#forever horrified and fascinated by this thing

[sixty-silver-wishes]

gah the youtube caligari musical was so weird and was such a mixed bag. and yet I keep getting the songs stuck in my head all the time

[pocketramblr]

Really dark topic, but what do you think would it take for Enji (pre-AM retirement, obviously) to threaten to, or legit kill Rei, mindcontrolling quirks aside?

mind-controlling quirks aside... i don't think he would threaten to kill her. he'd basically never have something to gain from killing her that he couldn't get some other far easier and less risky way. If she was able to prevent him from abusing Shoto, or threatened to take him/all the kids away, Enji could very much threaten divorce, institutionalization, maybe even arrest, but he can stop her from doing that without threatening to kill her.

If Enji were to kill her, which could happen, i don't think it'd be premeditated. But he has hit her before, and Rei isn't exactly going to do great with heat or flame, so if she intervened at the wrong time in the dojo... it's plausible enough i'd accept it as a fic premise.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One thing people often don’t know is you should never ever ever ever and I really mean NEVER use silicone lube with a silicone toy of any kind*.

The reason silicone makes such a great sex toy is that it’s so inert- it basically has no give and take with your body. Unlike plastic or rubber toys that your body can absorb things from, silicone is just staying in its lane.

The reason silicone lubricant is so great for sex is that it’s so inert. The body can’t absorb it like water so it just stays slick forever until you wipe it away.

But there’s one thing silicone loves in this world. And that’s itself. When mixed the two can bond, forming a chemical reaction and I’m going to tell you a story about that. This story happened pretty soon after I started working at the sex shop.

A couple was looking at lubricant and when I mentioned a silicone lube but that they should be careful not to use it with toys they both froze. Then shared a secret look. I paused and they said they knew that.

“It was our honeymoon,” he told me.

“We’d been having sex with silicone and then he went to use a toy on me. We didn’t know any better.”

I waited with horrified fascination. They were both wry, the story had happened long enough ago that it had moved into absurdity for them. But I know some of the reactions silicone can have, and none of them you’d want to happen inside you. It can bubble, melt, or-

“It swelled up so big inside me we couldn’t get it out. We had to go to the emergency room and they cut it out of me piece by piece.”

“Kinda took the steam out of the rest of the honeymoon.”

They were both laughing and I did too but mine was more haunted by the thought of toddling into an ER with a dildo the size of a zucchini sticking out of my crotch.

*As a technicality you CAN but you should be extremely careful. Silicone comes in different levels and a low level silicone toy won’t react to a high level lube. They only bond at the same level. If you ever want to test it you can put a little lube at the base of the toy to check for a reaction, but honestly it’s better to just use water based. Even hybrid lubes can bond to toys, gotta be careful with your crotches.

[lenaellsi]

One thing that really gets me about the opening with angel Crowley is that he's not just excited by how beautiful his stars are, or how fun the process of creation is, or how impressed he's made Aziraphale. He’s not in it for the glory or the aesthetics. He’s actually horrified by the idea that the universe will just be "fancy wallpaper" in the future, even though Aziraphale assures him that humans will "marvel" at his creations.

What Crowley loves about his stars is their potential. He is building, essentially, a nursery. Most of the universe's stars, he explains to Aziraphale, will come pre-aged--but his are just starting out! After they're given time to grow, who knows what could happen! Good or bad, black holes or new constellations—there are so many possible futures ahead of them, and Crowley can’t wait to see what happens.

And then Aziraphale tells him that he knows what will happen: those stars will never grow up. They will never shine or burn out or implode or become anything new. They’ll be destroyed before they get the chance.

"You can't kill kids."

“Whose side are you on?” “God’s, of course!” “Same God that wants me to whack the kids?”

"People die." "They do, don't they?"

“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!”

"Don't test them to destruction."

"It's always too late."

"Nothing lasts forever." "No, I don't suppose it does."

This fear has been chasing Crowley since before the beginning. It’s what caused his first doubts, put the first traces of gray in his wings. He’s been raging at the futility of watching beautiful, complex things be damned or destroyed for his entire existence, and that’s why he seems to the audience and to Aziraphale to be a mess of contradictions.

He loves to follow the trends of the times, but he clings to his classic car in an era of planned obsolescence for vehicles. He lives in an ultra-modern flat, but finds his greatest comfort in the unchanging security of aziraphale’s old shop. He hates the idea of killing children, but is willing to see a child die if it preserves the rest of the universe and foils the Great Plan. He “goes too fast,” but his most unique and notable power is that he’s learned to stop time.

Crowley hates predestination. He hates divine intervention and the removal of agency. Crowley, the architect of free will, is constantly torn between his love of change and choice and potential and his terror that everything will be destroyed by an unstoppable, incomprehensible higher power. That’s his driving conflict in the way that Aziraphale’s is learning to find his own path without following Heaven’s rules, and I am fascinated to see how it resolves.

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 2)

part 2 / ? .

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ ❝ you put the stars to shame. let’s sit here a little while - i want to drink you in. ❞ ❝ i’d tell you not to get in trouble, but i suspect it will find you whether you like it or not. ❞ ❝ well, this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on. ❞ ❝ i just….need some air…clear my head. ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since i shed a tear. i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had a feeling you’d show up. it’s sort of our thing. like it’s fate or something. ❞ ❝ i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little. ❞ ❝ if that was an attempt at flirting, i should let you know i prefer the strong, silent type. ❞ ❝ no matter how far you come, you’re still on the road to ruin. ❞ ❝ i thought you a hunter. wrong. you’re prey - small. snivelling. pathetic. ❞ ❝ and what am i owed? what about the injustices i’ve suffered - am i not entitled to anything? ❞ ❝ i can’t help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust as i look upon you. ❞ ❝ i trust that you will continue to remember who is really on your side. ❞ ❝ better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. ❞ ❝ i won’t make excuses. i can’t make amends. but i want to help, if you’ll let me. ❞ ❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ ❝ there are many names for you --- and all of them inspire dread. ❞ ❝ destiny is at your door; won’t you at least twitch the curtain? ❞ ❝ the gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. a hunger crueller than bloodlust. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ revenge sounds so sweet until you’ve taken it. then all you have is…no one left to blame. ❞ ❝ some mistakes can’t be resolved with an apology. some mistakes, you have to carry with you, forever. ❞ ❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ think of all we’ve been through just to get to this moment. that wasn’t luck. that was us. ❞ ❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ❝ there is something i lost…no, had taken from me. i want it all back. ❞ ❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ❝ one thing i’ve learned - real saviours never label themselves as such. ❞ ❝ less thinking of bad thoughts, and more breaking of bad bones. ❞ ❝ i rather like interfering. it’s kind of my thing. ❞ ❝ evil is evil, even if it once was innocent. ❞ ❝ you know, i've been catching myself smiling more lately. i think that's your fault.. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m no innocent. but evil? you tell me. ❞ ❝ i still want to believe you’re better than that. but even i am having my doubts. ❞ ❝ i can’t afford to lose my nerve. safer to just not think, and keep forging ahead. ❞ ❝ when all this is over, will you stay with me? for good? ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ is there a reason you're always such an utter drip? do you have some sort of condition? honestly, it's like you hate good news. ❞ ❝ all of nature’s beauty pales in comparison to you. ❞ ❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ ❝ if i seem suddenly flush with hope and soft feeling, you have only yourself to blame. ❞ ❝ is there good and evil within us all? ❞

❝ i’ve been watching you fight. your skills are improving. ❞ ❝ you know, for all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place, i really feel quite at home here. ❞ ❝ and you? you’re wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgement? ❞ ❝ i wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. but i do. ❞ ❝ one might say you’re paragon of luck. i’ll be there when it runs out. ❞ ❝ i've always had a soft spot for the confident ones…they always disappoint though. ❞ ❝ i concealed nothing from you. i simply left out the details that were not pertinent. ❞ ❝ you’re an odd friend. but, i suppose, a friend still. ❞ ❝ i won’t let you do this. i won’t let you win. ❞ ❝ you are my puppet. make no mistake. without me, you have no value. ❞ ❝ well, this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside. ❞ ❝ whoever your enemies are, they have good reason to fear you. ❞ ❝ this place is astonishing, a bard’s tale made real. ❞ ❝ i may not regret my actions, but i do regret that they were necessary. ❞ ❝ experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ if this adventure has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world more valuable than power. ❞ ❝ a wise man learns from his mistakes, and strives not to repeat them. ❞ ❝ no more hiding things from me. agreed? ❞ ❝ my friend. my companion. i adore you. ❞ ❝ your face is sour. by all means leave, if i am so distasteful. ❞ ❝ careful, it’s dark around here. would be a terrible shame to lose you forever. ❞ ❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞ ❝ you have to know who i was. you have to know who i really am. ❞ ❝ nothing special, of course. you’re only the first person who i truly care for. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ anything you ask, i’ll answer as honestly as i can. ❞

[loveinhawkins]

The first notes of Eddie’s guitar solo tear through The Upside Down; Steve watches in horrified fascination as the bats follow the noise, as they form a thick, black cloud, like a plague of locusts.

And it hits him then that he simply cannot set one foot inside the Creel House.

“Nance,” he says. His voice cracks.

She turns to look at him, and suddenly she isn’t a vengeful warrior with a sawn-off shotgun: she’s just a girl who lost her best friend, who has spent years haunted by ‘what if…?’

“Trust your gut,” she says firmly, and that’s all he needs.

He spends a fleeting second squeezing Robin’s hand, just to steady him, and then he’s running back to the trailer.

The one thing that reassures him is that Eddie and Dustin are perfectly on time, the song cutting off just as they planned. Now run, you two, Steve thinks, as his chest burns with the effort, get inside and be safe, be safe, be safe.

But then he reaches the trailer, and he knows that something’s wrong.

Because the bats are clustered in one spot on the roof, scrabbling over the top of one another, and it makes him think of flies descending on roadkill.

He gets past all the wire and defences, and none of them take any notice. He pushes the front door open with the force of his shoulder, slams it shut again, makes sure it sticks.

And then he hears screaming.

He whips around to find Eddie driving his spear through a bat with a guttural cry. He’s on the floor, his upper body shielding something.

And then Steve sees Dustin. Dustin on the ground. Dustin bleeding.

No.

He sprints across and covers Dustin, too, slotting next to Eddie to form a complete shelter.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, and his face is ashen. “Fuck, it’s the vents, they’re in the fucking vents. I tried to—D-Dustin—I wasn’t quick enough, Christ, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

And he keeps repeating that, as if feverish, striking out again with the spear as another bat swoops for them. His aim is true, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s too late.

Steve looks down at the wound on Dustin’s thigh, at the blood spilling out relentlessly. And as Eddie cups Dustin cheek, pleads, “Stay awake, H-Henderson, you hear me? Dustin? Dustin, please,” Steve spots the bite on Eddie’s wrist. It’s barely anything, just a nick.

But it’s enough. Steve knows that it doesn’t matter how fast he is—the bats will just keep coming. They’re on the scent, to hunt. To devour. And his wounds are dried up. Old.

Fresh blood dripping from Eddie’s wrist. Dustin’s bloody leg.

Oh, you’re going to die, Steve thinks. Both of you.

Then he thinks Well, fuck that.

He flings off his jacket, wraps it tight around Dustin’s thigh. Dustin whimpers, eyelids fluttering.

“Shit, sorry, bud,” Steve whispers. “I know it hurts, I know, I know…”

Underneath the screech of more bats, he presses a brief, fierce kiss to Dustin’s forehead, pushes back his sweaty curls. I love you.

Eddie takes out another pair of bats in quick succession, slamming them with his shield—narrowly avoids their tails wrapping around his wrist. His luck won’t last forever, Steve knows that.

So he just has to be quicker.

He rips the end of his shirt with his teeth, pushes the torn fabric into Eddie’s hand.

“Eddie. Eddie, listen,” he says urgently. “It’s the blood, okay? They’re coming for the blood.”

Eddie wraps the fabric around his wrist as if on autopilot, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s the blood,” Steve repeats, as calmly as he can. “You’ve gotta stop the bleeding, okay? You can do that.”

Eddie nods jerkily, and some of his panic fades away, replaced with a white hot determination. He sets his jaw.

