#and i've lost the touch of letting a character unravel

[bigbrotherlouis]

i need to put FIRST DRAFTS ARE FOR GETTING WORDS ON THE PAPER somewhere prominent while i'm writing

[daedalusdavinci]

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you." twomatch. or whatever. i never remeber that ship name

ive done this prompt before with these exact same characters, but i really like it, and its been a while, so im going to give a rewrite a swing. maybe my writings improved

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you," Matches says, but there's a smirk on his lips as he pulls Two Face back against the brickwork.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have sidetracked me," Two Face says, the same playfulness reflected back in how he lets the warmth of their bodies collide, lips almost touching, but not quite. It's a tease, knuckles brushing against Matches's cheek as his smile hovers close to the corner of his mouth, but doesn't close the distance- not yet.

Two Face loves the way Matches grins in moments like this, caught somewhere between that cocksure, sly amusement, and the more genuine fondness that burns underneath it. Calloused palms smooth across Two Face's chest, bold and burning, and then his fingers hook into Two Face's vest again, keeping him in close. He touches Two Face like he has ownership on it, always unfaltering and unapologetic in the way he draws him in. "Ain't it your job to keep me on track? You're the boss, aren't you?"

"Since when have you ever done what I've asked?"

"When you ask real pretty," he says, so smug and cocky that Two Face ought to shoot him, if he wasn't so fucking smitten. As it is, his fingers pull on Two Face's vest, and finally, Two Face gives, meeting him in a kiss.

It's the kiss that really betrays Two Face. It's so slow and filled with warmth, there's no mistaking the affection he hides so poorly, instantly marking him as one of those few villains stupid enough to allow himself love. He kisses Matches like he loves him, catching him in the little moments they manage to steal with the foolish, doting affection of a husband welcoming a partner home after some time away. It's one of the stupidest things he's ever done, especially with a henchman as difficult to tie down as Matches.

But Matches already knows. For his part, the way he touches Two Face is where all of his bluster falls apart, the hand that rises to cup the side of Two Face's neck too gentle for the careless attitude he puts on. He touches Two Face like something delicate, sometimes- like something he's already lost, and will spend the rest of his life putting back together. If Matches doesn't love Two Face, then it must be something like it, because he cares too much for anyone in their line of work.

When they part, Two Face can still feel Matches's smile, brushed into the corner of his mouth as their foreheads lean together. "Ask me something," Matches says. His thumb follows the divot of a thick patch of scarring on Two Face's neck, his shoulders against the brick, his back arched into Two Face just to press a little closer. The twist of his mouth is like a dare, sly and tempting, and Two Face has never been good at avoiding his traps.

Two Face steps into it: "Come home with me." He wants to put his hands in Matches's shirt and watch the way he unravels in his sheets. He can picture Matches with coffee in hand and the warm light of the kitchen on his face, and he wants it, wants to step away from the chaos and danger of being a villain for a night and fall into Matches for as long as he'll let him. Sometimes it makes him feel mad, the way he wants Matches- like a sailor following a siren call, irrational with a desire he didn't know he had. He never seems to get anything done with Matches around, and most maddening of all, he never really minds.

Matches's smile cracks into a grin. He kisses Two Face again, pushing away from the wall and into him this time, hands sliding into his jacket to his sides. "You gonna make that curry of yours?"

"Darling, I'll make you whatever you want, if you slow down enough to eat it," Two Face teases.

Matches hums, leaning into his hold as his arms go around him and nosing at his jaw. "Mm, I can think of something I wanna eat."

Two Face's laugh is rough and snorting. It's a terrible laugh, like a lifetime of smoking glass shards echoed in a harsh rasp, but Matches seems to adore it, pecking a kiss under his jawline. "Come on. Take me home."

"Now I'm just doing what you want," Two Face says, amused. Still, he steps back out of their embrace, his hand slipping to catch on Matches's. When they walk, they walk together, calloused fingers tangled tight in his own.

[bestworstcase]

Hi, I've been enjoying your essays on Salem immensely and your theories about Summer have got me hoping we will get to see her again. A thought popped into my head recently: do you think it might be possible for Ruby to choose a new emblem at some point? Her emblem is the same as Summer's except for color. She's starting to learn that she doesn't know as much about her mother as she thought and that maybe she shouldn't aspire to become the hero she thought that Summer was. So what if part of Ruby discovering herself came in the form of an emblem change? I guess it's a long shot, since the show hasn't touched directly on the emblems very much, but this particular one carries explicit narrative significance...

i think she might modify the brooch in some way—maybe take a leaf out of yang’s book and paint it?—to really make it hers.

this is smth i talked about while v9 was airing but the core problem ruby had to face in the ever after is that because she lost her mom at just the right age to have indistinct, amorphous memories of summer and grew up hearing about summer as this fairytale hero (who was just! like! ruby!), ruby is alienated from herself—her "memory" of summer is really more of a projected idealized form of herself.

we glimpse this in v6/v7 with ruby visualizing her own feelings personified in summer rose (+ the character model being a barely tweaked clone of ruby, which is not, as v9 reveals, what summer rose actually looked like—the low effort v6/v7 model may have just been a budget/time consideration but even if it was they leveraged it narratively to great effect) and ruby asking qrow what he thinks summer would have done in her shoes when she’s doubting herself. but the ever after pulls it to the surface and confronts her with it.

(this is also sort of what’s going on with penny’s sword, incidentally… it wasn’t literally penny’s sword that fell into the ever after somehow, it was an outward physical manifestation of her grief in the form of a sword because ruby’s the "weapons are extensions of ourselves" girl)

ANYWAY the point being, ruby sacrificing the brooch is what precipitates her katabasis in the last arc of v9 because she is, at the same time, letting go of summer but also rejecting herself, because her idea of summer is really her own reflection disguised as what she wants to be (<- STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS.) and then crescent rose shocks her and ruby just unravels. take the image, the icon of summer from her and she has no idea who she is.

that separation from the burning rose was necessary but (as surmised in the linked post) it’s equally crucial that ruby took it back in the end, first because it’s the one real thing she has from her mother and that’s important to her and second because it is also very much ruby’s symbol now—summer left it behind fourteen years ago and it’s belonged to ruby ever since.

the key is that she needs to detangle her own identity from the idea of summer rose—smooth out the funhouse mirror so she can see herself (and her mother) as she truly is. which is a different kind of challenge than stepping out from her mother’s shadow; ruby isn’t struggling to assert that she isn’t like summer; she needs to realize summer wasn’t (isn’t) her, that when she imagines summer she’s really picturing herself without all the qualities she doesn’t like about herself.

it’s the reversal of the standard trope, which would generally end with the child discarding their parent’s identity and symbols to forge their own. i think for ruby it’s going to be similar to what jaune does with his shield after the fall of beacon, having it reforged with the image of her diadem worked into it as a way of both honoring her memory and claiming the family shield as his own. keeping the brooch but modifying it with her own touches, like by painting it or maybe casting a copy, allows for that same sort of balance between memorial and new beginning. which is also in keeping with what the burning rose itself symbolizes narratively, so it works on that level as well.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: dark content (self-harm)

masterlist

a/n: By no means do I condone self-harm or want to glorify it in the light of this chapter. As a person who struggled with physical self-harm in her early teens, I know the destructive nature of this type of activity. However, as my characters are not perfect and complicated, I see this particular mode of action as something she would try to do in order to alleviate her pain and confusion. If you have questions or concerns, my inbox is always open to having a discussion about it.

If you so wish, you may skip this chapter altogether. There will be a recap on the next one if you choose to skip for your mental health. Take care of yourselves and see you soon. (ALSO, I know I promised smut but I gotta give y'all a raincheck this go-round. SORRY PLS DON'T KILL ME)

You're on your forty-seventh file of scandals, coverups, and secret dossiers that you finally feel it. The fabric of your identity begins to unravel right before your eyes.

