'm out of arrows pretty sure Hawk is too." Loki waved his hand over your quiver making more arrows appear.

"I see you had to use your daggers. I am sorry for not being here. Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked stepping away from you to examin you.

"Small cut on the side, nothing I havent dealt with before, Ill be fine. You go make sure Hawk is fully stocked up and help the others. I got a birds eye view of you right here." I leaned in kissing him one more time before smiling at him and pushing him away. He kissed his two finger before placimg them over his heart and you did the same, "always." You both said before he disappered.

You could hear Thor laughing at the chaos going on and Steve trying to direct the god of thunder on what to do. You had learned earlier to just let him do his own thing and he would be fine. Tony was still trying to micromanage everything when you heard Loki mumble something in an old language and his com cut out. You had figured it wouldnt have stayed on to long though but at least you had tried. It had calmed down up on your end so you decided to finally go back down to where Clint was at shooting an arrow with heavy duty rope you glided back down next to him to watch what was going on.

"Hello, earth to y/n." He snapped his fingers in front of your face. You had been to busy staring at Loki and that damn helmet. "I dont even understand why were friends." He rolled his eyes propping up on the ledge watching as the rest of the team secured the last of the bad guys.

"Because we both shoot arrows, because we are both the best in the team, or because we both know we are the best looking one on the team so we have to stick together." You laughed jumping up so you could sit on the ledge.

"The birds can come out of their nest now." Bucky called over the coms causing you both to sigh.

When you and Clint had reached the bottom you walked over to Thor theowing your arms around the big goof ball.

"You are amazing during battle as always." He beemed patting you on the shoulder.

"As always? Thor youve only fought with her twice." Steve said beside you.

"I had a week off. Went to Asguard, spent time with the boys. Someone had to keep them in line." You shrugged like it was no big deal.

"She was amazing!" Thor went on telling the story of the fight you had all gotten into.

"Mothers been asking about you by the way dear. Wants to know if you've decided to come stay for a while." Loki leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I think I'm leaning toward a yes. I can't stand being away from you, you had been gone forever this time." You reached for his hand as you both walked to the quinjet.

"I was making arrangements to have our room redone. I figured you would come with me." He gave you a knowing smirk as he reached up to take off his helmet.

"Leave the horns on. I have a suprise for you when we get home." You pulled his hand away from his head and smacked his butt.

"You are a little minx." He laughed chasing you into the jet while the rest of the team groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Even if you wasnt moving i would be kicking your ass out! I am so sick of the PDA between you two." Tony hollared after you.

"Leave them alone Tony, they are courting. Im just glad my brother is happy and not trying to stab me." Thor clapped Tony on the back.

~~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

[luvelyhs]

Relapse

“i ain’t hung up on you, i ain’t in love with you, this is just time that i’m wasting.”

in which Y/N can’t help but show up at her ex-boyfriend’s doorstep.

warnings: literally just pure smut, some angst

—————

She shivers in the cold crisp night air, the breeze creeping up under the black coat she has on, only a red lingerie set underneath. It wasn’t a good choice to have on practically nothing underneath the coat in 40 degree weather, but she didn’t know he was gonna leave her ass out in the freezing cold.

She blows warm air into her clasped hands, tapping on her screen to see if he had messaged her back. Nothing.

This was stupid. She was stupid. It was the same fucking back and forth with herself every time she shows up here. But she had convinced herself this doesn’t mean anything.

She couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, because she knows for a fact she’s sober enough to know what she’s doing, yet the decision was made under the influence to put on a sexy set and show up at her ex boyfriend’s house.

The sound of an engine and tires rolling on gravel made her shoot her head up. His black Range Rover quickly pulling into his driveway and he hops out, looking effortlessly fucking beautiful like always, it was kind of annoying.

A white band tee, a rainbow cardigan, flared jeans, and his raggedy vans- he was familiar and he was rushing to her with words of apologies.

“Sorry, love, rehearsal ran a bit late.” He said, taking out his house key and inserting it into the hole with one hand, squeezing the side of her waist with the other. The squeeze sent a shiver down her body, but she blamed it on the cold.

“Don’t care just open the door.” She couldn’t see his face as he finally got the door open and they stepped into the familiar hallway of his home. She remembered the days and nights she would spend in this place, now she only sees it whenever she falls under the wagon, not being able to help herself from craving him, even though he wasn’t hers to crave anymore. Not when she was the one to break up with him.

She just wanted her hands on him, so that’s what she did. Not giving him time to close the door, she attacked him. She gripped his curls and pulled him down, bringing his red lips to hers. She quickly took control of the kiss, entering her tongue into his mouth to intertwine with his. She kicks the door shut with her back leg, shoving him against the hallway wall.

He moans out her name in a choked whisper when she reaches down to squeeze his length tucked away by his boxers and jeans. She feels him growing harder by the second and she hurriedly unzips his jeans, pulling them down along with the boxers. They’re to his knees now and she’s sinking low, eyes on his dick as she admires it for a second before wrapping her lips around the tip, sinking it to the back of her throat and leaving it there for as long as she can. Harry’s a groaning moaning mess above her, shouting her name as his tip reaches the back of her throat.

She wants to hold him there for longer, until she could no longer breathe and tears are spilling out her eyes and mascara running down her face. She wants to feel him in her mouth forever, but it wasn’t realistic, and she knows she shouldn’t keep coming back to him like this, but this was just a relapse. She can quit anytime. It’s fine. She’s got this.

She shoves the thought of it away, she wants to stay in the moment. She didn’t realize she’s running out of air until Harrys grip on her head pulls her back up.

She sucks in a deep breath and Harry’s whispering praises above her, caressing her face and asking if she’s alright. She nods and looks up into his eyes and his eyes are soft for her and he’s looking at her like she’s the most precious thing on the planet. She hates playing with his feelings like this because he didn’t want to break up at all, he just wanted to make her happy. But she didn’t even know how she could make herself happy, and she thinks back to him and wonders if she could have done things differently, made better choices, saved them both from heartache.

She resumes her actions, bobbing her head up and down and sucking in, swirling her tongue around his length. He’s leant back against the wall, gripping onto her hair and his head is leaned back when she looks up at him, enjoying seeing him in pleasure at what she’s doing to him. The way his eyes are screwed shut and harsh breaths leave his perfect lips, how he moans her name over and over as she grips him with her palm and runs her mouth over him. A stray curl falls forward onto his face but he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Can I cum in your pretty mouth, hm? Please, baby?” His sweet words coupled with his sweet caresses causes her to nod with him in her mouth. She’s been wet since he stepped out of the car in all his glory, and now she’s soaked like a waterfall. Bringing him pleasure always turns her on so much, and she remembers the times when he would fuck her mouth, whispering how she loves his dick in her mouth, how she loves being his little slut. It’s true, and as much as she thinks she’s in control now, it’s all him.

He grabs her head and holds her still while he thrusts his hips, moving his dick further into her mouth and down her throat. She moans out as he roughly thrusts and she’s whining because she loves it. She’s his dirty whore no matter what even if they’re not together anymore. She won’t admit it, but she will always be his.

“Fuck! Y/N!” He thrusts once more and stills, his cum spurting out of him and down her throat. She swallows and he recovers for a second before pulling out of her mouth and she opens her mouth wide, showing him she swallowed it all.

“That’s my baby.” He says, grabbing her up and kissing her senseless. The words make her heart tremble because she wishes she was still his baby, or did she? She didn’t know anymore. What she did know was that she’s breathless and ready to be fucked by him. He strips her of her coat and he looks down at her body in awe.

“For me?” He teased, she rolls her eyes at his words.

“In your dreams.” She scoffs but they both know she’s lying.

He turns and turns her around so she’s flat against the wall, he spanks her ass bright red.

“Give it to me, H. Please.” He spanks her again and rubs it soothingly after, pulling off the red thong and discarded it somewhere in the hall. He brings his hips forward and rubs his cock against her ass, then placing it on her heat and rubbing between her folds up and down, humping against her. They’re both moaning messes, he grips her head and turns it so he could kiss her cheek, whispering if she really wants it and she nods over and over.

“I need it Harry, give it to me. Put it in me.” She sticks her butt against him and tries to aim his cock inside her, but he pulls back a little.

“Come back to me.” Her breath halts. Harry curses inside. He didn’t want to pressure her, especially not during a vulnerable moment.

“I-I can’t. Fuck me, Harry.” He could tell she’s returning to her shell and hell if she does. She wants her back to him, wants her to trust him again, be with him again. He knows her like the back of his hand, and she wouldn’t keep coming back to his doorstep if she was over him.

To distract her, he eases into her. She moans at the fullness and Harry moans at the squeeze. It feels like home. Giving her no time, he thrusts deep into her, pinning her against the wall and talking dirty into her ear. Biting and licking the lobe. He needs her lips so he bends his head to the side to force his tongue into her mouth, her mouth opened as he bucks into her, deep and hard thrusts rendering her speechless. Harsh breaths leave her and he’s whispering how tight she is, how she feels so fucking good he wants to stay in her forever and ever.

It doesn’t take that long for them to reach their highs, Y/N whispering that she’s coming and he brings his thumb into her clit and rubs it in circles. He sets the right pace, how she likes it. She’s pushing back onto him, squeezing him so tight he feels ready to bust. But she hasn’t come yet, he needs her to.

“Come, now.” His deep husky voice makes her tremble and she screams hitting her forehead against the wall. It sparks his and he’s rutting fast and stops fully inside her, releasing into her.