“Hey, Dustin?” Steve says. Tries to be gentle while raising his voice, praying it breaks through the pain-induced fog. “Eddie’s got you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie chokes out. “I’ve got you, Henderson.”

His hand strokes through Dustin’s hair, too, and God, Steve trusts him. Trusts him so damn much.

Trusts him enough for this.

Steve jerks his head upwards to the gate. “Stop the bleeding. Get him home.”

Eddie nods again, but a wrecked laugh comes out. He ducks as another bat breaks in; Steve temporarily takes the spear, kills it without flinching.

“Jesus! How the fuck are we supposed to do that, Harrington? There’ll be hordes of those fuckers in a minute.”

“You’ll be fine,” Steve says. He discreetly pats at his pockets. Feels the handle of the switchblade. Touches Dustin one last time, a palm across his brow. “Look after him.”

“Hey, I—I don’t like your tone, man,” Eddie says. “We’re looking after him, together. Together, all right? Fucking promise me, Harrington.”

“You promised me first, remember? Stop the bleeding, get him home.”

“No, no, no, Steve, don’t you fucking dare—”

But Steve is already heading outside. He locks the door behind him, just in case, but he already knows Eddie can’t leave—won’t leave Dustin behind. There’s a thump at the door, a desperate jiggling of the handle. Steve shouldn’t look behind. He shouldn’t.

But, God. He can’t help it.

Through the glass, he can see Eddie standing there, breathing raggedly. Terrified.

Steve can’t hear him through the cacophony of the bats’ cries, the thunder and lightning. But he can read his lips.

Don’t. Please don’t.

Steve brings out the blade. Slashes it right across his palm.

Eddie screams.

I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.

Steve runs. He grins savagely as he hears the bats following him, all of them, like he’s the fucking Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Yeah, that’s right, you sons of bitches. Steve laughs through a searing pain in his side. You’ve already had a taste. Come and get me.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ┊ 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

( tomorrow / either i will murder you / or you will rinse the knife in water )

chara : arlecchino fandom : genshin impact quote cr : garous abdolmalekian ; ashwarya a/n : i haven't played genshin in forever, this is all based off her character trailer + wiki

act one : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : HIDEOUS , HORRIFYING , HUMANIZING.

the first time you witness the black that adorns her skin is the first time your heart beats in vast terror. a battle gone wrong, tattered clothes and gloves, and then the reveal of the truest & highest self of a harbinger.

you do not know what to do, what to think. you are unsure if it is the adrenaline of survival that makes the life in your chest ache violently so, or if it is the fear and wanting of the unknown.

arlecchino stands before you, yet you do not dare cast your gaze upon her. you swallow hard, eyes following the drips of sanguine that fall from wretched claws. oh, dearest, how they sink into the hollows of the world, forever fragmented into existence in remnant of death. the blood is too much. it's too much-- the way it splatters across her skin, nearly drenching all black until it is an ocean of madness and crimsons and massacres.

your hands tremble. your stomach churns. you look elsewhere, searching for refuge, but the blood follows, and somewhere in its meaning is the death of those it once belonged to, and that makes your heart beat faster and faster until you feel your mind on the verge of break.

"stand."

the blood is too much.

you listen, but still, you do not look. you are afraid, but you are unsure of what.

a sharpness digs into your face, sudden. harsh. her claws press into your skin-- not light, but seldom hard enough to draw blood. you know very well that she could harm you if she desired, yet she doesn't. she jerks your chin up, forces you to meet her gaze.

"it's ill-mannered to not look your savior in the eye."

your mouth runs dry. something unfamiliar gnaws at your humanity.

"i... am thankful that the blood on your hands is not mine."

and in the abyss of black and red, there's just the faintest trace of amusement in the echoes of apathy.

"a simple thank you would have sufficed."

act two : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : FRIGHTENING , FOREIGN , FATED.

you do not know what draws you to her, this harbinger. it has been a long while since your first encounter, and still, you have remained by her side. you do not know why. you do not know why she agrees to your companionship. you question it more often than you'd like.

she is a complexity of things you have yet to unravel, and truth be told, you doubt you will ever understand her, her past, or who she truly is, and maybe it's better that way. that's what you'll tell yourself, anyway, even if it might hurt.

because she is both safety and danger to you, and you wish that frightened you, but it doesn't. you wish that it would drive you away, but it doesn't. she is no sanctuary, no haven, and though she is lined with cruelty, there is not always a coldness in her heart. you know this.

"i did not save you with the intention of keeping your presence." she tells you one day, and you cannot help but smile.

she washes the crimson off her hands. an all too common sight you have grown to adore. you watch in fascination every time, searching the bright red that fades into an everlasting black.

"yet you do not push me away, arlecchino."

she does not respond. she stares at the bloodied waters, the hazy red a familiarity. in her muddled reflection, there is nothing but vacancy.

"no, i don't."

( she doesn't. she should. you both know this. )

act three : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : ADORED , ADMIRED , ANTAGONIZED.

the world is not meant to be viewed in good and evil, but how it is deeply desired so. it would make things simpler, wouldn't it? the truth would be so easy, the war between logic and emotion dissipated into black and white and seldom gray.

that's what you'd like to imagine, anyway. because even in a world full of good and evil, you do not know where you stand, nor do you know where arlecchino stands. your heart beats dearly for her, but you do not know whether it is with love or infatuation or with warning of the end to come.

perhaps it will be a happy ending. perhaps you will not be in it, whether in death or other means.

you are unsure.

you sit before her, staring at the translucent water in the basin. it has yet to be disturbed by another, pure. your reflection is curious, though you are unable to study it for long. your gaze shifts elsewhere as she grabs your jaw; it is a familiar feeling, the way she forces you to look at her.

it's a dark nostalgia, you think. the blood on her claws, the digging sensation in your face, though much gentler than before. you aren't afraid this time. she stares at you, visage empty. she waits.

your lips curve, subtle. there is a strange exhilaration in the mourning of it all, and one day, you will understand it.

"i wonder," you begin, hand wrapping around her wrist, "when it will be my blood on your hands one day."

something in her expression changes. you barely catch it, but even then, you cannot read it. she leans forward, closes the distance between you, her lips just inches away from yours.

"will you be thankful, even then?"

her grip on your jaw tightens, but still, the claws do not draw blood. you wish it did. you grin.

"of course." you answer, and slowly, you press your lips against hers. "i will always be thankful."

[seventeenpins]

bloom

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: part three of bad girl. you decide to go out on a tinder date. joel gets jealous.

warnings: joel is an asshole, stepcest, infidelity, oral sex, somnophilia (mentioned) unsafe piv, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, smidge of role reversal (really just two stubborn people being stubborn), multiple orgasms, romance almost????, joel is sad and lost and possibly in love but mainly just wants to be wanted (but is bad at talking about real things), maybe not edited as much as it ought to be--pls tell me if there are any glaring issues you notice

a/n: finally finally actually got this finished weeks after i was certain i'd be posting. thanks to @livingdeadmaria for the jealousy angle. kinda gets away from itself, but i hope very much that you enjoy. i can't begin to express how much i appreciate your thoughtful messages and comments and interactions 💕

these past few weeks had gone by in a blur and you're hyperaware of how quickly the time is passing. joel had been taking good care of you, fucking you pretty much any time your mom was out of the house, and a couple times when she wasn't.

after casually mentioning how you'd love for him to make you feel good every minute of the day, he had laughed.

"doubt you'd want me makin' ya feel good if you're not even awake to enjoy it," he'd said.

"are you kidding me? waking up to you playing with me sounds like a dream," you told him, and he stilled, swallowing deeply.

your mom would pass out heavily after a night of drinking, and when her snores started in earnest, joel would sneak into your room, lock the door, and wake you up by dragging a palm over your tits, pinching at your nipples, rubbing a finger along your pussy, all the while telling you how good you're doin', that you taste so fuckin' sweet, god you're a fuckin angel when you're sleepin', and the one that you heard him say right as you woke up with his fingers deep in your cunt and a hand on your breast, already all worked up, and you came instantly; "you'd better hush that goddamn mouth or i'll hush it for you, baby, you gotta be quiet for daddy or your momma might wake up and then daddy won't be able to make you feel good like this-"

so no, you weren't unsatisfied with your sex life. in fact, you were more than satisfied.

it scared the hell out of you.

you were waiting, you realised, for shit to hit the fan. for joel to get bored with you. to get too busy. to come to his senses.

and, after all, the summer would be over soon, and you'll be back to your usual life. getting absolutely railed by your stepdad didn't exactly seem like something that was sustainable, long-term.

the two of you had never defined this, but you decided you needed a palate cleanser. something that'd catapult you back into the real world. if you ended up with a disappointing hookup, so be it. most hookups were, and the pornographically cinematic sex you were having with joel couldn't last forever. hell, you expected him to file for divorce any day now, and the likelihood of having any kind of relationship after he'd gone for good seemed very low indeed.

and so you decided that it was unhealthy to focus on only one person, especially when monogamy had never suited you, and the one person just so happened to be your stepdad.

you'd never deleted tinder but you couldn't remember the last time you'd opened the app. at this point, you'd convinced yourself you kept it because you thought of it as a kind of sociological study -- you endured because it meant you got to examine the extremes of human behavior and it was absolutely fucking fascinating.

so you scrolled aimlessly, appreciating the change in the pool of people that was your hometown, but quickly cursing yourself when you saw that a former student teacher of yours had just super liked you. horrifying.

you stared at your phone screen--swiping left on almost everyone, adjusting your filters to include ages 25-50, and feeling wholeheartedly disappointed at what tinder had to offer--until one face popped up. you'd almost swiped left by default, but stopped yourself just in time.

it's your old high school boyfriend, connor. not your first. not your last. but the most serious you'd had throughout high school, and definitively one of the best sexual experiences you'd had before your twenties. you'd ended things on good terms before you each went off to college.

his entire profile, you decide, is an assortment of green flags containing exactly what you need; looking for short term fun. social drinker and 420 friendly.

he's got a couple of goofy pictures, but he's aged well in the past decade, and you'd be down to find out if he's as good a lay as you remember. no possibility of falling in love; you're both only in town for the summer, nor are you looking for anything long-term. and, you add on to your mental list of reasons, he was never a creep, nor a murderer, and though that's a very low bar it's still nice to clear it. you can work with this. you swipe right and it's a match!

your mom has a girls weekend planned that you think might actually involve her and her friends, and joel told you he'll be out all weekend for his brother's bachelor party, so that's when you decide to set your date. it's nice to have the option to bring a guy back home and not have to worry about any awkward situations.

it's a friday night and you are all dolled up. your dress is tight, your tits look amazing, and the bar is lively. tonight is clearly the night to be out. there's a celebration going on in the corner with an incredibly drunk birthday girl scream-singing along to the music. pool tables packed. a group of men loudly complaining about the friend they're waiting for who's always late.

it doesn't take you long to spot connor. he's there, looking surprisingly good, leaning against the bar. a flash of dazzling white greets you when he catches your eye, grinning.

"hey," connor calls over to you, "it's been a minute! you look great!"

he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and looks you up and down, eyes sweeping over the spill of your cleavage and cinch of your curves. you know you look good, and he knows it too.

"wasn't sure if this was still your drink," he tells you, passing you a mojito, "but this is for you."

"i can't believe you remembered!" you tell him--mojitos used to be your favorite-- "i usually go for something less sweet these days, but i still love em. thank you."

you take a sip and watch as he takes a big gulp of his beer. the condensation on the bottle drips down his thumb, a drop of moisture hanging on for a moment before falling. his arms are nicer than you remember, veins drawn in beautiful patterns, muscles tensing at seemingly the slightest movement.

yeah, you could fuck him.

he offers you a questioning half smile and you realise you've really just been staring at him, not sure how long for. "didn't realise how hot you'd gotten," you tell him, and he cracks up. any uncomfortable tension dissolves, and you relax into it. you're almost able to forget about joel miller.

you're having a great night. one drink turns to three and before you know it, you're on the dance floor, enjoying the sensation of connor's hands all over you--holding your waist, brushing your cheek, groping at your ass as you grind together, both of you hot and sweaty and feeling wonderful. you turn your face to connor and kiss him, hot and passionate, running your tongue along his perfect teeth. it's... nice. he lets out a little whimper, which you like, but where joel would've leaned in deeper, cupped your face, tangled his hands in your hair and growled into your mouth in response, connor pulls back and practically giggles. "you're so sexy, baby," he says, and that's all fine and good, but it's not as exciting as you'd hoped. it just feels bland.

but you've made the effort to come out, and you're not gonna give up just yet.

you kiss him again, trying to will a bit of passion into the exchange, but all of a sudden he's shoved aside by some asshole barrelling past and he's nearly knocked over.

