#desmond needs to have sex

[teecupangel]

This is gonna be long, honey soooo… buckle up.

We have Desmond linked to the God of Wine, Dionysus / Bacchus with this fic (show some love and kudos this please, I adore this concept).

However, what if Desmond by chance ( Isu bullshit)  that he absorbed when he touched the Eye as he time travels back In the Renaissance before the Auditore family execution event, it manifested in him having demi-god traits but with two Gods I have in mind.

1. Aphrodite or Venus, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Accidentally becoming a matchmaker for people like Des incidentally shoved a man by mistake who the man then bumped into a woman, BOOM! the two madly fell in love at first sight and married with children or his charm increases, making people fall in love with Desmond. This adds angst if Desmond discovered this power,  He has low self-esteem and is severely traumatized (fuck you William for that). He would believe they really don’t love him especially the assassins and it’s just a illusion they do. Actually they do, the power only boosted his charisma but Desmond doesn’t know this shhhhh.

2. Eros or Cupid, god of carnal love. 16 year old Desmond with his newfound freedom after running away from the Farm. It’s no surprise he could be a sexually liberated man especially he’s a hot bartender to hook up in the back alley of Bad Weather. He might dabbled in BDSM, he’s a switch, but preferably doms. He also got a vasectomy to avoid impregnating a woman no Elijah in thishe believes that he shouldn’t have children, after having narcissistic father and possibly an emotionally neglectful mother can do that. An ability to sense lust or desires of a person in eagle vision could be possible.

With that being explained, regardless of which God, these abilities have pros & cons. Desmond when he is in the Renaissance, he’ll be low-key but he can’t stand out and without the currency to have a peaceful life, we needs a job. By some gift of the universe or it hates him. He ended up as a bodyguard of Rosa in Fiore by saving some courtesans from aggressive drunken men while in his clothes devolved in rags by the heat of the Eye when arrived, making him look like a beggar, good thing it was night time so his face wasn’t seen by the girls.

Its been weeks doing this job, Desmond have saved plenty coins but not enough to buy land far away and live his life maybe as a farmer or open a tavern. Lately, he been feeling unwell, no matter he drank to quench his thirst, his throat is dry as if he been in dessert with no water survive and started having hot flashes. It could just because of the clothes he donned, not a single silver lining of his skin is shown except the upper part of his face and hair but he was assumed it was if it were the fact he started having wet dreams, from memory of his many hook ups in New York or some constructed with people with no faces. He gets aroused, yes, but he has self-restraint but he also frustrated and losing his rationale.

“Dezmund~” Bianca, a courtesan who been attempting to lure him to bed. The other courtesans entertaining the patrons who had too much wine, too busy to notice the two, giving them a sense of privacy. “Bianca” he nodded with one brow raised at her. Bianca practically started to entice him with her usual flirting to him. You know what, fuck it, he thought, he proceeded to ———————

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Yeeeaaaahhhh…i won’t be too detailed so it won’t be overbearing. So giving you the mental picture is that Desmond used his knowledge of BDSM, blindfoled and tied Bianca and used her mouth to empty his frustration while he is still completely clothed. He gave her sweet aftercare and realizing his symptoms are gone and his mind is clear and —- oh fuccccckkkkkk he unintentionally created a chain reaction after this event involving himself more to the Brotherhood, the Auditore family and Leonardo

Anyway, thanks for reading this till the end, mwah <3

======================================

Additions by teecup:

… that sounds like Desmond has the curse of an Incubus, needing to ‘unload’ his pent up energy to another person.

And you know who would be fascinated by it?

Leonardo Da Vinci.

Perhaps it was during one of the times that Leonardo went to a brothel to find ‘inspiration’. Maybe it was because he had been nursing a crush on Desmond who was unattainable to his eyes, a simple bodyguard meant to keep everyone safe.

He would see the complicated expression on his face. The frustration in his eyes.

And the flushed cheeks.

Oh, Leonardo would be smitten but he’d try to act like a friend, as any attraction he might have pales in comparison to his worries concerning Desmond’s wellbeing.

Desmond sees him and finds himself being unable to lie to Leonardo.

He needed to tell someone about his problems and he trusted Leonardo.

So Leonardo listens and…

Things start to snowball from there.

At first, it was simply Leonardo trying to help Desmond while studying his ‘affliction’.

Then it became more for the thrill and pleasure they would receive from one another.

Desmond becomes Leonardo’s muse and sometimes his model…

Maria Auditore saw Leonardo’s potential and started commissioning him…

Federico comes in to get one of the finished commissions and… finds Leonardo and Desmond in a very compromising situation.

Instead of leaving… Federico decided to join in.

And Desmond knew that Federico was hiding something but it would be a while before he realized that during this time, two years before the fated day that the Auditores would be executed, Federico was already on his way to becoming a member of the Brotherhood…

…

Also… maybe Leonardo and Desmond have an open relationship which will give us more option for Desmond to ‘partner’ up with (like maybe… La Volpe??? XD)

#desmond needs to have sex #for his health #lol #it would be funny if #all the persons desmond has sex with #find their true love afterwards #only leonardo doesn’t #because… #it’s actually desmond #they don’t realize it though #ask and answer #leodes #mentions of #desmond miles x oc #desmond miles x original character #desmond miles x original female character #assassin's creed #desmond miles

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+. Minors, kindly get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Read this over six times but there are probably twenty typos that I'll spot the second I hit post, so. Anyway! Welcome to part two of two!! Thank you for reading 💖

Length: 14.2k

Warnings: Angst; fluff! Huzzah!; Reader’s married surname is Hayward; reader is depressed for swaths of the chapter; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, oral sex, hate sex, safe sex

Summary: Your life was four walls, a cruddy bed, rickety furniture. You spent too much time awake when you should’ve been sleeping; too much time reminiscing when you should have been moving on; too much time dwelling on the time that you spent with men in your life that probably wouldn’t spare you another thought. 

“Ross. Mike Ross.” 

“Cut the Bond schtick.” 

“I’m a contender.” 

“Not a chance. Besides, we’ve been over this; you’re Q at best.” 

“Could do a lot worse than Desmond Llewelyn or Ben Whishaw—Hang on, you think you’re Bond?” 

Harvey stopped, gesturing over his body sweepingly before scoffing, “Please.”

“Please is right,” Mike muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You always go to this thing?” 

“...I’ve been once or twice.” In truth, Harvey hadn’t been to the New York City Estate and Properties gala in years. He hadn’t had occasion or reason; the last time he had, he’d made sure that she wouldn’t be there before he’d agreed. Tonight his purpose was manifold—drink good champagne, eat good food, and warn Hayward off of pursuing his lawsuits against his client’s property. 

His client. It wasn’t as simple as all that, but these days, he’d managed to separate her from the work. It was clinical—and clinical was exactly what he needed. 

“Did you see the menu for dinner? I didn’t see a menu.” 

“Get your fill of canapes. I’m talking to Hayward and then we’re going.” 

“What?” Mike pouted. “But I thought we were staying for the ceremony.” 

“You thought wrong. Keep your eyes peeled. Sooner we get this conversation over, the sooner we can get away from this den of cobras.” 

“Never have a mongoose when you need one.” Mike nodded over Harvey’s shoulder. “Found Mrs. Hayward.” 

“Thought she didn’t like you calling her that.” 

“She doesn’t, but around here, it might be better to use that rather than use her maiden name and have someone ask me who the hell I’m talking about…You gonna talk to her?” 

“What for?” 

“So she at least knows what suit to look for when she wants to avoid you.” 

Harvey’s chastising glare was met with a wide, smug grin. 

“Come on,” Mike groaned. “You haven’t spoken to her in weeks.” 

“And have you considered that that may be why things have been going so smoothly?” 

“Fine—I’ll give you another reason you should say hi to her.” 

“You better make it a good one this time.” 

“Jessica is catching on to the fact that you haven’t touched this case with a ten foot pole.” 

Harvey winced slightly as he swallowed the last of his champagne. 

“Fine,” He grudgingly conceded, setting the empty champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray. “Point me.” 

“She’s at your two o’clock.” 

Harvey turned accordingly, pushed out an annoyed sight—and then felt what breath he had left catch in his throat. 

‘Stunning’ was the first word that came to mind, but in his heart, Harvey knew that it didn’t do her justice. For his lingering, abiding annoyance with her, and with them—with the whole goddamn situation—there were moments when Harvey remembered why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. 

She didn’t want to be there. Harvey didn’t need to ask to know that—it was common sense. But that didn’t stop her from showing her face, from being impeccably dressed, and maintaining what had to be a meticulously constructed poker face. 

“...You do know what staring isn’t talking, right?” 

Mike’s amusement cut into Harvey’s reverie, and he cleared his throat to refocus himself. 

“Keep an eye out for Hayward,” Harvey ordered before he forced himself forward, slowly weaving through the crowd. 

What the hell was he even going to say to her? Hi wasn’t going to cut it; Come here often? Was almost as stupid. How about something about her dress—Whether or not it was new? That had to be safe, neutral ground— 

Harvey had been so focused on what he planned to say that he hadn’t clocked her turning to face him. He chalked it up to panic radar—her hype-sesitivity given the current situation. He stared. She watched. And then—

“Come here often?” 

Damnit. Stupid, sure, but at least it wasn’t hi. 

-- 

“...Annually, at least.”

Was it your imagination, or was Harvey…Nervous? At the very least, he seemed as confused as you were at the fact that he was talking to you. 

“I’m a little surprised that you made a showing,” He admitted. 

“I could say the same for you. Does Jessica have you prospecting clients to get back in the good graces of the real estate department at the firm?” 

Harvey’s eyes narrowed with playful intrigue,and for a moment, you saw a flash of the man that you used to know—the man who gave you that same look when you slipped your panties off and tucked them into his jacket pocket to find later. 

“What did Mike tell you?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around. 

“Nothing impor—...Tant.” You trailed off, falling still and quiet as your eyes landed on Steven. 

Well, he was hard to miss. 

Standing at 6’3, with a manufactured tan, swimmer’s build, full head of gracefully graying hair, and veneers that made his smile look like a neatly arranged row of chiclets gum, Steven Hayward was the very picture of the kind of health that only wealth could buy. With the stress of the last few weeks, you knew that you weren’t looking your absolute best. You’d had so many sleepless nights; you’d swapped out your favorite catered meals in favor of cheaper alternatives, or dollar slices of pizza, or ramen from the bodega down the block from your apartment, pulled gently from beneath the cat that seemed to always be napping on the exact flavor that you wanted. 

You were certain that Steven lost no sleep over the decision to divorce you, or to pull the rug out from beneath you. You expected him to be in tip-top shape—but you saw hints of his rage as he grew closer. 

“Oh—Hell,” You mumbled, tipping your head toward Harvey. “You might wanna clear out.” 

“You kidding? I’ve got a front row seat to the prize fight of the century.” 

“Target acquired.”

You frowned at the sound of Mike’s voice, but you didn’t turn to look at him as you muttered, “Target?” 

“Darling.” The term of affection oozed past Steven’s bleached-white teeth. He stopped just a couple of steps from you—not near enough to touch, but close enough to see the anger sparkling in his dishwater gray eyes. A pulse of vindication swept through your chest at the tense smile, and the tight pull of his jaw. 

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

“I’m surprised to see you this evening.” 

“If I had a nickel.” 

“Oh, but you do. Putting all of those properties up for sale, I expect you plan on having more than a few nickels.” 

“What can I say? A girl’s gotta get by.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?” 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.” 

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.” 

It was meant to cut you down and lay you out, but you refused to bow to this man publicly when the other attendees must always hold you in such low regard as it was. 

“I agree,” You offered, and before Steven could preen in his false superiority, you clarified: “I deserve more.” 

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight. 

“Perhaps I should just take this evening’s expenses out of that half.” 

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head. 

“Mmm…I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

“Really.” 

“Mm…N—...No—?” 

“Perhaps you’ve been so busy hocking your clothes like a dog snuffling for scraps—” Your face flared with embarrassment as Steven pressed on: “But there was meant to be a reception at my penthouse this evening.” 

My penthouse. If it had only been the two of you in that room, you may have slapped him. How had he been able to detach, to force you from his mind and his heart so quickly? Had he ever loved you? Had any man? 

The heat of Harvey’s body suddenly seemed to flare just behind you. 

“Ah!” You nodded sagely, “It’s all coming back to me.” 

“What could have happened there, I wonder?” 

“You must not have taken care.” 

“Of what?” 

Of me. “Of anything.” 

Steven took you in for another long, cruel moment before he jutted his chin over your shoulder. 

“Friends of yours?” 

Ah yes. Your personal legal peanut gallery. You glanced back to confirm their positioning before raising your hand to gesture: 

“This is Mike Ross.” The name seemed to knock something loose in Steven’s mind as he shook Mike’s hand. 

“Ah, Mr. Ross. I saw your name on some documentation this morning.” 

“You’re about to see it a lot more, Mr. Hayward.” 

“And this is Harvey Specter.” 

Your stomach lurched as Steve’s eyes widened slightly, lips curling into a smile. 

“This is Harvey Specter?” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement as he proffered his hand. ”I didn’t realize I sent you the worst possible port in this storm.” 

“You didn’t,” Harvey insisted, grasping Steven’s hand firmly. “You sent her to the best.” 

“Try not to drop her this time. My arms aren’t open anymore.” 

Your hands tightened where they were clasped around one another. You forced yourself to keep your gaze set stalwartly on Steven, rather than watch the contentious (and no doubt, painful) handshake that the two of them were sharing. 

“Well,” You chirped. “This was a lovely little catch-up.” 

“Yes,” Harvey chimed in, finally extricating his hand from Steven’s and tucking it into his pocket. “We must do it again sometime. Preferably at a deposition.” 

“Maybe in court,” Mike added. You had to fight down a smile at the sudden swell of support, and a wave of warmth that swept through you. Steven’s eyes narrowed just a touch more before he nodded. 

“I do hope you’ll stay for my speech.” 

“Who’d you have write it for you this time?” You asked. 

“I took a crack at writing it myself.” 

If that was true, it was sure to be a mess and a half. You always had been the one to draft his speeches or remarks—or you paired down any drafts sent over by the agency’s PR department. 

“I look forward to it.” 

Steven gave you one last look before he turned away, slapping on his businessman smile as he went, and raising a hand to signal someone like a politician trying to garner votes. 

“...Why didn’t you mention the forgery charges?” Mike asked. 

“It’s too soon to tip our hand...What table are you sitting at?”

“Thirteen,” You sighed. 

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered. 

“Go change our place cards,” Harvey ordered. “Put us on either side of her.” 

You whirled around to face him, stunned at the tight irritation pinching his features. 

“So we are staying for dinner?” Mike grinned. Harvey blinked flatly at him before reiterating: “Go.” 

You watched Mike duck through the crowd, heading for the dining room.

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?” 

“I’ve gotta eat some time. Come on,” Harvey nudged your arm with his, “Buy me a drink.” 

“It’s an open bar.” 

“Good. Then it won’t break the bank.” 

The press of Harvey’s warm hand to your lower back was far more steadying than it should have been, and it managed to dampen the enraged fire in your belly. 

“How’s that good faith deposit doing, anyway?” 

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.” 

“Smart move.” 

“I should’ve made moves like it sooner.” 

“Better late than never.” 

“I guess.” 