They take deep breaths, recovering from their orgasms and he pulls out. Watching his cum and her juices drip down onto his hardwood floor.

His heart aches, he knows she’ll leave again, he knows she’ll close off and become mean to him, act like she doesn’t care. And then she’ll come back, standing outside his door ready to do this all over again.

Her normal breathing returns, and she’s stepping around him and picking up her coat, and she takes steps forward even though her heart is left back there, with him.

She reminds herself she’s over him, and if she’s not she will get over him. This was just a relapse. Something to ease her fix. She doesn’t have to have him, she doesn’t have to need him. She’s not coming back. She can’t.

It’s just a relapse.

[chyrstis]

WIP Friday!

I’ve had some tags throughout the week, so I’m going to cash them all in here, since Friday’s the day and I might’ve been hoping to get this posted last night too, whoops! And I want to thank you all for tagging me even if I don’t always respond quickly! <3 I definitely intend to, but there’s never enough time in a day or a week, is there? 

Tagged by @redroci @tommymillers @jackiesarch @ma-sulevin and @amistrio and @adelaidedrubman !

Tagging: @writerofblocks @twistedsinews @painterofhorizons @hunnybadgerv @cobb-vanthss @shallow-gravy @nightwingshero @ma-sulevin @shellibisshe @jackalopestride @unlikelynick @geronimo-11 @fluttyseed @fadedjacket @weekend-writer @starsandskies @faithchel @belorage @tomexraider @consumedkings @vasiktomis @chazz-anova @aceghosts @ofravensandgenesis @scarlettkat86 (and if you’re already posted WIPs, don’t mind me one bit! no obligation or pressure’s ever intended)

First, a snippet from Lighting the Fuse’s Ch. 2 which I’d love to edit up and post this weekend, so here’s hoping I can kick myself in the butt hard enough to pull it off? *crosses fingers*

---

“Not tonight, hon. Not tonight.” Propping herself back up on her elbows, she gave him a smile. “You’re here now, though. So…how about it?”

“How about what?”

“You ask,” she replied, giving him a lazy smile. “Since I’m clearly on the cusp of benching you if you don’t.”

Sharky clapped his mouth shut. Stood there, rooted to the ground and didn’t let out a single peep. 

That boggled her completely. “Seriously, hon? Nothing?”

It was dark, but Hana could almost swear he was a shade of red darker than her hair right now. “You uh…. See I didn’t think it was-maybe you being asleep kinda threw off my groove a bit.”

Hana blinked at him. Watched a crooked smile settle onto his face as he let a nervous chuckle out.

“Like, like I mean I was gonna-was thinking of maybe doing this sorta-” His words trailed off as he clenched his teeth, swallowed hard, and let out a long exhale.  “Okay, so maybe this shit isn’t exactly-”

A loud sigh came from her left directly from the radio, and the sound filled the entire room.

“…Wait, what the fuck?” Sharky asked, his eyes darting everywhere as he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. “You hear that?”

Clenching her fists, Hana slowly let her hands relax as she let the tension out. “Unfortunately.”

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. I know you’re listening. But I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose. I thought you wanted my attention. Would’ve been glad to finally have it undivided, and yet you deny me the pleasure of hearing a single response in turn. How…cruel.”

---

And a bit more of the Hana/Sharky one-shot I’ve been chipping away at, that’s actually getting really close to being finished too. I just need to jot down a few more moments for it and see if these two can actually clam up long enough to let me finish

---

“Yo, it’s not like I’ve been there any longer than a few days at a time, and half of the shit they’ve dragged me down to the jail for’s legal, just not in any of the spots I ended up doing it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, which is just fucking stupid seeing as lighting a fire by my house’s fine, but if it gets out to the street and catches on the trees ‘cause it’s extra dry out and the wind’s blowing, suddenly I gotta go in ‘cause I’m negligent or some shit. Then the po-po’s claiming I gotta have a permit to burn in the drier seasons, but it rains fucking plenty here.”

He’d draped his arm over her shoulders by this point, the motion coming so easily from him she hadn’t even noticed at first. Just nestled right into that warmth almost on reflex as Sharky kept on talking, and didn’t want to budge an inch if she could help it.

“Man, it’ll be the driest stretch of the year, and the sky’ll just open up and drop a bucket-load on us ‘cause it’s feeling it, but even if it don’t, anything I start’ll get put out. Just ‘cause I’m around doesn’t mean shit’s gonna go down, or nothing. ‘Cause then phone calls are made, people start looking at me funny, and I’m getting pulled out of my car for jack and shit when maybe I just wanted to take a breather there. Maybe get in a few Zs, take five to ten to jerk it, and they don’t gotta watch that too closely if I’m doing it either.”

She’d been nodding along with him, then stopped. Let that statement sink in as her eyebrows drew together before they rose high on her face.

“…Hon, that’s not legal.”

“Aw, come on, Dep! Don’t tell me there’s some kinda permit for parking out-“

“No, not that. You’d probably get slapped with a ticket or fine, sure, but it’s more about the fact that you were  beating it there.”

“It’s indoors.”

That response came quick enough for her to tilt her head back to look at him. To side-eye him heavily as he shrugged, and damn. She’d curled up to him a lot closer than she’d initially thought. Close enough to-

She cleared her throat.

---

And a little more of the No Cult AU, maybe? ...I may have watched Speed again last night entirely due to this. and it might also be up to almost 8K in length as well, pre-edits, so... Help 

---

But that didn’t solve the other problem. Towing it.

A truck would’ve been their best bet, but with him already there it didn’t make sense to try and scrape together cash for a tow truck, or to fire off a call to anyone down at the compound. His car had been used to drag Sr’s truck out of more than a few ditches without tearing the frame up, so this wasn’t a stretch to consider, and leaving them hanging now would’ve just been a shit thing to do when they didn’t even have a working phone or forty bucks between them. 

And while he’d never been able to get a tow bar to last more than a few months max, he had a few solid workarounds that could still get the job done. One of which he’d seen in a commercial a while back. 

He knew it almost by heart at this point, and cool as it’d be to fix their problem by just whipping his pants off and tying their vehicles together with them to help tow them to the compound, he’d gone down that road before. Hell, not just once, but twice now, and considering he’d been left between getting pepper sprayed and arrested, or having a busted set of jeans and his ass hanging out for the rest of the day, he wasn’t sure he liked where that left him on round number three.

Besides these were a well-worn pair, and they seriously didn’t make them like they used to. Long as he tried not to get too creative with them, they had more than a few good years in them yet. So after some sifting and digging through the trunk of his car, Sharky kept his fingers crossed that he’d find an actual tow strap back there. He and Hurk had been through this dance enough times before that he knew he had one, and crossed his fingers that he hadn’t left it over at Sr.’s place. 

Sure enough, there it was. Fucking majestic, and almost crumpled in the back, Sharky withdrew one perfect tow strap and broke out a few moves to celebrate it before hitching the two together. 

Once it was secure, he told them all to hop in, and while trying to cram one extra person into his car was tough three other people might’ve been pushing it. John regularly had the best seat in the house and still hardly made it more than a few miles before fussing at him, and here they were double - and triple stacking themselves in any spare space in order to take a seat. Man, he was already thinking up ways to relay this story to Hurk later on, but with them semi-settled and packed safe as they could be, he fired the engine up and got them all back on the road. 

It wasn’t a far drive out to Joseph’s but he took his time with it. Drove the slowest he’d ever attempted short of being twelve and behind the wheel for the first time, trying to be extra gentle with it all as the van lumbered behind them.

If he went too fast, they’d tear the back of his car off and lose it. If they hit the brakes too hard, they’d get rammed, so he needed to nail that sweet spot. Keep from tipping from one end over into the other as he played his very own version of Speed out on this stretch of road, watching that needle dance back and forth over that perfect point as he started to sweat a little under his cap.

But he had this. Pressed his foot down on the gas and let up when he needed to, exercising the kind of control that even John would give a silent nod of approval to - which would almost make him the Keanu to his Sandra, except John wasn’t there and currently trying to crawl under any of this shit to keep a bomb from going off - but whatever, it was close enough.

So he watched the mile markers fly by as they got closer and closer to the island, and by the time they rolled through the gate and came to a stop, Sharky let out whatever breath he’d started holding, and didn’t even care when the van nearly smashed into them on the home stretch anyway.  

[crimson-dxwn]

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them. 

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that. 

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs. 

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position. 

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes. 

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are. 

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife. 

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason. 

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has. 

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife. 

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?” 

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand. 

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence. 

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded. 

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.” 

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds. 

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine. 

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off. 

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace. 

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss. 

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow. 

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size. 

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room. 

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.” 

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them. 

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face. 

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute. 

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone. 

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him. 

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate. 

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar. 

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental. 

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out. 

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell. 

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow. 

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed. 

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer. 

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night. 

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds. 

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world. 

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer. 

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a. 

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory. 

 Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place. 

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.” 

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line. 

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable. 

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself. 

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better. 

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind. 

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile. 

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely. 

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough. 

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others. 

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.” 

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her. 

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.” 

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best. 

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead. 

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering. 

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize. 

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them. 

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right. 

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith 

[cosmicbash]

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce. 

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself. 

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret. 

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper. 

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all. 

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened. 

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too? 

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey." 

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat. 

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?" 

[c-atm]

Connie Maheswaran sighed...She knew this was a bad idea, but no one else was around, and the best friend/ bane of her existence/ big crush/ betrothed had an eye for these things, so his expertise was appreciated.