"hey what the fuck!" connor shouts, and the person who shoved into him stops. turns to you both.

before you see his face, you know it's him. broad shoulders and a muscled back. patchy beard. great forearms. and his jaw is set in the most beautiful scowl you've ever seen.

"joel-" you gasp.

this wasn't part of the plan. why the fuck is he here?

then you notice the group of somewhat rowdy men in the corner, right in the direction he was heading. one of them calls over in his direction, and he holds up a finger before turning back to you.

this must be his brother's bachelor party.

connor looks between the two of you. "you know this guy?" he asks, and you nod. he turns to joel. "you need to watch where you're walking, man."

a muscle in joel's clenched jaw ticks as he stares him down, and connor takes a tiny step back.

"connor," you say, "this is, uh, this is joel. my stepdad. joel, this is connor."

"oh," connor says, "well, just be more careful next time. nice to meet you, man. joel."

he extends a hand, which joel blatantly ignores as he fixes you with a gaze.

"best be gettin' home, sweetheart," he says, tone colder than you've ever heard it before. you swear you can see a vein in his forehead pulsing. "it's getting late."

you raise your eyebrows. is he... mad? and if so, is this the best he can do? "joel, it's a friday night. i'm having a good time, and i'm gonna keep having a good time."

he stares you down.

"that alright?" you ask, a challenge.

he grits his teeth again and nods sharply, hissing out a fine, throwing one last glare at connor before he walks away rigidly.

connor frowns at you and you shrug, but you glance over at joel, watching him retreat.

now that you know he's here, at this bar, it's almost impossible not to keep looking over at him.

he looks strangely awkward over there, like he's trying to appear relaxed but is following a relaxation guide written by aliens. he's rigid. uncomfortable. a man clasps him on the shoulder (his brother?) and doubles over in a laugh, which he seems to join half-heartedly. you can see how he's holding his beer with a white-knuckled grasp. his shoulders have relaxed a little, but in a way that looks intentional. you're not sure if anyone else would notice, but you've watched joel a lot these past few weeks. you can see it. you don't know what that means.

as connor tells you all about his work, you catch joel looking at you, too. there are a few times your eyes meet and something would flash between you. if connor noticed that you were distracted, he didn't show it.

you're a few more drinks in, loose and warm, getting quite cosy, when connor's phone starts to buzz. he glances the name on the caller id and his eyes go wide. "i'm so sorry," he tells you, points at his phone, "a friend of mine's going through a hard time--i need to get this. excuse me a minute?"

"of course!" you tell him, and watch him head outside for some quiet.

it takes less than two minutes before you feel joel sidle up beside you. you know it's him before you even turn to look.

"hi, joel," you say, and he grunts in response.

you're silent for a moment.

"so," you try again, "you wanna tell me why you look like you've been chewing a lemon?"

he frowns. "huh?"

"sour," you supply.

he rolls his eyes.

"don't like seein ya with that boy."

"oh really?" you ask, "and how is that any of your business? has he offended you in some way?"

he shrugs. "just don't like it."

"i'm gonna try again, joel. what's your fuckin problem?"

he huffs out a breath. "a fuckin' kid like that's just tryin' to get his dick wet."

"i should hope so," you scoff, "that's kinda the point."

"seriously?" his voice drops to a lower register, "am i not takin' good enough care of you?"

"no, joel, it's not-"

he cuts you off, "hush, girl-" and despite the quiet of his words, now you notice the slight slur to them. "cos how i remember it," he tells you, "just a day ago you were cryin' my name, ridin' my cock."

you feel your face heat, but he keeps going- "would you let that boy fuck you raw? huh?" he doesn't even give you a chance to respond. "guess you really do take after your momma, huh? mother's a whore and her daughter is too."

"fuck you joel-"

"worst mistake of my fuckin' life getting mixed up with all this shit- with you-"

rage surges through you, shoving aside any embarrassment you felt earlier, and before you can stop yourself, you slap joel across the face.

the impact breaks something that's been building and you both reel back, deflated. you stare at each other for a moment in shock and silence. the place your hand made contact with him starts to bloom blotchy red.

joel rubs his jaw with his palm and winces. "okay, i deserved that," he huffs.

you soften just a little, "you did deserve that."

"i shouldn't be talkin' to ya like that," he groans, chastened, "not your fault. i've had too much to drink, i think. gonna stick with water the rest of the night."

"can we call a truce for tonight?" you ask. connor could be back any moment now and you aren't gonna do any of this in front of him. but as unreasonable as joel's being, you don't wanna hurt him. your anger has all but dissolved and you just want peace.

"sure," he says, "truce."

you smile, half-hearted.

"so, big bachelor party, huh?" you ask, nodding at his group still in the corner.

"hah," he breathes, "yeah. can't believe my little brother's gettin' married."

"which one is he?"

joel points. "over there. the one in th' button-down, currently double fistin' his beer."

you roll your eyes. "no wonder you're so fucked up. must run in the family," you say pointedly, and he knows he's not off the hook for his earlier jibe.

a pause.

"so, who is this guy?" he asks, and he notices you tense. "no, no, i'm not gonna- be more of an asshole."

"good."

"so?"

"his name is connor. we dated back in high school. just seemed like a safe option for a hookup. no strings, any of that."

joel hums. grimaces. "seems a bit young for you, hmm? you seem to like your men old and grey, not bright eyed and bushy tailed."

you snort and roll your eyes, "oh, fuck off."

the moment falls between you.

"look, joel. i don't know what- this is between us." you gesture between the two of you, "like, it's not... sustainable. i know that. you're married to my fuckin' mom, and that's not even touching our age gap."

he sighs. "yeah. i know."

"so, what is it you want? from me? from this?"

he huffs out a breath. "truth is, i don't know," he admits.

"well, you sure as fuck had better figure it out

"he finds out his wife's cheating on him, he fucks her daughter-"

"hey, don' say it like that-"

"-and then gets jealous at the thought of her daughter fucking someone else."

"hey now-"

"am i wrong?"

silence. an awkward cough.

"no," he concedes, "you're not wrong. and i don't know what this is, but i do know what i want."

"and what's that?"

"you."

you stare at one another. he leans towards you, his voice gravelly, barely above a whisper.

"i want you to forget all about that boy. i wanna make you feel good, as much as i can for as long as i can. i wanna make you come on my tongue, and my fingers, and my cock. i wanna hear you scream my name-"

your breath hitches and you can almost taste the whiskey on his warm breath as it tickles your cheek. joel's hand is gripping your arm now and the grip is a comfort.

of course, that's the exact moment connor reappears.

"hey, there, sorry it took so long! really glad i picked up-"

you and joel pull back, and mostly manage to pull off looking casually friendly, but connor misreads it entirely and looks between the two of you.

and then he turns on joel.

"get off her ass, old man," he hisses, "she's an adult, and you're not even her dad! she can stay out if she wants to!"

joel stares at him, wide-eyed, startled as hell, and you do your best to stifle a laugh at the idea of joel being your actual dad. yikes.

"it's okay babe," you reach out to connor, patting his arm to soothe him. "joel and i were just catching up. is your friend okay?"

his eyes dart between you before he tries to catch up. recalibrate.

"uh, yeah-" he says, "yeah he was having a hard time but i think he's doing better now."

another glance to joel. back to you.

"so, uh-" he ventures, tentative, "do you wanna get out of here?"

if it hadn't been for joel turning up at this bar, you'd say yes in a heartbeat.

but you know for a damn fact that isn't gonna happen now.

"ah shit, connor, i'm sorry. i'm feeling a bit off tonight, and i think i should call it an early night."

"oh."

"i'm really sorry, it really was nice to see you."

connor sighs, nods, and then flashes you one last dazzling smile.

"you too," he says, and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "take care of yourself, yeah? and if you ever wanna meet up again, just let me know."

you nod and watch as he walks away.

it's only a moment later that you feel joel's hand snake around your waist and hold you close to him. it's familiar and lovely, the callouses that trace across your skin.

'i think," you tell him, "you should tell your group you're heading out soon."

he looks over at the group and one of them waves at him with a confused expression on his face.

"and then i want you to meet me in the bathroom. single stall at the end of the hallway. don't make me wait more than ten minutes."

joel's mouth goes very dry very quickly, and he nods almost too eagerly. his pupils are blown and you can't get enough of the bead of sweat that rolls from his temple.

"good boy," you tell him and he gulps. turns away from you and back to his group.

you walk towards the bathrooms and catch his gaze and a brief nod as you walk by him.

you feel exhilarated. goosebumps prickle up and down your arms and your stomach flips in an excited swoop. you've inadvertently just swapped roles. you didn't tend to take the lead, at least not in this way. if anything, you tended to beg, please daddy, please fuck me.

after you close the bathroom door behind you, you take a moment to collect yourself. you adjust your hair, smooth out your dress, and wait.

a few minutes pass, and then--a knock at the door. three gentle raps; a rhythm you know so well.

you open the door, grab him by the collar, and pull him in.

he practically squeaks as he's pulled through, but then you're pressing him against the door and he melts under you. he lets out a long, throaty groan as your tongue drags along his jaw, your hands slapping his out of the way as you undo the buttons of his shirt and rake your nails down his chest.

"gonna put your money where your mouth is?" you ask. his brow furrows. "gonna make me feel good, daddy?"

"yes-" he moans and devours your mouth in a kiss. pulls away, breathless, "what do you want, baby, tell me--"

"mouth. and fingers."

"god yes-"

before you have a moment to react, he hikes the skirt of your dress up and backs you up against the sink. "get on up, baby," he says, and you do, hopping up onto the sink with your skirt around your waist and your panties on full display, damp and translucent with your slick. you lean back against the mirror and joel grabs at your thighs, spreading them wider apart.

when he sees how wet you are, he lets out a strangled moan. "jesus christ, honey-" he says, and drags his forefinger along your slit, through your panties, "you're gonna fuckin' kill me."

then he looks at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. searches your face. then drops to his knees.

he starts by mouthing against your panties, just his lips at first, but then he starts to lick and suck at you, sucking your slick from the fabric.

"cute panties," he tells you, and then he's got his fingers hooked on the waistband and pulls them down and off you, helping to lift your hips.

then, when they're off, he wraps them around his hand, buries his nose into his fist and inhales deeply.

"fucking hell, joel-" you breathe, and he turns a little pink, grinning sheepishly. fuckin' joel miller sniffing your panties. how is it that that's the hottest thing you've ever seen?

he doesn't liger too long, though. before you know it, his big hands are grabbing at your thighs again, holding you open. then he's tracing a fingertip along your cunt. prodding in, just a little. pushing your folds open and looking at how messy you already are. sloppily scissoring his fingers, opening you up

"needy little thing, huh?" joel asks and you nod.

leaving his fingers inside, he pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and leans in to kitten lick it. it leaves you writhing, but the grip of his other hand on your thigh helps keep you in place. he pulls back, just a little, and spits on your pussy. rubs it in with the thumb, giving you the most lovely pressure, extra slick exactly where you need it.

pumps gently, leaning back in to start licking you in earnest. after a few lazy pumps, he hooks his fingers in you and starts pressing into you with more speed, more urgency.

he pulls back for only a moment and you can see that his moustache and his bottom lip are glistening with your slick. he opens his mouth to praise you, telling you those perfect sounds you're makin' are drivin' me crazy, honey, love how you let daddy know just how good he's makin ya feel, that's it, don't hold back-

and suddenly you're coming.

despite the dullness from the alcohol, and the fact that you're propped up on a sink and just realising your back is smashed up against an uncomfortable knobby faucet--despite all that--waves of pleasure surge through you, hot and bright at your core, flowing across your entire body as you ride his fingers, practically sobbing his name.

your hips rock back up, forcing his fingers deeper into you, and he holds you tight as you ride it through.

for a moment, your vision is replaced with a million little black dots, but then the haze clears and you see joel kneeling in front of you, one hand with stilled fingers still inside you, the other, grasping your hip and holding on gently but firmly.

it takes you longer than you expected to come down from it, but after a few minutes you've gathered yourself.

joel's no longer fingering you, instead rubbing soothing circles to a sensitive bit right at the inside of your thigh. he's telling you lovely things, and you bask in the sensation of his closeness.. you notice his fingers feel funny, but you let out a giggle when you realise they're pruney from being inside you.

he notices what you're looking at and snorts. then thinks for a moment. decides.