“...You don’t have to stay for dinner.” 

“We’re going to.” 

“On either side of me as well, I’m flattered. I wasn’t planning on having guard dogs this evening.” 

“As long as you don’t try to keep us on short leashes.” 

“Depends on whether you plan on doing more barking or biting this evening.” 

“I’ve barked enough for now.” 

“Biting?” 

“If you play your cards right, sure.” 

You didn’t bother to hide your open shock at the blatant implication, but when you looked at Harvey, you found him giving you a surprisingly warm smile. 

“Looks like speaking with Steven has put a little pep in your step, Mr. Specter.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What did?”

Harvey leaned heavily against the bar, focus set elsewhere as he tried to catch the bartender’s eye. 

“You and I both know that this is going to be a long road. I like a good fight.” 

“You don’t say.” 

“It’s important to me that you’re ready for it, too.” 

You nodded a little. “It may also be prudent for us to keep that fight directed at Steven, and not toward one another.” 

Harvey took the two proffered champagne flutes, passing you one and holding it up to cheers: 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

It wasn’t perfect right away. You and Harvey still butt heads from time to time. On the purchases that the judges ruled that you were able to move forward with, you disagreed over terms—purchase price, contingencies, negotiations. But the knots unpicked sooner and sooner, and you reached resolutions faster. Mike hardly had to intervene anymore. Harvey gave Jessica status updates openly, and you abidingly ignored the smug, self-satisfied smiles that she gave you as you left her office. 

With the service and tenancy contracts, the two apartment building sales that aren’t mired in paperwork still chugged along slowly. You knew that it was protocol, but it was excruciating. You felt ill every time you got an email from Mike or Harvey, expecting correspondence that spelled disaster. Every little bit of good news only brought marginal relief. 

You spent most of your days in your apartment, packaging clothing or jewelry that you’d sold online. You got your packages sent off by five in the evening, and the rest of your night was your own—though it often ended similarly. Your logical mind often gave over to your emotions in the evening, and you allowed yourself to slip into quiet, depressed oblivion. The methods varied—slurping down two packets worth of dollar-pack ramen, and chasing that with a few bottles of beer as one of your favorite shows played in the background; curling up in your bed and staring at the ceiling at 8 PM, and laying wide awake with your mind racing until the sun came up; hunting through property listings online and plotting a comeback that felt like it would never come.

You never had visitors. Aaron was so entrenched at work that you  only got the odd text from him. Your former friends seemed to have further aligned themselves with Steven after his triumphant speech at the gala—during  which he had gone out of his way to omit any mention of you from his historical record. You had avoided seeing much of Jessica outside of the office, certain that she would council you on a good divorce lawyer, or encourage you to begin dating, or level another lecture about the stupidity with which you had bungled your last marriage.

For as well as you knew she meant, you didn’t have the time or patience—and some little part of you, some stupid, naïve part that knew well enough that the war was already lost, was convinced that Steven would change his mind.

It was unlikely, considering the magnitude of his cruelty over the last couple of months, and further exacerbated by your actions before the gala. Steven would not let you back into his arms, his home, or his heart. You didn’t truly want to be let back into his arms, or his heart, but you missed his home. You had taken such care in the planning, the curation, the furnishing, the upkeep. You were proud of it. You had been happy, and comfortable, and so goddamn foolish.

Now you were tired, and lonely, and you spent so much of your day feeling stupid. 

Sometimes, when the wind blew just a little too hard and rattled the flimsy windows, you let the sound of it cover your sobs against the paper-thin walls that connected you to your neighbor’s apartment (you’d learned just how much sound bled through when you first became privy to your neighbor’s light argument, which had then turned into a full-on shouting match. They’d sounded like they were in the same damn room with you, wall be damned).

It was one such sob session that you managed to hear someone knock on your door. You sniffled, shifting on your bed. You were certain that the sound was from next door, or that you’d misheard the rattle of the window. But when you heard the second, insistent round of knocks, the source couldn’t be mistaken. You sniffled, setting your beer aside onto the bedside table crowded with empties and pushing yourself off of the bed. You swiped haphazardly at the tears on your face as you walked over to it, calling out, “Alright, for fuckssake!” When a third round of knocks rapped against the door.

You threw it open, finally, wincing at the invasive flash of the flickering fluorescent hall light. You weren’t sure what was worse: the flickering, harsh strobe, or Harvey’s stunned confusion.

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed,” Harvey insisted, nodding over your shoulder. “We’re going out.”

“Harvey, I’m really not in the mood,” You sniffled.

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

Harvey opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a sudden crash! and the swell of yelling voices from next door. His eyes darted toward it before he nodded.

“I’m not listening to that all night.”

“Who the hell says you’re going to be here more than five minutes?”

Your heart stuttered as Harvey’s hands planted firmly on your hips, steering you back into your studio before he nudged the door shut with his foot.

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

You weren’t sure what it was—his touch, his firm insistence, or your own distaste for your screaming neighbors—but you turned around and began dutifully rifling through one of your remaining trash bags of clothing.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

“A diner? How down heel of you, Mr. Specter.”

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

You snorted, straightening with a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Since when.” You glanced guardedly toward him before you nodded him toward the door. “Turn around.”

--  

“You can afford better than that place, you know.” 

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you shoved a handful of cheese fries in your mouth and leaned back to chew with laborious slowness. You expected Harvey to fill the silence, but he didn’t. He just watched, and waited, and stared at you until you swallowed. You nudged the plate toward him, offering: “Want one?” 

 You avoided his openly chastising gaze, tired of the fact that it was the only look you get from most of the lawyers in your life these days. 

“You have that good faith deposit.” 

“I told you where it went.” 

“The brownstone payment is on the edge of clearing escrow. Look for somewhere else to live.” 

“Not yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not a good idea.” 

“Steven isn’t going to weasel into every potential deal and hold it up.” 

“Forgive me for my skepticism, but I don’t exactly have many friends in this city anymore.” 

“...Are you planning on going somewhere else?” 

You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t crossed your mind. There were cities here you could rebuild your life and your practices, places where you were sure Steven wouldn’t bother to try and strike down your attempts to rebuild your life. 

“Maybe,” You admitted. “I liked Cambridge.” 

Harvey’s lips twitched with a gentle, regretful smile. It was his turn to reach out and swipe a few fries and chow down. 

“Realty up there is pricey,” You added. “Could make a polite killing on student housing.” 

“How does one make a polite killing?” 

“Decent rent and coin-operated laundry. Maybe some paid parking, a few overpriced but conveniently placed vending machines.” 

“Redbull?” 

“I was just thinking about snacks, but you know what, Redbull isn’t a bad idea.” You reached out, picking up a fry and drawing it through the splodge of ketchup remaining at the edge of the plate. “Why did you come over?” 

“I wanted to let you know that the inspections are finished.” 

“On which?” 

“The properties that you didn’t know about.” 

“Anything stand out?” 

“A foundational issue on one of the apartment buildings, but it doesn’t cost enough that it should’ve stopped work.” 

“What about the others?” 

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.” 

“You have the print-outs?” 

“In my car.” 

“Why are they in there?” 

“I was going to offer to take you for a drink, but you seemed to beat me to it.” 

You scoffed, shifting in your seat. “Don’t get all high and mighty on me, Specter.” 

“You do that often?” 

“What, drink?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?” 

“I’m asking if you do that often.” 

“Once in a while.” 

“New for you?” 

“Relatively.” 

Harvey eyed you critically for a few moments before he nodded. “Call me the next time you want to have a drink.” 

“So you can talk me out of it?” 

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

“I’m usually not in a talking mood when it happens.” 

“We don’t have to talk.” 

“Oh, please. As if you don’t love the sound of your own voice.” 

“Call me anyway.” 

You were quiet for a moment before you nodded. “You know, the thought of you dropping by may just be an effective suppressant.” 

Harvey’s smile widened a little. “Do you want to put the other houses on the market?” 

“I want to walk through the apartment buildings myself before I go through them.” 

“What about the ones in the Hamptons and the Cape?” 

“I’ll drive up.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“A little trickier.” 

“Could bill it.” 

“I doubt it.” 

���You could, under discovery.” 

“This would not be covered under discovery.” 

“How would you know that?” 

“I’m sorry, remind me who used to quiz you for the bar?” 

Harvey scoffed softly, averting his gaze to the diner counter. “Well, this may surprise you, but a few laws have changed since then.” 

“And this may surprise you, but not only am I aware of that, I’ve also been pretty deeply entwined with lawyers since then. So I’m pretty comfortable making that assertion.” 

“And this? You think I’m not billing for this?” 

“Oh, I hope you are. I hope you bill for every second that it took you to walk up the steps to my apartment. I want Jessica to pay for my cheese fries. You know why?” 

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.” 

“I can’t wait to give her the itemized total.” 

“I await the enraged phone call.” 

-- 

“You don’t have to walk me back up, you know."

“Sure I do. Gotta work off those fries. Besides, I’m billing for this until I officially drop you off.” 

You rolled your eyes, nudging Harvey’s shoulder with yours. Your depressed, tear-ridden, sobbing buzz had worn off over the course of dinner, and you didn’t think that the mood would creep back in once you were alone again. 

“I’ll walk through the apartment buildings tomorrow and see if I can get up to the Cape at some point in the next couple of weeks. The pictures and notes from the inspection look promising. If I dip into the good faith deposit, maybe I could get the Cape Cod house fixed up and sold before the summer.” 

“Or you could keep it as a rental property.” 

“Mm.” “You always liked the Cape in the winter…For some reason.” 

“I kinda like when it’s all grey and gloomy…and quiet.” 

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.” 

“Oh, please,” You chuckled. “It’s not even close. The red line doesn’t exactly go all the way to Hyannis.” 

The two of you slowed as you neared your landing, listening closely. 

“...Think the coast is clear?” Harvey murmured. 

“For now, at least.” You fished into your pocket for your keys. “Thanks for dinner.” 

“Sure. Remember what I said.” 

“I will.” 

“Call me if you need anything.” 

Anything. That was new. You nodded, gaze set on your keys as he turned to go back downstairs. 

“...Harvey?” 

“Yeah?” He stopped just a few steps away, and you had to scrounge up your courage to turn and look at him again. 

“I don’t, um…” You swallowed thickly. “I’m gonna wanna talk about it.” You watched Harvey’s face shift with grim understanding. 

“I don’t want to litigate that.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“Not like this.” 

“Not tonight,” You reiterated, “But…Sometime. Please.” 

Harvey’s jaw went tight, but he gave you a short, firm nod before he turned away. You watched him round the corner, and listened until his footsteps faded and the front door opened downstairs. 

--  

The apartment buildings weren’t anything special. Stripped of most of their insulation, and with several of the windows already removed, the wind that pushed through them made the buildings sound like they were breathing. It was eerie, and chilly. You tightened your coat around yourself as you went from floor to floor, eyeing damaged pipes, areas where someone seems to have come in and rooted around for copper wiring, and the billowing plastic that marks off some doors that have been removed. 

The paperwork on this building listed the purchase date as nearly a year ago. 

A year ago, you and Steven had been discussing expanding your current operations. Maybe he hadn’t gotten sick of you yet. Maybe he’d bought you the buildings as a present and stopped work when things turned sour…Whenever that had been. 

There had been signs, sure, but Steven always had been temperamental. 

You pushed the thought away as you drew in a deep breath, turning toward the stairs. It wouldn’t do to overthink this just now. If needed, you could panic looking at the Hamptons, or Cape Cod…Or Gstaad, if you ever found a way to get to Gstaad. 

You reached into your pocket as your phone buzzed, drawing it out to find an incoming call. You groaned, stomping your foot petulantly before you raised it to your ear. 

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—” 

“I need you to come into the office.” 

Your fingers tightened around your phone as your palm began to sweat. 

“What happened?” 

“I’d rather discuss this in person.” “Jessica.” 

“Come to the office.” 

She hung up without another word. You swallowed thickly, lowering your phone and watching her call blink and then disappear. If she wasn’t willing to discuss it over the phone, whatever it was had to be very, very bad. 

-- 

“Cheese fries?” 

“Jessica,” You groaned, “Come on, there is no way that that’s why you called me here.” 

“No, it isn’t. But I’d like to remind you that you should remain fighting fit and cheese fries are not the way to do it.” 

“My life has fallen apart and dipped into a moderately humiliating place. I think I’m allowed to have a few cheese fries. Why did you tell me to come in.” 

“I have someone that I would like you to meet.” 

“I’m not going to start dating anyone now.” 

“Well, we can attack that another time. This is for your defense.” 

“Harvey’s on that.” 

“Your divorce.” 

“You know that I can’t afford a defense right now.” 

“I don’t mind getting a start while you get the pieces in place.” 

The man’s voice caught you off-guard, and you turned to find a man leaning in the doorway. Your brow furrowed a touch as you took him in—the long lean of his body, the neatly fitted charcoal suit and sky-blue tie, the curl of his dark hair, the twinkle of his warm chestnut eyes, and his small, intrigued smile. 

“Well that’s very kind of you, whoever the hell you are, but I don’t exactly have anything on the board right now.” 

“The fact that you even have a board is encouraging.” 

“...This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.” 

“This,” Jessica stepped past you to gesture the man deeper into the room, “Is David Alford.” 

“Alford?” You repeated. “Like the plea?” 

“No relation. What would you know about an Alford plea?” 

“I know of it.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.” 

“Lucky guy.” 

“I don’t think he’d agree with you, as evidenced by the fact that he is no longer my boyfriend.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

You shook his hand lightly, still wary from the ambush. 

“Look, Mr. Alford—” 

“David, please.” 

“—I don’t know what Jessica’s told you about my situation—” 

“She didn’t have to tell me much. Forgive my bluntness, but your name has come up in our circles over the last couple of weeks.” 

“Well, forgive my bluntness, but it’s not my circle anymore.” 

“It could be again.” 

“Are you going to get me a circle back in the divorce?” 

“I’m gonna get you whatever the hell you want in your divorce.” 

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, unable to help yourself. 

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand. 

“Why don’t I see what we can do about getting some coffee,” Jessica offered. “You two talk.” 

Your brows furrowed as she waved the two of you more deeply inside. Jessica, at least pretending to get coffee? Damn, she really did want the two of you to talk. You gave David a polite smile as you lowered yourself to sit.

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.” 

“Wasn’t much of a drag. My office is a block away.” 

“Well, then I’m glad you haven’t come far for nothing.” 

“Nothing?” His brows jumped as he sat beside you. “I don’t understand.” 

“I’m not currently looking for a divorce lawyer.” 

“You need one.” 

“That is beyond the point, Mr—” 

“David.” 

“...Mister David,” You bit out pointedly, and fought back a wave of annoyance at his amused smile. “I’m not sure how much Jessica has told you, but there are a lot of things up in the air right now. I’ve socked away some money for my defense, but not enough.” 

“How would you know what’s enough?” 

“...Let’s pretend that I don’t know anything about the law, or the legal quagmire that I’ve gotten myself into. Let’s pretend that all I know about my soon to be ex-husband’s business is that he has a lot more money than I do. The two of us went into our marriage with about 600 bucks and a dream held together with tape and spit. I have watched, and I have helped my husband build up his business for the last eleven years. I have signed contracts, I have signed purchase orders, I have signed mortgages, I have signed deeds. Even if I wasn’t paying attention to what I was signing, I would know that Steven has amassed a lot of cash, a massive legal team, as well as a significant number of holdings—in both our names. He has a lot of power in this equation, and I do not. Whatever comes down the pike, it is going to be a protracted legal battle. If I was optimistic, I would figure that this would take about a year, but I’m not, and I know that it could take a few.”  