Everything you've known is a lie.

The CSB has covered up so many things. So many lives lost. So many people forced to flee. So many families ripped apart--

An email makes its way over to the server, and you open it, the words across the screen coming from Suguru.

I know it's late, but send over Yu Haibara's files when you can.

You hit the reply button and begin to type out: "You mean the boy you killed?" but you stop yourself, deleting the words rapidly. Instead, you attach the files and send them over, not even bothering to look at them. You can't do it. Not another file could be stored away in the annals of your brain.

Nothing is as it seems anymore. The lies... they pile up in your mind, flooding the spaces where you used to hold what you thought was true, what you thought was real. Now, they're overflowing out of your brain and into your heart and soul, plaguing you like the nightmares that face you down night after night, more like demons that lurk in the corners of your mind than full file cabinets.

You always wake up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, one of your various enemies' faces hovering over you right before you stare down the barrel of a gun and --

You stumble out of the chair, eyes wet with tears, and go to the sink in the bathroom to wash your face. After you splash water on your skin, you look up at your reflection, anger rolling through you at the way you look. Weak.

You're fucking weak.

The voice in your head that usually told you that you were doing okay, that you had it all under control, is now turning on you, spitting nasty words that stick in between the synapses of your brain a muddy your rational thoughts.

The voices rise to a fever pitch, and you suddenly see red, the entirety of the world descending into blood-colored madness. The shattering of the glass mirror only becomes a reality when you're standing above the sink, chest heaving as your thoughts silence one by one, like shutting off lights in a house.

But only one stays behind as a shard of the mirror clinks into the sink.

Escape.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

You could get rid of the feelings here. You could get rid of the thoughts. You could escape. Why hadn't you thought about this before?

"Do it."

Your fingers grip the jagged shard of glass carefully, and before you can stop yourself, you drag it across the inside of your wrist, end to end, leaving behind a red line of blood that immediately blooms. Crimson dots drop into the sink, and you stare at the color, mesmerized by the way the blood runs down your arm and into the porcelain bowl. But there's no relief.

No sense of freedom.

Maybe you didn't do it hard enough?

Maybe you didn't--

The door to your room slams open, and you turn your head just as Suguru comes rushing into the bathroom. The shard of glass is still in your hand, as well as the blood running down your arm, and Suguru catches this immediately.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you turn to him, shard extended.

"Don't come any closer."

"Y/n," he calmly whispers. "You don't look so good."

"I wonder why that is," you reply, and Suguru stares back at you, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like, Suguru?" you state in a trance. Your bullet wound begins to throb dully, but you ignore it, just like you're ignoring the blood dripping onto the tile flooring.

"Y/n, let's think about this."

"I don't want to think anymore!" The shrill scream is loud enough to make Suguru flinch, and you softly repeat, "I don't want to think anymore," over and over again as tears run down your face.

"I know," Suguru whispers. "I know. Will you let me help you?" You hiccup and drop the piece of glass to the floor, dissolving in a heap of tears and moans. You feel hands pulling you up from the floor and into strong arms, your head being cradled against a broad chest you've felt before. "Go ahead," Suguru encourages you. "Cry it out."

He carries you to another room in the building in silence, laying you on a firm bed and disappearing as you heave painful sobs into the sheets.

"Everything... hurts..." you gasp, and when Suguru reappears with a white bundle of cloth, a bandage roll, and some water, he nods.

"We're going to make it better, don't worry." He takes your injured arm and carefully wipes away the blood, examing the cut slowly. "Doesn't need stitches, thankfully." He turns to open the water bottle and hands it to you, silently telling you to drink while he bandages your wrist.

You drink the water greedily then lean back on the headboard, eyes closing down as Suguru works diligently on your wound. And then you remember the first time he did this for you and the mistake you made in your pridefulness.

"Thank you," you murmur, and Suguru looks up at your face, finally seeing some form of clarity cross your tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replies tenderly. "I have to keep you safe, remember? I promised you that I would." You don't answer him, but he finishes at that exact moment anyways, standing and placing the remnants of the bandage roll on the nightstand. The wound is now covered up completely, with no sign of blood seeping through the cotton and staining the white cloth dark red.

You watch as Suguru crawls into the bed beside you, sighing deeply as he runs his fingers through his locks. "Should I stay awake with you or do you want to try to sleep?"

"Sleep," you answer - albeit not confidently - and the black-eyed man obliges, pulling the thin sheet over you.

"I'll be right here," he affirms, but you reach out your uninjured arm and touch his hand. He instantly turns his palm up to let you grab his fingers, and you pull him closer to you in the king-sized bed.

"Hold me." A second passes with no movement, and Suguru whispers,

"Are you sure?" You nod, and he wordlessly scoots closer, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle into his side with your bandaged hand resting on his chest. His fingers rub a soft pattern up and down your skin, soothing you to the brink of sleep. "I've got you. We'll deal with everything else in the morning," Suguru murmurs as you slip off into a dreamless - and nightmare-less - sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Morning comes and goes.

Midday arrives, and you awaken from your terrorless sleep still encased in Suguru's grasp. Your eyes flick up to his face, which is peaceful in the midday light streaming in from the windows. The Leader of the Fallen Sun District is asleep and dead to the world around him, but the sound of his breathing lets you know he's on the brink of waking up.

Part of you doesn't want him to. You want to lay there without any responsibilities to him, without any concern, or further harm to either one of you. Maybe if you continued to sleep, all of this would become a distant memory. All of this would go away, and you could go back to living in ignorance.

But Suguru's stirring makes you stiffen, and you feel his arms tighten around you before sliding away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," you whisper, and he sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"We need to talk about last night." You sit up as well, staring at the edge of the bed blankly. "Why didn't you tell someone about your declining mental health?"

"I didn't realize it until it was too late," you admit, looking at the bandage on your wrist. "But I won't be doing that again."

"Doesn't matter," Suguru interjects, looking over at you. You choose to avoid his gaze and stare at your feet, inhaling deeply. "I have to have someone watch you now. I want you to be safe, and now I'm not sure if I can ensure that without some oversight on my part."

"No," you exhale quickly, looking over at him in fear. "I'm better now, I promise."

"I'll have someone move a few of your things over here. That way I can keep an eye on you, just in case." Suguru continues, standing from his position on the bed. "I won't bother you. But I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it at all costs." He turns back to you, stating, "Today we'll take a day off and go into the town. I've been wanting to show you around for a while anyway."

You conclude the argument is over when he places a kiss on your temple, then walks into his bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you on the bed alone.

_____________________________________________________________

A car picks both of you up from the building, and when you slide into the backseat, Suguru points to the expanse in the distance.

"Take us to the marketplace." The driver nods, scars running up and down his pale face and his blue eyes looking up at you in the rearview mirror. Does this man even know that he's sitting next to the leader of the Fallen Sun district? Or is Kenjaku a faceless man, hiding behind walls of ones and zeroes?

The scenes that pass by you look identical to those of the city you know and love. There are children playing on the sidewalks, people carrying groceries, life carrying on as if the majority of their names aren't on some rejected list of people who defected from their previous society. Suguru notices your awe at the way things are, and looks over at you, smiling brightly.

