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artists-ally · 8 months

Note

what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Harvey x Reader

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt is waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Reader's dress

Harvey's suit

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction

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age-of-moonknight · 2 years

Text

“The Resurrection War: Phase 2 - Crescents,” Moon Knight (Vol. 3/1998), #2.

Writer: Doug Moench; Penciler: Tommy Lee Edwards; Inker: Robert Campanella; Colorist: Melissa Edwards; Letterer: Ken Lopez

#Marvel #Marvel comics #Marvel 616 #Moon Knight vol. 3 #Moon Knight 1998 #Moon Knight comics #Moon Knight #Marc Spector #Stained Glass Scarlet #Scarlet Fasinera #ooooh and we’re bringing back up the old theme of combatting government corruption from the first run #I’m down for that that was cool #also real talk when Black Specter showed up again I jokingly thought to myself #“What’s he gonna do? use his dastardly powers or electoral fraud and government corruption???”#and well…looks like I was at least somewhat right hahaha

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 months

Text

Bad Faith Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will likely be explicit)

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Welcome to part one of two!

There will ONLY be two parts! If you ask me at the end of part two where part three is, I'm going to point you back to this notes section!

If you asked me where part three is and you've been linked here, hi!

Length: 8k

Warnings: Angst. Angst angst angst angst; reader is going through a divorce; Reader's married surname is Hayward; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers....did I mention angst by any chance? Cause—

Summary: There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed.

It was a long, harrowing moment of silence as Jessica processed all that you’d told her. You fought not to sniffle into the quiet, but your eyes had steadily been leaking tears for the last twenty minutes. Jessica finally stood from her armchair, patting you on the knee and murmuring, “You need a drink.”

You spluttered a weak laugh, watching her stride over to her luxe kitchen.

“Gin and tonic?”

“I would drink the gin straight at that point," You failed to tease.

“Things aren’t all that desperate yet.”

Yet. How reassuring.

You looked down at the damp, crumpled tissues in your hand before you raised one, dabbing at the few remaining tears. It was another few moments before you heard the click of Jessica’s heels crossing back to you.

“...Thanks for holding back.”

She frowned as you looked up at her, taking hold of the glass that she proffered.

“Holding back?”

“The I told you so.”

Jessica’s lips pursed, her head tipping with what you could only assume was a blend of indignance and pity.

“I did, for the record.”

“I know.”

“I told you nothing good could come from tangling your entire life up with that man.”

“You know, I think those were the exact words that you closed your toast out with at the wedding.” You took a swig, wincing at the overwhelming tang of gin. “Christ, that’s strong.”

“Too much?”

“No. It’s perfect, actually.”

Jessica smiled, lowering herself to sit beside you.

“Do you have lawyers in mind?”

“For the divorce? No.”

“I’ll give you recommendations.”

“I appreciate that, but that’s not why I’m here.” You glanced doggedly toward Jessica. “I need your help…Untangling a few holdings. Things that I can live off of, or break apart and sell for scraps. I can’t even afford a divorce lawyer right now—let alone whoever you’d suggest.”

“What?”

“Steven locked all of my credit cards and froze our joint bank account. I tried reaching out to him, but he won't answer me, and the bank won’t unfreeze it. He seems to think that I’m going to drain the entire thing.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Probably because that’s what he would do.” You sniffled, looking down into your glass. “I have some money in savings, but not a lot. Not enough for me to live off of beyond a few months.”

“Holy hell,” Jessica sighed. You grunted, head hanging as you felt the weight of her judgement. “Do you have any idea which entities you want to go after?”

“Yeah.” You set your drink down, reaching out to where you’d set your bag down and drawing out a bland beige file. You’d spent the morning working up your courage to come over and tell Jessica the awful truth, and had also spent that time putting together the data to do it. You flipped the file open and passed it over.

“This is every single property and holding company that I have my name on. I circled the apartment buildings that I want to sell, and the companies that I think would be best suited to my purposes.”

“Is Steven on all of these?”

“Only the ones that I put an asterisk beside, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came after the others.”

Jessica hummed, nodding. “You knew exactly what I’d ask for.”

“Well, I know you.”

She smiled, closing your file and setting it on her lap.

“Then I’m sure you know what I’m going to say next.”

The implication made your stomach churn with discomfort. You took the glass up again, taking a deep pull from it.

“I do,” You admitted, nose wrinkling again from the sharp juniper taste, “And I know that you’re going to say that it’s the best course of action—”

“The only course of action.”

“That’s patently untrue. You have more than one lawyer at your firm.”

“Not one that could handle a case of this magnitude.”

“Not even Louis?”

“Louis is like a french bulldog. Harvey is a pitbull.”

“You know, that’s actually a really harmful stereotype.”

Jessica’s brows lowered in chastisement, and you looked back down into your drink for safety.

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?” You added.

“How could it be? You’ve barely spoken to or looked at the man in eleven years.”

Eleven years. Had it really been that long?

“I know that you and Harvey parted on bad terms,” Jessica offered softly, and continued over your disbelieving scoff, “But you need to come out of this with the funds and the strength for a good divorce lawyer. Harvey can give you that.”

“What if he doesn’t take the case?”

“He will.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“Jessica.”

“He won't have a choice.”

“Oh, he’ll love that. There’s nothing Harvey likes more than being backed in a corner."

“That’s when he comes out swinging the hardest.” She plucked the emptied glass out of your hand, heading toward the kitchen again. “Would you like another one?”

You sighed, slouching heavily against the couch and scrubbing your tired eyes.

“I’d really just like that bottle of gin—and a straw.”

“Would you stop fussing? You look fine.”

“I don’t care how I look,” You grumbled, though that didn’t stop you from reaching down and adjusting the skirt of your dress. You didn’t want to admit that Jessica was right, though you both knew that she was. She always had you nailed dead to rights, and that morning was no different.

You had a slight headache from the drinks you’d had at her apartment the night before, but it was hardly the worst hangover that you’d ever had. You were already two coffees in and you were itching for a third, but you already felt like shit. A third one would just make your heart pound harder, your hands more sweaty, and probably send your anxiety through the roof. You were certain the conversation you were about to have would do all of that for you, so no additional coffee was needed.

You drew in a deep breath, standing and tugging your dress down again as you walked over to look through out over the city. You could hear the ringing of phones behind you, the clicking of heels, the chatter of conversation. You were just waiting for his voice, waiting for his bravado to enter before he did, to suck the air out of the room.

“...What’d he say when you told him?” You asked.

“I haven't yet. I thought it would be more effective if we told him together.”

“So not only is he being forced to take my case, but it’s an ambush.” You cast Jessica an unimpressed sidelong glance, brows quirked in disbelief. She simply gave a small shrug.

“I know my associates.”

“Mm, I bet.”

“I understand I was summoned? Have I been so terribly missed? Whaddaya say we play hooky, go to the batting cages?”

There he was—each question was just punch after punch after punch. Your mouth and throat went dry as your body seemed to divert all available liquid assets to the sweat beginning to wet your palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had company,” He added.

“It’s alright. Harvey, you know Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Hayward. You had always hated the name. Hell, you couldn’t even believe you’d taken it, but you’d been so damn afraid of putting a foot wrong, wary of having someone change their mind again about marrying you.

You turned to face Harvey, leaning back against the window and folding your arms across your chest, pressing your slick palms to your sides. It shouldn't have been so vindicating to see Harvey looking so gobsmacked, to watch the color drain from his face as his eyes caught up with his mind—as he came to realize, yes, that Mrs. Steven Hayward.

“Mr. Specter,” You greeted flatly.

“I—What’s going on?”

It’s nice to see you, too. You bit the inside of your cheek to silence your snide remark.

“Mrs. Hayward needs to dissolve and sell a few of her holdings, and I told her that I had just the lawyer for the job,” Jessica announced.

“...Is that lawyer in the room with us?” Harvey shook his head a little.

“You are that lawyer. You’ll be taking the case pro-bono.”

“Pro—Jessica, those cases are reserved for people that actually need help, not for multi-millionaires.”

That stung in a way that it shouldn’t have—but he was right. There were surely cases that were more worthy of his attention. Still, you couldn't deny the fact that you needed his help, and that your pockets weren't nearly as deep as they used to be.

“My husband is the multi-millionaire, not me,” You argued.

“Bullshit.”

“You wanna see my bank statements? I have a little over three hundred in checking, a few thousand in savings.”

“Mrs. Hayward needs this resolved as quickly as possible, and without any of your usual pomp and circumstance,” Jessica cut in.

“Why don’t you do this through a divorce attorney?” Harvey pressed.

“Because right now, I can’t afford one.”