David’s dark eyes darted fascinatedly across your face before he offered: “But you do know a lot about Mr. Hayward’s business.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Because it was your business, too.” 

You averted your gaze from him as that washed over you. His acknowledgement made your heart knock hollowly against your ribs, and it took all of your strength not to slouch dejectedly in your chair. 

“...Yes,” You agreed. “It was.” “I understand that you’re discouraged. I would be, too, a lot of women are in your position.” 

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.” 

His smile flattened with nerves, and he let out a huffed, joyless laugh. 

“I mean, having been served—” 

“A piping-hot plate of out on my ass?” 

“If that’s what you’d like to call it—”

“I call it that because that’s what it is, not because I like it that way.”

“I understand. Look,” David shifted in his seat, twisting to face you a little more. “I think that regardless of when you get your pieces in place, you have a real case here. I think I can get you half.” 

If you had a touch less decorum, you would have jumped out of your seat and screamed—both from the excitement, and the certainty that David Alford was out of his mind. Instead, you blinked twice, and once you managed to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, asked:

“Half?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“There is no way.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

“I don’t think I would, because I’m almost certain that’s impossible.” 

“Well, it certainly would be before.” 

“What exactly has changed?” 

“You didn’t know me. You do now.” 

You smiled in spite of yourself at the brash, almost fearless way that he said it. As skeptical as you were, you knew that this was exactly what you needed: someone as bold, confident, and fearless as—

“What a cozy little conference this is.” 

You turned back at the sound of Harvey’s voice, smiling a little. “Looking to join the fun?” 

“If I can hazard a guess at Jessica’s matchmaking, Alford is the one joining the fun.” 

“Specter,” David greeted, pushing himself out of his seat. “Haven’t seen you at the squash courts recently.” 

“I’ve been trolling the back nine,” Harvey offered, shaking David’s hand. “Nice to see you, Pleas and thank you.” 

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?” 

“It’s what some of the guys at the club call me. You know, my name—” 

“Alford pleas and thank you.” You scrubbed your hand across your brow. “God, that’s dumb.” 

“We can’t all be queens of quip.” 

“You poor things,” You shot back scathingly. Harvey shot you a wink before turning back to David. 

“So, David, whaddaya say?” Harvey plied. “You filling the gap?” 

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.” 

You didn’t miss his innuendo, nor the speculative, open, sweeping gaze that David leveled at you. Your brows inched toward your hairline, stunned at his brazenness. Surely you hadn’t seen it right—

“Coffee?” 

Your focus was broken at the sound of Jessica’s voice, and the sight of a coffee tray being wheeled in behind her. You let yourself be busied by it. You focused on your coffee, made it the way you liked, and let Jessica and David and Harvey talk about what you could reasonably expect out of the divorce battle. 

Reasonably, as if this entire situation hadn’t been insanely unreasonable. 

But you let yourself sit, and listen, and save your speculation for the train ride home. 

You must’ve read his look wrong, or misunderstood. He didn’t mean it like that. 

And even if he did, finding that look intriguing was incredibly appropriate. But it didn’t matter! Because he didn’t mean it like that. 

…And even if he did, it was probably just something that he tried to bring you on board. But it didn’t matter, because he did not mean it like that. 

…

Though if he did, it really wouldn’t matter, because it would be grounds for him to be disbarred. Nothing was going to happen…Even if you did find him attractive, and found his blunt approach and self-assured nature very, very hot. 

But you were not going to fuck him.

--  

“Don’t fuck him.” 

You had expected the warning to come from Jessica, but to hear it from Harvey of all goddamn people made you gape at him in shock. He just gave you a knowing look before he turned back toward the beer that he was opening. 

Your urge to have a drink that evening hadn’t been strong, but it had been there, and it had made you think of Harvey’s offer from the day before. You hadn’t expected such a quick response to your simple text of ‘Beer?’, but he had turned up a mere half hour later, a fresh six pack in hand. He had shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on to your bed, and walked over to your kitchenette—where he proceeded to say the most heinous thing.

“Excuse me?” You finally managed. 

“You heard me.” 

“I don’t think I did, actually, not properly, because it sounded like you just gave me an order that you had no business giving.” 

“I have plenty of business.” 

“No—” 

“Don’t—” 

“No no no, you do not, not here, and not like that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Harvey turned from the counter, planting his hand on the cruddy formica, “That I know—” 

“Do not say that you know me.” 

His expression darkened, and you watched as he drew in a deep breath. “I know him.” 

“...He has to be good, or Jessica wouldn’t have pulled him on to my case.” 

“He’s a good lawyer, but he’s a scuzzy asshole.” 

“I know the type.” 

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?” 

Your gut dropped at the hint of anger seeping into his tone. 

“I meant Steven.” 

Harvey turned away, hand curling into a fist and knocking lightly on the counter. 

“Just…Be careful with him.” 

“You are the last person that has any right to lecture me on the care that I ought to take with the men in my life.”

“I’m not lecturing you—” 

“No, you’re warning me off, like a little kid that’s playing too close to an electric fence.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fine by me, as long as you don’t fuck David.” “Alright, you know what,” You pushed off of your bed, striding over to your door. “Get out.” 

“We’re not done talking about this.” 

“Yes, we are. Get out.” 

“We’re not done until—” 

“We’re done when I say we’re done!” You began to yank your door open. Harvey was across your small space in a moment, palm flat against the door as he shoved it shut behind you. 

“And what the hell gives you the right to decide that?” 

“Because it’s my turn!” You barked. “I get to decide when we’re done now.” 

“It stopped being your turn when you stormed out of my office.” 

“Then make the damn decision yourself and get the fuck out of my apartment!” 

“If you want to ruin that man’s career and your chances of getting anything that you want out of your divorce, you go right ahead.” 

“I am not going to fuck him, and I’m not going to get him disbarred, you ass.” 

“Good.” 

“And I deeply resent the implication that I’m so sex-starved and desperate that I’m willing to fuck anyone who gives me any goddamn attention.” 

“I did not—” 

“Yes, you did, you did the second you opened your mouth. By rights, if that’s your view of me, I should’ve tried to not only fuck Mike, but you, of all people.” 

“I never implied that you were sex starved, but if you were, you could do a lot worse than Mike—” 

“Oh, really—” 

“And a helluva lot worse than me.” 

“Oh, please! There is no way that I could do worse than you. There are dictators that I’d sooner fall into bed with.” 

“If all you’re cutting out is the bed, I can work with the rest.” 

You could’ve slapped him. He was close enough, and you could just imagine it—the way the flush of red would look spreading across his cheek. 

“What makes you think I’d ever allow you anywhere near me again, Specter?” 

“I’m pretty damn close now.” He shifted closer, stopping as the tips of his shoes brushed your socked feet.

“Against your better judgment.” 

“You want to put me in my place, sweetheart, you go right ahead.” 

“Don't call me that.” 

“Why not.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

“Give me a good reason not to.” 

“You haven’t earned it back.” 

“Any idea of how I might do that?” 

You bit him. You grasped his tie, tugged him in, and sank your teeth into his lower lip. You expected an argument, but Harvey just groaned, grasping you by the hips and shoving you back against the door. You released his lip, groaning as he swept his tongue into your mouth. Your hand unwound from his tie, breath leaving you in harsh puffs as Harvey’s smearing kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck. You arched up into his touch as his hands slipped under your t-shirt, palming and squeezing whatever skin he could reach. You reached down, hands fumbling with nerves and heat as you worked off his belt. 

Every time your mind began to race, Harvey managed to quiet it, with his teasing tongue, and nipping teeth, and grasping fingers. For all of his big talk about getting David disbarred, Harvey suddenly seemed to not give a damn about his own career—

You whined as Harvey yanked down the cup of your bra, knuckles toying with your pebbling nipple. You palmed his hardening cock through the soft fabric of his trousers, thrilling in his moan, and the press of his hips up against your touch. His fingers snaked beneath the band of your sweatpants, sweeping against your clit before swiping slower. 

“You’re already so goddamn wet,” He growled, easing a finger into you. You pressed into his touch, gritting your teeth as he goaded: “You like pissing me off this much?” 

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.” 

You reached into his pocket, brushing against his cock as you drew out the foil packet. Why wasn’t it tucked somewhere discreet, like his wallet? You pushed the thought away as you ripped the foil packet open with your teeth. Harvey let go of you just long enough to shove his pants down around his thighs, then push your sweatpants. 

“Turn around.” 

You passed him the condom before doing as you were told, leaning heavily against the door. You expected a stretch, but slick heat pressed between your spread thighs. Your mouth dropped open in a moan, eyes squeezing shut as Harvey lapped and laved your slick, heated skin. You reached back, fingers scrabbling to grasp the neat coif of his hair. 

“Harvey, damnit,” You gasped. “Just fuck me already.” 

He groaned in dissent, giving your lips one more sucking kiss before straightening fully. You felt one palm smooth over to your thigh, and saw the other rest against the door as he eased into you. Your lips parted with a gentle whine at the pleasurable throb of his cock stretching you. You planted your hand on the door beside his, steadying yourself as you adjusted.

He didn’t give you long. Harvey drew back before his hips snapped sharply. You pressed your cheek to the door, skin growing clammy between the flimsy particleboard and the hot panting of your breath. The harsh slam of his hips forced your body uncomfortably against the door. You let your eyes slide closed as Harvey’s hands covered yours, drawing them just above your head as he intertwined your fingers. The door rattled in the frame with each thrust. You whimpered as Harvey pressed his face into your neck, felt his hot breath and the rumble of his groans against your skin. 

Your thighs ached, and your heart pounded, and your cunt throbbed, and goddamn it felt so fucking good. 

The swell of your orgasm rose and crested sharply, and you didn’t bother to hide the shuddering of your moan, your grip tightening on Harvey's hands. He followed close behind, hips pounding and juddering before he slowed. The two of you stood still for a few long moments, listening to one another’s panting and coming down. Harvey carefully extricated your hands from yours, drawing away and leaving you half-bare and chilly against the door.

“...I need a beer,” Harvey muttered, voice hoarse.

“You left one on the counter.” 

“You want one?” 

“Yeah.” 

You reach down, tugging up your sweatpants as you gently peel yourself back from the door. 

“It’s probably going to be lukewarm,” Harvey warned.

“I don’t care.” You drew in a shaky breath as you walked back toward your bed. You’d already sworn that you wouldn’t let him into it. You lowered yourself to sit beside it, looking at the door as the swirl of confused thoughts shifted back to the fore. You watched Harvey tie off the condom and drop it into your trash bin. You tracked his movement—from cleaning up, to doing up his pants, to washing his hands. You didn’t bother to hide your open speculation as he opened another beer, then took the two up. You drew your legs together, biting your lip as your slick cunt pulsed.

Harvey lowered himself to sit beside you, holding a beer out and lightly knocking his against yours before you each took a drink. You winced a little at the taste. You should’ve listened to him—the taste of lukewarm beer was not appetizing. You saw Harvey reach up out of the corner of your eye as he loosened his tie. 

“...What was that about getting someone disbarred?” 

“Shuddup.” There was no heat to how he said it, and that was probably why it made you snort a laugh. 

“Harvey?” 

“What.” 

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?” 

“I had a date.” 

Your brow furrowed as you took that in. 

“...When?”

“Tonight.” 

“Why aren’t you there?” 

“Because I’m here.” 

Harvey Specter broke a date. Harvey Specter broke a date for you. You leaned back against the bed again, biting the inside of your cheek to quell a wide grin. 

“Don’t read into it,” He added. 

“I’m not reading into anything…Apart from the fact that you seemed pretty sure you were going to get laid.” 

“I was.” 

“Arrange for that, did you?” 

“No need to arrange anything. I’m just good like that.” 

“Well. Can’t argue with that. For the record—” 

“What.” 

“You really have no say over who I do and don’t fuck.” 

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

“...You going to the Hamptons next weekend?” 

“Yeah.” “How are you getting up there?” 

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.” 

“You already have.” You cast Harvey a knowing smile, grin widening as he shot you a sidelong, unimpressed glance. Your smile turned to giggles as Harvey seemed to smile in spite of himself. 

“You really think we could stand to be in the car with one another for more than twenty minutes?” You prodded. 

“If not, we could always pull over and work out our differences.” 

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?” 

“Nope.” 

“Didn’t promise a rain check?” 

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.” 

“Mm. And why would you want to come with me?” 

“Steven could be watching those properties, waiting for you to turn up. You could benefit from having back up.” 

“You make it sound terribly sinister. Have you figured out how to bill Gstaad yet?” 

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.” 

“Sure.” 

“I don’t mean for, you know—I don’t want a vacation.”

“You’ve earned one.” 

“Whatever, I just don’t like to put something on the market without doing a walk-through myself.” 

“I understand.” 

You leaned back against the bed a little more heavily, gaze wandering toward the door, where a little bit of your makeup was smeared from the press of your cheek. 

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?” 

“Can we talk about it?” 

“The sex or the other thing?” 

“The other thing.” 

“I’ve already had one fight with you today. I don’t think I have the capacity for two...Do you?”

You shook your head. 

“Some other time,” He promised. 

“Sure.” 

-- 

You had seen the paperwork and the inspector’s notes, but to see the house in the Hamptons was a whole other story. The long gravel driveway was lined with a horse fence on the left, and a plain wood fence on the right. You didn’t bother to hide your open, stunned stares as you passed the stables. It was hardly the first time you’d seen a home like it, but it was unfathomable that Steven seemed to have not only put the house in your name, but completely forgotten about it. 

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot. 

“Do you want to start in the stables, the house, the pool, the tennis court…?” He shut the car off, waiting for your reply. You shook your head. 

“I only care about the house,” You admitted. 

“So we won’t be walking the expansive lawns? I brought my sneakers.” 

“Do I even want to know how expensive those sneakers are?” 

“They’re worth more than your apartment.” 

“I’m willing to believe that.” You climbed out of the car, eyeing the inspector’s report as you rounded toward the front steps. You turned from the paperwork to take in the house’s appearance more clearly. It was…Ugly. The large, L-shaped, gray-brick building had the modernistic development of the fast-casual apartment buildings in the city, with some of the gauche touches of your penthouse, like the expansive floor-to-ceiling covering nearly the entirety of the bottom of the floor. You could see a balcony on the left side of the house, and another around the other end of the L. 

“...This is different.” 

“It’s criminal,” You muttered. 

“Are you saying that because he forged your signature, or because it’s ugly as sin?” 

“Both. Come on.” 

You walked up to the front door, punching in the code that the realtor had given you to get the door open. 

The foyer was as flat and uninspired as the outside of the house—white marble floors, grey walls, and sterling silver furnishings. You grimaced as you looked around. 

“Are we doing a complete walk through of this millennial grey gulag?”

“If you’re going to hate it, you can wait in the car,” You offered, glancing toward Harvey. “Apparently there are fifteen bedrooms and nine bathrooms, and I don’t know how much of your cute commentary I can deal with today.” 

“Seemed to handle it fine in the car.” Harvey turned left before you could say or do anything else, and you followed him, looking down at the property’s map. 