"So." Steven Universe, gem hybrid, alien prince, sweetheart, and hero to many, started with a grin. Placing his hand on the curve of her back." How skimpy of a bikini are we getting, huh?

She growled dangerously as she felt his hand crept lower." Stop it, you pervert."

Steven just smirked as he lifted his hand back up. That lecherous fox smirk that he only showed her.

"I promise that my intentions are as 'pure' as the lily-white of your clothes." 

Connie arched an eyebrow looking at her yellow polo, black denim shorts, and orange kicks. "What white are you talking about?" She implored.

The alien royalty squeezed the college sophomore bottom. "The thin warm cloth underneath." He whispered into her ear, making her fume with annoyance, bashfulness, and made just a wee bit of an exciting impression… Despite her pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.

"How the hell do you know?" She questioned, grabbing his wrist and clenched tightly, making the 'big gem on campus' fall to his knees in slight pain.

"Ow, ow, ow! I promise I didn't peek at you while you were getting dressed today."

"But you did peek at me." She arched an eyebrow.

"On accident." He pleaded, " We both know I would never peep on you."

"Now, Steven..."

"Not without an escape route."

Connie took a moment to consider it, but in the end, she decided he was right.

Steven always had a damn way to run away. Not like when they were teens, and she would easily catch and punish him for his transgressions against all womankind. However, they were more innocent, like giving her (not-so unwanted) pecks on her cheek or complimenting her physical growth.

It was the reason her betrothed became her bane before becoming her friend and crush.

Though his actions couldn't be helped, it was ingrained in him. The gem race was very liberated when it came to physical appeal, appreciation, and affection and saw all forms as beautiful. From the first (of what would become semi-normal) time she visited his home planet, it quickly became apparent to her that kissing, touching, and 'raunchy' commentary was commonplace among Homeworld. A lot of sensual and carnal PDA was everyday stuff for gem kind. 

All except fornication in all its forms. 

That was considered divine as gem fusion but way less lax—the ultimate show of reverence for one's unique being. Even stories of one’s actual sexploits were to be kept between partners, no matter how many there were; neither monogamy nor polygamy took precedence on Homeworld.

She let his wrist go with an unamused hum, opting to hold his hand to keep it from wandering.

”Let’s go, my perv.” Connie sighed as she led him further into the store, towards the dressing rooms. She was nearly closing the door behind her as she entered, turning and facing him, hiding with the plywood entrance. "So, against my better judgment, I'm gonna go into the dressing room and wait for you to bring me back some swimwear," Connie informed, blushing. "I need you to take this seriously, ok? No games at all." She muttered.

Steven gasped, placing three fingers on his chest as if he was an offended southern Bellé. "Why madam, I do declare that I will be at my most critical. After all…" He caressed her cheek with a smirk on his face, "the chance to decorate you in my taste doesn't come along often." He grinned as he interlaced his fingers together. "I can see you now in...Hehehe! Oh yes..."

Looking at his bottom lip gnawing, nearly crossed eye blushing expression of perverse elation, Connie almost regrets asking for his advice and help but, there is a reason for that. "Can you not imagine whatever you are imagining and help me?"

He looked up at her pouting profile and smirked lovingly before kissing her forehead. "You're more tempting than anything I can imagine." 

She took a deep breath, rubbing the back of her left calf with her right foot, and idiosyncratic behavior towards surprising affection and praise.

"⁵Just...Stay away from the skimpy swimsuit from earlier."  She warned, burned cheeked as she closed the door behind her, "Himbo hubby."  rubbing her forehead, where the warm sensation of his lips lingered, she grinned. The feeling of pride In her chest.

"Ok... Let's get to business."

Three minutes later, Connie was stripped of her clothing and her pride as she looked at her reflection. Bare to her body and her insecurities. She didn't feel Charming? Girlish? Soft? Cute?

She was never called cute or adorable. No... Words that described her was strong, tall, mature, robust, and built, which was right.

She was six ft by the time she was 16 (she's 6'6 now), always been athletic; being an army brat on an army base until she was 12, strenuous exercise was more than just a habit; it was a lifestyle. Combined with tennis and martial arts, it was easy to understand why her body was built and cut as it was. She had 'mercenaries muscles.' A body made for battle, yet she was 'blessed' with the curvy hips and noticeable bust of her mother's bloodline.

The thing is, she didn't hate her body. She just wasn't privy to the attention she got from it. Most guys were intimidated.

Most girls…' intrigued' to say the least, and then there were some who 'swore' she was 'transitional.' People she affectionately referred to as transphobic bastards.

One cause she was born, lives and will die biologically and mentally as a woman, no matter how 'masculine' she supposedly acts; and more importantly, being trans isn't wrong.

"The scars don't really help either." She mused as she scanned her nude form little scars from her active lifestyle on her stomach.

"I think they give you character, Berry." Steven voiced from behind the door, surprising her enough for her to jump.

"The hell?! How did you get done so fast?!" She nearly shrieked as she turned to the door...Which now had a few swimsuits hang on the knob, " Steven...Did you peek at me?" 

She was greeted by silence.

"Accidentally," 

She gave a slightly exaggerated sigh at his guilty tone to hide the smile on her face. "Really? You don't wanna see me in the buff?"

She could already see the thousand-watt smile on his face.

"Wait, are you saying I can?"

She had to bite her tongue from laughing at his eagerness, "No, sit and wait." She scoffed out a chuckle when she heard him moan, downtrodden. Taking a look at the group of bathing suits in the knob, she went to see which one she definitely will not wear.

----------------

Steven sat in the pink chair in front of the dressing rooms, legs and arms crossed as he waited for his beauty of a betrothed model for him. He knew she wasn't crazy about her appearance, but he couldn't get enough of it.

The fact Connie tower's him by a whole nine inches. Her 'jacked,' pear-shaped body with its hypnotic curves, especially around her bust, hips, thighs, and butt. Blazing deep-set onyx eyes with thick brows, thin cupid bow lips, her slightly narrowed and flat nose, and loose raven hair in a half-braided ponytail that reached her broad shoulders. An amazing amazon made real. 

Of course, her physique was only part of why he was smitten to what humans would call near 'perverse' moments, strange since earthling takes sex for granted, to the point of making multiple websites about it for profit. 

Planetary cultural differences aside, Connie's physicality was just a complementary mirror to her character. Strong, bold, unique, and mesmerizing. No wonder why Connie steals every room she walks in when she wants to or not. He couldn't help but snicker tenderly at the thought of her before tenderness gave a slight way to hunger at the thought of her in a swimsuit.

"Steven...Can you come here?" 

The hybrid looked with a bit of concern and curiosity at the brown hand waving and shy voice coming from the dressing room.

"Hmm?" He stood and walked to took the gold sprayed knob of the plywood in his hand.

"With your eyes close!"

That made his eyes widen, but he followed her request, closing his pink eyes before entering and closing the door behind him. "You ok, Ni'?"

"I...I need you to promise to be honest with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just promise. ok?"

"Hmm...I'm opening my eyes."

"Wait. I'm not.."

"...HMM..."

Connie looked towards him in shy withdrawal, holding her left arm, and biting her lip adorned in a blue bikini. The top looked like a cage neck crop top that clipped in the back, and the bottoms were high-waisted with an extra band that crossed around her navel. It was sexy, to say the least, accentuating off all her curves and prominent muscle, flattering her breast, thighs, hips, and butt, without showing too much; it was made for her.

"Well?" She asked, looking at his stare but getting no answer, feeling her cheeks heat in marooned embarrassment. "Is it that bad?"

"Adorable."

Connie's eyes widened, "A-Adorable?" She pursued her lips, looking down at herself. She wasn't used to being called that. 

"Yeah... I mean, yeah, it looks sexy..but it really brings out your softer, sensual charms."

"I...I.." her nose flared as she fought the bubbling feeling in her chest. " You're... You’re not just saying that, right?" She rubbed her left calf with her right ankle.

"I wouldn't lie about this." Steven raised his right hand in a promise.

She crossed her arms, her mouth in a side pout," So...I'm cute in this, then?"

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Steven teased, getting a raised brow look of astonishment from his betrothed

" I..No!" She crossed her arms below her chest, looking away, pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.  

 Before turning towards the hybrid, just as she was about to attempt to make her point, she was caught off guard by his hand gently but securely grabbing her chin and leading her to move her face up close to his, their nose tips gingerly touching.

It wasn't the first time he did this, and it always made her feel a bit meek. Never unpleasantly, though.

"You're always cute."

The feel of his warm lips sandwiching her top lip with popping clips was new.

New but welcomed. 

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 33

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"So how'd you know about me and Jaune?" Ruby asked as I wheeled Qrow down one of the rugged streets. They weren't exactly built with wheelchairs in mind but I muddled through.

"The way he looked at you. The way he wanted to talk to you after he killed that guy. Plus when you held up your bee clothes so he could get a look at you."

"I suppose that might give it away," Ruby agreed.

"He wasn't subtle."

"Hey I… tried," I blurted.

"If you hurt her though…" he trailed off. It wasn't so intimidating from the chair. I laughed which made him frown.

"If I hurt her she's more than capable of taking it out of my hide. Plus I'm sure Yang will give me a similar threat. You'll have some competition."

Ruby stammered slightly. "I'm sure Yang will behave."

We both looked at her. Disbelief on both our faces.

"Okay, you don't have to bust me about it," Ruby let out.