"You'd be surprised what you can build from ashes, y/n."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on @sammytamaki @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling

[rosemary-is-in-pesterquest]

okay I gotta get something off my chest about Eridan's pesterquest route cuz I never see anyone get annoyed about it and it drives me nuts. y'know how he talks about liking wearing feminine clothing and talks about gender identity stuff? it's been forever since I've revisited this, but basically, I thought it was super weird the first time I played that route cuz it kind of like... mischaracterizes Alternian society?

like, hear me out cuz this shit gets a little odd. first of all, gender arguably meant very little to the trolls in terms of social restrictions or roles and expectations, and I think that's because of the broader theme of the trolls having different issues than the humans. see, it was always sort of a part joke, part worldbuilding, part social commentary sort of thing, that some things that were a big deal to humans weren't a big deal to trolls, and vise versa. for example, sexuality is basically a non-existent issue for trolls, and due to the way reproduction and genetic diversity works in their species, it's basically impossible for them to care about incest as we know it, and gender doesn't seem to matter as much to them socially when it comes to dating. meanwhile, the humans don't understand anything about the hemospectrum, and the complicated web of issues faced by those lower or higher on that spectrum. we see everyone struggle with their position, from Feferi putting in the work of staving off genocide by keeping her lusus fed, to Equius's trouble reconciling his natural inclination to behave subserviently with his class's expectation that he subjugate those lower on the spectrum, to Vriska's own struggle to survive by ruthless means... high bloods don't necessarily have things easier. but those lower on the hemospectrum are subjected to a lot of cruel systemic threats, which are often the direct result of the expectations that high bloods face. it's all pretty complicated, and the human kids are at a total loss... they have no clue about any of this.

so with that being the case... the things that Eridan was saying about his gender identity just seemed like they were issues imported from human society, rather than issues that would actually manifest that way on Alternia. on Alternia, it's doubtful that anyone would give a shit about gender identity, to the point where I doubt there'd really be much discussion around it. Alternia is kind of a rude and ornery place by nature... part of the joke is that Altenians may be literal aliens called trolls, but their society also produces a population of rude and ornery people that communicate primarily online... making them also internet trolls in the expected sense. therefore, if they find something that they can pick on you for, they will do it. Vriska clearly displays that this is a no-holds-barred kind of bullying, when she harasses Tavros for having a disability that she caused... and that makes cultural sense because Alternia has such a heavy focus on resilience, and physical strength. they're very survival oriented, so making fun of someone for a perceived physical flaw is very in character, no matter how horrible it is. but nobody makes fun of anyone over, say, sexuality. because it is literally unremarkable, and it would not get under anyone's skin to mention it. it's not even out of benevolence that nobody touches that topic... it's literally not on anyone's radar, because it doesn't matter. and I think gender identity is the same way. the only mention of gender I even remember from the trolls in homestuck, was Karkat telling Tavros that he should stop playing games that are for girls... but what Karkat meant was "stop playing games where you're likely to get murdered" because the girls he was talking about were TEREZI AND VRISKA. the game is called FATAL live action role playing, and Vriska explicitly uses the game to KILL PEOPLE. and that's literally the only thing I can remember about the trolls mentioning gender amongst each other. outside of that, it seemed similarly off of their radar, and a lot of the troll girls are so excellent as characters because they aren't subject to the narrative making them adhere to human "girl expectations".

and all of this makes it a lot more transparent that what the writing in Eridan's pesterquest route was really trying to do, was retcon the whole "March Eridan" meme of old, into something more progressive than it actually was. originally, the joke was just "boy in awkward looking drag = funny joke" and/or people finding it hot, which is like... standard fare for that era of fandom, but your mileage may vary on how irritating you find it. they could've just left that whole thing in the past, or just mentioned that he had the outfit in his wardrobe as a cheeky little wink/nudge to people who know what it's getting at... but no. they had to have him go on some lengthy monologue about gender identity, which Eridan in actual homestuck probably wouldn't have thought about for 2 seconds... and then they follow it up with the whole Sollux conflict?!??!!!

I'm sorry, Eridan barely knew Sollux existed and probably would never have given him the time of day before he got involved with Feferi. and Sollux and Feferi similarly had absolutely nothing to do with each other until he saved her as they were entering the medium. he literally died for her, but prior to that, I'm pretty sure they didn't know each other at all. and, and, AND. Sollux mainly needed Feferi as a rebound to help him fill the void left behind when he lost Aradia! Aradia has not died in pesterquest! Sollux has a bit of a thing for girls with chipper demeanors who act as a counterbalance to his negative outlook. but tbh, Aradia is a better fit for him because she acknowledges macabre and depressing things, but doesn't let it get her down. Sollux's troubles are acknowledged with a genuinely warm response, rather than glossed over with a coat of sunny optimism. Feferi tries to help Sollux, but it isn't perfect... and then Eridan crashes into the middle of it all expecting even more wild shit from Feferi, who honestly just can't catch a break.

so basically, if Aradia hasn't died, then Sollux has no reason to be interested in Feferi. and if Sollux isn't interested in Feferi, then Eridan has no reason to give a shit about Sollux. and when you add that to the gender thing... Eridan's whole route totally unravels. I'm not saying I don't support the idea of Eridan being GNC or trans in some way... I'm saying he probably doesn't have an oppression narrative because of it on Alternia. the whole point of the difference between Alternia and Earth standards, is to lampoon the importance of both of their issues, by showing a contrasting society that just doesn't have the hangups that the other side considers to be SO fundamental and SO important. it's like whoever wrote that route didn't understand this at all.

OOOO THIS WAS A VERY INTERESTING READ

[stanzoeywade]

Queen B Mamma Mia AU pt.1

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @minsinclair-lee @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus @begoniathotia @otakufangirl-12 @malvinghlein

Summary: This will be based off the sequel so yeah. Enjoy. Hopefully I do this AU justice lmaooo. This first part will be Chloe St.James centric where she will be the character Harry.

First of all I headcanon Chloe to look like Chloe Grace Moretz, because they kinda look the same with their facial structure and nose shape. You don't have to agree, I'm just saying lol.

•Everything starts with you graduating from Belvoire University. Zoey and Penelope as your two best friends, and as a way of wanting freedom, you decide to go around the world in hopes of finding somewhere to settle down.

• Your first stop is Paris, France - also known as the fashion capital as well as being the famous city of love. You immediately fall for the sights that Paris has to offer, it's beautiful, you can't help but think.

• You stumble your way into a hostel tucked away in a small corner of Paris. You're ringing the bell waiting for a concierge but no one comes, so you decide to go behind the counter to get a key for a room. I mean who's gonna turn down the chance to get a free room amirite?

• This is when you meet Chloe, who's dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. Hair wet and dripping on the staircase. The two of you make eye contact and she immediately tries to explain in broken French and English. You just look at her in amusement, having to bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from laughing. "Je voudrais une spare key, s'il vous plaît." she says desperately hoping you understand. "Je suis locked out ma chambre." she pleads.

• Your eyebrows raise in amusement and you can't help but tease her. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite understand. Can you please repeat that?." you say in English. She quickly repeats her broken French until she realises, and she stares at you with a deadpan expression.

• "I don't work here." you quickly explain. She looks at you, curiosity present in those big blue eyes. "I'm gonna call the police." she chides, as to remove the awkward tension. You're quick to say "Please don't." and she just laughs and says "Yeah, I don't think they'll understand my French anyway."

• You quickly check her out, and you're instantly attracted, 'She looks really cute, and she's very sweet too.' - you think to yourself. Chloe also checks you out and thinks 'She's really pretty, I hope she isn't dating anyone. Maybe I have a chance?'

• The two of you decide to tour around Paris together, and you're immediately charmed by Chloe, she's so very nice, albeit naive but she's very charming in her awkward way.

• Chloe's in the same boat, she didn't think that she could fall this fast, but you're a welcome surprise, she loves how you listen and play along with her whenever she has weird thoughts. The two of you find each other very attractive, and it's obvious judging by your long stares and lingering touches.

• "Would it be okay if you hold your bag using your other arm?" she asks meekly. You're confused and you say "Sure, but why?" You notice that she looks shy, cheeks flushed as she stares at the ground. "It's so I can hold your hand" she says in a quiet voice.

• Your heart soars because how can leather jacket wearing "bad girl" Chloe be so fucking cute. You're immediately charmed and you oblige by holding her hand as you walk through the streets of Paris.

• The two of you make your way to a small French restaurant, and despite its outside appearance, you're surprised by how cozy it looks on the inside. You sit across from Chloe, who looks at you with an intense gaze you can feel like she's staring at your soul.