“This place oughta have one of those fricking mall maps with a star labeled ‘You Are Here’,” You grumbled. 

“Now who’s making cute comments.” 

– 

“My feet hurt,” You groaned, plopping onto a boxy, stiff-cushioned couch. 

“You’d think after the last couple of months of living in that walk-up, you’d be in better shape.”

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.” 

“So, what do you think?”

“I think we throw it on the market for 18 million and I forget that it ever existed.”

“Why list it in your name, though?”

You shrugged, looking around. “Maybe it was in both our names when he bought it and the outcome was such a disaster he decided to leave my name on it. I think he designed it.”

“Really?” Harvey’s brows rose as he looked around. 

“Oh, god yeah. Steven can be smart, but he’s never really had any design sense. I wound up taking charge on some of our early flip projects because he just didn’t have the eye for it. He always tried, but I kinda wound up following behind and fixing his messes. If I had to guess, he bought this place to show me that he really could do it, and he just…Can’t.”

“Do you think Cape Cod and Gstaad will be the same?” 

“Doubtful. The report for Cape Cod said that the house was originally built in 1950…what. Four?”

“Something like that.” 

“It looks like he gutted it like he did the apartment buildings and realized how much of a project it would be. Gave up on it.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“Work out how to expense the trip and we can talk.”

Harvey chuckled, wandering closer. “Should we christen it?”

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

Harvey’s brows waggled salaciously, and you laughed, pushing yourself off of the couch. “Oh no, Specter. No way—”

“Why not?”

“You wanna christen every room? You don’t have the stamina for that—And I don’t have the patience.” 

“What about just in here?” He curled his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. “On that stupid couch, over the piano…How about up against the windows?” His voice dropped to a murmur. “There’s no one around for miles.” 

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement. 

“If you said that with the Kubrick stare, I’d think you were going all Jack Torrence on me.”

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

“Ugh! God, let’s just go,” You pushed out of Harvey’s arms, heading for the door. “It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.” 

“The house can’t be haunted, he’s not dead.” 

“He is to me.”

–

“When are you planning on going to Cape Cod?” 

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.” 

“I don’t have a car and I’m not going to rent one.”

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

“You’re going to go up and back on the train in one day? That is a long day.”

“I can handle it.” 

“You’d be more comfortable in a car.” 

“Yeah, obviously—Eyes on the road, Specter.” You reached out, poking his cheek as he glanced over at you. He batted your hand away lazily before turning back to the road. 

“Why do you always insist on doing things in the most difficult way possible?”

“Because in most cases, the most difficult choice is also the most cost-effective. Efficiencies can be cruel, Harvey.”

“Cruel is an understatement.” 

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.” 

“Stubborn.” 

“...Do you wanna come up when we get back to my place?”

“What for?” 

You tipped your head to the side, waiting for Harvey to glance over before you teasingly waggled your brows.

“Oh, so now you want to?” 

“I wanted to then! But I couldn’t do it if I felt Steven looming over me. C’mon, Specter,” You reached out, gently teasing your nails along the back of his neck, and grinning as he shifted slightly in his seat. “See if you can get me any more out of breath than walking up six flights of stairs.” 

--  

“Hey, there you are! Jessica needs to—What’s that face for?” Mike’s concern fell away at the sight of Harvey’s self-satisfied smile as he stepped off of the elevator. Harvey gave a dismissive shrug. What the hell was he going to tell Mike? That he’d spent the weekend somewhere other than his place? That he had fallen asleep with her, and remembered how serene it used to be to wake up with her? That they’d hardly left her cruddy apartment—hell, they’d hardly left her bed? 

“Nothing. What were you saying?” 

“Jessica needs to see you.” 

“Right now?” 

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Jessica step out from around the corner, drawing him up short. 

“Yes,” She insisted firmly. “Right now.” 

Harvey had the strange sense of a child being marched to the principal as she led her way to her office. She shut the door behind the two of them, striding past him to her desk. 

“Can this wait?” Harvey hedged. “I’ve got coffee going cold on my desk.” 

“Well then, I’ll make this quick. Did you have a nice time this weekend?"

That should've been his warning. It was a solid leading question, and one that, on any other Monday, he would not have hesitated to answer. His eyes narrowed slightly, before he decided—Yes, she must have known that he drove to the Hamptons. Someone would have told Jessica: Mike was still in the habit of offering updates when he thought they would be helpful.

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

A second warning. Jessica was a strategist, and Harvey knew that any lawyer worth a damn didn't ask a question that they didn't already know the answer to. Still, he chose a carefully middle-of-the-road answer:

"She was happy to go through the home herself, set a listing price. Hopefully we can get it on the market and on its way as soon as possible.”

Jessica took that in thoughtfully, lips set in a placid smile.

"Were there any outstanding features?"

A third and final warning, but Harvey couldn't help but lean into it:

"Are we talking about the tennis court, the pool, the stables, or the thousand lawns?"

Jessica let out a tepid, flatly amused, "Hm," Before beckoning him closer. "Well if those all caught your eye, it would explain why you missed the cameras."

Harvey froze in his step, blood running cold. There was no way—Cameras? His gaze dropped to the laptop that she turned to face him. The black and white footage was grainy, but clear enough. Harvey watched as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into his chest. He could still feel the heat of her body, and the plush slide of her sweater beneath his fingers. He could see the gentle, adoring way that she gazed up at him before she nudged him away, leading the charge out of the house. 

‘It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.’ He didn’t know how, but she had felt it. 

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

"Explain what!" Jessica slammed the laptop closed, rounding the desk with self-righteous strides. "Explain what idiotic idea led to you putting on a show?"

"We didn't know that there were cameras."

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

"Don't play dumb with me, Harvey," She warned lowly. "How long have you been sleeping with her."

It hit him low in the gut. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

"She told you?"

"No, she didn't tell me. She didn't have to. It'll be plain as day to anyone who sees that footage."

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

"I was teasing her! It didn't mean anything."

"If I call and ask her, she'll say the same thing?"

He was certain of it. "Yes."

"Would she swear to it under oath? At a deposition? In court?"

His surety faltered, and his mouth worked wordlessly before he pursed his lips tightly. Jessica shook her head again.

"I am not the only one with access to this. Luckily for you—for both of you—she still has a friend or two on the inside. Aaron Delaney sent this to me before he deleted the original. He works closely with Steven, and has access to a few property accounts. He got an alert on his phone that someone had used the keypad to open the door."

"Has Steven seen it?"

"He isn't sure, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Louis will be taking over the Hayward case, and Mike will be assisting him."

"No, Jessica, that's not happening."

"It is, because I'm telling you that it is. You should be relieved. You never wanted it in the first place."

"Things are different now."

"You're damn right they are! What the hell were you thinking? Both of you?"

"Let me see this case through."

"If you see this through and Hayward does have access to this footage, you could be disbarred. You're going to hand the files over to Louis by the end of the day. He is expecting them. Mike will bring him up to speed and assist him until this mess is cleared up."

Harvey lowered his gaze to the floor as Jessica stepped around him, opening the door and waiting beside it. He curled his hands into fists in his pockets as he strode resignedly from the office.

"And so help you," Jessica warned as he passed, "If I hear that you are holding Louis up in any way."

Harvey only made it a few feet from the office before he pulled his phone out of his pocket, hurriedly dialing her number. It rang once...Twice...Three times...And went to voicemail.

"Damnit," He hissed, lowering the phone to redial. "C'mon, c'mon..." It rang once, "Pick up." Twice...

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean?" She laughed, "I'm on my way to see Jessica for our check-in."

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

"I just got off of the elevator. Why?"

Harvey whirled around, eyes desperately searching for her through the gaggle of associates, paralegals, and lawyers going about their business.

"She knows."

"What?"

He could hear her frown. Harvey took three steps toward the elevator bay before he saw her come into view—and lock eyes with Jessica. He saw her body go tense, before her shoulders sagged with dejection.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

--

"I'm not going to even begin to approach what you may have been thinking—"

"Jessica—"

"—Putting not only your future, Harvey’s future, and the future of this firm in jeopardy."

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

"We didn't even do anything at the house!"

"That doesn't make the slightest bit of difference."

You slid down in your seat as Jessica paced in front of you, her pace and turn reminiscent of a caged tiger.

"I did you a favor and this is how you repay me?" She finally stilled, nailing you with a cold gaze. You folded further under the crush of her look, so similar to the disbelief that she had leveled you with at her apartment not too long ago.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Jessica strode around her desk. "Your case has been reassigned to Louis Litt. Mike will stay on, provided you haven't fucked him, too."

Christ. "I made a mistake, alright? I told you I was sorry, and I meant it," You insisted. "Don't bring Mike into this when he hasn't done anything wrong."

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

"I don't want you associating with Harvey until this is over."

"Oh—Come on."

"If this footage were to come out, Harvey's conduct and ethics will be called into question. He'll be dragged into your divorce proceedings. Is that what you want?"

Your stomach churned uneasily as you considered it. You knew she was right. You shook your head a little, trying desperately to swallow past the lump that was forming in your dry throat.

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

"Okay." You turned, heading for her office door, and stopping just before you opened it.

"...Is now a bad time to remind you that bringing Harvey onto my case was your idea?"

The chilling glare that she leveled with answered for her: Yes. It was a very bad time to remind her.

--

“You slept with—” 

“Shut the door and keep your voice down,” Harvey warned stonily. Before either of them could move toward his office door, Donna hurried into view, reaching for the handle. 

“You don’t wanna hear this?” Mike’s brows rose. “You of all people?” 

Donna waved him away, offering, “Intercom,” Before she shut the door. Harvey sighed heavily, lowering himself into his chair. 

“What happened?” Mike stepped closer to the desk. “I’m just—You two hate each other.” 

“Thank you for the reminder. I forgot about that.” 

“Harvey, c’mon,” Mike shook his head as he tried (and failed) to keep from smiling. “What happened?” 

“I went over to hang out.” 

“At her apartment?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, and? Instead of hanging out you…Let it all hang out?” 

“Get out of my office.”

“If that was at her apartment, what happened in the Hamptons?” 

“Nothing happened in the Hamptons. The footage just…We got close, that’s all.” 

“That’s not enough to disbar you.” 

“Because you’re the expert on being disbarred? It’s enough to call my ethics into question…And Jessica’s right, no one needs that headache right now.”  

“So I’m stuck with Louis because you got close? Where’s the Specter spirit? No way are you going to watch this one from the sidelines.” 

On any other case, no, he wouldn’t. Harvey would insist on backseat driving. But on this one…He grimaced, dropping his gaze to his desk. 

“I want regular updates,” He insisted. “That’s all.” 

Mike nodded slowly, conceding: “Okay. But I’ll be ready when you change your mind.” 

-- 

"I'll come over."

He sounded so positive about it—like nothing had happened, or changed. You eyed the remaining trash bags, trying to scrounge up the conviction of an excuse. 

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not?"

You know why. You shifted your phone from one hand to the other, tucking it between your shoulder and your ear as you reached out, gripping a bag to make it crinkle loudly.

"I've still got some sorting to do."

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

"...She's not in charge of us, you know."

You tipped your head back against your wall, closing your eyes. "She's actually very much in charge of you."

"At work."

"I know, but I just..." You winced. "I think she's right. We should lay low for a while. If Steven did see that video before Aaron sent it to Jessica, we're both going to have a whole new mess that we're stepping into."

"I'm ready for it."

"...I don't know if I am."

His silence on the other end made you want to crawl out of your skin. "I can only fight one battle at a time, Harvey—And right now, I'm barely managing the big ones."

"Fine."

You knew that fine coming from him. It wasn't fine. It was I'm shutting down. It was I'm finished with this conversation. It was I'm finished with you.

"Harvey—"

You lowered the phone from your ear as the line cut off, watching the inevitable flashing and darkening of his contact. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. How, after all this time, was Harvey Specter still able to make you cry?

-- 

You became solitary again. Life narrowed. You saw Aaron a time or two, but he was so busy either working or gathering intel that you were hardly able to keep up with him. For as much of a lifeline as she had been, Jessica was still pissed, and you hardly spoke more than you needed to. Mike was a dear, checking in to see how you were doing, but most correspondence led inevitably to discussing closings, proceedings, contracts (and you couldn’t blame him for it; he was only doing his job). 

Louis was…A lot. He was very eager, that was clear, and had been working hard to push the sales of the apartment buildings and the home in the Hamptons through. David and his firm were digging into discovery, and were making headway. 

But you had so little life outside of your divorce. Most of your pieces were sold off, so you hardly had any day-to-day tasks to keep you busy—and everything in New York was so goddamn expensive. It felt like you spent $50 just stepping out your front door. There were days when you simply didn’t. It was cheaper to stay in, and quieter (so long as your neighbors didn’t have a screaming match that day).

Your life was four walls, a cruddy bed, rickety furniture. You spent too much time awake when you should’ve been sleeping; too much time reminiscing when you should have been moving on; too much time dwelling on the time that you spent with men in your life that probably wouldn’t spare you another thought. 

--  

Walking back into the firm was uncomfortable. You’d avoided it for as long as you could, but Mike insisted that there were a few documents that absolutely had to be seen and signed in the office. You’d made it an entire three weeks without so much as getting anywhere near the building. You found yourself avoiding even glancing in the direction of Jessica’s office. It was alright, though—Donna was a smiling, comforting presence the second you stepped off of the elevator. 

“Find the place alright?” She teased. 

“I did, thank you. I’ve only been here a dozen times in the last couple of months.” 

“It’s been a few weeks. We thought you’d forgotten where we were.” 

You smiled tightly. You were certain that she knew everything that had gone on—she was the eyes and ears of the place. 

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” You drawled sarcastically, “I kept coming to the right building and getting off on the wrong floor.” 

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.” 

You frowned as she led you away from the usual conference rooms, and even further away from Louis’ office. You couldn’t imagine where the heck she was taking you—and your confusion deepened as she opened the door to a room lined with files. She nodded you inside, a knowing smile on her lips as she warned: 

“Two minutes.” 

Two minutes? Until what?

“Thanks, Donna.” Harvey’s voice made you freeze, and you could do nothing but watch Donna close the door behind herself. You looked down at the floor, your hands wringing as you heard Harvey come closer. You felt him stop close behind you, close enough to feel the heat of him.

“...Are you going to look at me?” He hedged softly. 

“No need. I know what you look like.” 

He sighed softly, stepping around to stand in front of you. You watched as his shoes and pant legs came into view. 

“...And you’re just going to look at my shoes now?” 

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.” 

“They are.” 

“Figures.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked at him fully, finally, stunned. You were surprised at how drawn he looked. Sure, his suit was impeccable, and his hair was frustratingly perfect, but you could see tiredness around his eyes. 

“You’re going through hell right now,” Harvey went on, “You don’t need me to pile on to that. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

You nodded slowly as you took it all in. “Well. We should never have, um…” You cleared your throat, averting your gaze again. “It was stupid.” 

“You regret it?” 

“It’s not worth risking your career over.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Harvey closed the space between the two of you, and you had to force yourself not to lean into him the way you wanted—the way you’d missed for weeks. 

“Harvey,” You warned softly. “I can’t keep playing tug of war with you like this. I’m already at the end of my damn rope.” 

“I know.” 