Harvey pursed his lips, looking between you and Jessica. You watched his jaw tick, saw the thick bob of his adam’s apple shift his collar a little.

“You have a list of holdings?” He asked, glancing toward you.

“Twenty,” You nodded.

“To be chopped up and sold for scraps?”

“Yes.”

“Seems a little ruthless for you.”

“It’s what needs to be done.”

“And you expect me to do it?”

“I expect you to do your job. If you can’t get over the fact that it’s for me, then you’re in the wrong business.”

Harvey’s gaze narrowed, his eyes darkening irritation. Oh, you knew that look—like it or not, you had a flash of it like it was yesterday.

“...Where’s the file.”

Jackpot.

“On the desk.”

You weren’t about to hand it to him. Hell—you weren’t about to hand anything to Harvey Specter on a silver fucking platter. He walked slowly to Jessica’s desk, eyes dropping to the file that had been thickened with information on each of the holdings. He opened it, gaze scanning your original sheet before flipping a couple of pages.

“I’ll need time to look this over,” He argued.

“Obviously.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Great.”

“Number still the same?”

Bastard.

“My new number is on the inside of the folder.”

“Great. Is there anything else that I should know?”

“Just that Steven and his cadre of sharks will likely stick their noses in the second they smell blood in the water.”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

Harvey gave you one last look, one long, sweeping, analyzing look before he turned away, striding out of Jessica’s office. You slowly released a long breath, shoulders untensing as he got further and further away. You lowered your hands, shaking them out and blowing cool air across your shaking, sweating palms.

“Are you sweating?” Jessica asked.

“Are you not? It’s boiling in here." You yanked your collar away from your neck, fanning over your heating skin.

“You can relax. He took the case.”

“Because he had to, not because he wanted to.”

“He’ll get over it, and he’ll do his job.”

“He’s such a grumpy asshole,” You sighed, walking over to the chair that you’d left your jacket and bag on. “But if you say you’re gonna keep him on the straight and narrow—”

“I will—”

“—Then I believe you. I’ve gotta go.”

“Where to?”

“I have to go look at an apartment.”

“Work never ends.”

“This is personal. I need to find a new place. I've been in a hotel for the last few nights, and I can't afford to keep that up."

“Don’t you own your place?”

You shook your head, averting your gaze as you pulled on your coat.

“The penthouse is in Steven’s name.”

You’d had a few hours to forget the weight of Jessica’s judgement, but you felt it again in full force as she shook her head.

“...I thought you were smarter than this,” She said after a moment.

You looked toward Jessica, giving her a small, weak smile. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Do you want me to call you a car? On the firm, of course.”

“No! No, but thanks. I should reacquaint myself with the subway. I’m going to be using it more often.”

You managed to hold it together until the real estate agent gave you a moment to ‘get a better sense of the space’. She clearly had no idea who you were, which was a boon, and hardly looked away from her phone as she waved with one hand and typed with the other thumb. You turned to look around, heard the snick of the door closing, and just…Lost it.

Your tears poured out like someone had reached into your head and turned on a faucet. You buried your face into your hands, uncaring of the fact that your makeup was going to run together. You’d given eleven years of your life to a man that was throwing you to the wolves, as if you’d never meant a thing to him at all—as if you hadn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into building his empire—into what you had once thought was your empire, too.

And what the hell did you have to show for it? You stood in a $3,200 392 square foot studio apartment of a six-floor walk-up in the West Village, wearing a $4,900 dress, standing in $600 shoes, a your $1,200 purse shifting on your arm as your shoulders shook with sobs.

You sniffled roughly, chest hiccuping tightly as you finally began to calm. You reached into your purse, drawing out a compact and flipping it open. You swiped at your run makeup, taking up the pressed powder puff and dabbing beneath your eyes, and over the tear tracks in your foundation. God, just pull it together for the snot-nosed realtor outside. Tell her that you wanted to take it, get the keys, and start figuring out how you could get your things from Steven. You would need to make money in the meantime.

You looked down, shifting rocking back on your heels to get a better look at your shoes.

You never did love this outfit, and you couldn’t have worn it more than twice. Resale couldn’t be too far below purchase, could it? Come to think of it, you had closets full of hardly worn designer outfits at the penthouse. You looked around the studio. You could spring for a few wheeled clothing racks, find a few reputable resellers. You could get good money for your dresses, your shoes, probably even more for the jewelry that you almost certainly wouldn’t be keeping. Steven always had brought you home a trinket from the trips that he frequently took without you—beautiful gems that you knew now were trinkets for guilt, or something like it. You were almost certain Steven didn’t really feel guilt, but he could play-act at it well enough.

But you didn’t have to worry about that at that moment. And as soon as Steven did rear his ugly head, he would have Harvey to deal with. Considering your history, that shouldn't have been a very comfortable thought—but you had Harvey and Jessica in your corner.

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath, deeper than you were able to draw before. You held it for one...two...three...And pushed it out slowly as your heated face began to cool.

Deal with the realtor first. Sign the lease, get the keys, and start getting your life back together.

“This isn’t going to be an easy one," Harvey warned.

“Of course it isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t have agreed to take the case.”

“I didn’t take it, it was given to me.”

“You poor thing.”

It left you without any sympathy, your gaze stone-heavy as you watched him. He narrowed his eyes, a smile set in place as he rocked back and forth in his chair. He tapped his pen on his lips for a moment before he rocked fully forward. You watched his gaze skate across the file in front of him.

“The way I see it, there are four easy wins here,” He turned the file toward you, and you scooted forward in your seat to get a better look at them. “The two apartment buildings on the upper East Side, the one in the Village, and the brownstone in Park Slope. We can hack away at the other sixteen down the road, but we should move on these.”

“Okay.”

“The easiest win is going to be in the Slope. The assessed value is…” His brows furrowed, and he leaned over the file and squinted, as if he wasn’t quite seeing the number correctly.

“Seven million?” You filled in. Harvey’s gaze darted to yours, brows raised.

“Nice chunk of change.”

“I want it listed for ten.”

“That may be a little unrealistic.”

“I’m looking for 8.5 in cash, if possible, so I’m expecting some haggling. I already told the broker as much.”

“Alright. Which of these buildings are you staying in?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m pairing down, staying somewhere else.”

“You could stay in any of these rent-free.”

“The HOA and utilities are more than I can afford right now.”

“We could bake the HOA into the contract.”

“If Steven found out I was staying in any of them, he’d find a way to tank the deal from the outside.”

Harvey’s expression tightened a little before he nodded: “Fine. I’ll need your new address for the paperwork.”

“May I use your pen, please?”

Harvey pushed the file closer, passing the pen with it. You could feel him watching you as you jotted down your address, name, and number. Harvey draws the file back to himself, sweeping over the information.

“Keeping your married name?”

“I’ve put in the paperwork to change it, but that could take at least a couple of months.”

“I have a friend that clerks for the Supreme Court of New York, I could put in a word.”

“That’s a kind offer but don’t worry about it. Is there anything else that we need to discuss today?”

“No, that about covers it. I’ll call you if our real estate department or my associate comes across anything that could be beneficial to your situation.”

“I may have just uncovered something.”

You turned at the sound of a new voice, catching sight of a young man standing in the doorway.

“This is Mike Ross, my associate,” Harvey introduced, standing and holding a hand out toward Mike. “Mike Ross, this is Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Your name left him with a vinegary annoyance that you’d been hoping would be absent from this meeting. You stood, holding out your hand and offering Mike your first name.

“Would you prefer to be, uh..." Mike’s gaze darted between you and Harvey.

“I’d prefer you not to use my married name, if possible.”

“Got it. So,” Mike stepped between you and Harvey, opening the file that he was holding. “I’ve found an additional six properties where your name is the only one on the lease.”

You frowned, brow furrowing as you stepped closer to get a look at the file. “That can’t be right.”

“If Mike found it, it’s right.” There was an irritated thread of steel in Harvey’s tone, and you shot him a scathing glance.

“The comment was one of surprise, not distrust.”

“Maybe next time you can keep your surprise to yourself and let my associate speak.”

“Just like you’re letting him speak right now?”

Harvey’s jaw went tight, and you raised your brows as a knowing smirk curled your lips before you turned back to Mike and nodded:

“You were saying?”

Mike’s expression was riddled with confusion, but he snapped back into action.

“Right—There are, uh…Three complexes in downtown Brooklyn,” He shifted through the stack of papers and drew out photos. “They were gutted for renovation, but work was stopped before any further changes could be made. They cited funding concerns.”

That really couldn’t be right. Steven was rolling in cash like a pig in shit. You took hold of the photos, frown deepening as you got a better look at them.

“What is it?” Harvey pressed.