"It's fine. Yang'll make her threat because she's gotta, it’s an older sibling thing, and life will go on," I said. "Won't stop me from loving you."

Heat crept up her neck at that. Silver eyes imploring me.

"It's always the fuckin' blondes." Qrow muttered, seeing Ruby's reaction. "Always. We’re here. You can stop staring at each other.”

I wasn’t sure that I could. I wanted to stand there and look into Ruby’s eyes. Luckily, or unluckily as the case may have it, she looked away first and eyed up the Malachites’ bar.

“So this is it?” She asked.

I nodded. “Come on.” I pushed Qrow inside. It was pretty similar to the last two times I’d been inside for all that it was still morning. People were doing drugs in plain sight, and Malachite sat with two different bodyguards though this time she was shuffling a deck of cards and playing with herself. Was that her weapon? I’d heard of stranger huntress weapons but not by much and a little Titania went a long way.

“So, you completed our favors?” She asked from the long side of her table.

I held out the Don’s scroll and passed it to her. “The encryption key is ‘There once was a girl.’” It was also written on a sticky note attached to the device in Weiss’s handsome script.

“You also snagged his scroll? Well done.” She purred. “I’ll honor my end of the arrangement. I already have the prosthetics at my personal surgeon’s office. I’ll get you his address. Then we’ll see about getting Qrow back into fighting shape.”

“How long will he be under for?” Ruby asked.

“I’m not the surgeon, deary,” Malachite said. “He’ll also probably want to stop that.” She gestured to where Qrow had his flask of liquor in his hands. Qrow scowled and put the flask back in his pocket. “There’s a good boy. Anesthesia can have all kinds of bad reactions as it is.”

She snapped her fingers and a legal pad appeared. She picked up a pen and scrawled out an address. “A pleasure doing business with you all.” She handed it over to me.

I just grunted in reply and glanced at the address. I opened my scroll and looked up the location through the maps feature. It was on the middle floors and from the images that came up it looked like a nice place. It had a pebble garden out front and some tall and immaculately trimmed trees in the photos. It looked like a small private hospital which also served as a front for the Malachites’ operations. Any time they needed somebody cut into I imagine they took them here. It was probably also a legitimate business. Better to hide that way.

“Until next time,” Malachite dismissed us from her service and we walked out the way we came in.

“Well that wasn’t so bad.” Ruby said. “She seemed alright, although maybe Torchwick would have seemed that way too. If we’d met under different circumstances.”

“How did you meet Torchwick?” I asked. I hadn’t heard the story.

She explained how they’d tried to rob her in a small dust shop in Vale. She went on about how Torchwick had tried to blow her up with a crystal when she pursued him but she was saved by Goodwitch.

"You know how to use dust, though, don't you Jaune?"

"Just to blow stuff up. Not like Weiss or Ms. Goodwitch with their magic. Or even like you with your bullets."

"But you know how to make explosives."

"I do. It isn't as hard as it sounds. Even a caveman like me can do it. You just need to complete a circuit through the stuff and it goes off. Or throw it hard enough. Either does fine."

She gave a soft hum in thought at that.  

"Please tell me this isn't how the two of you flirt." Qrow muttered. I could tell that his inability to drink was getting on his nerves.

I wondered how much he'd already had to drink. It was only eleven in the morning. He'd probably be fine, though. Hunters were fairly resilient.

I laughed. "It's not. We're just sparring your old man sensibilities by not."

"I'm going to be out of this chair in a bit and you're going to regret every one of those side comments."

"Sure," I drew out the word. "What a way to thank me."

"I mean it. I'm going to hit you and you're going to deserve it."

"Don't you dare," Ruby said. "Play nice, both of you."

I shrugged. Easy enough for me. Qrow grumbled down in the chair as I pushed him all the way to the hospital.

"How much alcohol have you had today, uncle Qrow?" Ruby asked. Some concern in her voice. I was mostly staring at her pink lips.

Later.

"Only a little. It'll be fine. I swear."

"Maybe we should wait…"

"I've waited long enough to get up out of this damn thing."

"We're here," I said. We stood in front of the medical building. It was white leading up to nicely colored dark bricks with several gardens and terraces. It looked pretty enough from the outside.

The door opened automatically as I pushed Qrow forward up to the receptionist. "Name and date of birth?"

I let Qrow answer her. There were also some forms to fill out before the operation. I let Qrow take care of those and he sighed from the chair. Of all the things to get between him and walking again I think he hated bureaucracy the most.

Then we sat in the waiting room until a nurse came to wheel Qrow away.

"Wait uh- we sorta want to watch. To make sure everything goes smoothly." She recovered. She still didn't trust the Malachites.

The orderly nodded. "Yes the Doctor Seward mentioned you might be the sorts of patients who require the one way mirror. You'll be able to watch the surgery from there. Please follow me."

We did. "Right through here please." We entered a small room with chairs like those out in the waiting room all facing a pane of dark glass. On the other side there was an operating room and table. Surgical lights and lines of sanitized chrome medical equipment sat on still more chrome tables.

I left my sword at the door. I couldn't sit down with it on my back. Ruby and I took a seat and she took my hand in hers which I squeezed.

"You know, now we can do all the flirting we want."

"Butt." She called me out but she smiled a little through her worry so it was worth it. I kissed her cheek and brushed her hair back over her ear. She leaned against me and rested her head on my chest. From there she anxiously traced little circles over me.

We watched them bring Qrow into the room wearing only a gown. Two orderlies lifted him onto the operating table and started wiping his legs down with sanitizing wipes and setting up an IV drip. I watched him relax his red aura and let a needle enter his arm at the vein in his elbow.

He gave us a wave through the mirror but it was clear he couldn't see us. He leaned back and tried to relax and Ruby pursed her lips nervously.

"Hey. He'll be fine. We made it this far. How are you after yesterday?"

"There was so much blood," she whispered. "You had to kill again. You were right when you said that you would have to. That couldn't have been easy for you. And those poor girls who got shot… the one who got hit in the stomach probably died."

"Maybe, yeah." I agreed loosley. There was a chance she had survived.

"Was it worth it?"

"Qrow will go on to save lives after today. Innocent lives from the agents of Salem. That's about as good as you can ask for."

"Was it worth it though? All the bloodshed."

"I don't have an answer. I figured you would tell me."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You've been more than my moral compass, Rubes. I've done some stuff I'm not proud of."

"Like killing all those people?"

"Yeah. Weiss and I talked about it this morning, it's just the two of you who haven't done it at this point."

"And you've done it the most."

"Yeah," I said. It wasn't exactly a bragging point for me. I was a murderer.

We watched the surgeon come in. A male nurse put the surgeon's gloves on for him, he was already wearing a mask and his own robes. Then they wheeled in a set of dark grey legs, cut off at the knees. They looked sleek but they'd have to be inserted where Qrow was injured at the thigh.

"I killed Roman Torchwick." Ruby whispered. She told me about the fight on top of the battleship and how a Gryphon came swooping down and ate him.

We watched as they put him under and set up a tent around his legs. Scalpels came away from this flesh colored red with blood and I felt Ruby tense beside me.

"Rubes…"

"I as good as killed him," her voice was small.

I wasn't going to fight her on it. If she said she killed him then in her mind she did. Besides, if we counted Vernal as using the Grimm as a weapon then didn't what Ruby did count? Maybe. Ruby had it sorted out straighter than I did. So I just put one arm around her.

We watched the surgery and let our thoughts be morbid.

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I was the one Qrow selected for his first sword fight. He was up and walking on those long legs and wanted to give them a test drive. I could hardly blame him. When my weapon changed I trained constantly and his legs were different now.

He might have to change his whole fighting style. That meant decades.

He was wobbly and I knocked him off balance with a grunt. He managed to block but he was still not used to the new legs. His sword arms were still fast and they made his weapon a blur as he descended onto me.  

I parried and riposted with the broadsword fast enough that he had to back off. His balance was straight bad. I capitalized on it with a normal Cross-Slash. It held him in place then flung him back.

Weiss and Ruby watched from the sidelines with Oscar. They were quiet as they watched the elder huntsman fall over and over again. He stood up and shook at the thigh, the new legs were strong, it was where they were grafted on that was weak.

They'd been attached to the femur, longest, strongest bone in the body. The new legs were long with narrow knees. He tried to kick me with them but I blocked by twisting my own leg to the side.

"Ooh." Oscar moaned with empathetic pain at the sound of bone on metal when our shins connected.

I bullied the older huntsman with my shoulder. He stumbled back, arms cartwheeling as he frantically tried to regain his balance. I didn't take any pleasure in it, even as my semblance activated from the amount of damage I had dealt.

I rolled my sword and waited for Qrow to come back at me and he did with a tired sigh.

He swept his sword low and I hovered straight over it. He cursed and was forced to back up when I struck at his face. He ducked and our swords clashed with sparks when they met in the middle height. The angle was awkward for both of us and I retreated as his weapon's form shifted partially into a scythe.

He swept it at me and I blocked and brought my sword down on him in a single massive overhead strike. I let out a cry as I did and he brought up his weapon to block. He bent at the legs from the strike. Straying more at the hips than at the knees.

He growled in absolute frustration when I spent the Limit in a thrust that knocked him halfway across the courtyard in a smooth blue sweep. The motion carried us both and I slammed him back into the ground.

He lay on the ground with his dark red aura flickering. He just lay there and breathed hard and I had to remember he'd done basically no exercise for almost a month. At his age that shit was hard, even as a huntsman.

"Motherfucker," he exhaled.