• You learn a lot about Chloe and she's quick to open up to you. It's the same for you though, she makes you feel at ease and even though you've only known each other for a few hours, you can already see yourself trusting her. You tell her about your dream of finding that one place you can call home, and you tell her of your plan to go to Greece someday.

Play Waterloo.

• "What do you think about sleeping together?" she says tentatively, and you choke on your water. "Well aren't you forward" you say playfully. She looks at you and pulls out her guitar, where she starts to play and sing, serenading you. You're surprised by how well she can sing and you can't help but blush.

• You stop her from singing, and she's quick to explain why. "You would be my first" she says quietly and you don't believe her. "You can't be serious, Chloe have you seen yourself? You're lying right?" you say suspicious, but Chloe just looks at you sincerely as she says "There's a lot of advantages of us sleeping together and it will be a win-win situation. I'm also being serious, you'll be my first. It's mad but I think I like you."

• By the end of the night the two of you go to her room, where you spend the night.

NSFW CUT

• As soon as you get to her room at the end of the night, you quickly kiss her gently, as to not overwhelm her. You ask "Are you sure you want to do this Chloe?" and she nods her head as she says "I've never been so sure."

• It starts slow and gentle, where both of you gently caress each other's body, reveling at the soft skin under your touch. You can't help but want to kiss Chloe senseless, especially with that soft expression on her face.

• You slowly start to begin undressing her, tugging on her jacket and quickly taking her shirt off. You can't help but stare at her as you whisper "Beautiful". Her milky white skin looks soft and unblemished, especially with the light shining on her, making it seem like a halo was adorning the top of her head, due to her platinum blonde hair. Your breath is taken away, and you're slowly pulled back to reality when she kisses you again.

• "It's not fair if I'm the only one stripped down to my underwear." she says voice husky from desire. She takes her time undressing you as if opening a present. She kisses each patch of skin that she unravels, her kisses trailing down your neck to your breasts.

• You whine at her soft kisses, and you pull her face towards your lips, kissing her as your hands move downwards to her stomach. She shudders at your touch, and your hands go lower until they find the inside of her thighs.

• You pull at the fabric of her underwear, pulling it down, and Chloe gasps into the kiss, and you pull away to kiss her neck, sucking and biting to leave marks, Chloe's soft whimpers and moans being music to your ears.

• You start to tease her clit, adding pressure using your fingers. Her eyes are glossy, filled with lust as her hips jerk forward wanting more friction. "Rosie, please I need you inside." she pleads desperately. You comply and slide your index and middle fingers inside. She groans at the contact and slightly jerks her hips forward. Your thumb brushes against her clit, which earns you yet another moan.

• You want to hear more so you thrust your fingers in and out slowly, to make sure that she gets used to the movement first. As soon as you feel her inner walls clench around your fingers, you can't help the groan that comes out your mouth as you say "Fuck Chloe, you're so tight." You start to thrust faster and Chloe lets out a wail in pleasure, her body shuddering as you find her g-spot. She's close to cumming, and you can tell because she's lost control of her upper body, which means that she has to lean forward to you for support. She climaxes with a silent moan, body glistening with sweat making her glow and you've never seen anything so hot.

• After Chloe comes down from her high, you kiss her softly and ask "Did that feel as good as it looked?" Her cheeks are still flushed and her breathing is still shaky, and all she can do is nod her head as a response.

• The two of you just bask in the afterglow, cuddling together as Chloe starts pillow talk. "That was nice, it was more than nice actually." she rambles on and you find her oh so very cute at this moment. "Was that okay for you?" she asks shyly, and your response is a soft smile as you say "It was lovely, I had a great time."

• The next day Chloe wakes up to a note by the drawer next to bed and it reads "Thank you for last night, Chloe, that was amazing. I'm sorry for saying goodbye through a note, but I feel like amazing things are waiting for me."

• She immediately gets up out of bed and runs to the airport getting herself a spot on the next flight to Greece.

• As she gets there, she sees you with another woman on a boat, leaving the dock, and her heart is immediately left broken. "Why did I have to fall for you, Rosie Hughes?" she whispers, voice breaking as she sees your figure disappear off into the distance.

Hi, hi everyone this is the first part of the AU, hopefully I did it justice, as always don't forget to like or reblog. (I read the tags when you guys reblog and it always makes me happy when I see that you just enjoyed what I wrote.) The next part will be about Veronica as Bill. 🥺💋 I hope you enjoyed reading. 💕

[houseswolo]

Day 3 - 'Tis The Season To Be Thirsting

The reveals are running a couple days late thanks to our mods getting lost in finishing @nanowrimo (HUGE PROPS to everyone who participated!) - stick with us, we have some awesome people in store!

"Stand with me, Rey"

@my-jedi-life

(Twitter: @MyJediLife | Ao3: MyJediLife)

What got you into Star Wars?

I was 3 when I saw ANH at the drive in with my family. It's my earliest memory. Fast forward 40 years or so, when my best friend Jennifer decided we were watching SW together online. When I saw Adam's face, I was gone all over again... my obsession came roaring back.

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

Honestly... I think I became hardcore Reylo with the hand touch.

Why do you write / make art?

Because I have these idiots in my brain telling me to write their stories, and if I don't I may go insane.

The Object of your Thirst…

CLYDE LOGAN. (Or Adam Driver in all other forms)

Which Adam look do you like the best?

Umm.. his Clyde look. Long hair, scruff... goatee and stache.

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

It's me, people. Clyde Logan.

Which part of Adam do you like the best? 

His hair - NO - his lips - WAIT - his eyes... everything. I choose everything.

Favorite Star Wars Movie

The Last Jedi

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Reylogan. Soulmates is a close second.

Your TRoS Prediction

Bendemption by Kylo Ren dying to help get rid of Palpy, and being brought back by some very familiar Force Ghosts as Ben Solo... ending with him and Rey and a binary sunset.

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Angst, swirls of dark greens, purples and black.

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

Sweet & Nutty

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating? 

On my couch, headphones on and music cranked up high.

Are you a dom or sub? 

Sub?

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

In the back of a 1966 Volare in a state park.

What's your kink?

Adam Driver

Use three words to describe yourself.

Loyal, creative, loving

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

I am living my best Jedi life? I have no idea. It just sounded cool.

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

Little spoon.

Do you like it rough or soft? 

Both?

Favorite toy

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Favorite fic you read

Forbidden by koderenn, Cable Guy by littlemistake, LWABOC by diasterisms, Unravel Me by UnderTheCancerMoon

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

River Deep, Mountain High

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

From the EU: Jacen & Jaina Solo. Maz Kanata and the Mandalorian from Canon.

———

@thoseindarkness

(Twitter: @thoseindarkness | Ao3: thoseindarkness)

What got you into Star Wars?

My Mom when I was a baby, though TLJ brought me into the fandom and publishing fics.

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

All the amazing and detailed meta that I saw on Tumblr after TLJ. When I went for re-watches in the theater I wondered how I'd missed all those sexual overtones the first time around.

Why do you write / make art?

Because the voices in my head would drive me crazy if I didn't let them out to play.

The Object of your thirst...

Kylo Ren (in the mask), Ben Solo (out of it), Rey, Hux, Poe, Rose, Holdo. I'm an equal opportunity thirsty.

Which Adam look do you like the best?

That 70's running shoot he did. That's how I like him, lean and wiry, not buff. He's got a great build for it.

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Tie between Ben and Phillip Altman.

Which part of Adam do you like the best? 

The way his jowls wrinkle when he's emoting.

Favorite Star Wars Movie

Movie: Rogue One. Story: Rebels.

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

The real world in every messy, ugly, complicated detail. I think the idea of literature as pure escapism is flawed. I like to show the world as it is and then reveal the beauty in the imperfections. There cannot be light without darkness.

