#so now they are useful bargaining tools 😈

[celestialflights]

i'm going out for lunch with some friends today and this was the picture i sent them this business proposition

[beth-march]

Oh, you did, did ya? For the OTP asks. #28 😈 for Ethan/Cassie 😏

Thank you so much, my love, I knew I could count on you!

I'm putting this under the cut because it's mildly suggestive. It's also 760 words which we aren't going to talk about because it was supposed to be under 300. Suffice it to say I am very eager to talk about Essie. ALSO, I straight up took like one (1) word from the prompt and ran with it rather than actually paying attention to the whole sentence. I don't know what happened there, I'm sorry!

28. Write a ~300 fantasy one of them has about the other.

Cassie would never say it out loud, because she knows nobody would believe her, but Ethan prompts a sort of awakening in her. Her friends assume that lust is something she came into acquaintance with long ago. The same point at which she surrendered to its persistent tapping at her door. But she has always known desire as something external; something to happen to her, rather than something she’s partaken in.

Things are different now. Tentative, always tentative, in the way that has characterised this relationship from the beginning. Cassie used to think of sex as a way in, a secret power, a bargaining tool. I give you this, you tell me you love me. Naivety balms the truth, for a while, that their words are not offered with sincerity. Experience, with Ethan, makes her realise a second and more surprising truth, in that neither is the sex.

She never would’ve thought of her previous efforts as half-hearted - not when she was so earnest in everything she gave up, not when she was so compliant about getting on her knees, splitting them open. But nothing she did before compares to how she feels now.

How she wants now. Cassie finds herself distracted by the thought of it. She didn’t used to fantasise about boys - she only ever wished for their attention, for their eyes on her, on whatever part of her struck their fancy. Now she sits in class and her mind wanders to lewd places, except they don’t even feel salacious, not when she thinks of Ethan’s way of interweaving softness with sensuality. He’s in the habit of pressing kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks; he’s worshipful of her in a way that makes her burst out with laughter because it’s so strange to be complimented with such eager ardour, because she’s unused to being showered with praise during and after putting out, as well as before.

She’s trying not to grin, trying to ignore the sudden stirring in her lower gut. Ethan’s parents are strict about study schedules and Cassie has gotten into better habits, joining him in study sessions. Insecure as she gets, she often asks for his help, and most of the time, she discovers that she doesn’t need it. She’s naturally bright, even if nobody has ever drawn attention to it - nobody except for Ethan. She thinks about that awed look he gets, one she’s known all her life, but it’s never been so glittery, it’s never been so warm.

“What do you keep coming to me for?” he asks, the third time she nudges him shyly and points out another question for him to double check, another question for him to confirm she’s gotten right. “You don’t need me, smarty pants.”

And it isn’t sexy. Cassie knows that, objectively. So does Ethan - he realises how ridiculous it is, himself. He’s coughing out a laugh even as he says it. She appreciates his self-deprecation with layers she knows she shouldn’t; she feels safe, secure in the knowledge that he doesn’t think he’s better than her. He’s never talking down to her. He’s as incredulous about the possibility of her loving him as she is about the possibility of him loving her.

He does love her. Not even Cassie can doubt it, with how bright he is around her, how open and giving his affection is. She gets breathy by mistake and not orchestration, and she’s not sexy about it with her furrowed brows, her dumbstruck look, as she asks him, “You think I’m smart?”

He scoffs, says, “Of course I think you’re smart! I talk to you every day.”

Cassie pounces. It’s novel; she’s never been the one to lead before. She hardly ever got on top. But now she finds herself sprawling herself over Ethan, pinning him down, pouring herself into his kiss. She straddles his hips, grasps his face, slithers up the bed until her legs are framing his face - 

“Cassandra,” Maddy hisses, elbowing her hard in the ribs. It’s disorienting, returning to reality, a classroom full of restless peers, ignoring a droning teacher. 

Everything seems muted, mundane, except for how vivid Maddy’s glare is.

“Sorry,” Cassie says. She means to be discreet, but she’s anything but, glowing scarlet in her thoughts of Ethan’s hands. How they trail up to lean muscles, arms that bracket her, that hold her steady while she comes apart in his hold…

She shakes her own head, trying to disperse her train of thought. She turns determinedly to her books, resolute in ignoring the knowing smirk that Maddy has turned on her.