“I don’t recognize any of these.” You flipped to the next one, then the next. The walls in all of them had been stripped; the floors were torn up; the wiring of the ceiling was exposed.

“What about the other three?” You pressed.

“Uh—One house in the Hamptons, one in Cape Cod, and one in Gstaad.”

“You’re kidding,” You said flatly, looking at MIke.

“I am not. I take it you don’t know about any of those, either?”

“Not a one.”

“Would you want any of them?”

“Maybe Cape Cod.”

“Not Gstaad?” Harvey asked.

“Mm, not worth it. I don’t know how to ski.”

“Still?”

You rolled your eyes pointedly before you nodded back to Mike’s file. “Do you have the paperwork for the properties?” “Yeah, it’s, uh…” He set the file down, sifting through for the paper clipped documents and lining them up on Harvey's desk. “These are…All of them…Separated out by property.”

You went down the line, flipping through each of the pages and growing more and more frantic as you did.

“None of these are my signature.”

“He would’ve closed through a title company, I can hunt that down,” Mike commented to Harvey.

“We can throw these on the list of what needs to be sold, or put them in a living trust,” Harvey offered.

“...I don't know,” You leaned away, shaking your head. You felt so unsettled; after the rapid upheaval of your life over the last week you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. After this, you had to worry about the divorce, the tabloids, whatever the fuck else you were going to do with your life—You felt your throat going tight with tears, and you cleared your throat harshly, trying to dispel some of the feeling. “If they were good investments, Steven would’ve used his name on them.”

“All the more reason for you to ditch them.”

“I want them inspected first. I’m not throwing these on the market until I know what the hell I’m dealing with.”

“We can take care of that,” Mike promised. You nodded, glancing toward him and offering a tight, grateful smile.

“Not that you’re paying us to.”

Harvey’s snide reminder was like having a bucket of cold water poured over you. Your hands curled into fists where they rested on your hips. You were just on the edge of slapping the guy—

“You can deal with me directly,” You offered Mike. “My number’s in the file. Thank you, for—” You waved your hand toward the file. “Uncovering this. I appreciate it.” You took up your purse and threw your coat over your arm, trying to hold back your rapidly rising tears as your face flooded with heat.

“You’re just going to go?” Harvey asked.

“It’s always worked for you pretty well,” You snapped. “Figured I’d give it a try.” You stormed out without another word, keeping your gaze staunchly set on the floor that you desperately wanted to sink through.

“I have…So many questions right now,” Mike shook his head as he watched Mrs. Hayward stride toward the elevators.

“You know where to start. Get the inspections lined up, and then start prepping the filings for forgery—”

“Harvey,” Mike raised his hands, chuckling with shock. “What—Was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. The whole ‘if Mike found it it’s right’?”

“Well, that’s true.”

“That thing about her still not being able to ski? How do you know her?”

“We’ve met, that’s all.”

“It’s obviously more than that.” Mike searched Harvey’s gaze for a few moments. “C’mon, what’s your deal?”

Harvey considered for a moment, his jaw working before he nodded to the right. “Close the door.”

He lowered himself into his seat as Mike did as he asked, then turned back to him.

“Mrs. Hayward and I…” Harvey’s expression tightened as he struggled with it. “We were…Involved for a while.”

“While she was married?”

“Before.”

“How involved?”

“We were engaged.”

Mike’s eyes widened drastically, his brows making a jump toward his hairline. “En—What?” He laughed breathlessly. “The great Harvey Specter was almost nailed by that ice queen?”

“Watch it,” Harvey warned; he was stunned as he felt a flair of protectiveness bloom in his chest. “She wasn’t always like that.” He glanced toward the property statements at the front of his desk, and he thought of the dismayed twist of her features. When she’d met his gaze, her eyes had been bright with tears. Maybe that was his fault, at least a little. He should’ve watched his tone a little more. He had surely made her cry enough, years ago.

“What happened?” Mike pressed.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“You broke it off?”

“...Something like that.”

Harvey’s gaze flitted nervously toward Mike, and he could practically hear the wheels turning overtime in his head. It only took a moment before Mike’s eyes managed to widen further, his jaw dropping open in shock.

“Oh my—There is no way.”

“I’m not proud of it,” Harvey raised a hand to stop Mike’s incredulous questioning.

“Let me just make sure I’m on the same page here,” Mike shook his head. “You left her at the altar, she married this guy, and now you’re…Making jokes about the fact that she can’t ski or afford a lawyer?”

Harvey’s heart sank into his stomach as he cut an irritated gaze across the desk.

“I’m not proud of that, either.”

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it.”

“Are you finished with your lecture? Because you have a lot of work to do.”

“On it,” Mike nodded, hopping out of his seat and restacking the paperwork into the file.

“While you’re at it, keep your ear to the ground on that Park Slope property. The sooner the wheels are turning on that, the better. Use that number,” He tapped the file, “To call her, and send any documents to that address.”

“Understood.”

Harvey listened to Mike’s retreating footsteps as he twisted back and forth in his seat, restless in his discomfort. He pushed himself out of his seat in annoyance, unable to stand sitting anymore. Why had he shot his mouth off at her like that? He knew that she was going through it. He just figured when he’d first seen her in Jessica’s office that this situation wouldn’t be quite so hellish.

Steven Hayward was a billionaire, a former Forbes 30 Under 30 recipient. Harvey had done his digging when the engagement had first been announced—just a few months after Harvey had made the decision not to marry her. He’d assumed then that if she’d moved on so quickly, she couldn’t have loved him much in the first place, and the idea had solidified his decision not to go through with their wedding.

Harvey had done his best to put her out of his mind, and he’d succeeded for the most part. But when Jessica had thrown this case at him, he’d gone back, done some more digging. There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed. He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to compose himself as he pushed the wounded memory of her away.

Even footing. He needed to get the two of them on some kind of even footing. Every conversation couldn’t be a fight—it would just slow the both of them down. The sooner they sorted this out, the sooner they’d be out of one another’s hair.

“Donna!” He called out, turning toward the door. Donna popped her head in a moment later, brows raised expectantly. “I need you to look an address up for me.”

“It’s in the West Village.”

Harvey’s mouth worked wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Mike?”

“You shouldn’t have hired a super genius if you didn’t want him using that big brain.”

“I was hoping he would use it for good, not evil.”

“Oh, trust me, he is. Anything else?”

“Lunch?”

“It’s on the way.”

Of course it was.

“This is everything?”

“Yes. I checked and double-checked the list that you gave me before I left.”

You nodded, planting your hands on your hips and looking over six industrial-sized trash bags that contained what you hoped were your tide-over funds.

“The jewelry’s in there, too?”

“Hey,” Aaron stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “When I say I got everything, I mean I got everything. I was this close to snagging a couple of light fixtures.”

You laughed a little, nodding and leaning into the touch a little. You’d worked with Aaron Delaney for over five years at Hayward Realty. You’d hoped that he wouldn’t be in Steven’s camp in the divorce, and when you’d reached out to find out when Steven would definitely be at the office, Aaron had quickly jumped on your bandwagon. It had taken nearly three weeks, but he had come through. Not only had he told you when Steven would be out, but he’d offered to go into the apartment and get things for you. You hadn’t heard a thing from Mike in a couple of weeks, so you could only hope that everything was going smoothly on his end, but these bags would go a long way to bolstering your bitten budget.

“You want my help cataloging it?” He offered. You shook your head a little.

“No, god, you've done enough—and helped me lug this up six flights. Besides, Steven will be suspicious if you’re out of the office for too long—you’re too good an employee to be out of pocket for more than a few minutes. But if you’d like to be enlisted in mole duty going forward, I’m gonna need you to have your ear to the ground over there.”

“You’ve got it.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do, yeah. And thanks again, Aaron. Seriously.”

“Keep your chin up, hon.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, turning back to the trash bags as Aaron headed for the door. God, you didn’t even know what was where. It was probably best to just go bag by bag, and hope all of the suits were together. You could hang the outfits up, take a picture, post it on the app that you were using to resell your luxury clothing. You could—and probably would—keep at least a couple of things for yourself, but you couldn’t go crazy. You’d need suits for your divorce settlement, and possibly for court…And for whatever the hell you wound up doing once this was all over.

Because it would be over, eventually. There was a life for you on the other side of all of this, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. Things would get easier, but right now, it all just…Fucking sucked. You had moved the few things that you had into the studio apartment, including your dresser, a bookshelf, a few books, and your favorite Eames lounge chair and reading lamp. You’d had to get a new bed—a full was all that you could use without overwhelming the space; you got a metal frame on Amazon that would get the job done, and you’d bought and built three racks for your clothing. You still hadn’t found an affordable couch, but you had found a nice oak grain bedside table on the sidewalk, with a handwritten looseleaf sign taped to it that read, FREE!!