You closed your eyes at the feeling of his palms sliding warmly over your arms, trailing down until he could gently intertwine your fingers. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” He promised, “Until we’re on the other side of this, and your business with the firm is closed out.” 

“And then what?” 

“And then I’ll give you hell.” You spluttered a laugh, unable to help it. Harvey chuckled softly, his nose nudging yours gently. 

“I should go,” You warned softly. “Louis will come looking for me.” 

“Donna will keep him at bay.” 

“She said two minutes. It’s been at least three—” You hardly had time to finish your protestation before Harvey kissed you. You swayed into him, lips slipping tenderly against his as he used his grasp to draw you flush against him. You wiggled your hands from his, curling your arms around his shoulders to keep close. You startled at the two knocks on the door, and smiled as Harvey groaned in irritation. 

“I should let you go,” He mumbled. You nodded, murmured,

“Probably.” 

But neither of you rushed to move. 

-- 

“I'm sorry to see you go. I've enjoyed our time together."

You sort of believed it, given the pinched, almost pained look that Louis leveled you across the desk. And, for all of your work with him over the last three months, you'd gained a sort of affinity for the man...Even if he was a little intense in a way that sometimes confused you. You smiled, taking up the final few documents that you would need for your record.

"I appreciate that, and thank you for all of your hard work, Mr. Litt. It's been..." You weighed your words carefully, "Interesting."

"For me, too. Reach out if you need anything else—doc review, mover recommendations, tickets to the ballet. Anything."

"Tickets to the ballet? I'm impressed." You held your hand out, smiling as he stood and pumped it enthusiastically. "Thank you again."

You were hardly four steps out of Louis' office when you found yourself flanked in the hallway.

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

"With a restaurant name like that, it would have to be."

"Hey, that is not fair! I could be posh."

"It wouldn't suit you, Mr. Ross."

"Is that a yes or a no to dinner?" Harvey plied.

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

"If I told you I had plans, would you believe me?"

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

"And here feels like a good stopping point for me." Mike wheeled around, striding back in the direction that he came.

"What the hell does David want with you after hours?" 

"Deposition starts next week. We're drilling testimony."

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

"Watch it, Specter." You reached out, jabbing the down button on the elevator before turning back to Harvey. He pouted contemplatively before offering: "What about this weekend?"

"I think I could swing this weekend. Is dinner on the firm?"

"It's on me."

"Do you think..." You trailed off, glancing toward Jessica's office, "That the powers that be will approve?"

"Honestly?" Harvey lowered his voice,"I don't give a damn. It's been months. Your business here is wrapped. If Jessica wants to give me a good reason why I can't see you, she's welcome to try—but it won't work."

You bit the inside of your cheek to quell a smile as you reached out, gently straightening Harvey's tie.

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

"It's kinda hot." You turned back and stepped onto the elevator as it chimed.

"This weekend," You finally agreed. "Invite Mike—He's earned several dinners."

"He sure has."

The doors began to close, but Harvey darted in, catching them before they could shut all the way. He darted in, pressing a swift, warm kiss to your lips before he drew away again. You grinned as he stepped back, allowing the doors to close.

--

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

The memory of Harvey's teasing warning was on your mind throughout your time with David, and you found yourself fighting back smiles all evening.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

David watched you from beneath his lashes as he asked, and where that look had intrigued you once, you knew better. You gave a short, firm nod, and insisted: "I have a date."

Your battle with Steven was far from over. You still had forgery cases pending, and your divorce case had hardly begun. But things felt a little lighter these days.

You had a direction, you had cash flow...But you didn't quite have the plan that you once did. You had told Harvey months ago that you were considering moving to Cambridge. It hadn’t completely ceased to be true, but it wasn’t your only consideration anymore. 

There were moments when you could see the glimmer of a life to carve out for yourself: a smaller real estate firm with a few employees—maybe Aaron, if you could lure him away from Steven; a more comfortable apartment than where you were now, but you could live with where you were for a few more months as you got things in order; and, at the very least, a friendship with Harvey. You didn’t know if what the two of you were doing would be sustainable, and you weren’t sure whether either of you really wanted to know—but after all this time, you thought that maybe the two of you deserved another chance. 

--  

“Impressed?” 

It was a fair question, but you were doing your best to school your expression. You didn’t want Harvey to know outright how much you did like his apartment. It was nothing less than you expected—large (though not quite in the palatial way that your old penthouse was), tastefully decorated, with a gorgeous view. You knew why Harvey had brought you up, of course, but now he was just showing off. 

Dinner had been its own round of grandstanding. You and Mike had watched, bemused, as Harvey had gone out of his way to pronounce all of the dishes in a French accent to the clearly not French (but feigning awe) waiter (who you were sure had to deal with this multiple times a day). Harvey had also taught you and Mike a thing or two about wine—or he had tried to, until Mike seemed no longer able to help himself and corrected Harvey on multiple facts about the Rhône valley in the south of France. 

It had been a far more pleasant evening that you had expected to have, and far more jovial than you’d had in a long time. Mike and Harvey were close; you and Harvey had a history; you and Mike had become friends over the course of your time working with him. When Mike had insisted that you all had to do this again sometime, you believed that he meant it. And when Harvey had invited you both up for a nightcap, Mike had politely declined with a smile and a shake of his head, offering:

“I think I should let you two have some time to do…Whatever it is that you need to do.” 

You hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d meant, or what Harvey had told him. You were almost certain that he would’ve been told why Harvey had been taken off of your case in the first place. And sure, now and again, over dinner, you and Harvey had caught one another’s eye, maybe shared a smile. Maybe he’d rested his hand on your knee a time or two, given it a squeeze—because he could. Because the two of you were close and on even footing for the first time in a while. 

“It’s…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Certainly an apartment.” 

“Oh, please,” Harvey scoffed, taking two wine glasses down from the cabinet. “You’re impressed.” 

“It’s nicer than I thought it would be.” 

“You’re dazzled.” 

“I like the kitchen.” 

“You’re helplessly turned on.” 

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.” 

“So you admit that you’re turned on?” 

You rolled your eyes, no longer bothering to fight your smile off. 

“Maybe,” You offered, settling onto the couch and kicking off your shoes. Harvey joined you moments later, passing you a glass of wine and gently clinking his against yours before you each took sips. His gaze remained heavy on yours, and he leaned in for a gentle kiss as soon as you lowered your glass. You hummed, raising a hand and cupping his jaw. You leaned back just a touch, smiling as he crowded closer, dipping his head to brush kisses along your neck as his warm palm gently smoothed up your thigh. 

“...Harvey?” 

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head a little. “Can we talk about it?” 

He groaned, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. “Why do you always insist on ruining a perfectly good time?” 

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.” 

“You thank your lucky fucking stars that I put a stop to that.” 

“Yeah,” He grumbled, leaning back. You watched him swirl his wine in his glass. 

“Please,” You pleaded softly. 

“...I didn’t write the note.” 

Fuck. 

“Okay.” 

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.” 

“Who wrote that one?” 

“Scottie.” 

“...Okay.” 

“I couldn’t find the one I’d written, she insisted that I couldn’t leave you with nothing.” 

“Well, she was right.” 

“Yeah.” 

You that that sink in for a moment before you pressed: “Why did you leave?”

“I had doubts.” 

“About me?” 

“About us. You know how my parents were, you know…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You know what I saw.” 

“And you thought I would do that to you?” 

“I was afraid of it.” 

“If you were afraid of it, then you thought I was capable of it.” 

“—And when you got married to Steven so quickly—” 

“Oh—!” The heavy, stunned, indignant laugh was pained as it left you. You pushed off of the couch, standing and walking out of Harvey’s reach. You heard him sigh heavily behind you, chased by the clink of him setting his wine glass down as he muttered, “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this.” 

“Do you know why I got married so quickly?” You whirled around to face him. 

“Because you loved Steven?” 

“I never said that. I thought I loved him a bit, sure, but I was afraid that this,” You waved a finger between the two of you, “Would happen again. I thought he would leave. I was afraid that I would spend my entire life being left. So when Steven showed me the slightest bit of attention, I latched on. We eloped. He wanted a big wedding, but I just,” You waved your hand around, “I couldn’t do that a second time. Any of it. I didn’t get a new dress, neither of our families were there, because I knew that they would all watch me, and him, and they’d be thinking it: Is it going to happen again?” 

“You’re saying your entire life with Steven was my fault?” 

“I’m saying that I made a choice, and that what happened with you was a factor—Not a fault, a factor. And why!” You let out another harsh hysterical laugh as tears welled in your eyes, “Why didn’t you just talk to me? What did I do then to make you think that you couldn’t talk to me?”

“I wasn’t ready!” 

“And we could have talked about that! What made you think that I wouldn’t have been alright with moving the wedding back, or going to counseling with you, or whatever you would have needed to get us there?”

“You wanted to get married.”

“I wanted you, Harvey! I would have waited, I—” You turned away, sniffling heavily as tears slipped from your eyes. “Fuck. Ugh.” You raised your glass, draining it before striding over the counter, desperate to put some more distance between the two of you. You set the glass down and yanked a paper towel off of the roll, swiping at your under eyes to clear away any running mascara. You blew your nose as well before balling up the tissue and lobbing it toward the trash can. You heard Harvey’s approaching footsteps, and you pulled in a deep, stuttering breath as he rested his hands on your shoulders. 

“...There’s no way for me to take back or change what I did.” 

“Would you if you could?” 

“Yes.”

“...Okay.” 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your head as his hands soothingly rubbed over your arms. You sniffled again, swiping away a stray tear before resting your hands on the counter. 

“You changed the way that I love, Harvey,” You shook your head. “For better or worse, whether you meant to or not, you changed it.” You glanced back toward him. “I can’t get those bits of myself back. You took them from me.” 

“I know. I took them from both of us.” 

You nodded, slowly letting yourself lean back against him. His arms curled around your middle, and you heard a soft, almost relieved groan leave him. You let your eyes close as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, allowing yourselves to settle. 

“...Stay tonight?” He murmured after a few moments. You nodded, smiling as his hold tightened on you again, as if wary that you would change your mind. 

-- 

He had a few more smile lines. His hair still mussed the same; he still made little mumbling noises as he slowly rose from sleep to consciousness. He was still a furnace to sleep beside, and he still held you through the night. It was almost a relief that none of that had changed. 

Waking up in his arms made you feel like it had when you were younger: safe, and loved, and wanted. You hadn't appreciated it when you'd had it just a few months ago, but you were desperate to catch on to every little bit of him now.

You were never going to be able to turn back the hands of time—to go back and warn him, or yourself, or someone that your first wedding day would be a disaster, that it would set you off on a path that you could never have anticipated for yourself. Discussing what had happened hadn't truly healed any of your old wounds.

But as the sun began to creep over the Manhattan skyline and seep into Harvey’s bedroom, you felt closer to peace than you had in a long, long time. 

Harvey snuffled, nuzzling your shoulder as his fingers curled in your borrowed nightshirt. 

“You awake?” He mumbled, the same low, gravely murmur that you had once loved, and missed. 

“Mmmhm.” 

“Want coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

He yawned widely, pressing his face into your shoulder and warming your skin through the fabric. “Bagels?” 

“Sure.” 

“‘Kay.” 

Neither of you made a move to get either. Instead, you combed your fingers through his hair, closed your eyes, and listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you both fell back asleep. 

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#Harvey Specter x Reader #Harvey Specter x You #Harvey Specter/Reader #Harvey Specter/You #Harvey Specter fic #Harvey Specter imagine #Bad Faith

[gatheringbones]

[“Herself a landlord, Karen paid attention to how someone looked at her unit. This point was repeated in the thick training manual landlords received at registration: “Do they check out each room?…Do they mentally visualize where the furniture will go, which room the children will sleep in, or how they’ll make best use of the kitchen layout? Or do they barely walk in the front door before asking to rent, showing a surprising lack of interest in the details? People who make an honest living care about their home and often show it in the way they look at the unit. Some who rent for illegal operations forget to pretend they have the same interest.”

The small act of screening could have big consequences. From thousands of yes/no decisions emerged a geography of advantage and disadvantage that characterized the modern American city: good schools and failing ones, safe streets and dangerous ones. Landlords were major players in distributing the spoils. They decided who got to live where. And their screening practices (or lack thereof) revealed why crime and gang activity or an area’s civic engagement and its spirit of neighborliness could vary drastically from one block to the next. They also helped explain why on the same block in the same low-income neighborhood, one apartment complex but not another became familiar to the police.

Screening practices that banned criminality and poverty in the same stroke drew poor families shoulder to shoulder with drug dealers, sex offenders, and other lawbreakers in places with lenient requirements. Neighborhoods marred by high poverty and crime were that way not only because poverty could incite crime, and crime could invite poverty, but also because the techniques landlords used to “keep illegal and destructive activity out of rental property” kept poverty out as well. This also meant that violence, drug activity, deep poverty, and other social problems coalesced at a much smaller, more acute level than the neighborhood. They gathered at the same address.

For people familiar with hunger and scarcity, addiction and prison, that often meant being isolated from job networks and exposed to vice and violence. But it also meant people could air problems; swap food, clothes, and information; and finish one another’s sentences about lousy jobs or social workers or prison (“They put gravy—”…“On everything!”). It meant that, should they be in the early stages of opiate withdrawal, they could take a walk around their trailer park to calm the shakes and run into a fellow junkie who could give them what they needed.

Some landlords neglected to screen tenants for the same reason payday lenders offered unsecured, high-interest loans to families with unpaid debt or lousy credit; for the same reason that the subprime industry gave mortgages to people who could not afford them; for the same reason Rent-A-Center allowed you to take home a new Hisense air conditioner or Klaussner “Lazarus” reclining sofa without running a credit check. There was a business model at the bottom of every market.”]

matthew desmond, from evicted: poverty and profit in the american city, 2016

#matthew desmond #history stuff #currently reading

[saberamane]

I would just like to share this lovely comment from someone on chapter 65 of 'We Were Born For This', it is just so great to see some just get it when you write something that isn't blatant or right in your face.

I've been binge reading this wonderful story over the past couple days, and when i got to this chapter i just had to comment. It feels almost like the culmination of... a lot of things desmond is overcoming, i don't quite know how to put it into words though i'll try (if it comes across awkwardly just keep in mind i absolutely adore this story with my whole heart, so it absolutely isn't intentional).

The way i'm thinking about it, is that we've been slowly watching desmond reclaim how to be a person, and this is one of the last Big Things that have been taken from him without any progress on overcoming it, so it feels like a big victory for desmond to find a way that feels 'safe' for him to explore this side of himself. While as an ace myself i'm fully aware sex isn't necessary for a fulfilling life, it is a completely different thing to have something forcibly stolen than it is to willingly give it up, so there's almost a feeling of pride in seeing desmond begin to grow past it. I also really liked the subtle dom/sub aspects you introduced, even if it was apparently an accident, because i've always felt like it was almost, natural, for things to go in that direction with characters like that. Let's see if i can put it into words, sorry if i ramble on too much...