Your TRoS Prediction

I'm not getting my hopes up for anything and can't wait for it to be over. That's when the story group can have the reigns back and start pumping out all the stories that will backfill what really happened in the 30 years between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens. That's what I'm most looking forward to.

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

I think my username says it all. 😘

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

I don't know what it would be called, but it would have dark chocolate, Nutella and raspberry.

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating? 

At my desk at home, one of my comfy hoodies on, a cup of coffee, some good mood music, and a Reylo fic prompt.

Are you a dom or sub? 

Lifelong switch.

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

You're going to have to define exotic/weird. I've gotten intimate in semi-public and group settings. I once went through a tollbooth topless while being fondled. Does that count?

(HS: Hells yeah, that counts 😆)

What's your kink?

An inquisitive mind. Not kidding. That will turn me on faster than anything else could.

Use three words to describe yourself.

those in darkness

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

In high school I liked to come up with AIM screen names by creating these evocative incomplete sentences. Like quoting song lyrics without the songs. "thoseindarkness" was one of those names. I liked it so much I've kept it all these years and it's always been either a nerd or writing aligned username for me.

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

Lifelong switch.

Do you like it rough or soft? 

Yes, please.

Favorite toy

The goat 🐐

Favorite fic you read

Very tough call between Wanting by Minkel23, Score by SpaceWaffleHouseTM, and Requiem for a Monster by roane. They are all *very* different.

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

All the ones I haven't shared yet. Particularly the canon post-TRoS story I've been sitting on since TJL came out.

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Kanan mother fucking Jarrus! Since this is a thirst highlight I may as well tell you... I would do such naughty things to that man. Or have Hera do them for me. 🖤

———

Meet the other Thristies!

Thirst Order Advent Calendar Day:

1 | 2

cc: @tazwren @deadlikemoi @drnucleus @ashtyntaytertot @lostinqueue-ffa @my-jedi-life @shestoolazytologin @kaybohls @nite0wl29 @cosmo-gonika @wilsonthinks66 @roguesinside @areylofan @3todream3 @koderenn @queenoferebor @thereylowritingden @housedadam @house-crylo @houseplaidam

[chalantness]

fic: I've Got You on My Mind, All the Time

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: ~5,100 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompts: CEO Steve/Personal Assistant Nat au for sassaspazz + morning sex photoset by sleepygrimm + text edit by otptilltheend + photo (nsfw) Summary: AU. CEO Steve and Personal Assistant Nat. Also, just smut. – "Your boss expects you in his office by the time his meeting is over."

For: @loictalon, @sleepygrimm, @evanzski, @sassaspazz, @xo-stardust720, @otptilltheend

A/N: There are quite a few people that this is being dedicated to because: first of all, Happy Birth Month to loictalon and sleepygrimm, and Happy Belated Birthday to evanzski! Maybe one year I'll have my shit together and get your birthday presents out on time. But I hope some smut will make up for me being perpetually behind.

And second of all, I had planned to have a little smut week, but then belatedly realized that, hey, I have over thirty prompts to get to for my holiday giveaway and tacking on seven more so close to December probably isn't a tangible goal. But I was still wanted to thank sassaspazz and xo-stardust720 for giving me prompts for my would-be smut fest!

Excerpt:

"We don't have time for this, Steve. We have the meeting."

He arches an eyebrow. "I can make it quick."

Her heart stutters in her chest at the sparkle of challenge in his eyes. Oh, she knows he can make it quick and still oh so good. She knows quite well, actually. But, she glances at the clock and shakes her head. "We have to be in the office in an hour. Tony and Pepper are expecting us." Steve smirks, kisses her stomach. "I worked really hard on this presentation."

"I know, baby," he tells her, sliding further down the mattress, hooking her leg over his shoulder. "Which means you deserve a reward."

Read on: [ ffnet ] [ ao3 ]

The first thing she senses is him: his large, calloused hand on her hip, squeezing gently; his thigh pressed between her legs, almost innocent as it brushes against the delicate folds of her sex; his mouth nibbling on the curve of her neck, tongue teasing against her skin, lips gently sucking at her pulse.

Not the worst way in the world to be woken up.

She feels her lips curl into a smile, a warmth unfurling low in her stomach as she blinks her eyes open, vision blurring into focus on the digital clock on Steve's wall. Fuck. They really don't have time for this – not when they have to be in the office in an hour so they can prep for their client meetings. She has slides to proofread and handouts to print, and Steve has numbers and pitches to review with Tony. They don't have time, yet, her body seems perfectly content to lay here with Steve in a tangle of sheets and limbs as he slowly, lazily kisses his way down her neck, over her collarbone, lips sealing around one of her breasts and sucking with a gentle moan. She sucks in a soft, sharp breath, feels him smile against her skin.

"Good morning," he murmurs, rolling her onto her back and sucking at her again. Her fingers tuck into his hair and he glances up at her, smiling. "Ma'am."

"Hi," she says with a breathy laugh. "We don't have time for this, Steve. We have the meeting."

He arches an eyebrow. "I can make it quick."

Her heart stutters in her chest at the sparkle of challenge in his eyes. Oh, she knows he can make it quick and still oh so good. She knows quite well, actually. But, she glances at the clock and shakes her head. "We have to be in the office in an hour. Tony and Pepper are expecting us." Steve smirks, kisses her stomach. "I worked really hard on this presentation."

"I know, baby," he tells her, sliding further down the mattress, hooking her leg over his shoulder. "Which means you deserve a reward."

"Celebrating something before it's happened is bad luck," she argues, voice thin and quivering and weak, because she can feel his breath against her slick heat. He'd gently and expertly wound her up in the haze of her sleep, because she's already wet, almost embarrassingly so.

Not that it takes much effort from him to get her wet in the first place. But still.

"Since when did you believe in luck?" he asks, dipping his head down before she can respond and sliding his tongue through her folds, just barely brushing her clit.

Her moan is broken and breathy as she twists her fingers in his hair, feeling him groan against her as he licks a little harder, teasing his tongue at her entrance with every stroke. He loves it when she gets a little rough – tugs at his hair, digs her nails into his back, nips at his skin with her teeth. He remembers when he told her this for the first time, during a late night in the office, her pencil skirt hiked up to her hips as she straddled him in his desk chair and took him in deep and hard, her nails pulling at his hair and scratching at his scalp for support. He'd guided her hips over him with his hands, stared up at her with an almost dazed, drugged expression, and told her how much he loved it when she was a little greedy.

I love when you're so lost in your pleasure that you just take and take from me. You're always composed, always perfectly presented, and only I know what you look like when you're undone.

Even months later, even so established into their (albeit clandestine) relationship, the memory of that night and those words still makes her shiver.

He sucks at her little bundle of nerves, presses her leg to the mattress and dips his tongue into her, and her mouth parts in a mewl. It's ridiculous how well this man knows her and her body, ridiculous how quickly she unravels at his touch, at his lips, at his kiss.

"Steve," she moans, tugging at his hair. She's not sure if she wants to pull him deeper or pull him up and over her so she can feel him before she goes crazy.

"So wet," he murmurs, lapping at her clit. She gnaws on her lower lip, rolls her head and presses her cheek into the pillow. "You're always so wet and ready for me, love."

"Come here." Her command is breathy and a little too desperate for her preference. But she hardly cares. She yanks at his hair. "Steve, come here."

He breathes out a chuckle, presses a little kiss to her folds before sliding his lips back up her body, settling over her. He hooks her leg around his hip, opening her up to him, his length brushing teasingly against her slick heat. She digs her nails into the muscles of his back, scratching, trying to bring him closer, and he chuckles again as he presses at her entrance.

His lips are tugged into a smirk. "Got to love a quickie in the morning before work," he says, and a laugh bubbles out of her.

Steve Rogers, ever the romantic.