"you got any plans tonight?" joel asks you.

"just connor," you laugh, and joel glowers, unimpressed.

"but no, this was much better. and i have no other plans tonight. got something in mind?"

he nods, and suddenly looks almost bashful. "i've got a hotel room. technically part of the bachelor party, but my room's at the opposite end of the hallway from the rest of the party."

you grin.

"i know-" he starts, "i know we hardly ever have a chance to sleep in a bed together. but this could be a chance. if you want?"

for the second time this evening, you grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss.

the hotel is really only ten minutes away, but it feels like about five million hours.

you're trying not to look recently fucked, and joel's trying not to let his enormous hard-on look visible through his jeans.

you both sit rigidly in the back seat of the cab. neither of you know if you're being too cautious, or not cautious enough, but you both want to keep whatever you're doing between just the two of you.

despite the distance, though, you can still feel the tug between you. you could cut the tension with a knife. it's only when you arrive at your destination do you feel like you can breathe again. you don't know how, but you know joel feels it too.

there was always the risk that joel's brother could, potentially, run into them in the elevator.

so, all things considered, it was a really, really stupid idea to fool around on the elevator ride to the tenth floor.

"think they have cameras in here?" you ask, and joel snorts.

"if they do, they'll be getting quite a show, huh baby?"

"yes daddy," you agree, and joel groans at your words, closing his eyes, his head tilting back to rest against the cool metal wall behind him. he feels you undo his zipper, unfastens his belt and the button of his jeans. then the wet warmth of your mouth is wrapped against the head of his cock and his groan turns into a shudder of absolute pleasure.

his pants are still up at his hips, cock hanging out impressively. you drag your nails along his thighs all the same, providing enough pressure so he doesn't lose sensation through the fabric.

his hands are tangled up in your hair as you pull his hips towards you, encouraging him to fuck your throat. he's getting frantic, when the elevator suddenly dings!

you break apart instantly and for a moment your stomach flips as you're certain someone else is about to walk into the elevator, but then you realise you've arrived at your floor.

joel composes himself, slicks his sweaty hair back and pulls his pants back up, pretending to ignore the enormous hard-on straining against the fabric.

"this way," he tells you, and you follow him.

any initial reversal of your usual roles becomes a rhythm of give and take. you're barely through the door before joel's grabbing at the hem of your dress and pulling it up and over your shoulders. unhooks your bra and tosses it to the floor.

he stands there and stares at you for a moment, mapping out every curve, every angle, every stretch mark. you're completely bare for him, your panties still in his pocket.

then he's on you, hands gripping your waist, your jaw, stroking over your breasts, fingers dragging over your bellybutton, cupping your pussy-- the sensation is overwhelming, almost too much. if someone told you he'd grown extra hands, you'd believe them; his touch is all over you.

"you feel so good baby," he tells you as his hands slide down to grab at your ass, "you sweet thing-"

you work at unbuttoning his shirt, shoving it off his arms. you pull off his belt, too, which he never rebuckled. shuck his pants down, drop to your knees.

but then he pulls you back up. "uh-uh," he shakes his head, "get on this bed right now for daddy. i wanna taste you while you taste me."

you scoot back onto the bed and lay down, your head near the pillows. joel walks around the bed and kisses you once more, deeply, and then he yanks off his socks and straddles your face.

"this okay baby?" he asks. his cock is thick and heavy and hanging against your cheek.

"yes, daddy-" you tell him, and move to take a tentative lick of his swollen head.

"good girl," he groans and stretches out. you grab his cock with one hand, gripping onto his hip with the other. you guide his cock in your mouth, relaxing and opening your throat just how you need to for this angle. the salty tang is perfect, and you can feel his body tremble.

then you can feel his breath on your abdomen as he trails kisses down and down and down and then his lips meet yours, his hands grip your ass, and he's pointed his tongue in the most delicious way as it flicks over your clit and then inside you. you're doing your best to stay focused on sucking his cock--you know he hasn't gotten off once yet tonight--but the sensation starts to build and build and build and it's all you can do to at least keep your throat open for him to fuck into as he brings you towards another climax.

he holds onto you as you come, as if any distance would cause you to disintegrate. you ride his tongue, dazed by the sensation, the brush of his beard, the way he's gotten loud and feral as he licks up the slick of your release. your thighs are wet, both from your own arousal and his spit, and as you come back to yourself, you know you need him to fuck you.

"joel-," you say, and he ignores you, continuing to lick at you.

"joel, please-," you beg, "need your cock so bad. need you to fuck me, to fill me up-"

he pulls back, "try again," and then dives in again.

"daddy, please!", you cry, and it comes out almost as a shout.m

"there's my good girl," he tells you, and swings his leg back over you so he's no longer straddling your face. he holds his dick and slaps it a few times on your cheek. "need this cock filling you up?"

"yes."

"better beg for it, baby girl."

you fucking love when he makes you beg, but you hate it too. he walks around the bed and then kneels on the foot of it. hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you towards him.

"need it, daddy. use this pussy, use me, please-" your begging has turned to whining, and joel's eyes are blown black, hard and beautiful as he looks at you.

"fill me up with your cum, take your pleasure from me, daddy, let me be so good for you."

in a single fluid motion, he yanks your knees up onto his shoulders and fucks into you in with a single long thrust.

you scream out, it's so much and so good.

"such a good girl, huh?" he asks you, cupping your jaw as he pounds into you. it's not soft, not languid, not gentle. he sets a brutal pace, his hips stuttering, cock ramming into you again and again and again. "sweet little toy for me to use, aren't you baby? keep that pussy open wide for your daddy, huh? so wet for me, you just wanna make daddy feel good, don'tcha?"

the sensation is too much, his coarse hair grinding against your clit as he fucks so deeply into you, sending sparks flying through you at the thought of it. he presses a palm into your belly, just below your navel, and the pleasure increases beautifully.

you've lost the ability to form coherent sentences, just "yes, yes, yes, so good daddy, so fucking deep, you're so big, such a big fuckin' cock, fuck!"

his moans have turned into strangled grunts, all his focus on getting himself off in you. you adjust your hips just a little and the angle allows him to press in just that little bit deeper.

"you love feeling me in here, don't ya?" he asks, pressing his fingers harder into your belly, pulling a moan from you you weren't expecting. his eyes flicker back to your face and his eyes crinkle, "takin' daddy's cock so nice."

then he moves his fingers back down to play with your clit again.

"gettin' close, baby," he tells you, "but i need just one more from ya. can you do that, pretty girl? come one more time on daddy's dick?"

you whine and writhe but you know you can--it's already building--and you tell him so.

"that's my good girl," he praises, his fingertips slick and teasing as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.

it hits you like a freight train, and suddenly you're spasming around him, sucking his cock almost deeper inside you, exploding with waves and waves of pleasure. you scream, and he lets out a strangled cry before he spills inside you.

it takes a few minutes before either of you move again. he pulls himself out gingerly, and you wince at the lack of fullness.

"took it so nice, baby," he tells you, and cupping a soothing hand over your pussy, being careful to avoid your clit or anything too sensitive. he pulls his hand away and looks at the mess on it, your come mixed together and dripping out of you. "so good for me."

then he kisses you, gentle, sweet and deep.

he runs a shower for the both of you and scrubs you both clean. it's possibly the most tender moment you've had with him, as he tucks a wet lock of your hair back, kissing you again as his softened cock presses against you and you let yourself savour the sensation of your bodies inhabiting the same space.

joel sorts through the linens and changes the sheets before you go to bed. it's unnecessary and oddly thoughtful, something you didn't really expect.

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you snuggle in together. you can feel your eyelids growing heavy, but joel brings you back to him before you can drift off properly.

"you asked what this is between us. what i wanted."

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"i-" he falters, "i still don't know. but i know that i care for you."

"joel-"

"and i know there's no place i'd rather be right now."

you let that sit for a moment. then turn and kiss him.

"go to sleep, joel."

"okay, pretty lady."

he pulls you close and you drift off in his arms.

[clockworkdragonffxiv]

Further thought about the dragons in Final Fantasy XIV because my power has grown beyond control because I was bored at work and it popped in my head:

It's mentioned a lot in Heavensward that dragons don't remember things the way humans do. Their memories are perfect to a degree that memories don't fade so for them every trauma is this gushing fresh agony in their mind, like how Nidhogg is so incredibly pissed off because he remembers in excruciating detail finding Ratatoskr's butchered corpse and the Ishgardians gorging on her flesh.

Well, not so much remembers as he's actively experiencing it. All the time. Forever. Dragons live in the now with an intensity humans can barely comprehend, and I really think they don't process time in the same we do. We experience time linearly. Past, present, future.

Dragons don't. For them existence is experienced all at once forever. I'm not sure they even entirely distinguish between present and past and future, because it all feels the same to them, and I think that it impacts them in strange ways.

Like I don't think dragons really plan the way humans do. Everything is experienced in the Now. So I think for the vast majority of them, human tinkering and building completely baffles them. Oh they see the utility but it's not something they'd come up with on their own.

This extends to things like buildings. They certainly have the raw strength to repair the structures there, but it's not something they'd ever think of. Because repairing the castles means scouting out the proper stone, quarrying it, planning the repairs, etc.

Nidhogg's war against Ishgard is the closest thing to planning we see from them, and that was literally "torture them forever."

Also why Nidhogg was batshit insane. Because for him, he's always and will forever be at that one moment in time: finding his sister's corpse as the Ishgardians she'd been fascinated by and befriended feasted on her flesh like a pack of jackals. He never left that moment. I mean, the narrative flat out tells us that, but really holy shit is that a horrifying thing to think about. Like existentially.

It's probably the reason he could bodyjack Estinien so easily: because until the end of Heavensward, whenever Estinien closed his eyes for a second he could smell the ashes and roasting flesh from Nidhogg burning Estinien's family and entire village alive.

Also, consider that Midgardsormr went through far, far worse. The fact that the guy mostly comes off as grumpy and old should tell you about just how ridiculously tough he is. And why he spends all his time sleeping. Because whenever Midgardsormr was awake he was watching his world burn.

That and probably why he loved Hydalen and his alliance with her and devotion to her. She was as tough as he was, and had been through so much and carried on despite unimaginable woulds and pain. And she still gave him shelter when he had nothing left. That kind of compassion and strength was something he respected.

As a side note, I would be interested to hear from Middy about his thoughts on Hydalen's passing. Then again, he might not mourn her. After all, she'll live forever in his memories, as whenever he closes his eyes he still sees the radiant woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders meeting an exhausted and desperate dragon with the last eggs of his kind and providing them shelter and safety. And he feels the intensity of the sudden hope he felt then with every breath. How could he not love her?

She'll always be with him.

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 6

Summary: Things heat up with your and Kyle, and you try to enact your plan.

Words: 2k

CW: Smut, dubcon (explanation in the tags if you want more info and don't mind slight spoilers)

Kyle Garrick was a complete mystery to you. The way he moved around you as if you had known one another forever, small touches gliding across you whenever he was close. The way he pouted cutely when even after putting food out for her, Dosia had no time at all for him. The way he asked a thousand questions and you watched as after every answer he took a moment to file the information away in his head. Your favourite colour, when you had got Dosia, what foods you liked, dream vacation spot, pet peeves and comfort shows. He received every answer with grace even when they surprised him. 

“I didn’t think you’d be into horror” he said with a bright grin, deft hands peeling oranges for the dessert he was making now that lunch was happily bubbling away.

