#urbdev-assistant

send 🌟 for a headcanon about our muses’ relationship . accepting . @urbdev-assistant

At some point, Melissa founded out who Rita’s grandfather was - and just who he was working for, too. But while this realization may have led to the madame no longer needing to meet up with Rita, she didn’t really see the other woman as an intermediary - she was from Shinra, after all. She was resourceful, and she held her ground just fine while her grandfather used her as the middlewoman.

To her inquiry the boy gives a hard nod, almost jumpy at the thought of being able to speak to the wife of the one he considered a friend and maybe even something much more familial than what he let on. Her knowing his name was already an honor for him.

Yet, when she corrects him, he can’t help but seem confused, tilting his head as she denies what he thought was a clear fact. “Oh... just his assistant? That’s strange...” he said in a low tone, mainly to himself. “I- I apologize, I did not mean to assume. I actually thought it to be true.” a small pout in embarrassment as he gave a small bow in apology. 

Quickly after, he attended the next question she postulated for him, standing straight. “Well... You are very close to Mr. Tuesti. He speaks of you more often than not and, normally, you hang out all alone in the office, as adult couples do. So, I thought... it had to mean that you are a couple that can have that type of intimacy without problems, while also being efficient with their work.” he smiled a bit at the thought of her taking care of the hardworking Reeve, as she always seemed to do. Though he had watched from afar, he could tell - or assume - that she really worried about him. 

“Plus, you keep him in check. He listens to your suggestions, even when he is not thoroughly convinced or doesn’t really feel like going through with them.” Another second went by and he crossed his arms, staring with a more serious look. A more important question popped up.

@urbdev-assistant asked 

3. Is your muse good at kissing? Are they experienced?

Well he’s had no complaints so far? So that’s a probable yes - not because he’s wildly experienced though. He is responsive however, that seems to help. 

13. Where is your muse most sensitive?

Hands, don’t let him meet Madam M please. 

Stomach, he’s oddly sensitive to light touches on his stomach. However it is quite ticklish for him too, so might accidentally lash out if taken by surprise. 

Hair / Scalp, it’s not overly sensitive as such but it’s a definite yes to those he lets play with his hair (or scratch his scalp or tug his hair, you get the picture).  

Then the usual zones.

15. Would your muse ever tempt their partner, e.g. flirting, wearing tight/sexy clothing?

Absolutely - if he felt comfortable enough and they were at that level. How successful he is at it? Well, that’s an entirely different matter. 

16. Does your muse initiate heated/sexual contact, or do they wait for their partner?

"Rita, you absolute angel, I could kiss you!"

Elena had a dead serious expression because she was indeed dead serious. Rita Spencer had just done her an incredible favor, and Elena was in awe of the fact that the administrative assistant had extricated them both from an after-work company drinking party before the last train pulled away from the station. This was a skill that Elena, for all her bravada, had yet to master. But Rita had done it with the finesse that came with her professional seniority, managing to blithely convince senior management that it was getting late enough that perhaps the girls could be allowed to pay their portion of the tab and leave, without ever even having to bat eyelashes in imitation of coy.

"Actually, I'm going to do that, I'm going to kiss you." So she did, planting a grateful smack to the auburn-haired woman's cheek. "I don't actually know if you are kisser so that might of been a little much, but I'm three whiskey highballs deep on an empty stomach and just really really happy I don't have to pay for a cab home at 4am!"

Flower Themed Asks 🌸🌸

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but judging by a quick glance to his watch he’d unintentionally dozed for the better part of an hour, leaving him a bit bleary-eyed and disoriented when she’d come in to find him asleep on the couch in his office, one leg hanging off the edge with an arm draped over his face to block out the pin-lights in the ceiling.

  “Deadlines,” he croaked softly, sitting up and tugging his tie back into place, though it still fit a bit loosely around his neck; he couldn’t be bothered to formalize it, the damage had already been done. “I was stuck in Directors meetings all day, I hardly had time to get anything done.”

  Part of this was true, part of it not — he’d met his deadline several hours ago, around the time he’d bid farewell to his team as they filed out of his office. It was the bits of under-the-table Slums business that had kept him long passed his usual hours utilizing access to tools and information he did not have readily at his disposal at home.