"I can swap in for Jaune if you want, uncle Qrow?" Ruby called from the side.

"You'd take it too easy on me!" Qrow got to his feet. "The kid fucking gets it. Don't you?"

"You'll die," I murmured. "It's bad."

"I used to be a little shorter, I think." Qrow leaned on the staff of his scythe. "Not sure. Can't quite remember."

I winced for him. It sounded rough. Qrow had been the trooper. He wasn't complaining, just resigned to the hard work. Sure, he'd gotten frustrated in the chair but who wouldn't? Seriously, name a single person. His surgery had only been days ago and he was still frail.

It left me in the precarious position as still one of the best fighters in the group. perhaps even the best swords-person. He was still healing. The surgery was as deep as any wound I had received, including my brushes with death against Tyrion. Even a huntsman's healing factor could only do so much.

Still the deep grafts had the advantage of preserving his transformation. I'd seen his transformation work with little metal bird's feet. His clothes transformed with him too so it wasn’t too much of a surprise, I suppose.

However Ozpin's magic worked the bone deep fixtures seemed to be enough.

"Come on. Let's get some water." I swept inside and picked up two glasses and filled them up. When I came back outside and handed Qrow the glass of water, Oscar and Weiss were sparring in comparative slow motion. She fenced at him with shallow thrusts and he parried with wild swings of the staff. He wasn’t blocking with narrow turns of the wrist as was appropriate against Weiss’s style. She wasn’t riddling him with more stabs than were necessary to teach. Just the occasional throbbing reminder to keep his guard tight.

I watched her dance about him with elegance and stood beside Ruby.

“He’s getting better,” Ruby said. “You have credit for that.”

I grunted. “Only if you have responsibility for me.”

“I thought the guy was supposed to take responsibility, Jaune.”

I laughed. “Responsibility for what, I wonder?”

“I’ll show you later…” She murmured. She gave me a chaste kiss to let the message sink in. The absolute little minx. My face flushed red with all kinds of thoughts. "Thank you for looking after my uncle. I don't know if he's right to push himself so hard but I suppose you know a thing or two about hard work."

"Of course. I'd do anything to you-for you. I meant for you."

It was her turn to blush and stammer. "Y-yeah well thanks regardless. For both."

"You two are killing me," Qrow bemoaned. "That's my little niece."

"Not so little anymore." I looked her up and down and pointedly licked my lips. She watched my tongue and I felt a little satisfied as she exhaled, making a little shuddering noise. She wanted me to really kiss her. I could tell by the look in her eyes and the curvy wolfish smile.

She leaned back slightly showing off her chest to me.

I knew she was thinking of when we got interrupted a few days before. We hadn't had the chance to pick up where we left off and I suppose I wasn't the only one who wanted release.

She'd have to keep waiting, though. She'd started this.

"Did I miss anything." Yang came out. Ren and Nora were behind her.

"Just these two flirting," Qrow breathed, leaning down the wall until he was sitting.

"Score." Nora high-fived Ruby. "You go girl. Get some."

"Anybody up for a match with me?" Yang asked.

"I'll go," Ren agreed.

They stepped out, distinctly separate from where Weiss and Oscar fought, and started fighting. They fought in close range and Ren was using actual bullets to pepper Yang. Then when they got closer Yang's shotguns had the advantage. They alternated again at the length of Ren's blades but it was a short trip from that range to Yang's gauntlets.

He didn't have the long range Crocea Mors offered me to keep her at bay and had to actually engage her fairly close.

It was a bad matchup for him, a bit like he or Ruby were for me but that made it good practice in being smart rather than being good.

It was always possible for a huntsman to run into a bad matchup and die, even if they were good. And right now I was one of the best we had. That was a grim thought. Me.

Maybe I should take it in stride and be flattered by my growth, instead I was worried. If we got into a fight I was going to have to put part of the group on my back and carry it.

I watched Oscar with the cane that seemed a touch too long for him. Maybe that was hypocritical considering the length of my own weapon.

"Roll the wrists Oscar! It's in the wrists!" I shouted when he got stabbed again. Weiss put him on his ass as gently as she could. It was a sort of good practice for her. In control rather than speed or power. Plus she was constantly trying to trick him and had put herself in a corner.

It was good practice all around. I just felt unprepared anyways.

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-WG

[bobathirstaccount]

A/N: whoa THANK YOU for the love on ch 8!! Thanks to everyone reading to the end!! Tell me what you want to see next. More multi chapter? One offs? <3 <3

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut, some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

TW: unprotected sex, descriptions of violence, brief mention of past abuse

Translations (Mando’a)

Riduur - spouse

Cyar’ika - darling/ sweetheart

***

CHAPTER NINE

You powered up Daesha. Fuck this, you thought. I don’t go and he gets himself captured on purpose. You knew if you were there he would not have done it. You were beyond furious at this point.

You exited Tattooine’s atmosphere, seething. Someone was going to pay. Dearly. You entered into jump space, waiting like an angry caged predator. Waiting to lash out and kill. You exited jump space extremely close to the planet. It was risky, but you had to get past their sensors. You almost crashed into a satellite, narrowly avoiding a collision. You dove into the atmosphere at a sharp angle, burning up. You had to get below their radar before you were detected. You relied on your smuggler’s courage, falling from the sky. You made it, pulling up sharply when you were safe from detection. You piloted slowly, pulling up a map of the capitol.

You scanned when you were close enough. You found Slave 1’s signature. You circled around the city, setting down as close as you could. You made your way through the forest, up to the walls of the city. You snuck in on a convoy, concealing yourself in a wheel well.

Jumping off the convoy, you located the hanger Slave 1 was in. You snuck in silently, holding back your wrath. You cut into the security feed and looped the footage, so it was no longer live. You continued through the facility, stopping at Slave 1 to warm her up. She would be ready to take off when you got back. Now, where would prisoners be kept?

You hacked a terminal nervously. It slowly clicked, taking forever while you were exposed in a hallway. Finally you broke in. You located the detention center. It was a bit of a walk, but that was okay. You would get there.

***
You arrived at an entrance. You began to hack the door. Suddenly you heard footsteps. You jumped up the wall and clung to the eaves, silently hanging as a Mandalorian guard passed under you. You thought about dropping down, sinking your blade into his neck, twisting. But you had to stay on task. He could live.

When he was safely away, you started over. You listened to the terminal click repeatedly. The door slide open. You were in like lightning. You looked up for cameras; nothing. Curious. You continued down the hallway, pulling up a more detailed map as you went. You stopped under a duct and hopped up into the central air system, crawling around. You passed over may rooms full of Mandalorians relaxing. You were filled with anger, looking at them. But you continued on.

You made it to the cells. You carefully crawled over each one until you found who you were looking for. Boba was sitting on a small cot, looking intimidating. He seemed to be favoring his right side a bit. You quietly removed the A/C grate to his cell, and dropped through. He didn’t move except to tilt his helmet slightly upward. “I would be furious you are here, but there’s no point now.”

“Shut up; I’m here to get you and the others out. I know where Slave 1 is.”

He shifted in his armor. “We can’t fit the way you came.”

“I know.” You pulled out your foldable rifle and set it up. “We’re going to kill our way out.”

He snorted softly.

“I’ll then deal with you,” you said ominously. “Get ready to run.”

“I can’t. I’m injured.” He indicated his right side. “Blaster shot. I’m okay but weakened.”

You almost cried, but held it back. A gut shot? He had been so close to dying. Instead, you pulled out your mini torch. “Time to melt this fucking door.”

The lock melted and the door sprung open in no time. You carefully peered out. There was no one, but there was a security camera at the end of the hall. Kriff. This was going to get messy fast. You tossed a blaster at Boba. “Try to stay the fuck out of the way this time.” He nodded, preparing. You hopped out of the cell and shot the camera. At least they were blind. You then set to work torching the other locks. Boba covered you as the guards appeared, guns blazing. You got all the doors open, and your small group advanced. You had only brought two other pistols with you, so the unarmed hung back. You stood pointedly in front of Boba, refusing to let him go to the front.

You shot your way into a break room, and busted out the window there. Everyone jumped out. You followed, transmitting the coordinates of Boba’s ship. The group scattered, looking for cover as they made their way to Slave 1. You and Boba hung back. He could only force himself to go so fast. You provided covering fire for most of the others to escape the immediate danger. You hoped they would make it.

Alarms were going off now. The noise was everywhere, screaming. You grabbed Boba, “This way!” You jogged down the ally, dragging a laboring Boba. Suddenly you saw stars, and your feet weren’t touching the ground. You landed in a little crumpled pile, stunned. You shook your head, mostly coming to. Your vision swam a bit as you saw Boba and a huge Mandalorian facing off. They were physically fighting each other; somehow both had lost their blasters in the confusion. The man swung at Boba, who deflected the blow. But he was too slow to counter attack effectively. The man rushed him. They collided like two sparring animals. You drug yourself foward and grabbed a blaster. The man had Boba against a wall and was trying to choke him. Aiming at his neck, you shot and killed the man attacking Boba. He dropped to the ground. Boba looked at you. “Come on, get your blaster!” You threw it at him and then grabbed him. The two of you hobbled off.

You were getting close; just a few more buildings to pass and you’d be at the hanger. Boba was getting heavier and slower. You hit him in the helmet, “Now is not the time; come on.” He staggered on with you. You reached the final corner and stopped. You peered around. Like a striking snake, an arm with a dagger shot out. You bent your back, narrowly escaping getting your throat cut. You screamed, and ran around the corner with your rifle. She deflected the rifle and somehow got it away from you. She hit you in the face with the butt. You again saw stars, but remained upright. Boba had come around the corner and started shooting at her. She fell back, shooting at the two of you with your own rifle. You were pinned down by her, so close to the hanger door you had already hacked and left unlocked.