You didn’t mind cooking even if you didn’t have any great love for it, but you were more than content to just sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and watch him work. The lazy rays of sunlight kept catching him and you didn’t even find you were reluctant to admit to yourself that he was beautiful. Of course he was still happily in those wholesome flannel bottoms and no shirt. Of course.

“I think after the past 48 hours I might have lost my love of it” you answered, as if to remind yourself out loud that this beautiful man cooking your favourite meal for lunch was not someone to fall for. 

It was fascinating to watch him frown and look at you with those eyes all full of apologies and longing. Fascinating and heart wrenching because it really made you feel guilty using him the way you intended. He abandoned the oranges and moved to where you were perched on the stool.

“We saved you luv, you’re safe.”

As if it was the fire that you had found horrifying. Although thinking about it now did make your heartbeat pick up when you remembered that awful choking smoke smothering and blinding you. You didn’t remember much from when you had been fading, too terrified to move towards the doorway when you could see the blaze through it. But you remembered the figure that had barreled through and roughly held your face for a moment in some sort of relief you were alive. You remembered being lifted and the quick flash of heat as you were carried through. You remembered the sky had never looked so beautiful even as grey as it was.

Kyle saw it again, saw you experiencing it in your head. Last time it had happened he had kissed you and had felt his self-control steam out of his ears immediately. You had been in those cute little dungarees then, but now you were dressed in Price’s sweatpants and tshirt and it did something for him. It felt forbidden to touch you when his Captain had so clearly marked you his, and that made the idea all the more attractive. But he fought it, he fought it as much as he could, instead taking your hand in his and smoothing his thumb in soothing circles.

“You are right here, you’re safe. You can breathe,” he said gently.

Stupid handsome boy and his stupid comfort and your stupid feelings. 

“Thank you.”

There was a moment where you just stared at one another and you thought he might kiss you, but he didn’t. He kept himself still but for the thumb rubbing your knuckles. Except for this half baked plan to work you needed him to kiss you. You needed there to be evidence on your body of him for the others to see, especially Johnny. After all the past two times you had been cosy with Kyle it had been him that caught you, him that was mad about it. 

“Kyle…” you whispered, finding that the tremor and neediness in your voice came easier than it should.

He had self-control, but not that much. Not enough to turn down the open invitation you were giving him even if he did suspect that you had some ulterior motive. He wasn’t stupid and you were far from the tame little thing he had imagined you so he didn’t buy the damsel act, but he also wasn’t a good enough man to let you know that when it ran the risk you would give up on whatever plan involved getting him on you. 

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you leaned forward slightly to wrap your lips around the digit. You watched his eyes, how they were fixated on watching as your mouth welcomed his thumb and then welcomed two of his fingers when he switched to pressing them against your lips. You swirled your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken.

Honestly you had thought he would just kiss you as a response, not whatever this was. The pads of his fingers massaging orange oil into your tongue was causing a violent flurry of butterflies in your stomach, like you were on a roller coaster during the drop. You hadn't really meant to suckle on them the way you were doing, but it felt instinctual, it felt like you needed to see the bobbing of his Adams apple as he had to swallow thickly at the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

You just stared at him as he withdrew his fingers and looked at you, both of you flushed. His fingers were glistening with your saliva and he made no move to wipe them off.

"Tell me I can use them."

You thought your heart might have thudded hard enough to smash into your ribcage as you nodded shakily.

"Words luv."

He was being serious you realised. He really wanted to make sure you were enthusiastic in your consent. The man who had, with his team, kidnapped you and faked your death, wanted you to be enthusiastic in your consent. Fuck it was hard not to like him.

"You can use them," you said, voice cracking. He stared at you and waited, obvious that he wanted more than that. "You can use your fingers on me, I… Kyle please, want you to."

And you did. You did want him to. Before you could process that little fact and feel the mortification from having said it out loud, his fingers still wet from your saliva had slipped into the waistband of the sweats you were wearing and dragged straight from your entrance to your clit. He got even closer to you which let you drop your head against his chest and just pant, focusing on trying not to get overwhelmed. 

It was difficult, it was so difficult. Kyle was spectacular with his fingers, playing with you softly enough that you were biting back little whines and begs for him to do more. If the fact that this was actually doing fuck all to leave a physical mark on you came to your head, you fully ignored it. If the fact that one of the hands you had clinging to his bare chest moved down to feel him through the fabric of his pants then you ignored that too. God you wanted to see if you could take him, he felt big.

“M’going to, come on luv, tell me I can” he said into your hair as his fingers teased at your entrance, looking for permission to sink them into your heat. 

When you just mumbled incoherently he pressed his thumb to your clit and drew delicious circles with it, getting you insanely close to the edge and then slowing again and again. 

“Words, need words.”

“I-I- fuck please. Ok please? Just fucking finger me already!”

You were near shouting at him and horribly embarrassed at the words that had snapped out of your mouth. How long had it been since someone else touched you like this? The hand you had on him slipped under his pants to really feel him, start pumping at that hot velvety cock that you knew would fit perfectly inside you. It would be a stretch, especially after so long, but fuck you wanted it so badly as his fingers finally speared into you, making you cry out pathetically against his chest. You were enjoying this immensely, but you tried to cling onto the last shreds of your plan. Kyle needed to like you, you needed to turn him against the others. And honestly if he did run away with you, would it be so bad to give in and stay with him?

Kyle may not have had the self-control to leave you be, but he was patient and could take it torturously slow. He was glad your face was buried as it was, not able to see the feral little grin he had at how out of control you got. You probably didn’t even realise that you were going fast and hard at his cock, getting him close enough that he knew he’d wind up cumming first if he didn’t stop you. It was fucking beautiful how you were wriggling in the stool, fucking yourself down onto his fingers and making circles with your hips to get more friction from his thumb on your clit. When he crooked his fingers inside you the strangled noise you made was music to his ears. He wasn’t intending of cumming first, was fully about to make you slow down, but then you gave yourself away.

“K-Kyle! Please, I- I don’t want the others to touch me, just you. I’m yours.”

So that was your game. Honestly he felt a little bad for you with how poorly put together this little scheme was. You were barely able to even commit to the words, clearly not really caring fully about what you were saying but forcing yourself to say it nonetheless. He slid his eyes to the window, locking them with Soap and Price outside with mischief clearly on his mind. He had noticed them arrive when you had been tumbling into flashbacks, had given them a small shake of the head to indicate they should hold off coming in and let him handle it. They wound up getting quite a show with how loud you were. Price only rolled his eyes at how dumb he found your attempt to sow discord between them and lit a cigar, turning away. Soap grinned, clearly delighted with the ammunition they now had, fully intending to watch the end of this little show.

“Say it again luv, who do you belong to?”

Hearing you sob out his name while wearing Price’s clothes, while he had his eyes locked with Soap outside, that had him groaning and cumming messily into your hand. And then without much ceremony he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hand back, stepping away from you. 

You were wildly confused at first, left panting on the stool with one of your hand sticky from his cum and your whole body a live wire, desperate to finish. The confusion turned to white hot anger when he smirked at you, clearly not intending on finishing what he started. You went to screech at him when you heard the door open, whipping your head around to watch Johnny swagger in. You caught a glimpse of cigar smoke, oh God Price was out there.

Without even acknowledging you Kyle held out his fingers and Johnny walked over to suck your arousal off of them with a delighted little groan. You could not fucking breathe watching it. And when Johnny turned to you and delicately put a hand to your throat, growled into your ear, you thought your heart might have stopped.

“Stupid wee bonnie thing, your naw going tae cum until ye get permission from every single one of us.”

Just like that the heat of him was gone with a little warning squeeze to your throat and him and Kyle were discussing what was for lunch. They laughed jovially about the state of Kyle, Price finally coming in and telling him to go clean up while him and Johnny sorted the rest of the cooking. They were so comfortable around one another. Oh, oh this plan was never going to work was it?

You sat, wet and miserable and angry, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

[minniiaa]

The LawLu brainrot is crazy for me rn

Law is never desperate until he is. Like he doesn't need sex before Luffy, but once he just cuddles with Luffy once, he becomes so downbad. He thinks about Luffy fucking him like a ragdoll 24/7. It never leaves his brain and just being in the same room with Luffy makes him go crazy.

And then Luffy does fuck him and there's no going back ever again. He's more than just downbad. It's almost a problem. Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo have never heard him talk so much before, and it's all about Luffy. He can never get the man out of his head. And he just wants sex all the time. No thoughts, head empty, just his boyfriend fucking him into next week.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

The brainrot is equally crazy over here but I subscribe to your headcanon as fact and it is one of my favorite Lawlu dynamics.

I feel like Law is one of those people who was always like... too busy for sex or it was too much of a chore for him. He has a million other things to worry about and his getting his dick wet is a last resort when he's really pent up and can't take it anymore (he'll just jerk off at that point, less work and less mess).

UNTIL LUFFY. Something about Luffy draws him in and fascinates him like no one ever has. People don't interest Law very much unless they are his patients and he can't figure out what it is about Luffy that has him analyzing every tiny movement and micro-expression he makes. He's infatuated by the way his muscles ripple when he moves, how he smiles just a little differently depending on who he's talking to, and especially the way his gaze always lingers a little too long when he looks at Law. Everything about him just gives Law butterflies like he's some teen girl having his first crush.

The first time they cuddle is by Luffy's request and Law says yes so fast that he almost dies on the spot at how desperate he sounds but Luffy doesn't seem to care. He finally gets to feel Luffy's strong arms around him, his soft hair tickling his cheek, and how warm his breath on his neck is. It breaks him, no he wants Luffy to break him. He's never been so horny in his life, he's never wanted someone this bad, and he has no idea why. Every time he looks at him those first initial touches, all he can think of Luffy absolutely railing him in every possible position and fantasizing about choking on his dick until he cries. He's both mortified and confused like yeah, Luffy is hot but he's Luffy. He's a moron most of the time. It's not like he's some kind of sex god or anything. There's no way...

He's totally wrong, there IS a way. He finally gets his wish and Luffy fucks him so good that it alters his brain chemistry forever. He's left staring at the ceiling, twitching and contemplating his entire life up to that point while Luffy gives him sweet little kisses and cuddles, telling him how good he did and how pretty he is. "That was really fun Torao, let's do it again," Luffy says and Law is virtually begging him for more not just then but every day after. He doesn't have to do much begging though, Luffy can just sense when he's in the mood like he's some sort of dog who can smell when he's turned on which is always now.

No matter what they're doing, Law just has to look at Luffy a certain way and he's dragging him somewhere to go fuck. Bathrooms, closets, backs of cars, doesn't matter. Normally Law would be horrified about this behavior but with Luffy, he doesn't give a damn, he just wants to be bent over and given the sweet but demanding treatment that Luffy always provides until he's turned into a needy, whiny mess. But it's never enough, no matter how far gone he is and how many times he cums, all he wants is more.

Everyone around him is so confused because ever since Luffy, Law has stopped acting like he has a stick up his ass all the time (they realize eventually it's because he now has something else there instead). He talks about Luffy constantly, likely without even realizing it which shocks his friends because Law was usually a listener and not a talker. He smiles, hell he even laughs and not in a creepy murderous way he used to.

Luffy takes up all the space in both his mouth (in more ways than one) and his brain and Law can't stop it nor does he want to. He's down HORRENDOUS for this man and Luffy just sits by with a stupid little satisfied smirk on his face, Law next to him or on his lap because he constantly needs to be touching some part of him when they're together. He knows that he's the best boyfriend ever and Law would never leave him in a million years not only because he's so head over heels in love, but because no one can please Law like he can.

[a-small-tired-lonely-potato]

Elizabeth having growing pains in her tatas once she gets pregnant with Tristan and trying not to complain while out with the sins but heaving a little and crossing her arms to hold herself.

Diane: Hmm? What's wrong Princess?

Meliodas: You know you don't have to call her that anymore right? And besides, she's not even a princess anymor-

Diane: SHUUUUSSSSSHHHH Captain, her bestie is talking. What's wrong?

Elizabeth: I-It's nothing, j-just some pain.

Diane: Oh, is he kicking already?

Elizabeth: No. Well, yes, but that's, uhhh, not really what it is.

Diane: Hmm? Then wha-

King: Here you go, princess, this tea should help with the growing pains, and don't worry, its completely safe for the baby.