Okay, so when you have that human weapon vibe from a character, it almost feels like having some sort of sub vibes (sexual or non-sexual) comes naturally, you know? Like, when someone has been built from birth to be nothing more than a weapon, with no wants or desires of their own, the idea of taking charge of themselves for no purpose other than to serve themselves would probably feel unnatural. Like, even when those characters heal and grow beyond just being nothing more than a weapon, that doesn't erase the past, doesn't change the fact that they feel more like they were /built/ than /born/, and that part of their being is always going to be there in the background. And it's its own kind of healing, to choose for yourself who you /want/ to guide and direct you, to willingly offer what was previously taken forcibly. To still be a weapon, but one wielded by gentle hands that you know would never hurt you, that doesn't even view you as the weapon you know yourself to be but instead considers you as the person with wants and needs you can only allow under their encouragement... still a weapon, but more than just a /thing/ to be used and thrown aside... the inherent eroticism of the weapon/wielder dynamic, is what i'm saying. I like my smut with a side of psychoanalysis, lol.

It was wonderfully executed as well, i must say. The smut was written in a wonderfully visceral way, and you could just feel desmond giving himself over so beautifully. Being a good soft dom apparently comes naturally to ezio, with his easy confidence and understanding of what desmond wants and needs, and sheer delight at providing it. Desmond being able to completely relax into it thanks to the mix of the pleasure (unfamiliar and taboo) with the feeling of being commanded (easy and safe). The shame and fear being countered by the comfort of a person he loves and wholly trusted being the one to guide him through it, turning it from something he's doing wrong and must be punished for, to something he's unquestionably doing right as ezio tells him how good he is for it, all while being considerate to hold himself back and not push desmond too far for his own wants and desires.

Basically, thank you very much for such a wonderful story, i am very happy to read this :)

#personal #assassin's creed #assassins creed #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #we were born for this fanfic #desmond miles #ezio auditore

[messenger-of-stupidity]

HI HELLO WELCOMR TO UNHINGED SHIT MY FRIENDS SAY BUT AS REVERIE CHARACTERS BOWCHICKAWOWWOWBFJJEJHDHVJKD

"I've never had gay sex. Only an expo marker has explored the depths." (They were jokingbtw)

- Axel... probably also Gage tbh

"Yes. I know the car is that way. But I saw a bumblebee and I wanna follow so I can join my people."

- CASEY CASEY CASEY CASEY

"Give me five minutes and then you can have sexy squidward."

- Dion, Gage, Ellis, Bug

"I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE! So yes, I do have initiative to bite the DM's dick off."

- Gage, Neo/Ellis (they both gives of DnD player vibes), Axel, Bug, Darling

"*mumble* Never thought I'd say this... *end of mumble* Keep the fifty dollars in your underwear, dude!"

- Neo, Bunny

"I have more dignity. I will not accept bribery."

"Two words. Free. Food."

"Fine."

- Desmond and Newbie, Law and Sweets, Dion and Bunny

"Let me be one with the stew."

- Gage, Bug, Darling, Nat, Ellis

"Skibidi toilet is not a smash. I need you to go back to the psych hospital."

- Neo, Sunshine, Desmond

#sometimes i wonder if my friends will ever be functional #and then i remember that im not functional either #and then im double disappointed #/lh #hi altair how are u #reverie audios #reverieaudios #law #desmond #nat #bug #gage #ellis #casey #neo #darling #axel #bunny #dion #newbie #sunshine #am i missing anyone?

[une-sanz-pluis]

There's something about Henry V...

This is going to be something of a word salad in my attempts to explain my thought process. I've talked before about Henry V seems to have embodied the medieval ideals of the "perfect king" and it's something G. L. Harriss discusses in the introduction of Henry V: The Practice of Kingship. Someone, I don't remember who, once remarked that we know little of Henry V's personal life - we catch glimpses now and again of it but we can't really build up a picture of it. And it's possible this was deliberate, that in pursuing the ideals of kingship, he gave up on his personal interests and relationships or kept them hidden and private or simply didn't have enough time to leave behind much evidence of it. And in doing so, his humanity is obscured. He becomes odd, strange.

I was listening to a podcast episode on Catherine de Valois and one host likened Henry throughout to a robot. His reign is described as "almost robotically perfect", the story of him falling instantly in love with Catherine at first sight is rationalised by imagining him as a robot processing that this is the moment he needed to fall in love. His death was likened to a robot breaking down and continuing not to work, with the conclusion that "robots just weren't built to last back then". Obviously, it was a joke. But it's one that fits our image of Henry as being the "perfect" king.

You also have professional historians, albeit largely of the crank variety, where Henry is treated as freakish and monstrous, whether it's Desmond Seward remarking "there was something a little inhuman about him" or Ian Mortimer's revisionist history that presents Henry as a bigoted, gynophobic, sex-averse, beardless tyrant with no redeeming qualities like being cultured or interested in anything but war, bugger the evidence to the contrary. I think part of the reason why these revisionists end up with a portrait that is so extreme is because much evidence we have of Henry obscures his humanity, his private life. What we glimpses we can catch aren't always appealing to modern sensibilities, e.g. the idea of him as a chaste and pious king.

#henry v #blog

[audioroleplayconfessions]

Unpopular Desmond asmr opinion:People need to grow the fuck up and accept that different characters have different personalities. Castin for instance is a bit sexual, but that's just him.Ya'll keep complaining that he's „too sexual".What's too sexual about him? He's an adult who has sex and makes Cocky jokes

But have we ever heard castin say something about when he is having sex? (Positions, his kinks,etc).Have we ever heard an audio OF him having sex? No.

Desmond strictly makes his audios sfw.He might slip adult jokes in because that's his humor.And he love him for it.If you don't, Don't listen to his audios. Some characters are just more sexual than others,stop trying to change them n maybe listen to the ones that aren’t that sexual.

.

#anonymous confessions #desmond asmr

[redheadgleek]

January 2024 books!

I had some vacation this month. I also had an entire week when I was stuck at home without internet due to the ice storm. So I read a lot, mostly very light, fluffy comfort read books.

What I read:

Nine Goblins by T. Kingfisher. A novella about war as experienced by goblins. As usual from a TK book, a little gory, a lot witty, with some fun characters.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. I've read so little of Neil Gaiman's books and I really enjoyed this one. I thought it was quite inventive and I liked how the passing of time was framed.

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry. It's an odd experience reading a book written by a person who has died. He had a lot of mental health problems, and I'm so sad that the medical world failed him so much.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells (audiobook). I read the novella last year and have been wanting to read the whole series, but I had already forgotten details, hence the audiobook. It was a great way of seeing things through Murderbot's eyes. I just got the next book from the library, so that will be my next listen, I think.

Miss Buncle's Book by D.E. Stevenson. A very charming book about a woman who scandalized her hometown by writing a book about them. Reminded me a lot of L.M. Montgomery's short stories.

Lord of the Butterflies by Andrea Gibson. A book of poetry exploring love and family and gender. So much emotion packed into every poem. Truly lovely.

The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. I've also not read much of Sir Terry's and everybody has recommended the Tiffany Aching series. It was a lot of fun and had some very unique characters.

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros. This is not high fantasy, but when the frozen world was coming down around me, this was exactly the kind of escape fiction I needed.

Weyward by Emilia Hart. Three stories woven into one about generations of women who are witches. There wasn't anything that really unique about the book, but it had great atmosphere.

An Unexpected Twist by Andy Borowitz. Not sure I should really count an 18 page essay as a book, but I enjoyed this perspective of the medical system from somebody experiencing complications.

Thank You for Listening by Julia Whelan. Okay, it mostly stretched credibility, but I enjoyed the banter between the love interests. And I especially liked the way the MC was dealing with her grandmother's dementia.

Georgie, All Along by Kate Clayborn. I enjoyed this one. I appreciated that while it was a "going home to the small town" trope, it also didn't paint that as solving all of the problems.

Upstream: Selected Essays by Mary Oliver. I started reading this last year and it took me to finish. Some of the essays were gorgeous, some felt unfinished, and others felt like book reports.

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Huang. I nearly DNF at 90% because I was so mad at the "chivalrous" macho possessive behavior of the male character. There was a lot of gender roles and conformity and casual (and not so casual) sexism throughout. Oh the other hand, the sex was plenty and pretty well described.

What I'm currently reading:

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. My sister recommended this. I'm about half way through and it's a tale interweaving people from the past and the future. It's at a point where it feels like bad things are going to start happening, so I'm a touch anxious, but it's been excellent so far.

Poverty. by America by Matthew Desmond (audiobook). I'm an hour in and it's utterly horrifying and gutting.

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. It's a 20 year old book at this time and needs an update, but it certainly makes science understandable.

The Six: The Untold Story of America's First Women Astronauts by Loren Grush.

The Summer Tree by Guy Gavriel Key. I remember reading this in high school and really liking it (while also feeling dirty because there was some swearing and a sex scene in it). This time though? It's obvious he's channeling Tolkien, the writing is painfully stilted and the premise is weak and I've found out that it's a sort of King Arthur retelling, so I'm just not sure about it.

What I plan on reading next:

Emily Wilde's Map of the Underworld, Tom Lake (audiobook), and The Starless Sea are next on my list, I think.

#books #bookblr #RHG reads #reading #www wednesday

[welcometothejunkpile]

*Shows up years late to the party with a Starbucks*

I have a love-hate relationship with Ass Creed, but I adore Desmond and Elijah. And as far as I can tell, we know that Elijah was born 2005, but not his actual birthday. So here is my most beloved headcanon.

Elijah was born December 21, 2005

There's two parts to this. First of all, this date makes it plausible for Elijah to have been conceived on Desmond's 18th birthday. I can totally see him going and getting drunk to celebrate being legally an adult. Being 18 means that his father couldn't find and bring him back legally. (Not that he ever would have, but humans need reasons to celebrate.

So Elijah is a birthday-sex baby. Up in the air if Des told Elijah's mother that it was his birthday or if he was too paranoid.

Second half, having Des die on his son's birthday is free angst.

Also, Dec 21 is roughly 41 weeks after Mar 13, according to the 2012 calendar, which has Elijah coming quite late, actually. Not yet a post-term baby but close.

Babies come early in fiction all the time for drama. I feel like late and post-term pregnancies are almost never discussed or shown. Post-term can be equally as dangerous, and as someone who was also nearly post-term, I demand representation.

Sidenote: perhaps this is a result of modern medicine. Now that labor can be reliably induced, perhaps post-term is easier to prevent than pre-term, so the concept has been easier forgotten. Pre-term labor can be stopped with medication, but you have to catch it early enough. ???

#elijah miles #desmond miles #assassin's creed #GIVE US BACK THE BOY #Ubisoft #if it were not for the laws of this land

[yukidragon]

How would Jack react with his Sunshine being able to fuse with him? But after some time they want to unfuse with him and have some alone time for themsleves? (inspired by @OkamiLiqueur) How would their time fused together be like and feel like?

Oooh, you’re talking about this lovely picture, right? @okamiliqueur makes such wonderful art doesn’t he? Though he was originally inspired by a tweet made by another friend of mine, @vivigamer0187oficial.

I think fusion is a really interesting idea, especially when it comes to Jack. He and MC seem to share some of their thoughts and feelings already.

I like Steven Universe’s exploration on the nature of fusion. It’s like a conversation between people in tune with each other, and it’s initiated by a dance that draws them together. That’s the vibe I got from the picture too, that Jack pulled Desmond into a dance that led to them fusing.

Whether the fusion would work or not would depend on the MC. I would have to say that given how they feel about Jack, regardless of the choices made, there would be a decent chance of successful fusion even with the most stubborn of sunshines. After all, they have strong feelings for him in any route, wondering what they would do without him.

However, strong feelings aren’t necessarily enough if we’re going by Steven Universe fusion rules (minus the gems). After all, Steven loved all the Crystal Gems but struggled to learn how to fuse with each of them at first. Judging by his first fusion, it seems like only when people are relaxed and open to letting the other in that fusion happens. In a sense, they are emotionally meeting the other person in the middle, I think.

Of course, I could be misremembering the specifics of Steven Universe fusion canon, since it’s been a while since I watched the show. Either way this is a Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack alternate universe, so the rules of Steven Universe don’t really apply unless we want them to, and even then we don’t have to use all of them.

So for the sake of this fusion AU, let’s go with the idea that all parties involved need to be willing to let the other into their heart/mind/etc. Jack and MC have already partially done this with the mind/emotion reading of their bond, and the sex scene does have heavy implications of MC letting Jack in and trusting him.

All that said, this would suggest that Jack could coax even a “no” route MC into opening up enough to him for fusion to happen. It might be a more reluctant fusion similar to what happened with Lapis and Jasper, where they clung together and it would become something unhealthy...

There’s also Jack’s powers to consider and how they might affect fusion, plus the incident where MC blacked out and woke up wearing his jacket that created the theory that he possessed them. Heck, fusion could be something technically a part of his possession powers.

As I recall, there was a theory a while back among the fans that Jack’s ultimate goal was to possess MC and be one with them, which would be sort of like fusion. If I remember correctly, I think Sauce debunked that theory. Still, we’re talking fusion, not possession here, which means there would be differences. For example, MC might not be conscious when Jack possesses them, which means that he wouldn’t be able to bask in his sunshine’s happy light. That would definitely be a reason for him to not want that...

Sorry, I’m starting to get off track. This is what happens when I’m idea crafting sometimes - I’ll examine details and consider connections and parallels, rambling off my thoughts. This is why these are called “headcanon ramblings” after all.

Anyway, let’s get back on topic. I can see Jack’s feelings on fusion being different depending on the MC’s feelings towards him.

With an MC who is choosing to let him in with only gentle prompting, it would be a joyous event. MC at times thinks they want to be less than an atom away from Jack, and in this situation they are blended together, unable to be any closer. Sure, MC might have worries about how much they’re opening up to someone so much after Ian hurt them so badly, but Jack would be right there to reassure any doubts. This is a conversation, an experience. This is love.

MC doesn’t want to be hurt again and worries something is too good even as they crave it, and Jack, ever reassuring, would encourage them, reward them for taking this step with him. It would be a triumph, a celebration of how far they’ve come together and how far MC has come in their healing. It’s a true expression of how courageous they are to let him in even though they were hurt so badly before.

With an MC who is more resistant, like the “no” route, it would be less joyful and more desperate on Jack’s end. Surely if they fuse, MC will better feel how much he loves them. Surely they’ll understand him that way. He’ll coax them into it, entice them into letting him in, so afraid of being rejected, doing everything in his power to make them choose to open up to him.

Once the fusion happens, Jack would feel relieved and reward MC for trusting him. Pleasurable feelings, love, everything. Make them feel so good that they’ll never want to unfuse. They can never leave him, never forget him, if they’re always fused, always together, always wanting to be together.

In a “yes” route, Jack would be able to more easily accept unfusing. Not to say that he will refuse to unfuse in a “no” route, but the atmosphere is different for both. A “no” route has a more desperate Jack, trying so hard to give MC everything so that they love him. Sadly for him in a “no” route, I imagine it would be a lot easier to accidentally unfuse, which would only make him feel more insecure.

In the “yes” route, Jack’s fears are more alleviated. He’s even surprised by how much they trust him, how much they want to be with him. Really, it’s not just MC who is able to trust Jack more in the “yes” route. Jack would be able to trust MC more in that route. Like how MC relaxes and lets Jack in, he can relax and not cling so desperately, since he can trust they won’t let go of him if he loosens his hold. He can be a little less tense, a little more secure. He can focus more on enjoying the experience they’re sharing, how much they love each other and make each other feel so good.