You hadn’t had the chance to paint or put any personalizing touches on the space besides your furniture—no art, or knick knacks. The space was nearing functional, but you were certain that unpacking all of your clothing was going to make that a hell of a lot more difficult.

You crouched down in front of the first bag, untying it and opening it. You could see some Scanlan Theodore, some Tuckernuck, some Bergdorf Goodman. This bag was already pretty promising. You sighed, taking the first dress out and wafting the fabric out. It didn’t need to be ironed or steamed, which was a blessing. You were already dreading how long this was going to take, but hell, at least it would give you something to do that wasn’t staring down the barrel of your dead-end future—

Okay. Okay, so not helpful, so not the time. You reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out of your pocket to find a podcast to listen to. There had to be something that you could listen to that would distract you from the monotony of filing and sorting your clothing out. You settled on one of your favorites before you began sorting through the first bag. You were right—a couple of Scanlans, two Tuckernucks, three Bergdorf Goodman’s–

Your sorting was interrupted by a knock on your door. You frowned, pushing yourself up. What else could be left? It had to be good if Aaron had lugged something else up six floors. You pushed yourself off of the floor, brushing the dust off of your sweatpants.

“Alright, Delaney, what’d you forget?” You asked as you approached the door and tugged it open.

The sight of Harvey Specter standing on your doorstep made your stomach want to violently unseat your lunch. His gaze swept over you critically, taking sight of you in your comfy clothes. Between the ratty old shirt, the sweats, and your fluffy socks, you were a far, far cry from the way that he’d become accustomed to seeing you in his office.

“Can I, uh…” He peered over your shoulder, nodding inside. “Can I come in?”

“I thought I was going to be hearing from Mr. Ross.”

“Mike is busy, and we need to talk.”

You couldn’t imagine what the hell you and Harvey needed to talk about. You didn’t want to let him in; you knew that what Harvey was about to see wasn’t what he was surely expecting. Your grip tightened on the handle before you drew in a deep breath nodding, “Sure.”

It was worse than you imagined. Harvey hardly got two steps inside before he stopped fully. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t a ton of space for him to wander around and explore; between the bed, the armchair, and the trash bags, there wasn’t much room for him to move around. You shut the door and pointedly cleared your throat, trying to jog him from his shock. As he faced you again, you could see him trying to mask his surprise, his brows drawing down over his eyes as he turned to a file in his hand.

“You have an offer on the Park Slope house.”

“Why didn’t I get a call from my broker?”

“I asked to deliver the news myself.”

You frowned a little, taking hold of the file and flipping it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of a check paperclipped to the top of the files—for frighteningly beneath asking price.

“I said I wanted it in cash.”

“...I know that,” Harvey spoke slowly, as if he was dealing with a particularly difficult and over-caffeinated child. “That is a good faith deposit from the buyer.”

“They’ve signed?” Your hands tighten around the file as your stomach flipped with excitement. “I didn’t ask my broker for a good faith deposit.”

“No, I had it baked into the contract.”

Your gaze flitted to Harvey, annoyance and admiration growing in equal measure.

“I…Appreciate that,” You finally managed. “But in the future, please run any changes like that by me before you speak to my broker.”

Harvey nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Understood.”

“Thanks.” You closed to file, certain that if you didn’t, you’d just spend your time staring at the check—at your first lifeline in this whole mess. “Anything else?”

“We need to get on a more even footing.”

“...I don’t know what you mean.”

Harvey gave you a chastising frown, one that would’ve made you wilt long ago—but now, you simply shook your head and shrugged.

“I don’t,” You insisted. “Unless you mean that you’ll stop out your thinly veiled barbs about what you think you know about me.”

“I remember more than you think.”

“I’m not the woman that you left at the altar, Harvey.” Your admission and reminder left a bitter taste in your mouth. You had to force yourself to hold his gaze, even as his expression flooded with discomfort. You could see him desperately trying to push it away as his retort bubbled up:

“And I’m not the man that left you there!”

“No?” You laughed openly. “Because this all looks pretty fucking familiar. You’re a shark, Harvey, and you’re a dick. Lucky for the both of us, that’s exactly what I need you to be right now.”

Harvey’s jaw tightened, and you could see his hands curling into fists before he shoved them into his pockets.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear,” He seethed, taking a small step closer, “What I do for you over the course of this case is purely because of my reputation in this city. I’m going to do my damndest to get you the best out of all of these properties, but do not think for a moment that the job I do comes from any interest, any compassion, anything worth a damn.”

“What compassion? Anyone with compassion would’ve at least had the grace to do better than a goddamn post-it note in my bridal suite that just said ‘sorry’. It didn't even look like your handwriting!” You loosed a hysterical laugh that had been building in your throat as he spoke. “Or did you not even want that in there? Maybe one of my bridesmaids scrawled it to keep me from just throwing myself off the fucking roof!”

Harvey’s expression flickered again, and you saw some of the color drain from his annoyance-flushed cheeks. You turned away, stomach roiling with embarrassment and irritation.

“Thanks for the file,” You managed, forcing a steadiness into your tone. “Going forward, I really do think it’s for the best that you communicate with me through Mr. Ross.”

“Gladly. Have a nice day, Mrs. Hayward.”

Three long strides, the creak of the door opening, and then slamming shut. You flinched at the sound, fingers tightening around the file, trying to focus on the check.

One hundred thousand dollars was an amazing start. One hundred thousand dollars could go toward your rent, your expenses, buy you some time. Maybe you could get a nice bottle of gin—or a couple of the cheap bottles the size of your head, the stuff that tasted like paint thinner and knocked you flat on your ass until morning.

Maybe you could sell your clothing during the day and quietly slip into oblivion in the evening. You had nothing better to do with your nights. Almost none of your so-called friends had reached out after the news had broken—likely making the choice to side with Steven. He was the one that still had the money, of course, the position in society. His name was on the door, not yours.

Your name was on a 12 month lease, and on a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

sorry

Lowercase, hurriedly scrawled, ink smudged. You could still see the slightly crumpled post-it that had been sitting on your honeymoon suite vanity when you’d returned after waiting at the back of the venue for almost an hour.

Harvey hadn’t copped to writing it. Maybe he didn’t want to—or maybe he really didn’t write it. Maybe he wasn’t sorry. Maybe he saw the shitshow that your life had become and was glad that he’d gotten out early.

You glanced around the apartment, eyeing the row of trash bags, the rickety furniture. At this moment, you couldn’t blame him.

You tossed the file onto your bedside table before walking back to the trash bags. Bag by bag, then steam what needed to be steam, then sort by brand. Plan of attack. You could get that man out of your head.

That man—which one was worse to think about just now—Steven or Harvey?

You shook your head, forcing yourself to dismiss both of them for the morning. You didn’t have any more time for what could’ve been’s. You had here, you had now.

And you had shit to do.

“Okay, two things,” Mike announced as he rounded into Harvey’s office. “One, the purchase agreement for the brownstone is signed and the payment is on the way to her bank account. There’s also an offer for the apartment building in the upper East Side. Two—“

“What do you mean, two?” Harvey frowned. “That’s already two things.”

“Fine, three—“

“Super genius and he can’t even count—“

“I got six emails from Steven Hayward’s representation this morning, disputing ownership of all of the twenty original flagged properties.”

“Damnit,” Harvey hissed. “Even the houses she didn’t know about?”

“No, so far, they’ve been conspicuously left off of the list.”

“Where are we with those inspections?”

“In progress, should hear back by the end of the week.”

“Good.”

Mike nodded, and Harvey returned his attention to his laptop. At least, he did until he realized that Mike hadn’t left the room.

“Something else that you need to say?” Harvey prodded.

“Aren’t you going to ask how she is?”

“Why would I need to know that?”

“Come on, Harvey.”

“She’s a client, Mike.”

“A client that you were going to marry!”

“And I didn’t marry her. What do you think that says about my wealth of feeling for her?”

Mike sighed heavily through his nose, muttering, “Alright.” He began to turn away, heading for the door. “Well, if you had asked, I would’ve told you that she’s putting on a brave face, but she’s getting to the end of her rope.”

“Well I didn’t ask, but thank you for that poetic and poignant diagnosis.”

“You have to go.”

“Of all of my priorities right now, the gala is not one of them,” You insisted. “I’ve got about a hundred more urgent matters right now.”

“Make this one,” Jessica insisted, leaning back against her desk, her arms folding across her chest. “You know how badly you’ll be lampooned if you don't turn up.”

“And I’ll be lampooned if I do show up. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Wear something you’ve worn before.”