Elizabeth: Oh!? Uh, thank you King, how did you-

King: Ha, you've been distracted by it since you got here, I read hearts remember?

Elizabeth: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother anyone.

King: It's not a bother! I remember how hard growing pains could be, so don't even worry.

Meliodas: Oof, was it this bad with Diane?

Diane: Actually, no, mine stayed pretty much the same size. And when they did grow it wasn't that bad.

King: No, Diane was perfectly fine. I'm talking about me.

Meliodas: ... Huh?

Ban: *Whips his head around so fast his neck makes a crack noise that echoes like a gunshot* HUH!?

King: Yeah, when I first grew those damn things it was so painful it basically decided my gender for me, haha.

Elaine: Oh please, you were still undecided even while growing them, you only stuck with your choice after you met Diane. You're terrible with making decisions, you take forever, Sin of Sloth indeed.

King: Hey! I didn't see you choosing yours either! Not even after you met Ban! So what's up with that!?

Elaine: I was taking my time so I could be sure, you were just lazy.

King: HOW DARE-

Ban & Meliodas:

And that was how they found out about the Fairy Gender not existing until they want it to.

Later~

Gowther: So what happens if one never decides to stick with one? Do they get one selected randomly?

King: Oh God no, no they just have both.

Gowther: Both?

King: Or neither. Whichever they choose.

Gowther: Fascinating.

King: Yeah, Helbram had both, and Fairy King Gloxinia decided to forgo it. Ha, getting stuck with only One gender, that's funny Gowther, your humor has gotten way better.

Elizabeth: That's how it is for humans.

King: ... Huh?

Elizabeth: We just have the one we're born with. That's all we really get. From what I remember, trying to change it doesn't really end well, I think that's what got me killed once.

King, horrified: Oh my God.

Elizabeth: Yeah, burning at the stake sucked.

[multi-fandom-simp]

Hello! I'd love to see Garrett from Twilight with a soulmate au! I'd love to see him with a human mate, he'd be such a smitten kitten for her for sure! I'm open to the clock running down and them meeting or the red string and finding each other, or other ideas if you have one in mind.

Please and thank you!!

(A/N: I had such a fun time writing this piece! Soulmate Au's are truly one of my favorites. Thank you for such a lovely request, I hope you enjoy the fic💕)

Forever? Forever.

Pairing: Garrett x Human! Reader

Soulmate! Au (red string)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the twilight characters, nor do I claim them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You had always been told your soulmate was dead. That your string was never fully red because they were no longer here. Imagine your surprise when your soulmate does exist..just as a vampire. A vampire that absolutely adores you at that.

‼️TW‼️: mentions of death, mentions of eating a bunny (should that be a warning, idk??)

Word Count: 2,034 (I got a bit carried away)

Everyone was born with a red string, one that connected you to your soulmate. Most people had it wrapped around their finger or their wrist, but not you. Your string sprouted from your wrist as if it grew within your very veins. Not only that, but the further the string got from you, the paler it got, almost as if it was losing color. Everyone had told you that it meant your soulmate was dead, or dying, but something told you otherwise.

Unlike everyone else, your string came with sensations. Not anything weird, just feelings. Feelings of warmth whenever your hands would shake, or a sudden chill whenever you had a fever, almost as if your soulmate was comforting you. Oddly enough these occurrences never bothered you, in fact, they made you feel less alone. 

You weren’t always alone. You had a family, friends, and past lovers, but it was never enough. Despite how great they were, they made you feel suffocated. You wanted more, so you got more. Within a night you had packed a suitcase and moved to Forks, Washington where you worked early shifts at the local diner, and took night classes at the local college. It was nothing fancy, but it made you feel alive. The rush of moving somewhere new, where no one knew your name or your face felt like a breath of fresh air. The feeling of running on a few hours of sleep so that you could fit work, class, and exploration into your day was euphoric…until it wasn’t. 

After a year you had grown bored of the quaint town. Its same blue hue became dull and the rush soon became tiring. The only thing you had left was the woods. Now, as ominous as it sounds, the woods in Forks seemed guarded. Somewhere you constantly felt watched but not in a horrifying, murderous way. The forests become your safe haven for early-morning readings and late-night strolls. 

..and also the place where you first met him.

It had been stormy that morning. The power at the diner had been knocked out and with no backup generator, they let the staff go home. You decided to take a cut through the forest instead of hailing a cab. Was it the best decision? Absolutely not, but you weren’t the only one who had made it. Halfway down your path, you stumbled upon a fellow holding a rabbit. His eyes found you before you found him. His eyes followed your red string back to his own. He was mated to a human, how fascinating. 

His thoughts seem to escape him for a moment as he murmured, “A human.”

“ An odd man” You shot back quickly. His mouth stretches into a grin at your wit. You clearly had some spunk to you, and he liked spunk. 

“This odd man does have a name. I’m Garrett, and you?” Garrett noticed that you had yet to take notice of the tautness of your string, of the connection it bore to him. Little did he know that you had given up on finding your soulmate after years of being told that they were dead. 

Ignoring his question, your eyes flickered down to the rabbit still in his hands, “ Why are you holding a rabbit?” 

“ I’m sheltering it from the rain” That was a lie. Garrett had intended to feed off of the bunny, as he hadn’t had a feeding since he arrived to help the Cullens. However, upon your scrutinizing gaze, he deemed it best to release the poor thing. It’s not as if the small creature would fulfill his diet anyway. 

“Right. Nice meeting you then, Garrett” The name tag on your uniform seemed to gleam at him through the rain as you began to walk away. 

“ I take it everything in town is closed down then?” Your eyes shot to Garrett’s in confusion while he continued, “Unless you normally parade through the forest in waitress attire.” 

“ A few places remain open, such as the hospital. Which is where I’ll end up if I don’t get out of this rain.” Despite the intrigue nagging at the back of your mind, you turned away from Garrett and continued on your way. Missing the way he grinned at your remark. 

“ It was nice meeting you as well!” Garrett called after you before murmuring to himself, “Let’s hope our paths cross again soon.” 

And soon it was. The second time you met Garrett he was sat on the floor of the town’s library. The floor of the romance section to be exact. His hair was dry this time, allowing you to see its naturally curly state. The only odd thing being the clothes he wore. They were the exact same pair you had seen him in days ago, and truthfully they looked like they were from another time. 

“Are you going to stare at me all day or actually speak to me?” Garrett turned his head to look at you. His eyes swept over your comfy attire with a small smile. You looked much more relaxed in your casual clothing than in a wet work uniform. 

“I wasn’t staring” You grumbled, “ I was just surprised to see you in the romance section is all.”

Garrett stood and dusted himself off, “ Meeting me in the forest one time is enough to tell you about my reading preferences? Besides, I wanted to see what keeps the romantics entertained these days” 

“Fair enough” You shrug. Your eyes scan the shelves for a moment before settling on the top row. You reach up for the book you wanted, but it remained just out of your reach. A warmth, like the one you often felt through your string, surrounded you from behind. Turning your head you saw Garrett reaching past you to grab the book with ease. 

He hands it down to you with a smirk, “ I believe this what you wanted, my lady” 

“Thank you” Your voice was quiet as it caught in the back of your throat. You weren’t meek by any means but his eyes had taken you off guard. They were red, not like the auburn shade his hair was, but a blood red. You pulled your eyes from his, trailing them over his pale skin until you reached his hands. A silent gasp left your lips as you noticed that Garret’s thread also sprouted from his wrist and that it was pale blue. You shifted your wrist in curiosity, waiting to see if Garrett’s thread would move. When it did your eyes snapped back up to his. Garrett was looking at you softly, yet intently. 

“Are you..” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say it. 

“-Dead?” Garrett finished. You nodded silently, awaiting an answer. Garrett simply looked down at the novel in your hands. Once you followed his gaze it all clicked. Empire of the Vampire.

“Oh..you’re-..you” None of your words felt right. Were you terrified, or curious? Excited perhaps? 

Garrett hooked a finger beneath your chin, guiding you to look up at him again, “ Does it bother you?” 

The waiting expression in his eyes almost seemed sad, “ No, should it?” 

“ No. Just because I’m a monstrous thing does not mean I would harm you” Garrett reassured, “ I’ve grown far too attached to you to hurt you, my dear human.” 

Heat blossomed within your chest alongside confusion. The challenging look in your eye that Garrett had come to cherish returned quickly, “ You’ve only just met me.” 

“ I’ve known about you for ages. Your heartbeat thrummed through my thread and your feelings flooded my head” As if on cue, the warmth you’ve felt all your life thrummed through the thread and into your veins. It all made sense now. All these years Garrett had been your source of comfort while you had been his taste of humanity. 

You exhaled softly, “Where do we go from here?” 

“Wherever you want. You could forget this ever happened and continue your life as is-” The thought of continuing your boring day-to-day with the knowledge of Garrett in the back of your mind felt criminal. 

You were quick to interrupt, “-I don’t want to forget you. I want us to figure this out together.” 

“ Then, by all means, tell me where to start and I’ll follow”, Garrett spoke. He was closer this time, so close that the tip of his nose almost touched yours. 

You took a deep breath, “Start by telling me everything.” 

And so he did. The two of you sat on the floor of the romance section without a care for time. You leaned against the bookshelf as Garrett told you stories of his life and transformation, only pausing when other people passed by. Eventually, he told you about his thread. How it had started around his wrist but then sunk into the skin when he turned into a vampire. After what seemed like hours, Garrett offered to walk you home, in exchange for stories about your own life. Right before the two of you reached your home, Garrett explained the situation with the Cullens. He didn’t want to potentially die in a vampire battle and leave you completely in the dark. Surprisingly, you took it better than he imagined, though he could still feel your worry through the thread. 

“Don’t worry about me, dear human. I have been in many wars” His hands cradled the sides of your face as he looked down at you, “Now inside you go. It is nearly sunrise and you have yet to sleep.” 

“Where will you be tomorrow?” You inquire with longing brewing in your eyes. Part of you felt like he would vanish with the wind. 

Garrett chuckles softly, “I have to check in with Carlisle, but don’t fret, I shall be here when you wake in the morning”

“I could come with you-”

Garrett shakes his head firmly, “ No, some of the others don’t have control of their bloodlust and I would rather keep you alive and safe.”

“Alright, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then” You detach yourself from his presence and turn to head inside. Once you reach the door, you turn to wave at him once more. He uncrosses his arms for a brief moment to wave back. You dream of him that night, of what your life could’ve been had you been born in his era. Garrett perched himself on a tree as you slept. Staying close enough to keep track of your heartbeat, but not so close that you felt overwhelmed. 

By the time you woke, Garrett had run to Carlisle’s and back already. The run down for the day didn’t take nearly as much time as he thought. He was back in the tree by the time you left the house for the day. 

“No work uniform today either?” He observed.

“Nope, I have today off” You informed him,” Figured I would visit somewhere for lunch, care to join me?” 

Garrett jumped down from the tree, landing skillfully behind you as you began walking, “ I would never say no to time with you, dear human.”

“You’re cheesy” You fought back the blush that coated your cheeks. 

“I prefer to call myself a hopeless romantic, thank you very much” Garrett snarked, “Speaking of romantics, how about I carry you? We would arrive much faster.” 

You snorted out a laugh, “ No thank you. Not every woman is comfortable being picked up off her feet, Garrett” 

“Your independence is going to be the death of my romanticism, just as the British were to peace” He mumbled. 

You stopped walking to face him, “ Did you just compare me to the British invasion?” 

“ Is this the part where I lie or say sorry?” Garrett teased, walking to you with his hands behind his back.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “ The universe expects me to spend forever with you and yet you’ve already insulted me before our first date. Perhaps it should reconsider.”

“ Perhaps it shouldn’t” Garrett hummed, “Not as if it has any say in the matter anymore. You’re stuck with me forever.” 

Your eyes twinkled at the thought, “ Forever?” 

Garrett leaned down until his nose touched yours again, “ Forever.” 

[copperbadge]

I was thinking about proofing the latest novel this morning and some of the stuff I may have to shift around or alter -- I'm hoping nothing major, but it's evident from comments that I didn't do quite as much research as I should have in one or two spots.