Finally you knew what you had to do. You looked back at Boba, who was busy returning fire. You would get him out of here. Boba tilted his helmet then, sensing you were about to do something. He reached to grab you, but it was too late. You were up and over your cover before he could blink. He jumped up immediately to lay down suppressing fire, terrified to see you get shot before him. Your body armor took some damage, but you kept going. It hurt like hell but now was not the time to acknowledge that. You hurtled over the woman’s cover, striking down at her with your knife. You cut her at the shoulder slightly. She turned, trying to shoot you. You viciously kicked the gun out of her hand. The two of you engaged in combat; one of you bare handed but better tactically prepared. Her armor rebuffed the advances of your knife. She punched and hit you in the head repeatedly. You kicked and slashed, aiming at the joints in her armor. You spit your own blood at her, trying to obscure her view. She rushed you; you took the impact and flipped her over you. She rolled up and away from you. The two of you circled. You grit your teeth. No time for this. You would have to make some sacrifices in order to get close enough to wound her enough to stop her. As long as you could drag yourself to Slave 1.

Out of nowhere Boba appeared, looming over the other Mandalorian. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, flipping her. Grunting from effort, he dropped her face first into the ground. She landed and laid there in a strange position. You looked up at him, surprised. He reached a hand out, “Time to go.” You took it. The two of you stumbled into the hanger. Your companions had made it and were waiting. They ran out and pulled you into the ship. Boba clawed his way to the cockpit. No one else was piloting. Slave 1 was ready, so he closed the hatch and took off immediately, blasting his way out of the hanger.

Slave 1 screamed out of the atmosphere, with several ships in hot pursuit. They closed in; Boba dropped a proton bomb, killing them in the explosion. Some ships in orbit were waiting. They engaged with Slave 1 as it successfully left the atmosphere. Boba played chicken with them, closing the distance. They parted at the last second, unwilling to give their lives. He shot into jump space immediately. Everyone in the observation room sighed, relieved. Boba sat back in his chair, totally spent. You were upon him with a med kit.

“No, later, just let me sit here for now,” he protested. “Let’s fix your face instead,” he reached a gentle hand up to your swollen cheek.

“I just got into a bad bar fight. You’re shot.”

He relented, and lifted up his clothing. You got to work, cleaning the wound on his side. Silence settled. He finally broke it, “Where is Daesha?”

You stopped putting ointment on his injuries. “I had to leave her there. There wasn’t enough space on her for everyone, plus Slave 1 is more important. We can’t have her captured.”

“Practical,” was all he said. You tried to nod dispassionately. Truth was you were heartbroken you might not see her again. “We’ll get her back,” he finally said. You nodded again, unable to speak about it. He seemed to understand. “Did Fennec send you?” He removed his helmet and eyed your sharply.

“I sent myself. She begged me to stay.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

“She should have made you stay.”

”That’s not her job.”

He sighed. “Will you ever stop worrying me?”

“Probably not. But didn’t I get you and everyone else off world?”

He grit his teeth a bit, “Yes.”

“So. Next time don’t leave me at home.”

He shook his head, “This does not settle anything.”

You glared at him then, “What would?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being unfair.”

”Yes.”

You were at a loss for words. His gloved hand gently touched your bruised face. “I don’t want to see you like this.”

You shrugged, “I’m built for it.”

“No one is built for it.” He sighed angrily.

“You don’t know all my secrets. I can take it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t I know?”

You looked down, shrugging. “They never really came up.”

“They’ve just come up.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I’m just used to being beat.” You refused to elaborate.

“Tell me. If you are my riduur.”

You exhaled. “I just... got beat a lot as a kid. And when I got older I just kept getting into those kinds of relationships.. and bar fights.. and fight fights.”

He eyed you. “Who beat you as a child?”

You returned his gaze, annoyed by his persistence. “My father beat all of us.”

“That’s terrible.”

”I know. But it doesn’t define me. It just means I know how to take a punch.” You tried to smile wryly.


“You don’t have to act.”

You looked down, suddenly sad. “I have to live with it somehow.”

He pulled you into his lap, “Let me help carry the burden.” He kissed you softly. You leaned into him, crying suddenly. He held you to himself until it was time to come out of jump space. You jumped out of it into orbit around Tattooine. Home.

Slave 1 again screamed through the atmosphere, in case there were pursuers. Finally you landed at the palace. You sighed, relieved. Now you could relax.

Boba slowly made his way off Slave 1. Din hugged him, squeezing his torso. He made a pained wheeze but allowed it. Fennec stepped forward and grabbed his hands. “We’re so happy you’re back safely.” He nodded. “I need to lay down.”

“Of course,” Fennec moved to the side to let him pass. She eyed you, and grabbed your hand, stopping you as you moved to follow Boba.

”How badly is he injured?”

”Blaster to the side. He’s okay.”

“Barely.”


You swallowed and a knowing look passed between the two of you. Din interrupted. “We should increase security even more. They’re going to be pissed one merc got Boba Fett from them.”

Fennec nodded, “I’ll take care of it.” She disappeared into the palace. Din turned to you. “I’m sorry this happened.” You scoffed, “This is what happens when you leave me at home.”

He shifted his weight, “Well...”

You held up your hands. “No ‘wells’ — you’re not leaving me home again.” He shrugged awkwardly. You took off after Boba, leaving everyone else in the hanger.

***

You nursed Boba back to health slowly. He was back on the throne the next day as a show of strength, but he was in pain for weeks after. You hovered around him, viciously protective. Even Fennec’s eyes were sharper than normal.

At night you laid next to him, waiting to see if he would need anything. You woke up exhausted often. You kept him happy in all the ways you could think of. You rode him carefully when he wanted to fuck, refusing to let him get on top. You held him to you when he was drifting off, refusing to let go.

Finally he was healed. You touched his blaster scar, the newest of many on his body. He twitched, “Don’t tickle me.” You smiled. Only in bed with you would he use the word “tickle.”

“Just appreciating that it’s fully healed.” He hmmed at you. He opened his eyes. “I can think of other ways you can appreciate I’m fully healed.” You smiled, biting your lip. “Can I be on top now?” He traced your lips with a finger. You sighed, “I suppose so.”

He rolled over onto you, spreading your legs with a knee. He slipped in between your thighs, already erect. You spread them further, anticipating. He growled softly, licking your throat. He bit you softly as he entered you. You moaned with pleasure, feeling him stretch you. He started to fuck you, softly. You were surprised. Was he still in pain? He kissed you on the mouth, then. You put your hands on either side of his face, enjoying the sweet kiss. He picked up the pace slightly. You urged him on. He smiled against your lips, “So eager to get fucked, pet?”

“Yes,” you retorted.

“Did you miss it?”

”Yes,” you started to pant. He increased the pace again, until you were cooing into his ear. You felt yourself about to cum, pussy starting to clutch around him. You gripped his shoulders. “Riduur...” you called out as you came, waves of pleasure emanating from your pussy. Your limbs turned to jelly as you tried to hang on. He grunted and bit your throat, fucking you in a frenzied pace. He nuzzled his face into your neck and came deep in you as you continued to coo sweet nothings in his ear. You laid like that for a moment, you telling him all sorts of secrets that pass between lovers at these moments. Finally he rolled off you. He had a gentle expression, almost vulnerable. You snuggled into him. “What is it?”

“I was... terrified when I saw you come out of the ceiling, you know.”

”No faith in me, huh?”

”It’s not like that. I admit, it took skill and courage to get us all out.”

“Then let me play with the big kids.”

“Will you at least listen to me when I ask you to pull back? You don’t need to be first.” You thought of the Daesha and your dog fight. You swallowed down a lump in your throat; so far she was unretrievable.

“We’ll get Daesha back, cyar’ika.” Boba touched your chin with his hand.

“Maybe,” you sighed. “I don’t need to be first, you’re right.” You looked into his warm eyes.

“Then it’s finally settled,” he said softly. You smiled brightly. “So, how’re we going to get Daesha back?” He returned the smile and opened his mouth to speak.

[darecruit]

Do you have any snippets from when you working on the old version of OA? Bits that you cut, bits that you wrote but didn’t get the chance to use? I’m so curious about the camping scenes

I have a scene from the camping trip, when all of the teens get into trouble! And I also have another scene between Rachel and Shelby, Shelby spanks R again for going somewhere without her mom knowing....don't know that I'll ever make that a real scene in the rewrite. Definitely the Jack scene with the kids, but not sure Shelby's scene is really fair.

Anyway, enough talk. Here's the scenes:

The Camping Trip

Jack quickened his pace at the sound of splashing and laughter coming from the lake. He approached the edge of the lake and shook his head at the sight of the four teenagers. He was just about to call to them when his flashlight beam illuminated a fallen log nearby and the small pile of beer cans littered around it. Anger overwhelmed him as he turned back to stare at the teens.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE ALL DOING?”

Rachel gasped at the booming voice coming from the shore; scared eyes turned to her cousins and she could see the terror reflected in their eyes despite the darkness.

“Dad,” JJ gasped.

“GET YOUR BUTTS OUT OF THERE! NOW!” Jack yelled.

He could hear more splashing as arms and legs pounded the water and the kids swam towards his voice. They stepped onto the sand one after the other, each wearing a matching expression of guilt and nervousness.