“I don’t have most of those pieces anymore.”

“Then rent something.”

“You do remember that Steven is being honored this year?”

“All the more reason for you to show your face.”

“Jessica—“

“What’s your plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan—when this is all over? Are you going to go back into real estate?”

“…It’s crossed my mind.”

“You know that they will never let you back in if you slink out the back door and try to come in through the front again. They’ve rescinded your keys, honey. May as well stay in the house as long as you can.”

“This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.”

Jessica grinned. “I better see your name on the RSVP list by the end of the day.”

“Since when do you have access to that information?”

“I have my sources.”

You heard two knocks, followed by the increasingly comforting sound of Mike’s voice: “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Jessica waved him inside. “I’m hoping for a fruitful update.”

“Well,” Mike gave a small, nervous smile as he joined the two of you. “The good news is that purchase for the brownstone is moving through the channels, and there are interested buyers for the upper East Side apartment building. Unfortunately —“ The word made your gut swoop. “—Your ex-husband has come out of the woodwork. He’s trying to stake a claim on the properties, and on a hold co. We’re monitoring the situation,” Mike added before either you or Jessica could speak, “But I wanted to make you aware of what you could be facing sometime soon.”

You nodded, wringing your hands where they were folded in your lap.

“I appreciate the update.”

“Of course.”

“Why isn’t Harvey relaying this to me himself?” Jessica frowned. You raised your brows, glancing toward Mike, and fighting back a wave of amusement at his blatant deer-in-headlines expression.

“He had a—meeting,” He flubbed before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh–”

Jessica’s brows raise skeptically, but she nods, and you bite back a laugh as Mike leaves the room with a measured hurry.

“...Why do I have the feeling that the two of you are keeping something from me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrugged, pushing yourself out of your seat. “Now if you excuse me, I have some clothes to package—”

“And a gala outfit to find. I understand.”

You turned from Jessica’s smug grin, rolling your eyes as she tacked on,

“And don’t forget to get your nails done!”

You rounded out of the office, pulling up short as you slammed into someone.

“Oh! Fuck, sorry!” You breathed as their hands landed on your hips to steady you.

“...Don’t worry about it.” Harvey’s flat tone turned your stomach. You cleared your throat, stepping back and out of his hands.

“I’ll watch where I’m going.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You gave a firm nod as you skirted around him, face flooding with embarrassed heat as you strode toward the elevators.

The gala. You’d completely forgotten about the gala until Jessica had brought it up. Six months ago, planning the evening had been the center of your world. You’d put a deposit down for a custom dress, had it fitted. Steven had asked you to coordinate a cocktail party for the two hours beforehand—an intimate gathering for 150 of your closest friends and associates. You sighed, leaning back against the hard subway seat and gazing at your appearance in the window opposite you.

You could just see it now—the who’s who of New York’s real estate scene all swanning up to the penthouse, lounging fashionably, eating the hors d'oeuvres that you’d chosen and drinking the champagne that you’d ordered by the case…

…The champagne that you had ordered…

Come to think of it, those contracts all had your name on them, your contact information. Steven hadn’t been involved with a damn thing, save for the use of his credit card to put down deposits. He never did—he expected you to handle all of the coordination on the day as well; he would swan in an hour after the party started and do his scant duties as the host.

A devilish grin curled your lips. You were sure you still had all of the confirmations in your email. You could cancel all of it—the ice sculpture, the caterer, the champagne…Well, maybe you could divert one case to your new apartment, and cancel the rest.

Oh, you could really see it now—Steven seething as he frantically checked his emails for any hint of vendors, any phone number or email that he could call to find out what the hell happened to the party that was to-be. You were certain that the tailor still had your dress—and you had a check for a hundred thousand dollars that you could dip into for a manicure.

You stood as the train pulled into your station. You were suddenly looking forward to the gala.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @gina239 ; @technicallykawaiisoul ; @coldheart-lonelysoul ; @kathrinemelissa ; @jacxx2 ; @pillowjj ; @chanaaaannel ; @avampirescholar ; @kmc1989

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

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comfortless · 6 months

Text

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

#könig #konig #konig x you #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig fanfiction #cod fanfic #könig fanfiction #cod fanfiction

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strawberrystepmom · 9 months

Text

pairing: ghost!gojo satoru x f!reader

word count: 2.8k

about: the bump you’ve been hearing in the night isn’t just your imagination, it’s a friendly ghost. a handsome ghost. a ghost who you've befriended that isn't so sure he wants to share you.

contents: nsfw - mdni. you are enjoying oral sex (f!receiving) from a ghost, voyeurism (he's a creep but reader is into it ♡), vaginal fingering, alcohol consumption, mentions of masturbation, possessiveness leaning on yandere behavior, reader is referred to with feminine terms (pretty girl) and is stated to be wearing a dress.

notes: welcome to thot-o-ween 2023! we are kicking things off with my ghostly boyfriend and im gonna be honest with u guys here, i didn't do extensive research about the ins and outs of ghost sex but he can materialize and harden the parts of him he wants to and let's leave it at that, okay? thank you to @rossithepixie for beta reading this bad boy and i hope you enjoy! happy halloween!

Another unlucky night, you lament upon arriving back to your apartment. Your keys jingle in the door as you turn the lock with your uncomfortable heels dangling from your hand, pushing the door inward and slumping with each step forward.

Third dates usually end better than this but it seems your last several third dates have ended with nothing satisfying, polite kisses and wishes for a good evening. It’s hard not to internalize the rejection given this is the fourth person it has happened with and you drop your heels with a thud on the hardwood below, padding across the floor and working off your jewelry, contorting your wrist to unclasp your bracelet.

“Back already?”

A sigh and a shake of your head mark that you already know who the voice belongs to despite being unable to witness its owner. Tossing your bracelet down on the coffee table, you slump against the couch with an unimpressed grunt and jump slightly when you look up to see a pair of blue eyes with white hair falling in them staring back at you.

You don’t know why you expected anything less than Satoru being ready to gloat that you’ve returned home empty handed but you hoped for at least a little bit of time to lick your wounds.

“Well hello to you, too,” you snip and he chuckles. The dim overhead light shines through him reminding you that he isn’t quite human, something it’s all too easy to forget given his charming grin and affable nature, and he hops over the top of the couch in a flash and plops down next to you.

You still aren’t sure how you ended up with a ghost as a freeloading roommate nor how you’re able to not only see but feel and communicate with him but at least he makes good company after your failed attempts at finding love. He’s always there with a silly joke or a goofy smile to make things hurt a little less.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it has been to find comfort in this specter, a figment of a man left on Earth for reasons you’ll never know, but hey - a friend’s a friend when you’re lonely.

“Not sure what happened this time,” you explain while standing up. He watches your every move, eyes dancing across your chest and trailing down your waist and hips as your dress settles back across them. Taking one look at you, hunger rises within him but he swallows it as you walk to the kitchen and he hears the telltale noise of a corkscrew at work.

He can be as patient as he needs for as long as he needs given his games have worked up until this point. You pour a glass of wine, another sitting next to your full glass, and you furrow your brow.

“Satoru?”

He looks over the couch, eyes narrowing as he sees your relaxed posture and the way you lean against the counter next to you. It has to be the dress, he thinks, that hugs every delicious curve and has made the already thin tether he keeps on his self control further loosen.

“Yeah?”

You smile when he responds, pulling your glass away from your lips. His eyes fall on the lipstick stain left behind and he has to curl his fist in his lap and keep his face neutral to keep his frustration from showing.

“Ghosts don’t eat or drink, right?”

He shrugs, arm dangling over the side of the couch as he watches you slip the glass back into the cupboard above your head. You’re assuming that he isn’t interested in the wine despite how his eyes follow your every move. It isn’t unusual that you feel him watching you, having to draw boundaries on where he is and is not allowed to be several times given how you’ve seen his face after wiping the mirror off post shower, but this feels different. Weighted. Maybe he’s worried about your ego after your failed conquests.

“Not usually, no, but we can make exceptions.”

Raising your eyebrows, you hum at the way he accentuates the last word. Another sip and warmth fills you, wine relaxing your frazzled nerves. You approach the couch again and slip next to him, pulling your knees to your chest with an amused smile.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, looking up at you through his lashes. Sliding your wine onto the table beside you, you consider for a moment what to say next not knowing where your words could possibly lead. He’s harmless, friendly, and a friend.

A little flirtation just to make sure you’re still capable of it couldn’t possibly hurt anything, could it?

“What kind of exceptions do you make when it comes to eating, Satoru?”