Because this is a book that is in some aspects very much about pregnancy, while writing it and now while proofing it I've had pregnancy media on the brain, as I try to avoid the pitfalls that a lot of pregnancy arcs on sitcoms or in television dramas fall into. I tried as much as possible to put myself in the position of "If this was happening to my body, how would I feel? If this was my new cultural position, what would that be like?"

I've also been thinking a lot of a pregnancy arc from the TV series Seventh Heaven, and this has driven me to develop what I think of, humorously, as the Dziga Vertov-Seventh Heaven scale of realism. (I've taken to calling it the Vertov-Hampton scale, after producer Brenda Hampton. It sounds amusingly like a personality test, and in some ways it is.)

Dziga Vertov was one of the founders of the cinema verite movement and often combined documentary elements into his fictional work, or vice versa; I studied him in a documentary film class in college and again when I was working on my documentary theatre capstone project. Seventh Heaven, meanwhile, was one of late-90s "family" shows where you can practically chart the way it became more acceptable to be visibly evangelical right-wing in America; it portrayed a pastor and his family grappling with life's difficult questions like "How do I repent of premarital sex" and "why it's not okay for women to decide how they dress for themselves". It was one of many shows I watched during grad school because I was home a lot and only had network television, and I had a horrified fascination with it.

There's a pregnancy arc late in the series where the mother-to-be ends up going into labor while stuck in an elevator. That's tropey, but it's also tried-and-true (White Collar did a similar plot, for fuck's sake). It did give me pause that for the entire sequence of her giving birth in the elevator, she had all of her clothes on, including her shoes and a conveniently draped skirt. Still, you know, it's network television, there are sponsors and censors and such who get involved...

And then, after the big suspenseful "Push! Push!" and the cut to commercial, we return to them finally getting the door of the elevator open from the outside...

And the woman who was giving birth five minutes ago appears in the doorway, still completely dressed, not a speck of bodily fluid on her, and walks out of the elevator carrying her newborn. Like she just picked it up from the customer service desk. It's fucking bonkers. And it was such a definingly stupid moment of television that it cemented Seventh Heaven for me forever as the most ridiculous thing I'm ever likely to watch.

Anyway all of this is to say that while I try to stay as far towards Dziga Vertov as possible, I do sometimes drift towards Seventh Heaven, but I do my best to stop myself before I hit "Walking out of an elevator after giving birth" levels of absurdity.

And I remind myself that however implausible I think my storytelling is, it'll never be Seventh Heaven level bad.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Hiii! Can you please write something for Louis Bloom? He’s sooo bad but he is just so hot I have a hard time hating him 😭 Merry Christmas!

Hiii! Merry Christmas for you too, anon, thank you for this wonderful gift, my first request since I came back <3

Hm yeah, if people don't want us to fall in love with psychos, they need to stop hiring Jake Gyllenhaal to play then yk...

Warnings: oral (male recieving), balls worship, manipulation (from both sides, but heavier on his), description of violence, blood, accidents and other typical Lou Bloom activities (he doesn't hurt reader).

Like 1.7k words

You were new in town. You didn't know about Louis's reputation. The two of you had just started going out and you didn't know much about his job... all you knew was the gleam in his eyes whenever he talked about it, always mentioning he was very successful. You also knew that he worked VERY hard, cause more than once you've seen him spend the entire evening out, or simply drop everything he's doing when he hears about something that could make it to the news. And you would watch his material on TV smiling proudly at his hard work.

You couldn't imagine how hard it must be for him to witness such horrible, tragic events and document everything... again... you didn't know him very well yet.

Time passed and the two of you only grew closer. Louis was fascinated by your innocence... about how you would always receive him with open arms and whispers of "my poor Lou" after a particular long night, or how you'd be horrified after seeing his images on TV, saying things like "oh baby, you must be a hero, how can you endure this kind of thing?".

It just drove him crazy. He was living a double life... he would be the most absolute cruel and unhinged man on the dark streets of LA, and come back to you as a man of many sacrifices. Just when he thought it couldn't be more perfect, he has this idea: the worse his job looked to you, the more you would admire him.

The next night was the first night he came home covered in blood. You almost had a heart attack.

"Lou!" You ran towards him. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"No, it's okay, baby, I'm okay..." He put on his saddest face. "I just... I was out there doing my job, you know... but I... Oh, my love, I did something terrible..."

"What do you mean, Lou? What happened?" You asked nervously.

"You know I'm not supposed to interfere on the scene, but... I couldn't help it... there was this child... he was very hurt on the accident, I just had to help him!"

You hugged him and cried proudly, trying to calm him down, telling him it was okay... oh, little did you know he was calmer than ever as he lied and manipulated you, smirking into the hug as he watched you fall into his trap.

But his need for your attention and affection grew completely out of his control. His storied became more and more absurd and he started to... cause some... situations on purpose, just so he would have new stories to tell you about how brave he was.

Louis was always the type to be behind the cameras, but more than once he filmed himself dragging a victim of a car accident or carrying an unconscious person around, heavily editing it afterwards, to make it look like he was saving them... and he didn't even sell those images, they were only for you to see, with the excuse that he was so humble and didn't want the fame, he just wanted to help.

But he just couldn't fool you forever, no matter how hard he tried. The absurdity of his stories increased drastically and he didn't know where to stop... Louis was smart and cold when it came to the lies he sold for the television, not when it came for the ones he told to you.

And that's when you decided to investigate.

You knew that every time he allowed himself to close his eyes, he would sleep very heavily, since it was so rare. But you needed to make sure of it. So you planned a pretty exhausting night for him...

"Hi, baby" you greeted him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as soon as he walked into the apartment that night. "Hope you're not too tired..."

"Hey, love. I'm fine, What do you have in mind?" he smiled back, not suspecting anything.

"Wanted to treat you real good..." you said, moving your hand down his chest, over his shirt. "You deserve to relax a bit..."

"Yeah?" He smirked and you nodded, big doe eyes acting innocent, like you knew it would drive him crazy.

You guided him towards the sofa while he kissed you passionately, his hands softly on your waist. He sat on the sofa and you kneeled on the floor, in front of him. The look on his face made you forget about your plan immediately. And the part of you that remembered it, felt extremely guilty... you couldn't do that to him. He was such a loving, caring boyfriend, you had no reason to suspect he had been doing anything wrong.

He unbuttoned his shirt, as your hands worked on his pants, pulling them down to his knees. You could see through his underwear that he was starting to get hard.

"Come on, angel, let me see those pretty tits, huh?" He asked in his sweetest tone.

You didn't hesitate to remove your top, playing with your tits in front of him, watching his smile grow wider and his dick get harder.

"Lay back, Lou... let me take care of you, okay?" You insisted. "Just relax, I'll be so good for you... put on a show like you deserve..."

"Fuck, little girl..." he frowned, dick now throbbing. He obeyed, though, letting you pull his underwear down.

As his cock sprung free, your mouth watered. What a fool you were! Acting like you could control him when you were down that bad... cock drunk before even having a taste...

You grabbed his shaft, tongue running up and down slowly, getting him wet. You started stroking him as your mouth went to his balls. You sucked and caressed and drooled all over them, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he moaned in pleasure. Louis was the type to hide his moans, but he barely could when you worshipped his balls this good...

You could tell he was getting impatient and the last thing you wanted was to lose control of the situation. If he decided to be in charge, you knew you were in trouble. So you took his shaft in your mouth, little by little, until it hit the back of your throat. You moaned as you did it, hands squeezing your own tits as you tried not to gag. Every movement you made was designed to keep him entertained, to keep him lost in the moment.

Your head bobbed faster as his words and praises got more and more filthy. As he went from "Fuck, you're doing so well, my sweet angel, keep going, you're making me feel so good" to "Fucking whore, so hungry for this cock, bet you can't wait to swallow all I have to give you".

And fuck, you were grateful when he came down your throat, giving you an unexplainable feeling of joy as you watched your man so satisfied, so... calm... maybe a little... sleepy.

"Come on, Lou... let's go to bed... you must be so exhausted." You suggested. He didn't argue, even though he didn't like not returning the favor you just did for him. He just had a long day, and he would be able to please you harder and better in the morning, not now.

The ache between your legs after sucking him off and not getting any attention afterwards worked as some kind of fuel to carry on with your plan. You left him sound asleep in his room, closing the door and walking to the living room as silently as possible, finding his computer there.

Not a single suspicion you had before could have prepared you for what you would find there. That wasn't the sweet Louis you knew... the way he dragged extremely hurt people around the streets, positioning them like they were toys... he didn't seem to be... helping them. Took you a while to understand that it was all fake. He had been creating entire scenes from scratch, he was a fucking actor... you shivered as you heard a woman screaming for him to stop as he manipulated her body like a doll... the way he told her to shut up...

"You know that's really none of your business, darling."

Your blood froze. You wouldn't dare to look up, but you could feel him standing beside you. How long has he been there?

"Lou, I can explain..." your eyes filled with tears.

"I know you can." He sighed, sittind beside you on the sofa. "But I don't really wanna hear it."

You flinched as he raised his hand, but he just rested it softly on your cheek, wiping a tear away.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetheart... you know I could never do that..." he reassured you. "You need to know a few things about me."

You sat still and he saw that as a sign to continue. "You see, I don't hurt anyone. I just... find them in a very bad situation and... I have to do my job, you see. And my job is not giving people the truth, my job is to give them something they wanna watch..."

"But... Lou... that's wrong..." you gathered strength to finally speak.

"Then tell me, little one, who's so bad? Me? For giving people entertainment... or is it the people who find this entertaining?" He continued caressing your cheek. "And that would include you, I'm afraid... cause you watched everything I ever showed you and you fell in love with me while you did so."

"I didn't... I didn't know..." you tried to justify it all to yourself more than to him.

"I know it's shocking, my love." He brought you closer to him, giving your forehead a kiss. "You're new here... LA, Hollywood... every magical thing you see on TV is absolutely filthy behind the cameras."

Maybe he was right, and you hated it. You knew you were being manipulated, but you just couldn't... not see how it all made sense.

"Come back to bed, princess." He offered, his voice was calm as if nothing had happened. "We can talk more about all of this tomorrow. There's so much I need to show you."

His calm attitude indicated that he knew you were sticking around, even after he revealed his true self. The fact that you took his hand and followed him back to the bedroom, showed he was right.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 30

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Oral sex; piv; unprotected sex

“You look beautiful.” 

“You can cut that out.” 

“Cut what out?” 

“This. This,” You waggled your finger at him, “Flirty, handsome, charming…schtick.” 

Harvey’s brows rose, smile widening as you raised your champagne flute to your lips. The cocktail party was fairly well-attended. You hadn’t been to anything so fancy since…Well, you’d never been to anything this fancy. 

“You agreed to come with me,” Harvey pointed out. “So I thought you liked the flirty, handsome, charming schtick. Which, for the record, is not a schtick.” 

“I agreed to come as a favor to Mike.” 

“A favor.” 

“Yes.” 

“You owed him one?” “No. Now he owes me one.”

Harvey’s brow furrowed, resting his elbow against one of the high tables and leaning against it. 

“Why’d you agree to come if you didn’t owe him?” He asked. You considered, looking down into your glass.

When Mike had called just a few hours ago, a plea in his voice as he plied, Look, I know you don’t like the guy much, but he’s—.You just don't know him well...C’mon, do me a solid. I’ll owe you forever. You might even have fun. There’s an open bar, and you can get all dressed up. You told me you need a good night out, right?, you hadn’t given it a second thought.

“Because you’re important to Mike, and Mike’s important to me,” You admitted, meeting Harvey’s eye. He was quiet for a moment, which made you prickle with nerves. You weren’t use to Harvey being quiet. It was almost as bad as Harvey talking. 

“...Do you love him?” Harvey asked after a moment. 

“Like a brother.” 

Harvey huffed a soft laugh before he nodded to your glass. 

“Drink up. Let’s go.” 

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head. 

“We’re gonna get out of here and get some real dinner.” 

“I agreed to the cocktail party, Specter.” 

“I’m paying.” 

“...You better be,” You mumbled, raising your glass to your lips and draining it. 