Her laugh dissolves into a moan, though, when he rolls his hips and thrusts into her, hard and deep. Her lips part, her spine arching off of the bed, and Steve's head falls forward to press into her pillow, his lips right next to her ear as he lets out a low and rumbling groan. That groan – that first moment of pure, absolute pleasure – always makes her shiver, her body practically vibrating in delight. They have sex on a very, very regular basis, but somehow, that first thrust feels almost as perfect as their first time together. She thinks that it should worry her more, how much she feels for him. One careless, tipsy night out of town for a conference had turned into late nights in the office, making love bent over his desk, against his bookshelf, on his office lounge chair. And fuck, she thinks that should've been the first sign. She's slept with guys before this job, but it had never felt like making love.

Not until Steve. He may be her boss, and she may be just a personal assistant, but he's always treated her like something precious.

Even now, with his thrusts rough and hard and deep, he's murmuring sweet words into her skin, peppering soft kisses over her neck, gently sweeping his fingers over the dip of her curves. He brushes over the sensitive spot just under her ribs that always, always makes her body tingle and her stomach flutter and her mouth part in a plea.

He cups her cheek, smooths his thumb over her flushed skin.

"Look at you, love," he says, breath tight with exertion and arousal. "I love watching your face, watching your desire spread across your skin, watching you gasp for breath."

Her heart flutters, nails digging even harder into his back. But he doesn't even flinch. If anything, his eyes flash at her desperate, greedy touch.

"Remember that first time?" His hips snap, the angle changing as he slides his arm under the bend of her knee and presses it up higher so he can slide in deeper. She lets out a keening moan, lips parting, body arching. The memory alone is enough to make her whimper. The taste of champagne on his tongue, the floor biting into her back because they were too impatient to stumble their way onto the bed, the pretty, shimmery dress bunched carelessly over her hips and Steve kneeling in front of her, still in his suit, lips wet with her heat as he loosened his tie. Months of repressed attraction had burst in a flurry of heat and breaths, ending with a broken lamp and a torn shower curtain and the linens pulled from the bed.

"Y-Yes…" Her eyelids flutter closed. "Why do you—" She whimpers as he reaches between them, circling lightly over her clit. She's close, and she can tell he is, too.

"Because I think about it every time I'm in you. Every damn time, Nat." He groans, ducking down to kiss her, hard. "God, I'm—"

"Me too," she whines against his lips.

He presses just a little harder on her bundle of nerves, and she sucks in a gasp as her vision goes blurry and white, her desire bursting over her. She can feel how hard Steve is as her walls flutter around his length, and he moans into her ear, hips jerking harder and without rhythm as his orgasm follows on the heels of hers.

A few long moments later, once they've caught their breaths, Natasha twines her fingers into his hair and glances over at the clock again, feeling herself smirk.

"I think we've beat our record, Rogers," she says, and she feels him chuckle against her neck before lifting his head to meet her gaze, his eyes twinkling. "I'm impressed."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time you veto sex during our fifteen-minute meeting breaks," he says, and she's laughing as she rolls her eyes.

... ...

The meeting had gone spectacularly, of course. It always does when she and Steve work together on a presentation. He and Tony have been asking her to head a few marketing campaigns on her own now that she's been working with Steve long enough, and she loves it, of course. She's always been just an assistant, there to run errands and manage schedules so her bosses would be free to focus on their jobs. But with Steve, she had been more involved even in the beginning, when she had known virtually nothing about the marketing business. Steve asked for her opinions after meetings, wanted her input on their campaigns, let her edit presentations and handouts when she felt more comfortable.

She's not going to pretend that their relationship had nothing to do with the way he treated her like more than just an assistant. But she knows Steve, and she knows that he wouldn't have asked her to become more involved simply because he'd been attracted to her.

"I saw genuine interest in your eyes. From that very first day, I'd had a hunch you'd be amazing at it," he'd told her once, with a proud grin. "I like it when I'm right."

She does miss working with him, though.

Her official title may not have changed, but now that he's asking her to head some of his campaigns, she doesn't see him every second of the day anymore. She finds herself missing him a little when he can't make it to lunch with her, or when she can't attend a meeting with him because she has one of her own. It's ridiculous and she knows it, but still.

"Have I lost your thoughts to Steve again?" Pepper asks, tone colored with amusement as she snaps her fingers in front of Natasha's gaze.

Natasha blinks, lips quirking at the corners as she picks up another slide of her flatbread. "I was just thinking that I should've grabbed Steve some breakfast before his second meeting. He's got to be starving by now."

Pepper laughs. "You always worry over him."

"Well, considering I'm his personal assistant, I'd say worrying over him is my job."

Pepper tilts her head. "Right. Because that's all you are to us," she teases. "After all, every personal assistant is entrusted to head their own marketing campaigns."

"Sarcasm isn't really your thing," Natasha retorts, tossing her crumpled napkin at Pepper's plate. The woman grins, arching her eyebrow expectantly. "Fine. I miss him."

"I know you do," Pepper tells her, and Natasha knows she's being sincere. If anyone were to understand Natasha's position, it would be her. She'd gone from being Tony Stark's personal assistant to being promoted to a partner in his company, and it seems as if they've seen less of each other since they've gotten engaged. "You two will find your balance," Pepper promises, reaching over to squeeze her fingers gently, reassuringly. "It took Tony and me a month to figure out how to find time to make it to the dinner table every night."

Natasha nods, and then her phone buzzes on the table, her screen lighting up with Steve's name. She'd texted him before going to brunch with Pepper after he'd left for his second meeting of the day – just a simple I want coffee – but his response makes her nearly spit out her mimosa.

I want your legs wrapped around my head.

Her heart flutters.

"Oh my," Pepper chuckles, not at all trying to hide the fact that she's reading Steve's text across the table. "Well, someone's obviously not paying attention to his meeting."

Natasha feels herself smile, feels her cheeks warm. He's managed to fluster her through a text? God, that's pathetic.

She types back, Fuck the coffee, and takes a long sip of her mimosa. Pepper smirks. "Would you like me to excuse yourself to the restroom?"

"Shut up," Natasha laughs, her phone buzzing with Steve's response.

I'd rather fuck you instead.

And then, Or better yet, you should fuck me. I know you love being in charge.

It should be crime for a text to sound so fucking tempting. She replies with: Is this my reward for a job well done?

No, babe, you got your reward this morning. This is for ME, and your boss expects you in his office by the time his meeting is over.

Coming from anyone else, she suspects Steve would sound demanding and controlling, but she knows better. She knows he's unapologetic about asking for what he wants. And he wants her not simply because he's attracted to her or because he just wants to fuck her, but because he adores her. Because he craves her, craves her pleasured desperation.

She glances up when Pepper waves her hand to motion for their waiter. "I think she'll need an iced water," Pepper tells him, her expression perfectly innocent.

Natasha just smirks.

... ...

"Quite bold of you to keep your boss waiting, don't you think?" he asks, lips tugged into a bit of a smirk when she lets herself into his office. She'd taken her time coming back from brunch, knowing it would mean he would get there before her despite his request. He hardly seems to mind, though. She presses her lips together, the lock into place behind her before strolling toward him, her stilettos clicking against the floor. His eyes trace down the front of her coat, arching one eyebrow. She hadn't been wearing it when he last saw her.

"My apologies," she says, shrugging out of her coat slowly, relishing in the way his lips part, his eyes growing dark and hungry. She's still in the same blouse from earlier, but she'd removed her camisole and bra underneath, and now her nipples were hard from brushing against the material. Hard, and very clearly visible through the lace.

She drapes her coat over his desk, and it takes a long pause before he pulls his gaze back up to her face.

"Wardrobe malfunction, I'm assuming?"

She hums in acknowledgment, walks around his desk, drumming her nails on the wood as she comes to stand in front of his chair. His gaze slides down again, taking in the fact that she's hiked her skirt up a little more, enough to expose the clips of her garter belt holding up her stockings. "Unfortunately, yes," she answers, playing along, leaning over his desk to busy herself with rearranging the stack of folders. "I'd felt too warm after our meeting to continue wearing satin," she tells him, glancing over her shoulder and catching the way his eyes flash in understanding. She'd been wearing a satin bra and the matching underwear; lingerie that Pepper had gifted to her for her birthday just last week. "But I feel better now."