Without a word, Jack strode over to the log and picked up an empty Bud Light can. He held it up for the teens to see.

“I could maybe let the late night swimming go, but drinking, guys? What were you thinking?” he said, his voice hard.

Rachel squirmed and hung her head; she didn’t like the look on her uncle’s face. A quick glance around and it was clear neither did her cousins. No one said anything.

“Someone better start talking or I’m gonna start busting butts!” Jack roared. He threw the can back down with the others and lit up each kid’s face in turn.

When no one spoke up, Jack sighed and made his decision. “Fine, we can do this the hard way,” he ground out, grabbing for the nearest teen.

Lexi let out a startled gasp as she was hauled towards her father. “Daddy, no!” she pleaded, finding herself staring down at the ground as her dad tucked her under his arm.

“Dad, wait!” JJ spoke up. “It was my idea. I-I thought it’d be fun to go swimming and…and we didn’t drink that much, honest.”

“Not that much? There’s more cans here between the four of you than there was when the adults were drinking at dinner!” Jack bellowed, his eyes once again falling on the pile. He figured there were at least two six-packs’ worth of empty cans on the ground around their feet.

“Dad,” JJ began again, his heart thundering inside his chest, “Please, it was all my fault. If you’re gonna be angry with someone about the drinking, it…it should be me.”

“I’m angry with all of you for drinking. You each decided to make a bad decision tonight, and you will all be held accountable for that,” Jack answered, his attention turning back to his youngest still bent under his arm.

After a moment’s deliberation, Jack yanked the girl’s bikini bottoms down to just below the crease of her backside and elicited another gasp from the girl. He wanted to make an impression, as well as keep things fair for all involved, and a bare bottom was the best way to achieve both.

He raised his hand and let it fall hard and fast onto his daughter’s bottom. “What you all did was stupid and dangerous! No one knew you were gone. What if something had happened?”

Jack ignored Lexi’s gasps and cries, stopping only after he administered a full twenty. He righted her bathing suit and stood her up before motioning for her to stand off to the side.

“And drinking! You could have drowned!” he continued his lecture, a hand darting out for the next child.

“Uncle Jack, please! We didn’t mean—” Haley cut off as she found herself in the same position that Lexi had just been in.

Jack bared the second bottom and went to work setting it ablaze. He held nothing back as he smacked his hand down again and again, counting to twenty in his head.

Haley yelped and stomped her feet, tears coming quickly. She grabbed onto her uncle’s pants’ leg to keep herself from reaching back. His hard hand spoke volumes and made her regret her actions immediately. She was relieved to be let go and scurried over to join Lexi.

“None of you are anywhere near old enough to be drinking. You don’t know how your bodies will react to it!” Jack scolded, his attention now turning to his youngest niece.

Rachel gulped when her uncle’s angry eyes fell on her. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jack!” she said as she was pulled over to his side.

Tears were already falling as she was bent over and she whimpered when her uncle yanked down her bathing suit bottoms. The embarrassment of being on display in from of him and her cousins was short-lived, replaced with the desperate desire to get away from the steel-covered hand now smacking her bottom.

“Ow! Ouch!” she cried. Her backside burned and Rachel was certain her wet skin was making the whole thing ten times worse.

Jack reached his count quickly and righted Rachel’s clothes before sending her off to join the others. He turned to his son, his face grim as he rubbed his palm against the side of his pants’ leg. It was burning and he wanted nothing more than to be finished with this business.

“To me, son,” he told the boy.

JJ grimaced but went to his father without hesitation. He was feeling incredibly guilty, having had to watch first his little sister and then his cousins be spanked for what was his idea in the first place.

Jack made quick work of pinning his son to his side while pulling down the boy’s swim trunks. He ignored the stinging of his own palm, wanting to make sure he spanked JJ just as hard as he had the girls.

The father sighed in relief as he doled out the last swat of the evening. He shook his hand out as he let JJ up, looking over the four crying teenagers in front of him.

“Alright, kids, pick up your trash and let’s get back to camp,” he said with a tired sigh.

The teens hurried to do as they were told and followed Jack back to camp in silence. They were all eager to get to their tents and inspect their bottoms.

And here's Shelby/Rachel scene:

“But Uncle Jack already spanked us last night!” Rachel exclaimed.

“I know he did. He spanked you for drinking and then swimming in the lake. The spanking I’m about to give you is for going off without permission—again.”

“No one else is getting another spanking,” the girl argued.

“They didn’t break my rule,” Shelby stated.

“But Mom, that’s not fair!”

“It is fair. This is the fifth time you’ve broken this rule, Rachel. I’m done going over this again and again. This time, young lady, I am going to get through to you,” said Shelby.

“Mommy, please,” Rachel whined, her eyes pleading.

“Let’s go,” was all Shelby said, taking Rachel’s hand and leading her into the master bedroom.

“Everyone will hear,” Rachel tried again, hoping for leniency.

“Everyone is outside and will be for at least an hour. We have plenty of time to handle this,” Shelby replied, shutting the door behind them.

She grabbed her hairbrush on the dresser on the way to the bed, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and promises. She took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled Rachel in between her knees.

“I love you more than anything, Rachel, but I won’t let you get away with blatantly breaking my rules. You are going to remember this punishment and this lesson.”

“No, please! I promise I’ll never go anywhere without permission again. Please. You don’t have to do this,” Rachel begged, her eyes focused on the hairbrush still in her mother’s hands. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what her mom planned to do with it, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

“You’ve promised me that before, and here we are again. I’m sorry, Rach, but you have earned this spanking. It’s happening,” Shelby said, her voice stern despite her breaking heart.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Rachel broke, tears falling quickly as her mom guided her over her lap.

Shelby placed the hairbrush on the bed behind her and then steeled her resolve and lowered her daughter’s shorts and underwear. She rubbed Rachel’s bottom for a moment, glad to see that her skin was perfectly white again, without a trace of the pink blush from the previous night.

“Rachel, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Shelby began, resting her hand atop the girl’s rear end. “I need to know where you are at all times. I know you may not fully understand, but it’s for your own safety. You are a child—my child—and as my child, I have the right to know where you are and who you are with. You cannot go off and do as you please whenever you want to, especially without my knowledge.”

“I know, Mom. I’m so sorry,” Rachel sniffed.

“I know you’re sorry, honey, but sorry isn’t going to cut it. You’re sorry every time you break this rule, and yet we are still here dealing with it. And maybe part of that is my fault. Perhaps I was too lenient with you the last two times it happened, but I thought our talks had gotten through to you. I can see now that they didn’t. I won’t make that same mistake this time, Rachel,” Shelby said.

“Mommy, please—” Rachel started, sucking in a breath as the spanking began without warning.

“Ow! No! NO!” she yelped, wiggling back and forth at the onslaught. Her mother was spanking quickly, her swats hard and precise.

Shelby kept her spanks at medium-strength as she covered the entirety of Rachel’s bottom and start of thighs. She wanted to give the girl a thorough warm-up so when she switched to the hairbrush in a moment, she wouldn’t bruise her child’s skin. She hated the thought of paddling Rachel with her brush, but Shelby needed to make this a memorable punishment so she wouldn’t have to repeat it a sixth time. She wasn’t sure she could do this again.

Shelby didn’t say anything as she peppered her daughter’s bottom. She had said all that she needed to before, and Rachel knew what she had done wrong and why she was in this position. Besides, words hadn’t seemed to get through to the girl before and Shelby was tired of giving the same lecture over and over. This time, her hand and hairbrush would do the talking; it would do Rachel good to focus on her spanking without her mother’s words interfering.

Rachel whined and cried, begging her mother to stop. Her bottom felt as if a thousand bees had stung her. She was feeling extremely sorry for herself, hating that she was being spanked for the second time in less than twelve hours.

“M-Mom, please stop!” she cried, throwing a hand behind her.

Shelby ignored her daughter’s pleas and caught Rachel’s hand in her own, pinning it gently behind the girl’s back.

“This next part is going to hurt, Rachel, I won’t lie to you. You can’t reach your hands back; I don’t want to risk hitting them by accident. Do you understand?” Shelby said, her voice gentle.

Rachel’s struggling increased, as did her tears. “No, no, no! Please don’t!” she cried. “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry! I’ll be good!”

Shelby choked back tears of her own as she listened to her baby cry and promise to be good. She wanted so much to forgo this punishment, but knew she would regret it if she did. As hard as it was to dole out, Shelby knew she had to go through with it for Rachel. It was dangerous for Rachel to constantly go off without Shelby’s knowledge. Anything could happen to her girl and Shelby would never forgive herself if something ever did. A well-spanked bottom was worth the pain they were both feeling now if it meant keeping Rachel safe in the long run.

The mother picked up the brush and tapped it lightly against Rachel’s pink bottom. “Why are you getting this spanking, Rachel?” she asked.

“Please, Mom, it hurts! It hurts! I’m sorry!” Rachel cried, kicking her legs against the mattress.

Shelby closed her eyes and asked for strength. She knew logically that Rachel was fine and not hurting anywhere near as much as she was saying. Her bottom was barely pink and the girl was simply being dramatic. Shelby was sure the threat of the looming hairbrush was scaring her girl—it was meant to. Yes it would hurt, and she’d have a sore, red bottom that would burn like fire at the end of it all, but Rachel would survive.

“Let’s not draw this out, baby. Why are you getting this spanking?” Shelby repeated.

“B-Because I left camp and you didn’t k-k-know!” Rachel wailed.