-- 

You were having fun. That was weird, and a little horrifying. Harvey Specter was the most irritating man in the world, so why were you…Smiling? And laughing? You hated this guy—This guy was incredibly hateable. He was insanely annoying, disgustingly smug, and stupidly hot, goddamnit. You hated this guy! You were supposed to hate this guy. 

Harvey had taken you to a small restaurant on the Upper East Side. There were ten tables total, and all of them were filled. You knew the place was expensive—the menu didn’t even have prices on it. The tables were fairly small, and the lighting was dim. Harvey was even more attractive by candlelight. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

“So,” Harvey folded his arms against the table as a waiter took away your emptied dinner plates, “Still against my…What was it….Gorgeous, amazing, clever, fascinating, brilliant, charming…schtick thing?” 

“Okay, only one of those adjectives was one that I used, and it was charming.” 

“I paraphrased.” 

“You deliberately twisted and embellished my words.” 

“I did not.” 

“I don't believe you for a second.” 

“You’re hurting my feelings.” 

“Awwww, poow wittle Hawvey.” 

“Keep it up and we’re splitting the check.” 

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your seat and taking up your glass of wine. 

“Still against it?” He pressed again. You sighed softly, averting your eyes. 

“Look, the few times we’ve met, you just seemed too…Slick.”

“Slick.” 

“Yes.” 

“Have you ever considered that might just be how I am?” 

“It’s not,” You insisted, shaking your head. “I mean…That’s Lawyer Harvey. That’s not the Harvey I’ve been talking to for the last couple of hours.” 

“It’s not?” 

“No. Lawyer Harvey is, like…Teflon. Things just slide off of him. That’s not you, that’s not what I’m seeing now. Unless this is the act,” You offered, waggling your finger at him. “And frankly…I don’t know which would be worse.”

Harvey watched you for a few long, curious moments, blinking and nodding slowly before he lowered his gaze to the tablecloth. Suddenly, you felt silly, spilling your thoughts to him like that. 

“You’re not who I thought you were, either,” Harvey offered after a moment. Your brow furrowed at the insistence. 

“Who did you think I was?” You shook your head. 

“A frigid little princess.” 

You scoffed out a stunned laugh at the admission. 

“You did not—!” 

“I did,” He nodded, “You were so quiet when we met, I figured you were just…”

“Frigid?” 

“Aloof, yeah.” 

“I’m shy, you asshole!” You laughed. Harvey grinned, laughing, too. You shook your head, taking a sip before setting your glass of wine back on the table. 

“Still feeling shy?” Harvey teased. 

“I’m starting to,” You mumbled, scrubbing your hand over your rapidly-heating face. When you glanced up again, you found Harvey watching you closely. 

“What do you say we skip dessert here, go grab a drink somewhere else?” He asked.

“Are you trying to wine and dine me, Mr. Specter?” 

“Already got the dine part in.” 

“And some of the wine part, if we’re being fair. Where were you thinking?” 

“Well, I chose this place, why don’t you choose where we go next?” 

“Ah…I don’t know, I don't think you’d like the places I go.”

“I bet I’d love them.” 

It was a soft murmur, leveled at you with a warm gaze. It made your stomach flip and twist with surprise. This was bad. This was getting worse. You were supposed to hate this guy. This was bad. This was very bad. 

-- 

This was very, very bad. You shouldn’t have suggested this place. It was one of your favorite bars—a nautically themed boozy dive in SoHo. The place was hopping, which was no great surprise on a Friday night. You got the last available stool at the bar, so Harvey was standing behind you. But it being so busy meant that you and Harvey were pressed insanely close together. He had to lean over your shoulder, bracketing your body with his hands against the bar as he yelled a drink order at the bartender over the thud of music and the din of conversation. Once he’d ordered, you expected him to lean away from you—but Harvey stayed pressed up close. 

“Come here often?” He asked into your ear. You chuckled softly, nudging his side lightly before you leaned back against him. You turned your head back toward him, fingers flexing in the bar as his lips brush your cheek.

“Don’t be a dick, I like this place,” You argued.

“I’m not being a dick!” 

“No?”

“I like it, too.” Harvey shifted from foot to foot, hands sliding along the bar, tightening around your middle marginally. Your face went warm with the murmur, the tease around his tone, and the brush of his lips and breath against your cheek. 

“You sure you’re not just being nice?” 

Harvey chuckled, hands lowering from the bar to rest on your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m never nice.” 

Your hands tightened on the bar, squeezing to fight off a shiver that he’d surely feel. The two of you turned your attention to the bartender as he set your drinks down. You batted Harvey’s arm in protest as he reached into his pocket. 

“I’ve got it,” You insisted, sliding your hand into your clutch. 

“No, c’mon—” 

“Don’t c’mon me. You got dinner, I’m getting this. It’s like, less than a fraction of what you paid, I’m sure,” You insisted as you passed your card over the bar. Harvey pressed against your back to reach his drink, murmuring a thank you against the shell of your ear, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. You did shiver a little then, unable to help it. 

Harvey Specter was definitely a bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing—and you couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at it. You took up your drink, clicking it lightly against his before you leaned back against him a touch. He hummed at the movement, sliding his arm from your thigh to curl around your middle, keeping you close. He thumbed the fabric of your dress, shifting from foot to foot again, rocking you slightly as he moved. 

“Is it good?” You asked, turning your head to catch sight of him. 

“It is. Would you like a taste?” 

“Sure.” 

You set your glass down, and are prepared to take his. But Harvey leaned in, lips brushing against yours. You stilled, heart leaping into your throat. 

This was a very, very, very bad idea. You were supposed to hate this guy. 

You tipped your chin up toward his, chest tightening with nerves. Some part of you, a part that seemed to have not fully registered the last few hours left with this guy, was worried that Harvey was going to pull away and start laughing, teasing you for falling for it.

That part of you went completely quiet as Harvey took gentle hold of your jaw. He slipped his tongue past your parted lips. Your eyes slid closed, tongue smoothing along his. You set your drink down carefully before you raised a hand, gently cupping his cheek. You could taste Harvey’s drink on his tongue—the mingle of bourbon, simple syrup, and mint. You drew back just a touch, looking up at him. There was something in the dark pools of his eyes, something warm and wanting that you’d seen just a flash of when he’d arrived to pick you up. Harvey leaned back a bit more, grasping the bottom of your stool and turning you to face him. 

He hardly gave you a second to settle before he leaned in again, catching your lips with his. You slid your arms around his middle, struggling to spread your legs against the fabric of your dress, trying to make more room for him to press up against you. He broke your kiss with a frustrated grunt, looking around for a moment. Then he reached behind you, grabbing your clutch from the purse hook and taking your hand. You slid off of the stool with a surprised squeal, letting Harvey lead you deeper into the bar, through the throng of people. 

You cast a nervous glance around as Harvey yanked the bathroom door open, tugging you inside. You were sure at least two people saw the two of you go in—I mean, they had to, didn't they? How could no one have noticed?

Still, your panic melted as Harvey tugged and locked the door behind the two of you. He flung your clutch toward the sink (something you were sure to take issue with later) before he took your face in his hands, drawing you into his chest. You groaned, hooking your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in. The kiss broke with a slick suck as Harvey dipped his head, pressing plush kisses along your neck. You shoved the suit jacket on his shoulders, pushing it off. He shook it away, letting it fall to the floor before his hands cupped your cheeks, his chin lifting to meet your lips in another kiss. He lowered his hand to paw at your breasts, grasping and squeezing them. You arched up into the touch, hands fumbling to open his belt. You reach down, palming his cock through his suit pants. 

“Fuck,” He mumbled against your lips, swiping his thumb over the hardening peak of one of your nipples beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“We should—I mean, quickly,” You insisted between kisses, “Bar this busy, someone’s gonna have to—Sooner or later.”

“Probably sooner,” Harvey agreed. You slid your foot out, drawing his jacket toward you before you lowered yourself to your knees. Harvey watched you with a hint of surprise as you unfastened his pants, drawing them down around his thighs. You grasped his hardening cock, stroking it before you leaned in, taking him into your mouth. Harvey groaned softly, resting his hand on the back of your head. You weren't surprised as he began to guide your movements. You went as he liked, humming softly as you swept your tongue along the head of his cock.

After a few moments, he used his hold on your head to lean you off, urging murmurs of, “Up. Get up, c’mon,” Falling from his lips. You did as he said, a little unsteady on your feet as Harvey guided you backward, nudging you into the sink. You drew in a shocked surprise as your ass slid down into the bowl, cushioned by your clutch. Harvey kissed you ravenously as his hands shoved up the fabric of the skirt of your dress. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, drawing them down and off until they were dangling off of one of your ankles. 

You expected him to reach down, to guide himself in, but he dropped to his knees, hooking his arms around your waist and drawing you forward. Harvey lapped at you with a luxurious slowness, as if your ass wasn’t pushed into a dirty bar sink. Your head tipped back against the dirty, tagged and stickered mirror, eyes slipping shut and mouth falling open as he swirling his tongue in achingly slow circles around your clit. You slid a hand into his hair, guiding him as you liked, and grinning when he let out a hum of encouragement. 

“Fuck, Harvey,” You whined, hips pressing down against the tantalizing sweep of his lips and tongue. You whined as he drew away, blinking up at him hazily as he straightened to stand over you. You hooked your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, peering down between the two of you as he grasped his cock. He teased it along the slick, aching seam of your pussy before he gently eased himself in. You drew a short hiss in through your teeth, your hips tipping down against him as you took him in fully. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled again, eyelashes fluttering as you adjusted.

“Still hating my schtick?” Harvey murmured, curling over you, lips brushing yours. 

“Still finding me frigid?” You batted back, fighting the urge to giggle. 

“Not one bit, princess.” 

Lust and irritation twined together at the pet name, stunned by the warmth he said it with. Harvey set his hands on the walls behind you, bracing himself as he began to grind his hips against yours. You whimpered, fighting to keep your eyes open, and your gaze intently on his. You raised your hands, setting them on either side of his neck. 

“You feel so fucking good,” You breathed. 

“You think this is good now,” Harvey grinned devilishly, “Wait til I get you in bed.” 

You couldn’t stop your grin, fingers tightening as he picked his pace up. A moan slipped out of your throat as Harvey lowered a hand, swiping at your sensitive, throbbing clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, Harvey—” 

“Almost there?” He murmured. 

“Ye–yes, Harvey, shit—”

“Good. Sooner we cum, sooner I can bring you home and lay you out properly.” 

The insistence made that little coiling feeling in your belly tighten. 

“Almost,” You warned, “Just—” You reached down, grasping his wrist and holding it steady as you fucked down against his fingers and cock. His eyes swept your face, jaw tightening as his thrusts became less and less controlled. You nodded hurriedly eyes sliding shut as Harvey bowed over you, whining as your orgasm swelled and crested. Your bodies ground and pressed tightly together as you each came sharply. 

“...Okay,” Harvey mumbled into your neck. “Let’s grab my jacket and get out of here.”

“My card is still behind the bar.” 

“We’ll get it tomorrow.” 

“But they’ll charge me extraaaaaaa,” You whined. Harvey grunted. 

“Drop in the bucket compared to what I paid for dinner.” 

“Hey, you chose to take me there. You could’ve taken me to McDonald’s.”

“You would’ve told Mike. I never would’ve lived it down." 

You opened your mouth to argue, but Harvey’s brows rose. You grinned, unable to help it. 

“Yeaaaaah, I would’ve,” You agreed, giggling. 

“Jacket,” Harvey insisted, “And then I’m taking you home. C’mon,” He drew away from you. “Sooner we go, the sooner you can enjoy my schtick some more.”

“And I am never going to live that down,” You grumbled, carefully climbing out of the sink. You reached back, wincing at the sight of your dampened clutch.

"I can't believe you threw it in the sink, Specter."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I did it."

"I was a little preoccupied."

"Oh yeah? With what?"

Looking up at Harvey, you found that knowing smirk on his lips—the same you'd seen earlier that evening. Now, it didn't make you prickle with annoyance. It made interest swirl in your belly. You reached up, gripping Harvey by his collar ad drawing him in for a kiss. He groaned, curling his arms around your middle and drawing you in. You grinned, leaning back to look at him after one more peck.

"With that."

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