"Do you?" He gets up, bracing his hands against the desk as he presses against her, leaning over her. She bites on her lower lip, feeling how hard he is through his dress slacks.

He grasps her leg just above her knee, making her suck in a soft, shallow breath as he gives her a squeeze, then trails his fingers up higher. Even with her stockings as a barrier between her thigh and his fingertips, his touch sends ripples of tingles over her skin.

She shouldn't be this aroused this quickly, but she always is with Steve. The fact that she's been reading his texts over and over again hadn't helped. She'd thought of them as she undressed, picturing him typing those out to her during his meeting. She knows he must've been imagining her spread out on that conference table, dripping onto the oak wood with his face buried between her legs and her heels digging onto his back as she rolled her hips up to meet the teasing licks of his tongue, craving more friction, more pressure, more.

His hand slips under her skirt, meeting her smooth, bare skin, finding her wet. Finding her soaked.

"Fuck," he mutters, dropping his head onto her shoulder and licking at the clasp of choker on the back of neck. He glides his fingers through her folds and she makes this noise from the back of her throat, pushing back against him.

He feels harder, if possible.

She reaches behind her, grabs at the collar of his shirt and yanks his head forward as she twists her neck around to kiss him, hard and hot and heavy, her hips rolling against his hand. It's hard not to indulge if even for a little, not with the gentle, almost torturous way he's circling her clit, not with the way the lacy detail of her shirt is rubbing over her nipples.

He groans, kissing her deeper, his other hand grasping at her chin to keep her in place as her hands fumble and grasp for the desk.

She manages to slip her fingers into her coat pocket, grasping onto the cool metal, and then she catches him off guard by yanking her lips away, spinning him around and pushing him back down into his chair, moving to straddle his lap. He blinks up at her in surprise and a touch of amusement, and then she holds her hand up, dangling the handcuffs from her index finger. His eyes widen ever so slightly, lips twitching at the corners. She knows he's trying to keep his expression schooled for their little game, but she doesn't miss the hunger in his eyes, swirling and storming. She leans forward, hovers her lips over his, her hair falling around them, and he lets her grasp his wrists as she kisses him, winding them behind his chair.

He chuckles into their kiss as she clasps the handcuffs around his wrists, binding him in place.

"I thought having a personal assistant meant my hands wouldn't be tied," he points out, arching an eyebrow.

She smirks, shakes her head ever so slightly at his joke as she eases off of his lap. "Maybe that means you'll appreciate your lovely assistant more," she teases, lifting herself to sit on the edge of his desk. She tugs him by his tie, rolling his desk chair closer as she sets a heel on each of the chair arms, spreading herself for him to see.

She's wet. She can feel it.

"Fuck," he breathes, staring at her slick sex. She reaches over and threads her fingers into his head, tugging him between her thighs. He glances up at her, eyes flashing.

"Feel like giving your assistant some help for once?" she asks, relishing in his breathy laugh against the inside of her thigh.

He hums, inhaling her scent, and she swears she almost lets out a strangled noise when he tentatively licks up her center, flicking at her bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. He groans as if he's tasting her for the first time, the chair straining ever so slightly when he leans in closer, licking her a little harder and a little harder with every stroke.

"Oh," she moans, bracing her free hand on the desk behind her as she tips her head back, trying to roll her hips off of the table. The sweet irony of the situation is that she wishes his hands were free to touch her, to grasp her hips so he can roll his tongue in deeper, sink three fingers into her, rub at her clit. She wants his calloused, gentle, desperate touch all over her, and she digs her nails into his scalp, barely biting back a whimper as his lips close around her clit, giving a gentle suck once, twice, three times, making her hips jerk on the desk.

He turns his head, kisses the inside of her thigh. "Lay down, baby," he urges her. "Open yourself up for me."

She nods and does as he asks, laying herself back against the desk, letting her legs fall open. His tongue laps at her clit before circling, over and over, making her body tremble. Her breaths are broken, whimpers falling from her lips as she tries to roll her hips in time with the strokes of his tongue, but he's purposefully throwing her off, driving her crazy.

When she comes undone, her walls flutter, aching, her body still craving to feel him even as she's in the midst of her high and unraveling at the seams.

She grips onto his hair, scratches her nails over his scalp as she rolls her hips, riding out her orgasm. He keeps licking at her, gently sucking at her little bundle of nerves until she's shaking and trembling and gently pushing at his forehead.

He licks at her once, twice, three more times, before pulling away, and she blinks her eyes open to find him staring at her, mouth wet and hair pulled in different directions.

Fuck, that's a good look for him.

"I really want to touch you," he says, voice gruff. He looks as disheveled as she feels.

She lifts herself up and kisses him, presses her tongue against his. She teases him by sliding back onto his lap, reaching around to run her fingers over the smooth, cool metal of the cuffs around his wrists, giving the chain a gentle tug. Then she smiles against his lips, pulls her hands away as she meets his gaze and shakes her head.

"Tease," he murmurs, grinning like an idiot. Like he'd known she wouldn't let him free just yet, and he doesn't want her to, either.

She laughs as she straddles his thigh and rolls her hips, feeling the material of his slacks brush against her slick folds, making her shudder. She hooks a hand over the back of his neck to anchor herself, grinding down on his thigh as her free hand slides down his chest, cupping where he's hard for her. He groans, head falling back, and she licks up the column of his neck and nips at the underside of his jaw. Seeing her dressed the way she is had gotten him hard, but eating her out? That had turned him positively rigid. She knows that he's aching.

"N-Nat—" He swallows, tries to jerk his hips up, but she pulls her hand away and fists the material of his dress shirt instead. He groans out a laugh. "You're killing me, darling."

She tips her head up to lick the shell of his ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he replies, voice gravelly, almost pained with his desire. It makes her smile, her stomach flipping.

"I miss you," she says, barely above a whisper as she places a line of wet kisses along the line of his jaw.

"Nat, stop for a second," he tells her. She does, leaning back to meet his gaze. He tips his head forward to kiss her, gently at first, almost tentatively as he licks the seam of her lips before pressing inside. He takes his time kissing her, tasting her, and she feels herself grow wetter just from the sound he makes when she nips his lip. Then he parts their kiss and brushes his lips to the corner of her mouth, the apple of her cheek, the bridge of her nose. "I've missed you, too, Nat." Grinning, he kisses her forehead. "It's been a tough week."

Her chest tightens, just a little. Yes, it has. Though it had been quick, this morning was the first morning in a while that they've gotten to enjoy each other.

It's been hard lining up their schedules. They're in and out of meetings at different times, take their lunches at different hours. More often than not, one of them has to stay late and the other has to go in early. If not for the fact that she'd basically move into his apartment, there would probably be days where they'd miss each other completely.

It's strange for her to go from seeing him all the time, every moment of the day, to catching him for ten, maybe fifteen minutes at a time. She still sees him around the office all the time, of course, but it's different. She can't remember the last time they sat down and had a cup of coffee together.

"But if this"—he rattles the handcuffs—"is how you cope with missing me, I don't have any complaints."

He's grinning again, eyes sparkling in mischief, and it makes her laugh. She reaches down and palms the front of his slacks, feeling her pulse thrum as his eyelashes flutter closed and he lets out a low groan. "I'm trying to be serious here and all you can think about is sex?" she asks, teasing, giving a gentle squeeze the way he likes it.

"Shit," he mutters through a laugh, squirming under her touch. "Can't exactly blame me, can you? Not when you come in, wearing that, cuffing me to my own chair."

She hums, starts rolling her hips again, harder, squeezing her legs around his thighs and throwing her head back at a particularly rough brush of his slacks against her bundle of nerves. She can practically feel him responding under her hand, pulsing against her palm.