Yeeeahhh fusion is a lot like sex now that I’m thinking about it. I’d rather not consider those implications when it comes to Steven Universe, so let’s not go there and stick with this metaphor in the Adults Only series.

Anyway, with fusion being like sex, it’s the tone of the consent that makes the difference. When in a “yes” route, it’s enthusiastic consent. In a “no” route, it’s far more reluctant, but MC is still choosing to do it. Jack can relax when MC is being enthusiastic, just focus on both of them enjoying the moment. When MC is reluctant, Jack has reason to worry considering his existence hinges on whether MC wants them there or not. Fusion, like sex, would be another card to play to try and convince MC into needing him to stay with them forever.

Interestingly, with this sex metaphor, I can see Jack wanting to fuse often in either route. With the “yes” route, it would be just because it feels wonderful and he can really feel MC’s love. In the “no” route it’s the closest he feels to them and he’s so desperate to get closer and not have to fear losing them...

I may be circling back around on this point a bit too much. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I think their time fused together would be a very joyful experience. A rush of energy, the feeling of being so close to someone who understands them so much more than anyone else... MC was hurting and exposing themselves so much, and Jack will make sure to make sure it feels so good. He’ll reward them with good feelings for letting him in.

The exact nature of who they become when fused, of course, depends on the MC. Beyond the yes/no choice, there’s personality and physical traits to consider. Fusion wouldn’t automatically mean reading everything in each other’s mind, but it would offer a deeper understanding. Everyone is different, which is why all the fusions in Steven Universe, even between similar gems, could vary wildly.

I won’t contemplate every single fusion possibility, but I will muse about what would happen if my personal version of the MC, Alice, and Jack fused.

First of all, the resulting fusion would be they/them similar to Stevonnie.

Hmm... could their names sound good fused the same way? Alick? Jalice? Aliack? Jaclice? Ajalick?

Let’s go with Jalice until I come up with something better. It’s the most coherent sounding of all the options.

Even fused, Jack would cling to his identity as Jack, but some of Joseph would leak through, I’d wager. This results in a new tattoo on Jalice, a heart in the middle of a pair of flaming angel wings surrounded by rose thorns that spans across their back to their arms and collar bone.

Their hair would be a transition of colors, mostly almost white, but transitioning to blue at the tips, with some dark roots. It would be fluffier and more curled than Jack’s hair, but straighter than Alice’s. Their eyes would be a color between blue and brown, brighter than Jack’s eyes, but darker than Alice’s.

Cake would be in abundance. You thought Jack had nice hips? Jalice has cake for days, and a nice sized chest to go with it. Some nice muscle tone with a lot of soft huggable squish to them.

Oh, given that Alice wears a hoodie, the outfit Jalice might wind up wearing would probably be similar to another drawing by Okami. Specifically the Jack-inspired hoodie. Though I think it might have a bit more detail to reflect the specifics of Jack’s flashy outfit blending in with Alice’s more modest clothing.

There would be face paint of course, a slightly different pattern than Jack’s regular paint.. Maybe it would have more of a swirl to it in places. It might even be on the forehead as well because of Alice’s scar affecting things. I’d have to brainstorm how exactly, though it would be affected by the fusion

I should really try to draw Jalice sometime. Something to add to the old “to do” list, I suppose.

I can see fusion between Alice and Jack being a wonderful experience. Alice was so scared to trust and be so intimate with Jack. If in this universe fusion is something any human can experience, then she would have been burned by fusion due to Ian. If this is a Jack-exclusive power, it would be a scary, intimidating prospect, one that would take a while for him to coax her into giving a try.

Jack would never hurt Alice, and it will be so fun! If she doesn’t like it, they can unfuse right away and not do it again, he promises.

They dance together and at first it’s a bit awkward, Alice being so hesitant and uncertain, but trusting Jack. He makes silly jokes to get her to stop overthinking it and they wind up bantering and laughing together, which leads into them both relaxing enough for fusion to happen.

The first thing Jalice does is give themselves a hug. Oh, it feels so good, so secure. They’re closer than ever this way! They both feel more confident, more reassured Jack wants to go out and do things like this, and Alice agrees to it, knowing no one will recognize them. They’re a new person now as Jalice. They should make the most of it, and they’re not alone!

Going to the park, the museum, and other places feels so different as Jalice. Roller skating, movies, the arcade... The world is their oyster!

As Jalice, Jack can experience people actually looking at him. He’s confident, enjoys being looked at. Alice is more insecure, and he helps her be okay with it. They’re Jalice now, not Alice or Jack. He’s right here with her and they can handle anything, even dealing with people.

It’s a little awkward at first, getting used to it, but soon they’re having fun interacting with others... but not getting too close of course.

If someone flirts with Jalice, that’s a big no from them. Neither Jack nor Alice want that, so Jalice turns them down, saying they’re taken. After all, they’re in a relationship. They are a relationship.

It’s unlikely someone would push too hard to flirt with Jalice, but if they did, well, words can be a strong weapon.

Guns can also be a strong weapon. Alice has a gun for self-defense, and I can imagine it becomes quite flashy in their fusion thanks to Jack’s influence... and a bit disturbing as well to look at given the way he died.

They can’t be fused all the time, as Alice needs to work her job, but Jack suggests, well, what if they get a new job as Jalice? They feel so much more confident that way, and they’re not alone. They could act and unfuse to escape any unwanted added attention as they like. It would be like their own secret identity, so they can have a nice private life and enjoy the rush of being seen and remembered by so many people.

It also allows them to be fused most of the time. Not even Jack wants to be fused all the time. After all, it might be a nice metaphor for sex, but it’s no substitute for it, and he wants to be able to make love to his sunshine as often as possible. He wants to be able to hear Alice moan his name and cling to him tight as he drives himself so deep inside her warmth.

Not to say that Jalice wouldn’t be able to enjoy their new body in a more carnal way. It’s just more intimate if they can look into each other’s eyes and be held as they make love.

Which gives me a funny image of someone overhearing noises coming from Jalice’s dressing room and not recognizing the different voice. Yet only Jalice goes in and out of the room and their voice is different from the one the person heard. Mysterious...

Overall, the time fused would be quite a pleasant experience, one that the two of them would be reluctant to unfuse from. If they’re not careful, it might become an addicting habit. It’s so much easier to be together instead of apart, and they never have to feel alone. They can spend their time together just enjoying each other’s love, forever.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask #Steven Universe #kind of? #Fusion AU

[teecupangel]

@thedragonqueen1998's reply to this post

That new tag actually is an idea/AU i've thought of lately. XD Where Desmond gives birth to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton before being kidnapped. I've personally had him just suddenly become pregnant, no sex needed to lean more into the "Desmond is the Chosen One". XD Plus, we need more Dadmond tbh.

Virgin Birth.

Desmond had never even heard about it until he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

This is, according to Wikipedia, different from Immaculate Conception.

Desmond would like to reiterate that he was not the second coming of Virgin Mary.

… as far as he knew.

Not only that, he had been a virgin before he gave birth, having enough trust issues to fill a goddamn dam at the moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how sex feels like.

It was more that he was still scared that his father or someone his father sent would come find him and take him away from this freedom.

He can’t go back.

He would never go back.

Especially now that he had three sons to think of.

They were born on December 21, 2005.

At least, that was what Desmond believed.

The morning of December 21, his stomach started hurting so badly he couldn’t leave his bed. The pain ebbed and flowed from paralyzing pain to almost unnoticeable, giving Desmond a chance to text that he wouldn’t make it to his shift because of ‘stomachaches’.

His boss assumed he had diarrhea and told him to stop eating weird cheap shit.

Desmond was pretty sure that wasn’t it but it wasn’t like he could go to a clinic and get this check out.

Clinics meant asking questions about who he was and his history.

Clinics left tracks that William Miles can find.

Desmond knew how the game is played.

And fuck that. Desmond wasn’t going to give up his goddamn freedom because of a stomachache.

It will come to pass.

Like every pain Desmond ever felt.

So he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, timing his breathing to the ebb and flow of the pain.

By midday…

Desmond fell asleep.

He didn’t know if the breathing helped him fall asleep or if he had passed out from the exhaustion and pain.

When he woke up, the sun had started to set and…

The pain was gone.

His bed was a lost cause, covered in blood, but Desmond’s attention was focused on the three small forms lying on the bed between his legs.

His sons.

Three bloodied (and, Desmond was being honest, wrinkly newly born ugly) babies who were all staring at him as they make cooing sounds.

That was the day Desmond became a father.

And also the day he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

They were… low maintenance boys, Desmond supposed.

They only shout when they needed to get Desmond’s attention and they weren’t fussy over their drinks. They seemed a bit disgruntled every time Desmond had to change their diapers but they didn’t cry.

They rarely cry.

They only truly cry at times when they were asleep and Desmond believed that they would have nightmares during those times.

His boss was strangely alright with Desmond suddenly appearing with three babies, only looking at him with a frown as he told him that this should be his wake up call to use condoms.

Even his coworkers believed that the one day that Desmond said he was out because of ‘stomachache’ had been code for him freaking out because an ex had left him with three sons as a big fuck you or something.

The most support Desmond got from them though was letting the babies stay in the office.

He had to buy the collapsible playpen though but it was fine.

It gave him an excuse to get more shifts just to pay for his and his sons’ living expenses.

One of his coworkers asked why he didn’t just give them up for adoption. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for it.

And Desmond couldn’t explain it.

He wanted them.

They might have been a surprise but… they were his.

And…

Whenever he felt tired or felt like everything was becoming too much… just feeling them in his arms was enough.

It was enough.

.

.

Miles’ kids were strange boys.

They didn’t make any messes and they were polite… most of the time, anyway.

He knew it was bad to let Miles use his office to keep the kids. Hell, this bar was not a good place for kids and Miles should really just get a babysitter but he didn’t mind.

Miles was homeschooling them… in a way.

It wasn’t his place to give parenting advice anyway so he stayed out of whatever Miles planned for his kids. As long as they don’t hinder business, they could stay.

Altaïr was always on that second hand battered laptop that always made loud fan noises when it was turned on. They mostly kept it on because of it.

At first, he thought Altaïr was just playing in his laptop but… he was studying. Every tab he could see was either educational or… well… Wikipedia pages. Even the YouTube account Desmond shared with his sons were filled with educational videos, mostly something connected to history or engineering or technology.

Desmond liked to say that Altaïr was a genius and had been saving up to buy him a better laptop for the past year now.

Ezio, on the other hand, was more of a people’s person. He liked to talk to Desmond’s coworker before the start of their shift and he was a charming little bugger. Charming enough that many of Desmond’s coworkers started to give them food and juice boxes, saying they made too much or their parents or grandparents gave them too much food and there’s no more space in their fridge…

He was pretty sure that was Ezio’s plan from the very beginning. Build up a network of helpful adults.

Then there was Connor.

He had a different name that Desmond and his brothers use but it was hard to pronounce so he just let everyone else call him Connor.

He followed his father or one of his brothers most of the time, quiet by their side.

Observing.

He was the one who helped out the most, always following Desmond and helping him whenever they were doing their final clean up before closing for the day.

When he was with Ezio, he was always earnest with his questions, taking everything the adults tell him seriously.

When he was with Altaïr, he would lean close and read with him quietly. They would share the earbuds that they had with tape on the right wire because the casing had broken apart and watch videos quietly.

They were… nice kids.

Desmond was a good father dealt with a bad hand.

He supposed…

Buying Desmond a cheap laptop would be cheaper than raising his pay this Christmas.

Would save him more money in the long run, that’s for sure.

#desmond gives birth to his ancestors #this is not omegaverse #… unless you want it to be? #i don’t mind either way XD #they’re born 2005 because that’s the year elijah is born #is elijah alive in this one? #probably not #unless this is a time travel scenario where elijah gives up his spot #as desmond’s son to push his ancestors to be born instead #and takes the place of the reader #(or become an immortal-like being ala half-isu half-kassandra) #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #outside pov #on the latter part

[militantinremission]

Is Tyre Nichols' death a watershed moment?

The Nation is supposedly On Hold, awaiting video footage showing how 5 Memphis PD Officers brutally beat 29Yr Old Tyre Nichols. The members of the Memphis PD 'Scorpion Unit' were supposedly stopping Tyre for Reckless Driving, but how did things escalate? The Press says that Tyre initially fled The Scene, & there was an indication that he may have resisted arrest, but nothing suggests that he needed to be pepper sprayed, tased, & beaten severely. The incident took place on Jan. 7th- Tyre died from his injuries on Jan. 10th. The Family of Tyre Nichols have chosen Attorney Benjamin Crump & his Team to represent them.

I don't always agree w/ the methodology of Benjamin Crump. He frames himself like he's the Thurgood Marshall or Johnnie Cochrane of This Generation; I still haven t decided if he is. He spends as much time on his Self Image, as he does on his High Profile Cases. I can rationalize that he needs face time On Camera to boost his ability to serve his clients, but I think he goes a bit too far. Who named Ben Crump: 'The Attorney General Of Black America'? It's framing like This, that leads me to call the man: Benjamin 'Buttah Biscuits'... To be fair, Crump has won some monetary awards for his clients, but we're still waiting to see the Outcome of several Police Trials.

Regardless of my critique of Ben Crump, I agree 100% w/ his Press Conference Commentary. He pointed out how these Officers were fired & arrested on Murder Charges in less than 3 Weeks. Is it because all 5 of the Officers are Black Men? We have seen Black Officers, like Muhammad Noor get convicted for incidents that Non Black Officers get acquitted. Crump is correct, when he says that this should be the blueprint for All Police Involved Incidents. It doesn't matter what Sex, Race or Ethnicity the Officer is, it's pretty clear that this is about Police Culture.

According to a Statement from the Memphis Police Department: Tadarrius Bean, Demetrius Haley, Emmitt Martin III, Desmond Mills Jr., & Justin Smith have violated multiple Department Policies, including Excessive use of Force, Duty to Intervene, & Duty to Render Aid. While Black America applauds the expedience of the MPD, We also question why it doesn't happen so quickly when the Officer isn't Black. As a Community, We have serious questions for these 5 Men. Some of Us want to 'Check their Paperwork'. Contrary to the National Conversation, Blackfolk don't go after each other like this. Certainly not Black Cops. This is why most of Us are talking about Police Culture.

Tyre's brutal murder, is an example of why Critical Race Theory can be a valuable tool. If We follow the basic model, which is a History of Race Relations in America, We see how Police Departments play an important role of maintaining the Institutionalized Racism in American Society. We're told that Police are here to Protect & Serve, but they leave out how that is limited to Corporate Property & Interests. The Police Force comes out of the Slave Patrols, who 'protected' the interests of Plantation & Business Owners. As German, Scottish, & Irish Immigrants appeared, they were given jobs 'regulating' the Black Population- Free & Enslaved.

As Cities grew & Police Departments were established, the protocol remained the same; Protect Corporate Interests, & regulate the Black Community. This was a National Effort. As cruel as the White (WASP) Officers were, immigrants always tended to take Anti- Black actions further. It's like they were trying to prove to Mainstream Society how much they belonged. Irish, Italian, & now, Hispanic Officers are generally more aggressive w/ Black 'Persons Of Interest'- that's just a fact. Black America has complained about this 'Police Culture' for over 100Yrs, but have just gained ground in recent years. The difference between Justice for Mitrice Richardson & Sandra Bland, compared to Atatiana Jefferson has been encouraging.