You wonder what he was like when he was alive - was he just like this? All jokes and fun and bluster or was he serious, tied down by responsibilities and pain? Was he this handsome even when the light didn’t shine through him, illuminating him in a way that makes you wonder if he isn’t an angel rather than a thing that goes bump in the night?

“Hmm…well. Children, small animals…” he pretends to be thinking, fingers stroking his chin and you laugh raucously at his display. He shakes his head and puts his other hand on your calf, cold fingers sending shivers crawling through the limb. You make a show of shivering but don’t shove him off, instead moving closer.

“Anything else?”

He hums at your question, hand sliding from your calf to your exposed knee. Your dress rides further and further up your thighs and he can almost see the lacy little panties he watched you slip over your legs before leaving. He spent all evening thinking of the way the trimmed hair covering your mound poked through the holes in the lace, pacing the apartment hoping, hoping, hoping that this time would be the time where you took the rejection personally enough to seek him out for comfort.

It seems his plan is working flawlessly and he’s smug, raising his chin and looking down his nose at you just enough that it makes you shutter. You aren’t sure if it’s the wine or maybe that you’re reading too much into the situation, but you watch raptly as his mouth moves.

“Sometimes I eat really pretty girls if the appetite strikes.”

Raising your brows, you lean forward and look up at him. He knows all too well what that look means, unfortunately having to witness you flash it at the few people you’ve managed to bring home over the last ten months of living here, but he can forget about them now that it is pointed at him.

“Oh is that so?”

He nods, hand crawling further up your leg. You wish you could describe the sensation, a cold static, the trace of his touch across your skin, but words fail you as his eyes blaze. The tension is thick and it’s almost puzzling how you ended up here, scooting closer and closer with each second that passes. His hand dances at the hem of your dress, fingers slipping beneath and grazing the soft skin beneath it and he moans.

“How long have you wanted to do that for, I wonder?”

You giggle, ass scooting across the couch to drape your legs over his thighs and hips. The two of you sit across from one another, legs barely spread, and you take a step to spread yours further.

“I think the better question is how long have you wanted me to do it for?”

Raising your brows as his touch creeps further upward, you wonder if you haven’t met your match in the form of the eerily tall specter that lingers over the back of your couch. He makes himself scarce unless he wants to be seen, pounding footsteps and shifting on the shelves hanging on your wall the only trace of him when others are around.

You stop yourself on that thought and he sees awareness dance across your face, recalling the moments where your last several dates were in the apartment and you had to insist the rustling was the pet cat you do not have fiddling with things in your room or down the hallway.

“Have you been…” the accusation slips past your lips and you can’t stop it, head tipping as he reaches out and cups your face with his free hand, one hand still sliding across the bottom of your panties. His cool fingers are a rush across your heated skin, hotter now than it was a few moments prior, and he nods.

“Yeah, I have been.” He expects you to react more strongly than you are but your mouth remains agape and wordless. “You keep bringing these idiots home and it’s my job to make sure they know you already have everything you need right here.”

He shifts position onto his stomach, his long legs dangling over the arm of the couch as his lips, cool and soft, follow the same pattern his fingers were previously taking. He laces your calf with kisses, licking the curve of your knee and nibbling as he reaches the soft of your inner thigh and you feel your hips buck instinctively.

You should kick him off of you, disgusted by his antics, but you feel your slick pussy lips rub against one another as you shift where you sit. Those electric eyes are locked on you and he dips his fingers beneath the lace that spurred his frenzy, groaning as he comes into contact with your searing hot warmth and the wetness seeping from your cunt.

“Seems like you aren’t disappointed to hear that,” he taunts, nibbling your soft skin again while working one long digit across your slit. You gasp when the back of his finger brushes against your swollen clit and he chuckles. “You wanna hear what else I’ve been doing since we’re bein’ honest?”

Satoru’s finger traces the same pattern through your slit, finger gliding easily along the sensitive skin and you nod, lip between your teeth. You want to witness exactly what he’s doing to you because the feeling is indescribable - more intense than anything you’ve ever felt.

“I’ve been watching you,” he withdraws his finger from your panties and you whimper, brow furrowing. Eyes fixed on him, you watch as he pulls the finger into his mouth and hums at the taste. The wet digit is removed from his mouth with a pop and he slides it back into your panties, dipping into your cunt only to make your back arch.

“Watching you do that,” he nods at your last movement. “With that noisy vibrator. With the showerhead.” He continues, mouth moving closer to your panty covered pussy with each word. “With people who don’t deserve it.”

Another chill runs through you at the insinuation that he has been watching you…everywhere. In the shower, in your bedroom, in the living room with a blanket pulled over your lap for some sense of decorum. Your walls clench around his finger and he finally lowers his face to your pussy, licking a broad stripe over the front of your underwear.

Tipping your head back, you moan his name and it’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard in life or after it. He licks another strip, tip of his tongue tracing your slit through the lace, and you reach behind you to grasp onto a throw pillow.

“I’ve been waiting for when you’d pick up on it but it seems my pretty girl wanted to believe I’m nothing but a friendly houseguest,” he taunts from between your legs but you are at his mercy enough that you don’t mind the challenge.

You like the way his eyes shine as they look down at your core, as if he’s found a prize that he has searched many lifetimes for. He has and he holds himself back from making further moves, taking the time to keep you wound up.

“You’re mine now no matter who you bring in here, you know that right?”

You nod, and he tuts from below. You aren’t getting off that easily.

“Say it,” he prompts. “Say you’re mine.”

Untucking your lip from between your teeth, you reach out and try to grab his face but find it’s futile, phasing through him as it drops back down to the couch below. You try again, raising your hand to be met with the same results, and he waits.

“Say it and I’ll let you touch me too.”

You aren’t certain of how that works but he would know more about the delicate relations between a ghost and a human so you acquiesce, nodding while you look at him.

“I’m yours,” you whisper and he wastes no time going back to work, dipping his head back down to your covered cunt and pulling your panties away. He inhales, eyes fluttering shut at the scent of your arousal, and you reach to touch him to find you can merely graze him, fingers dancing along his sharp jawline. It’s enough for now, distracted by how his tongue now dances between your folds.

“Fuck that’s so good,” you whimper and he wraps his lips around your aching clit, your back arching to put all of you in his face. He loves it, surrounded by your thighs and your scent and your beauty, and he hums his pleasure around the bud.

Releasing your clit, he begins to once again lap at you like a man starved, tongue dragging from your bud to your entrance and down lower, the sensation still one you are struggling to name. You’ve been on the receiving end of good oral sex more than once but this physically feels like something you’ve never experienced, cold and hot and spiritual. It’s difficult to describe so you don’t bother, keeping moans spilling from your mouth instead.

Continuing to lave his tongue across the mess he’s making of your pussy, he swallows thickly and looks up at your pleasured face. The sight makes him smile, more than happy he has finally managed to get his way, and he adds another finger to the one he has kept massaging your insides. His tongue retracts but you don’t mind, long fingers filling you more than you anticipated and drawing gasps from you.

“Just remember,” his blue eyes fall to where his fingers curl against your pelvis, squelching with your wetness and his saliva. “I can follow you wherever you go.”

You gasp when his fingers curl against the spongy spot inside of you that makes your head swim, walls once again gripping him so tightly he can hardly move so he settles in place.

“You’ll never get away from me now.”

Nodding, you smirk and it turns into a gasp when he runs his thumb over your clit, hips canting to match the rhythm his fingers were working at before they stopped.

“You assume I want to,” you shoot back breathlessly through swollen lips. You’ve been gnawing that lower lip a little too hard and it’s plump, slick with spit and he admires the shine while you speak. “Maybe you'll never get away from me.”

Raising his brows, Satoru wonders if this wasn’t your endgame all along. Recalling all the times you spread your legs and stroked your pussy on the couch, knowing he could see it; memorizing all of the people who have darkened your doorstep, only to get you all warmed up and then be sent away - you making the choice instead to moan into the cool dark of your room while making yourself cum again and again.

“Looks like we’re on the same page then,” he confirms and you smile. His mouth goes back to work, tongue slurping and drinking every bit of you that he can, and you feel yourself edging closer and closer to cumming for him, for real, this time.

His fingers work inside of you and he closes his mouth over your sensitive clit, your mouth opening in a wordless shout with your release. You weren’t expecting it to come just yet but you won’t complain, head drooping backwards and eyes shut tightly. The on top of the world feeling is coaxed out of you for as long as it can be, his mouth mercifully releasing you when you start breathing heavily.

His face rests against your thigh, glistening chin backlit and shining, and you reach out to touch him again and gasp when your touch lands, fingers wrapping around his jaw. Again, you won’t question it knowing that the best orgasm of your life just came at the hands of this man…or spirit…Whatever he is, you aren’t terribly concerned about it.