“That’s right,” Shelby nodded, raising the brush. She gave her girl two quick spanks, not overly hard, but she knew they hurt plenty.

“And why is that wrong?” she continued, tapping Rachel’s bottom again.

“I need your per-permission!” said Rachel. “You need to know where I a-am!”

“Correct, Rachel,” said Shelby. “I am the mom. You are the kid. You need to ask and let me know where you are, always. Got it?”

“Yes! Yes, Mom, I swear! Please!”

“Let’s finish this now,” Shelby said, releasing Rachel’s pinned arm so she could wrap her own arm around the girl’s waist and pull her close. She wanted to keep the girl in place so she didn’t get hurt, as well as to provide some much-needed comfort.

The mother took a steadying breath before raising the brush. She exhaled and then swung her arm down. The brush hit the middle of Rachel’s left cheek, leaving a pink blotch in its wake.

Shelby eased into a rhythm, being careful not to hit too hard. Each spank landed with a loud crack that made Rachel jump and cry out. Shelby watched the girl’s reactions and the state of her bottom closely, not wanting to go overboard. Rachel’s bottom was quickly darkening to a dusty pink, but they weren’t done yet.

Rachel was fighting hard against her mother and the horrible hairbrush she wielded. It burned her skin as nothing ever had, and the girl was sure she would never sit down comfortably again.

Rachel was overwhelmed by the intense stinging in her bottom. She was still feeling sorry for herself, and part of her was angry with her mother for dealing with her so sternly, but guilt was quickly creeping in to churn within her mind.

Her thoughts turned to the other times she had gone off without her mom’s knowledge and her stomach flip-flopped at the memories. Her mother was always so scared when she didn’t know where Rachel was, and became angry and upset each time Rachel broke her rule.

It suddenly occurred to the girl that she wasn’t so much breaking a rule as much as she was breaking a promise to her mother—her mother that tried her hardest not to break promises to Rachel. The guilt Rachel had been feeling tripled and her tears turned to sobs. In an instant, Rachel went limp over her mom’s lap and accepted her fate.

Shelby was relieved when Rachel finally went limp—it meant she had reached her limit. The mother threw the brush to the other end of the bed and finished off with four hand spanks to each of her daughter’s sit-spots.

[samcrobae]

Taken

“Papi, you can’t keep doing this,” you softly say to your fiancé as you clean the gash across his cheek. “You’re going to get yourself hurt Angel Reyes, and I need you here to make it to our wedding”.

“It ain’t even that bad querida. You know those fools like to act tough every chance they get. Always gotta fuck with us. It was the prospects fault though. I was just backing him up.”

“Yeah yeah whatever it is, please don’t let it happen again—until AFTER our wedding mi amor.” You gently kiss his forehead. “Okay all done.”

“Mmm you take such good care of me mi dulce.” He stood up and hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Come to bed with me.” His hands begin roaming your body, hands run along your sides, grabbing at your breasts, butt, and thighs.

———————————

“Take Boy Scout with you. I’d feel better.” Angel spoke as he sipped from his coffee mug.

“Angel, I’m going to work, I don’t need a baby sitter. No offense, EZ.” EZ holds up his hands “none taken Y/N”.

Angel looks over at you with a warning glance, “I said take the Boy Scout with you. When you gonna start being an obedient wife? Everytime I tell you something you got some shit back to say. Only time you ever listen is when you’re on your knees for me...I tell you take him with, take him with!”

“Oh fuck off Angel you always gotta take shit to another level.” You spat back.

EZ sat in an uncomfortable silence as he watched the two of you go back and forth.

“Fine whatever, I’m leaving in 10 minutes.” You finally agree. When you were ready you head to your car and notice EZ’s glance is across the street. “Everything okay?”

He snaps his head back to look at you, “yeah don’t look but there’s been a van parked out there all morning. Noticed it when I got here, it’s still here now. Just be on alert when you head in today. Shit with the Swole Boys is kinda messy and I don’t know how far they’ll take it.”

Pulling into the parking lot, you turn to look at EZ. You don’t have to come in and stay all day, I’m working an 8.5 hour shift today so if You wanna come back later that’s fine.”

“Sorry Y/N, Angel wants me with you, I gotta stay on you.” Pointing at the stitching on his kutte that reads ‘PROSPECT’, “I don’t make the rules”.

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. “Fine, if you get hungry or want some coffee come on in. I’ll come get you when I’m on my lunch break.

———————————————

Your shift was coming to an end with only 2 hours left. You heard the bell of the diner ding and watched as 3 men walked over to a corner booth. You head over to their table “hey guys can I get you started on something to drink?”

“There’s our favorite biker bitch.” One spat.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” The other said.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask.

“Easy sweetheart, lose the attitude. Fast. I’ll take a coffee. Black. Cheeseburger . You on the side.” One of them says as he winks at you.

You head to the kitchen to get the coffee and put in their orders. Pulling out your cell you dial EZ’s number. “Come on EZ, come on...” no answer. You glance over at the front booth and are confused to see it’s empty. Where did they go? You needed to get EZ in here quick, but didn’t want to draw attention to yourself in case they were hanging out front. You step out the back entrance when you feel a hard bit to the back of your head and your world goes black.

———————————————————-

EZ shakes his head and rubs his eyes awake. He fell asleep. Shit. What time is it? He looks over at the radio clock “11:47PM.” Wait where’s Y/N? She was supposed to be out by now. Looking at his phone he notices 2 missed calls from you. Looking back at the diner, the lights are now off. He calls you back but no answer. Straight to voicemail. Fuck.

He jumps out of the car and runs to the entrance to get a look inside but sees nothing. Angel was going to murder him if he came home without you. He dials your number again-voicemail. Panicking, he dials Coco.

“Boy Scout.”

“Coco, listen to me man, stay calm. Don’t react. Are you with Angel?”

“Yeah on our way back now.”

“Something’s wrong, I can’t find Y/N. I was supposed to be with her. I fell asleep. I woke up and she’s gone man, her shift ended hours ago, diners closed and she’s not here. Look this morning there was a van outside Angel’s house. I think whoever was in that van has her.”

“What the fuck prospect!” Coco yells.

“Wait is that my brother? What’s wrong ? Y/N okay? Gimme the phone.” Angel snatches the phone from Coco. “Ezekiel, what’s going on?”

“Angel, I-I’m... Y/N. I can’t find her. I think someone took her..I fell asleep......” the rest of what he’s saying fades out as Angels ears begin to ring, his blood is boiling, clenching his jaw and his fist, he throws coco’s phone across the back of the truck as hard as he could, shattering the phone to pieces.

“Angel what the fuck?!” Gilly, Riz, and creeper sat in the back of the truck with Angel and watched as he lost his temper.

When they pulled into the yard, EZ was there waiting for them. Angel jumped out of the truck, a rage in his eyes. Darting straight at EZ he grabs him by his shirt and flings him to the ground “you fell asleep?!!!! I asked you to keep her safe. Watch her. And you fell asleep?! I can’t even trust my baby brother!” The two wrestle on the gravel til Bishop motions at Gilly “break that shit up.”

“Alright let’s talk facts. We just had a run in with Swole Boys. Has to be them. Retaliation. Prospect, what do you know?” Bishop asked.

“Not much. There was a van parked outside their house this morning when I pulled into the driveway. Still there when I left with Y/N to head in with her. Nothing after that. Nothing at the diner either. I fell asleep in the car. When I woke up she was gone.i got a look at the plate number QBZ1789”

Angels fists clenched at his words. “Next time prospect, lead with that.”

Bishop held his hand up, “Creep, run the plates. See if we get a match to our friends. Prospect, you made a careless mistake and fell asleep. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t let this messy shit happen again. If it does you’re out.”

Angel rose from his seat. “If anything happens to her EZ, it’s on you.”

“Got a match!” Creeper came back.

—————————————-

When you woke up, you were on the floor in a basement , unable to fully open your right eye, a busted lip keeping you from opening your mouth to call for help. All you could do was whimper out.

“Rise and shine sweetheart” there was a man with a blue hoodie approaching you. He stopped when he was towering above you, delivering a swift kick to your side. You cried out and fell over, “please stop..”

“Wheres your bitch boyfriend now? Nowhere in sight.. now, what do we do with you? Gonna have to think on this.”

He heads back up stairs and shuts the door behind him.

Finally, what felt like hours later, you hear quick and loud pops from upstairs. Followed by chairs and furniture being dragged across the floor. The door handle jiggles but doesn’t open and your heart is in your feet as you’re unsure what’s awaiting on the other side. Whoever was on the other side shoots the lock open and slowly creeps down. It’s hard to make out what’s happening in the darkness. You hear the familiar sound of heavy boots dragging across the floor and you run to one side of the room you’re in and start banging on the door with all the strength you could muster up. The door handle breaks off and the door opens up to reveal Coco on the other side.

“Shit- Angel! Angel! I got her!” Heads turn and angel runs to the door you’re standing at.

“Angel...” tears stream down your face and he brings you into him.

“Baby.... baby I’m so sorry... I got you. It’s okay. I got you. Let me see you.”

He takes your face in his hands and examines your wounds. “Did they do anything else?”

You shake your head no.

“I’m so sorry. I should have been there, this is my fault. I love you. I love you so much. This will never happen again querida.”

“Can we go home?” You mumble through a swollen lip.

“Yeah, let’s go home mi dulce”.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you out the house and into the truck, heading back to the home the two of you shared.

@briannab1234 @cind-in-real-life @sickofbitches