She digs her nails into the back of his neck, holding onto it like a lifeline as she grinds her hips faster, almost erratically, feeling her orgasm rapidly coiling in her stomach. She knows that she can barely concentrate on her own hand, that her fingers are fumbling around him, uneven and tormenting, and she hears it in the rasp of his voice when he says her name. But somehow, despite how much he must be aching, it doesn't surprise her when he pushes his mouth next to her ear and tells her, "Touch yourself." Her gaze snaps onto him from underneath heavy eyelids, his expression pulled tight with his arousal. Still, he commands, or maybe pleads: "I know you're close. Let go of me and touch yourself the way I would."

She pulls her hand off of his length and slides it through her slick sex, circling her clit, accidentally brushing it once, twice, three times, the same way he teases her.

"I think I'll come just from watching you, Nat," he says, his voice heavy and thick. He sounds like he could. He sounds as breathless as she feels.

And that alone is almost enough to send her over the edge.

She reaches between them and all, somehow, gets the buckle of his belt undone and pulled from the belt loops despite how much she seems to be shaking. He groans as she touches him, pulling him from his boxers, and then she's lining him up at her entrance and sinking over him, taking him in deep.

Their moans vibrate through the air, filling the wide, open space of his office, that's how loud they are, how relieved yet desperate they sound.

She digs one hand into the muscles of his shoulder, the other grasping at his tie in her fist as her spine arches, and she tosses her head back when he shifts beneath her and brushes against that sweet spot that sends a burst of white-hot desire through her veins. She can hear him murmuring her name over and over again, his phrases broken and barely coherent over the haze of her approaching orgasm as he tells her how much he loves her, how amazing she feels, how perfectly they fit together. And then, when she's right on that edge, she tugs his lips to hers and kisses him. She thinks she nips his lip when her orgasm bursts over her, but if she does, he doesn't notice. He's too busy falling over that edge right with her.

She curls forward, clinging onto him for support as his body goes limp beneath her, their bodies riding the last tremors of their orgasms as they come back down to Earth.

"It's possible," he says after a long moment, through labored breaths, "that the entire floor might have heard us."

"I think the entire building heard us," she rasps out on a laugh, reaching into the pocket of her skirt for the key to the handcuffs. Her fingers fumble with it a few times, but she finally gets them unlocked, and he tugs his hands free.

She grasps one of his wrists, placing a kiss to the red lines that had been rubbed into his skin, and then repeating the gesture to the other wrist.

"I'm alright," he promises, waiting for her to nod in acknowledgment before gently prying from her grasp so he can tuck his hands into her hair, pulling her in for a soft, sweet kiss. She hums against his lips, her body melting into his. She feels sated all the way down to her bones, in the way only making love to Steve can do. "I could've done it, you know."

"Hmm?" She leans back to find him giving her that crooked, almost boyish grin of his.

"I could've come without being inside you, just from watching you," he clarifies. "I think, even if you weren't touching me, I would've come. Just because it's you."

"I know," she says, meaning it, feeling a flutter of pride and complete adoration unfurl in her chest. She's known that she has that effect on him, but it's still a little exhilarating every single time he tells her as much. "That's what made me want to reward you," she admits, kissing his dimpled cheek before drawing back to smirk. "But we'll get to that next time."

His eyes sparkle. "Whatever you say, boss."

[dictacontrion]

Hey Dicta! I just read your fic, Any Instrument, and I feel like I have to tell you what I feel about it. I've had that fic on my reading list for soooo long. I've never gotten to read it because to be honest, the idea that the Unspeakables (and Hermione, nonetheless) could have done that reckless of an experiment without consulting an experienced biomagicologist in the first place is a bit beyond me, and I found that passive and overly self sacrificing Harry is deeply disturbing for me. (1)

But yesterday I just kinda went fuck it and shouldered on and read, and wow. I’m so glad that I did. I don’t know how to express it in writing, but I love that you write Harry as a person who seems robotic and overly self sacrificing because he can’t express his feelings. At first I felt that Harry’s personality in the beginning of the fic is hard to buy, but when I realize the reason behind it, I felt that it makes a lot of sense. Harry has been bottling his feelings since he was (2)            

a child, and growing up, I find that it makes sense if he has even more difficulties, what with the pressure of being the Chosen One + wanting to please the people he love, etc. I love reading Draco unraveling him, I love that after all the years, Draco is still the one who can crack Harry’s surface. And I love, love, that Harry is being all too agreeable with the procedure (even when he knows he could have lost magic) for his own benefit too. It’s extremely cunning of him, albeit in (3)        

a twisted kind of way. But I still love that he’s doing it partly because of his selfishness. The other things, I feel like you’ve hears enough what’s brilliant about the fic, the writing, the characters, the Manor, and that apple scene, omg I teared up reading that part, and lots and lots of goodness. I’m still kind of confused about why the Unspeakables didn’t contact Draco sooner tho, and I hope you can enlighten me ^^;; at the moment, I’m buying it, but not wholly, and I hope reading (4)    

your reason can make me understand more about the fic. All in all, I’m really glad I read the fic. It’s so beautiful and touching, and I love how you write, how you slowly turn characters into human, how I first disliked a lot of characters aside from Draco but slowly learned to love them as I read on, kinda like Draco who was first so sceptical and cynical about everyone’s motivation but then he slowly came to understand them better. Thank you so much for the incredibly beautiful story! ♡ (5)                      

Anon, I love this ask. Really a lot. It is so thoughtful and I can’t tell you how much i love that you read this thoughtfully. A massive amount.

Chapter 3 seems to be that turning point for a lot of people, where readership/commenting drops off a bit, because yes, this Harry is (by design!) hard to read. It’s meant to feel unnerving and wrong in a way that you can’t quite place, and that maybe sort of makes you want to turn away. I completely understand why it does actually make people turn away! And that’s a lot of what was going on with the unspeakables - that same creeping discomfort where you know *something* is off but you’re not sure what, but something about this person definitely isn’t right even though it’s still technically the same person, and if you just sort of tilt your head and squint a bit it’s close enough, and you don’t want to look without squinting because it would mean confronting something hard. And a lot of what happened is the same thing that happens to quite a few readers at the start of the fic: it was so uncomfortable to see Harry as he was that the Unspeakables did the mental equivalent of backbuttoning every time they got close to seeing what was going on and how bad it had gotten. Or,  to answer your question more straightforwardly:

The unspeakables didn’t call Draco in earlier because they couldn’t afford to see, let alone admit, that something was going really wrong. They had done the research, the theory was sound, they didn’t think it was reckless, Harry wanted to go along with it, Harry said he was fine, they cared about Harry and wanted the best for him, they didn’t want to believe that they were capable of throwing him under the bus. Asking for help would’ve meant looking at Harry, and themselves, and their shortcomings, full on. That’s really hard to do! That’s something we’re all resistant to doing!

They also would’ve had an aversion to calling Draco in particular. Old grudges die hard, and they had no way of knowing whether or not he would still be the same person he was in canon, with the same beliefs he espoused as a teenager. Hermione and Robards and Kingsley and Croaker and Percy had less insight into Draco’s mindset during the war than Harry did, and couldn’t have been certain (or could have convinced themselves they were uncertain) about whether Draco was still prejudiced and would still want to harm Harry if entrusted with his care. At their first meeting with him, Kingsley and Hermione are deeply suspicious, to the point that they ask Draco to take an Unbreakable Vow before they’ll even tell him anything. Whether or not they really believed Draco sympathized with the Death Eaters, the possibility would have been another excuse for not asking for help/admitting they’d messed up/confronting their mistakes. And I do think that’s the crux of it: being afraid to see what was in front of them, or to admit how badly it had all turned out.

tl;dr: pride, prejudice, confirmation bias, stubbornness, and fear.

I hope that helps! And am v v happy to discuss these kinds of things if you’ve got more questions