“I feel like I need to take you out to dinner now,” you tease breathlessly and he laughs, cheek still pressed to your thigh. Placing a kiss, he winks in your direction and you feel that familiar heat rise in you once again.

“We have all the time in the world for that, now don’t we?”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #thot o ween 23 #monster mash 23 #kendall writes

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sosa2imagines · 3 days

Text

Broken Hearts. Part 1

Warnings- Cheating, abusive husband, possessiveness. ---------------------------------------------------

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Your heart pounded against your chest like a relentless drum, echoing through the walls and drowning out the sound of your pacing footsteps. Your legs ached from the endless motion, muscles screaming for a reprieve, yet your mind remained fixated on the front door, awaiting a sign, a sound, anything that would signal Steve's return home.

Steve Rogers successful business man, he can own anything with his good looks and money, but can't have your heart anymore. Broken and shredded to pieces.

The clock on your nightstand ticked incessantly, the harsh sound a cruel reminder of the passing time. The night seemed to stretch, each second dripping by like molasses. You glanced at the alarm clock again, the digital numbers glaring back at you, mocking your impatience. 3:24 AM.

Steve's love for Peggy had always lingered, a specter in the shadows of your relationship. Whenever his gaze would turn distant, you could sense the ghostly hold Peggy exerted over his heart. Memories of her whispers in his ear, the touch of her fingertips on his skin, haunted your imagination.

In college, Peggy had never spared a glance in Steve's direction, her sights set firmly on charming wealthy students. But once Steve's star began to rise and his net worth skyrocketed, Peggy suddenly found herself drawn to his path.

Her interest piqued not by his character or achievements, but by his newfound financial status. The irony wasn't lost on you. Peggy's change of heart spoke volumes about her true motives and the fickle nature of her affections.

Her name slipped from Steve's lips effortlessly, like a gentle caress he couldn't resist. You longed to be the only love that filled his heart, but the ghost of Peggy Carter cast a long shadow over your relationship.

His excuses were varied and numerous. Crucial meetings, and the ever elusive ‘work-related emergencies.’ He would tell you with a straight face that he had to stay late at work, while he secretly met Peggy in hidden corners of the city, away from prying eyes and suspicions.

Your gut instincts told you something wasn't right, that his absences were not entirely innocent. But love kept your doubts at bay, and you tried to push away the nagging feeling that something was amiss. You trusted Steve, desperately wanting to believe in the strength of your relationship.

Whenever he returned home late, a faint but unmistakable scent of Peggy's perfume clung to Steve's skin. You tried to ignore it, pretending it was nothing more than a coincidence, but the sharp pang of pain pierced through your heart.

You noticed the faint nail marks on his back, faint reminders of passionate embraces he had with Peggy in secret. His disheveled state was a clear sign, of the physical connection he shared with her, and your fears grew stronger with each evidence you discovered.

Your love for Steve drove you to make sacrifices, to prove your devotion and commitment beyond measure. Leaving your job was a painful decision, a surrender of your own independence and identity, hoping it would strengthen the bond between you and Steve.

It was a desperate attempt to win his undivided attention and affection, a last resort to make him see the depth of your love and loyalty, even going as far to eating only food he likes.

Your heart ached with longing, the desire to start a family with Steve burning deep within you. You proposed the idea to him, hoping for a positive response. But to your disappointment, Steve's response was distant and vague.

Peggy's manipulative nature had always bothered you. She had a way of exploiting Steve's good nature, taking advantage of his unwavering loyalty.

Despite your concerns, Steve remained oblivious to her true intentions, viewing her through rose-colored glasses. He could only see the best in her, disregarding the evidence of her selfishness and deceit. You tried to open his eyes, but Steve’s unwavering trust in Peggy left you feeling helpless and frustrated.

Slowly but surely, Steve's attempts at hiding the marks and the scent of Peggy's perfume began to weaken. He became careless, no longer making an effort to cover up the evidence of his infidelity.

His disheveled state and the lingering scent of Peggy's perfume seemed to mock your sacrifices and love. The lack of effort in concealing his lies only fueled your suspicions and deepened the ache of mistrust. It was a cruel reflection of his growing indifference and waning devotion to you.

As the front door creaked open, your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. With a forced air of nonchalance, you lay perfectly still in bed, feigning sleep. Your breath hitched in your throat as the weight of your husband's presence filled the room.

You could hear the soft padding of Steve's feet against the carpeted floor. With each passing second, the tension in the air grew thicker, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully. Finally, the weight of the mattress shifted as Steve settled beside you, his body a mere breath away.

The silence between you both was suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing. You fought the urge to flinch, as his hand brushed against your shoulder, a brief touch filled with a mixture of affection and guilt. But you remained firm, determined to maintain the façade of sleep, even as your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Steve's voice whispered through the darkness, a faint attempt to gauge your awareness. “Baby doll?” he called softly, the word carried on a gentle exhale. His touch, a gentle poke meant to test your response. You remained motionless, feigning deep sleep through clenched teeth, praying that your act would hold.

Time seemed to stretch, the minutes lingering as Steve waited for a sign of awakening. You held your breath, willing yourself to maintain the illusion of slumber, while your heart thumped loudly against your chest. Steve's hand remained gently resting on your shoulder.

Despite your feigned slumber, your mind was vividly aware of Steve's movements. He reached for his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen as he typed a message to Peggy. Once his communication was complete, he placed the device back on the nightstand and shifted his body closer to yours. His arm draped over you, a possessive gesture, as if asserting his power over both you and Peggy in his secret deception.

As Steve's arm encircled you, you fought against the natural instinct to recoil from his touch. Your body stiffened instinctively, tensing beneath the weight of his embrace, but you managed to conceal your discomfort. Pretending to remain blissfully unaware, you kept your eyes tightly shut, determined not to let any crack in your performance. It took every ounce of your willpower to maintain the illusion of deep sleep and contentment, even as your inner turmoil threatened to shatter the facade.

The following day, you woke up early, fueled by a mixture of determination and heartache. With a feigned smile and a practiced lie, you told Steve that you had errands to run that would keep you preoccupied until late in the evening. His eyes betrayed a flicker of relief, believing your words without question, allowing you to leave the house unnoticed.

Sitting across the table, Matt Murdock, your best friend, appeared calm and composed. His eyes, sightless yet perceptive, remained unfocused as he tilted his head slightly to focus on your voice. Despite his blindness, Matt's exceptional senses had sharpened over time.

Matt wanted to tell you something about your aunt's will. She had passed away few weeks ago. Your husband did not accompany you, to her funeral, because he was balls deep busy with Peggy.

“Y/n thanks for meeting on such a short notice” “No problem Matt.” “How are you?” “Good... doing nice.” “It's Steve isn't it?” “Wait, what?” “Y/n, I know he is an ass and don't you dare lie to me!” God Matt's senses were impeccable. “Well… Peggy is back.” you answer truthfully.

“Divorce him!” He just says it so casually, you look at him with your mouth open, trying to say something but closing it again. “Are you serious?” you ask him bewildered. “Yes! Dump his cheap ass, remember Andy Barber our friend? He is back in Boston, he will help you with the divorce.”

He even hands you Andy’s contact number and you just stare at him with disbelief, sure you wanted to leave Steve, but you were waiting for the final nail in the coffin.

“Matt I'll think about it, can we please drop this topic?” “Fine, but please consider my advice.” “Okay…”

“The reason I called you here is because, your aunt left her house and café for you. You are the sole owner now, of her house and her café 'Snowflakes'“ “Wow that woman was adamant I look after her café, she really did left it for me.” Your aunt always believed in you and she was sure, you would handle her café with ease.

“She was also adamant about Steve…” Matt smirks. “Matty!” You plead.

“Fine. The place is run by Happy, his wife May, she cooks and bakes. Peter May's nephew and his girlfriend MJ, work there part time.”

Looking through the records, you are impressed by them, and excited about the new opportunity. But for now they don't need you. Not because they don't want you, but because of your husband. Steve won’t allow you.

Later that day, returning home earlier than expected, you were ambushed by a sight that shattered your fragile composure. There, in your own bedroom, Steve and Peggy lay intertwined on the bed, their bodies moving together in rhythmic ecstasy. The sound of their moans filled the air, a symphony of passion that pierced deep into your wounded soul.

The sight of Steve's betrayal, coupled with the pain of seeing him engaged in such intimate acts with Peggy, hit you like a tsunami. Your heart shattered into countless pieces, each one stabbing relentlessly, until you feared there was nothing left but a hollow shell.

Your legs threatened to buckle beneath the weight of your emotional turmoil, but somehow you managed to remain standing, silently witnessing the spectacle before you.