Qualified Immunity has been a literal 'Get Out Of Jail Free' Card for Police Officers. Recent Police convictions have shown that this may be a thing of the past. Despite a few hard won convictions, the legal road getting there has been a long & drawn out one. Many have accused the various Police Unions, DA Offices, & Judges of collusion. They're collectively kicking The Can down The Road; hopeful that The Public will lose interest & eventually forget the incident in question. The actions taken by the MPD, following the brutality of their Officers is worth noting. Tyre Nichols isn't the 1st Black Man to get beat by a gang of Police Officers; Rodney King (RIP) was beat in front of The World 30Yrs ago.

Some may try to focus on the actions of 'Black' Officers, but this behavior happens against Blackfolk in Every City & w/ Officers of Every Ethnic Group. As I said earlier, it's a Culture. What's different about This Instance, is the fact that ALL of the assailants are Black Officers. The City of Memphis is probably still feeling the reverberations of Breonna Taylor's murder in Louisville; I doubt they want Blackfolk to bring that level of Energy there. Cutting their losses is a no brainer. They will likely face an expensive lawsuit from Benjamin Buttah Biscuits; no sense in adding a Riot to an Embarrassment.

I see The City Of Memphis offering up these 5 Bullies, w/ the hope that it will quell a still simmering undercurrent supporting Independent Police Investigations. Defund The Police rhetoric has quieted, but every new incident brings talk about restricting Police 'Street Crime Units', along w/ the equipment & tactics used. Family Attorney Antonio Romanucci hit the Nail on the Head, when he called Street Crime Units, like the MPD's Scorpion Unit 'Suppression Units'. Those of Us that live in 'Inner Cities' understand the reality of these Units patrolling Our Neighborhoods like Military Troops stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan.

I don't expect alot of hoopla coming out of Memphis. Blackfolk see tangible results, so we're willing to see what develops. What We do expect, is for future Events (that WILL happen) to move w/ the same expediency. The World will see yet another instance of Police involved Anti- Black Racism in America; i'm pretty sure many have also heard Ben Crump's suggestion about a blueprint. Moving forward, if the Legal System treats Non Black Officers differently than these 5 Officers in Memphis, all the rhetoric that the Department Of Justice can muster will not get the racist stench out of the Courts.

-Just My 2 Cents

#JusticeForTyre #AntiBlackRacism #PoliceCulture #ADOS

[secretsofthemourning]

Spy X Family Theories and Predictions

Excessively Extra Over-Indulgent Long Post Warning: I absolutely refuse to call any of this a head cannon, but this is my personal analysis of some situations so far in Spy X Family and my prediction for the future of the story. I’ve watched all the anime and I am currently on volume 1 of the manga, but up to volume 9 has been released. I am aware of most of the characters and spoilers up to this point, so spoilers really don’t keep my from being invested in the manga or show. If any of my theory has already been mentioned, I would love to know, I would give me much personal satisfaction. Also, if any fan fiction writers want to tackle this one, go ahead, but as a fic writer myself, I may also write this one some day, so I’ll use my post as reference to prove I can up with it first. 

1) Yor isn’t just confused and clueless because she’s had a lack of social experience throughout her lifetime. She does lack a lot of social experience and context due to having to take care of Yuri as most of her upbringing being focused on learning how to be an assassin and a mother figure to her younger brother, but Yor is legitimately neurodivergent. I think this is great and I also think it shouldn’t have to be stated outright that Yor is possibly autistic and not as skilled at masking as most other neurodivergent women would be. There also needs to be more representation of neurodivergent characters like Yor in normal situations (or not so normal in reference to her Thorn Princess persona) because she is a very engaging and beloved character. 

2) Ostania and Westalis are definitely European countries in the 1960-1970s based on Cold War Europe and East and West Germany, this has been long established, but much of what you read in newspapers and textbooks, and in the background is in English. This is an alternate reality/history, so it can also be assumed that since ethnicities are never discussed, Westalian and Ostanian might only be nationalities. Principle are meant to stand out so of course their designs are more unique and pronounced than background characters, but Yor is the only one who bows and also bows used a manor to thank people for their hospitality, kindness, or taking good care of to his “co-workers.” Yor and Yuri are also the only characters with their same color schemes to include eye color (just as Anya is the only character of her variety to have her color scheme and her telepathic powers.) I believe that it is suppose to be hinted that Yor and Yuri are of Asian-European heritage, which is probably uncommon, but not entirely unusual in Ostania, so where as Yuri is treated more personably because he is man, Yor’s co-workers, Camilla, Sharon, and Millie, are such bitches to her not just because Yor is socially awkward, “former sex worker,” who is an “unmarried” woman at 27, but because and there is also underlying current of prejudice due to Yor’s heritage that no one wants to address as another reason for bullying. No matter how “progressive” Ostania may want to be seen as socially. (Also Yor’s beautiful and thicc and Camilla wishes she could, but that’s for a different post.)

3) Yuri “Sis Con” Briar has stated that he wants to protect his country, but will do anything to protect his sister. Anything. All the while hunting wanting to hunt down Twilight and W.I.S.E. because they are the State Security Service and Ostania’s true enemy. When Twilight is disguised as Foreign Minister Brantz and Yuri shows up as his escort, this is Twilight’s first encounter with Yuri while Twilight is in disguise. As Yor has now made friends with Melinda Desmond, Twilight is going to find himself more and more embroiled in Ostanian politics as he goes further and further into Operation Strix. Twilight will continue to find himself in situation in which he comes closer and closer to Yuri while in and out of disguise and he will eventually find himself in a situation where he can either kill Yuri and end any problems he might have to being exposed as Twilight, or he can allow reveal himself to Yuri and use his relationship with Yor to his advantage. Twilight, realizing that if he kills Yuri he could lose a valuable source of inside information, choses to exploit his circumstances and reveal his identity to Twilight to Yuri, threatening to kill Yuri if he doesn’t comply and convincing Yuri that Yor is safer with him as her husband than as a regular Ostanian citizen. Yuri, realizing that Yor being married to Twilight means she would be sparred of any turmoil or exploitation in a war, agrees to keep Loid’s true identity a secret in exchange for Yor’s protection and Secret Police intel. (Twilight would never admit his non-existent feelings for Yor stopped him from killing her brother, because it would damage any potential future between him and Yor, no never.)

4) A few years pass, and the Forgers are successfully beginning to infiltrate the Desmond’s inner circle. Slowly Twilight notices that Yor is spending more time with Melinda Desmond, which he encouraged at first (for the mission!), then he begins to notice a larger distance growing between him and his fake relationship. This does not sit well with him. Twilight begins to take matters into his own hands by doing recon only to eventually discover Thorn Princess. Twilight decides Yor’s identity must remain known only to him, so he can use it as a trump card (for the mission!) if he ever needs something to blackmail her with. Better yet, an assassin is an important asset to have on your side. Twilight has to secure Thorn Princess as an undisputed ally. Loid is going to have to seduce Yor and begin a long overdue sexual relationship with his wife. (For the mission? Yes, for the mission!)

5) Several more years pass as Yuri continues to rank up within the SSS, but he can only fly under the radar of Secret Police for so long before he hears rumors that he is going to be brought in under suspicion of being a traitor. Yuri abandons everything and Twilight takes him to a safehouse. Yuri defects to Westalis and is taken in by W.I.S.E. as an informant after excruciating and strenuous mental and physical testing, evaluation, and psychological examination. Twilight vouches for him, Handler is pissed, Yuri gets placed under Nightfall for training. Nightfall is livid, but agrees. A now 12 year old Anya experiences all of this going on in the background as Twilight is thinking through his plans and solutions. Anya tells Twilight he can’t play off Yuri’s desertion from Ostania as a disappearance and hide it from Yor. That he needs to tell Yor the truth. For the first time, the Forger family has to reveal their true selves to each other and Twilight and Yor have to come to terms with the fact that Anya has known everything all along. 

6) As Operation Strix closes in Donovan Desmond is put under public scrutiny and suspicion. Could the head of the National Unity Party be responsible for the engineered murders of other Ostanian political leaders? Leaked documents about political assassinations. Leaked documents about conferences with intentions to begin a war with the Westalis? Damian Desmond, now in his early teens, is going to have to come to terms with who is parents really are and if their actions are forgivable. 

7) After Operation Strix ceases, “Loid Forger” “abandons” his second wife and teenage daughter. Twilight guarantees his age forces his retirement from undercover fieldwork in a few years time. Anya graduates from Eden, turns 18, and is recruited by Garden to be trained and work alongside Yor as an assassin. Anya struggles with her relationship with Damian that has slowly grown less antagonistic over the years, but still has guilt over being responsible for the capture and political trial of his parents. Yor tells her that it is for the greater good and only Anya can make her own decisions about what to do. Can she live forever without being able to tell him, but still be in a relationship with him. Bond, growing old, but still very much lively has a brief flash of Becky being recruited into Garden as well, leaving it up to Anya to figure out what this means for her future and her friendship with her bestie who she never imaged in this sort of lifestyle. 

8) Twilight returns to his wife and daughter now working as an informant for wise, based out of Ostania. The Forgers finally get the happy ending they deserve. 

9) The story goes on with Anya, Becky, and Damian’s complicated ass lives. (I’m not saying I ship them, but why do I have this odd feeling that we’re going to get a Yuri/Nightfall romance sometime by the end of Spy X Family. I feel like they would just be thrown together no context, and not in story that I am envisioning in my theories.)

#spy x family #twiyor #loidyor #loid x yor #yor forger #loid forger #anya forger #spy x family theory #spy x family headcanons #yuri briar #ostania #westalis #operation strix #damian desmond #becky blackbell #bond spy x family #thorn princess #tasogare #ibara hime #fiona frost #spy x family nightfall #the forgers #i wrote this instead of participating in takaritsu week #I can still do takaristu week #it is 3am in japan and i have work tomorrow what am i doing with my life #this is brilliant fanfic material #credit me if you use this please #i should have written this #maybe i will write this fic #if the manga doesn't go this way i will be surprised

[vivacissimx]

Hi!! Geniune question, what is Theomore and Viserra's relationship like? Like he just comes to her bed every night and leaves one he's done? Has she ever had an orgasm from him? Like what was going on? Was her first orgasm (aside from Delena/herself) Desmond?

I know these are private questions, but again this is an alternate universe fanfiction. So?

I don't mean this in a bad way, just trying to understand. I all written very vaguely, you yourself said you don't want to write anything explicitly too. Which is good I don't need more reasons to hate Jae and Aly or to cry abt Viserra.

Thank you, have a good day.

😭 Lord not that cursed marriage. i can answer, sure. theomore and viserra had a very lukewarm relationship that turned somewhat paternal after she lost her baby (which is also when he stopped maritally r*ping her). prior to that, theomore would basically inform her when he was planning on coming to her chambers so she could "prepare." she prepared by having a glass of wine or two to anesthetize herself. theomore knew she was doing this. he was under no illusions that she was attracted to or enjoyed him but he did think they had a rhythm they'd settled into, both of them performing their duties, which worked for everyone. so, as you can see, he is awful. whether or not she ever felt physical pleasure during these encounters is not really relevant—she was drunk, didn't want him, and felt traumatized to the point that she struggled to sleep in her own bed and became extremely touch-averse in her daily life. her focus during those encounters was purely to endure them. if she did have a reaction it probably disgusted her. theomore and viserra didn't share chambers, either.

yes, delena and desmond are respectively the first people viserra consents to sex/is able to enjoy intimacy with, including experiencing orgasm. both of them were aware of viserra's alcohol dependency and neither took advantage of it—desmond explicitly asks viserra Not to drink wine before they go to bed together i.e. even in-universe theomore's behavior is frowned upon. in fact, in desmond's case, it's only when viserra started initiating casual touches with him that desmond realized she was attracted to him. that said, only delena is aware of the full extent of viserra's trauma around theomore.

#asks #fic asks #ldlh

[themonotonysyndrome]

hello!!! i've been reading the Celica and Castin story for a while now, and I just have to say I absolutely love it!! eating up everything you're writing

however, as a South American person I do have some concerns. according to desmond's community post Intacia (Entosia?) is located in what is South America rn, and while I am enjoying the absolutely treat of getting all these characters being from the same place as me, I am a bit concerned about the character archetypes presented both in canon and in fanwork. intacian ppl (or at least the ones we've met so far) are usually very "sex-driven" if you could call it that, and tbf I really feel like that's coming out of the stereotype that us latin americans are mainly driven by sex and / or are some kind of sex addicts.

this is ABSOLUTELY NOT me trying to attack you, and i really apologize if it comes off as that (I genuinely have a lot of trouble with tones through text), but as fan of both your work and Desmond's, i felt like it was important to point this out.

once again, nothing against you or Desmond, i absolutely love your writing (I for one would also simp for Celica like Castin does) and am just trying to communicate a concern.

have a nice day / night / afternoon / whatever time it is!!!

Good morning, Anon.

Don't worry; I'm not offended or anything. You're very polite and I can tell your concern is written with a heavy mind.

This isn't an excuse, more of an assurance: If your concern is regarding the smut I wrote for the latest drabble of 'A rose's odyssey' & that oneshot of just smut between Castin and Celica, I'd like to give some personal headcanons when I wrote for those two. See, I imagine the Baroness to have a sexual appetite that can match Castin's. She experimented while she was studying at the academy, they're young and she needs an heir that can carry on her Household name.

(Plus, I kinda need the practice when it comes to writing smuts).

I had no intention to put any sort of stereotypes on Castin being from South America. I just see him as a powerful warrior who just so happens to be so in love with his wife that he can't get enough of her and is eager to start a family with her. In return, said wife feels the same. Albeit, won't openly show it due to her upbringing and all that, lol.

If my fics come across as belittling you, then I apologise. It was never my attention. When I started to write the series, I just wanted to flesh out Desmond's world and his characters a little bit.

I can't speak on behalf of Desmond. I just wrote a script for Castin's audiobook because he requested and paid me.

#monotony's rambling #desmond asmr

[theconfusedartist]

HHMMM

Ok, so I want to get the before Penn Station chapter up on ff.net and tumblr by Friday (which shouldn't be too hard) it's just been taking a while due to health issues

The next chapter is Alex's POV when he goes to talk with Karen, then a shorter (or around the same length) of Desmond and Altaïr dealing with Elijah and that entire situation. After that chapter is Alex plotting and scheming on making Desmond officially his.

The first two chapters are already written, and I've done the first round of edits on it. But I had to rearrange things and change some of the lore mentioned due to how the worldbuilding was being updated. Thankfully, the first chapter doesn't need updates so that's not something i have to worry about.

The only chapter I'm a but hesitant about is the Dr. Mercer chapter simply bc he's such a....he monologues bc he doesn't give a fuck about what other people think, and he doesn't care about shoving people on the streets, which means a lot of the beginning of the chapter is just him thinking to himself as people try to square up only for him to glare with murderous intent.

That chapter is basically 1) Alex monologuing 2) interacting with Blacklight and the freaky scientist shit he does in his lab 3) putting the plan into action 4) the plan failed successfully 5) smut and profit

Yes, that was kinda how his plan went. Also Alex's plan was basically "get Desmond in a situation where I save him from something, get him into my lab, kinky Blacklight and human sex ensues, then I illegally marry him and give him my last name"

Which...only half worked