Blinded by grief and consumed by raw despair, you found yourself fleeing from your own home, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of betrayal. You stumbled towards the nearest park, your vision blurred by tears, your sobs echoing through the empty streets.

The park, once a place for carefree strolls, now became a sanctuary to release the floodgates of your anguish. You collapsed onto a bench, tears streaming down your face, as the pain of Steve's infidelity overflowed from within.

This was the final nail in the coffin and now you had made your mind.

Steve texted you asking when you will be back.

After an hour of raw vulnerability in the park, you found the strength to compose yourself.

“Y/n?” you ignore Steve calling you, going straight to your room, you open two suitcases and start to pack.

“Doll?” Steve stops in his tracks seeing you pack your stuff.

“Congratulation Steve, you are free to do, whatever you want with your bitch!” You clap your hands and Steve gives a fake hurt expression. “Doll what are you talking about?”

“It is over Steve!” You give him a tight smile. “Baby doll, what are you talking about?” Steve has the audacity to act dumb.

“Save the trouble ok? I know you have been with her long enough, to finally have her on our bed! I saw you with Peggy, so stop the bullshit, it is over!”

“You are still my wife!” Steve reminds you, as if you done something wrong.

“Wait!” Steve's possessive grip on your shoulders sent a chill down your spine, and the anger simmering beneath his tense words alarmed you. Fear crept into your heart, mingling with the pain of betrayal. In that moment, you feared the depth of Steve's possessive tendencies and the lengths he might go, to keep you captive in his web of control.

“You are not going anywhere baby doll, you are my wife and forever will be. Just because you are jealous, I won't let you go!” “You can't stop me!” “Y/n!” he screams, making his grip tighter on you, “You are going to stay with me like a loyal wife, whether you like it or not. You are not going to go understand?” He shakes you and barks every single word.

He shoves you on the bed, throwing the suitcases on the wall and locks the bedroom door.

“You are not going to leave me! you are mine and mine only!” “Steve open the door!” you keep on slamming, but it is of no use. “I'll be back by tomorrow, till then deal with your mood swings and accept the fact, you belong to your loyal husband!” with the that he slams the door and leaves.

You cry and cry not knowing what to do. Exhaustion and fear threatened to consume you, but with a final burst of resolve, you remember you have your phone with you and you dial the number of the only person, who can help you. Lloyd Hansen

Just on the third ring he picks up, no matter how busy he is he will always be there for you.

“Hey Sugar what's up?” “Ll..l..Lloyd…” “Sugar, I'm on my way!” “Please hurry up…” “Don't you worry.”

Part 2

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @geeky-politics-46

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fanfiction #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x reader fluff #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader

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fox-bee926 · 11 months

Text

My Tailor

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: holy shit dudes I finally did it. It was hard and full of procrastination. But I did it. I might make another one. I might not. At this point consistency is a figment of my imagination. (not really edited don't come for me) Anyway! Enjoy! TW: suggestive talking, but only a bit of a joke. Nothing really scandalous or anything of the sort; Harvey being jealous Word Count: ~997 (nothing real crazy dw)

(Third POV)

Mike walks up to the door of Ms. Tailor’s Thread and Needle, business card in hand. The sign says closed, and the shop seems dark, but there is obvious movement. He is just about to knock on the door when it swings open. The woman seems very surprised when he stumbles back, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“Hello... Do you work here?”

“No, I sneak in just to eat my lunch.”

Mike looks panicked for a moment, then composes himself. “By the sarcasm, I assume you do. I was sent by Harvey Specter. He has made his opinion on my suits very clear.”

“Of course he did, they’re terrible," Mike looks down, confused, thinking they were top of the line. "I’m Ms. Taylor, come on in.” Ms. Taylor opens the door wider, but keeps the sign flipped to closed. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress pants. “The other girls went out for lunch but Jessie told me I had a priority one booking. I’m going to assume that’s you.”

Mike walks into the shop and looks around. He stops in his tracks with a deer in headlights look. “Wait a minute, Harvey told me not to talk to you.”

“Did he now? Oh, don’t worry about him, honey. I promise he won’t mind.” The door shuts closed and Ms. Taylor turns the rest of the floor lights on as she grabs a small box of tools.

Mike goes to stand on the raised platform encircled by lights. “Are you sure? He seemed pretty... clear. Just as clear as his hating of my suits.”

“Positive, Mike. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh, and please, call me Y/N.”

___

(Second POV)

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with Harvey. Mike had talked to you quite a bit about his time at Pearson Hardman. Especially how much of an ass Harvey had been to him. You had thought about talking Harvey into easing up on him, but in the end you decided against it. Harvey was bound to be upset hearing you two even talked at all.

“He just said not to talk to you. No explanation or anything. I was worried that you had torn his suit or something.”

“I tore the buttons off one time, but that was completely non-work related. I’ll talk to him when I get home. For now, just say Jessie tailored you. Have a good day, hun, and good luck.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit upset that Harvey told his own associate not to let you tailor him. You had tailored every person even remotely close to Harvey, even Louis. However, Harvey’s jealousy was understandable. After Louis had not so subtly flirted with you, and not so subtly got his pockets’ seams ripped, Harvey was weary of sending his male coworkers to you for a suit.

The sound of the front door closing and your bag hitting the floor caught the attention of said Harvey Specter from the kitchen. As soon as your eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. Harvey waited patiently, wine glass in hand, in silence as you took your coat and heels off. Finally, you spoke.

“You told your own associate not to be tailored by me?”

“That little snitch. I knew something was up when he said Jessie had tailored him. You would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one.”

“That’s right. I would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one. I would never send anyone but myself to tailor a priority one, and you knew that. Yet, you were going to have Mike get a below-standard tailor job because you couldn’t handle your girlfriend hemming the pants of your coworker.” The more you talked, the more you realized just how angry you were.

You and Harvey had had this conversation several times. You always said how you could handle yourself when male clients tried getting frisky (they always tried,) and Harvey said that he hates you getting so close to his male coworkers.

“This is- This is ridiculous! I shouldn’t have to ask you not to tailor my coworkers! I don’t like your hands being so close to their... inseam.” He made a confused face for a moment before going back to his rant. “How should I feel knowing that every man you tailor in New York feels your hands on him? How should that make me feel other than angry and very, very shitty?” His hands gripped the counter in frustration, and you copied the motion.

“You should feel angry. But you should also trust that the only thing I’m doing is poking a needle very close to their ‘inseam,’ as you put. I promise you, I can handle myself.” You reached across the counter and wrapped your hand around his.

Harvey hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Also knowing, deep down, that he was overreacting a bit. “Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m still not going to recommend anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You walked around to his side of the counter and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his back. He smelled of ballpoint pen and whatever cologne he decided to wear that day. You could never tell them apart, but you’d never tell him that.

After a minute or two he turned around in your arms and gently placed his hands on your face.

“What would I do without you?”

“Not have the best tailored suits in New York City, at the very least.” You both chuckled and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have the first clue how I would survive without you.”

“Well, for one you wouldn’t have the best kisser in New York City.” You let out a loud giggle and a few murmurs “oh really?” as he attacked your face with kisses of various weight. Finally, he left a passionate kiss on your lips, right where he started. He brushed a lock of hair out from in front of your face.

“What is a man without his best suit, anyways?”

#fics by foxbee #bonus in the tags #fanficiton #harvey specter #suits #harvey specter x reader #xreader #fem!reader #fics

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spottedenchants · 11 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Specter's now over 10k sooo here is a snippet 👀

Moving as if by script in this acquainted state made askew, he summons the strength to take a firm grip of Caleb’s jaw between thumb and two fingers, the rest of his hand curling under his dimpled chin.

Demeanor shifting into something like recognition, Caleb stills. Eyes locked, he cocks a brow. Receptive. Inquiring. Willful. Good, good.

Watched, a thumb swipes against the pliant seam of Caleb’s lips. Presses enough to feel a fleeting hint of wet heat. He feels it; that’s promise.

Another hand gathered to shirt collar, himself tangible as smoke, he tugs a quick beckon. Then, alternatively, he approximates an age-ago friend’s somatics for Tree Stride.

It’s a question. It’s always a question, regardless the form it may take.

Perhaps he could solve this untethering in some way different from this needly entreaty, stitch and splice and splint his disparate fragments in a manner more immediate, and messy, and lonely. Less blatantly vulnerable, all told.

But he has learned much about trust. Here, to ask for aid.

#essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast #chanse wip #specter in the looking glass #i am vibrating i am gnawing at my cage i want this fic to exist out in the world xD

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eyesthecolorofarson · 5 months

Text

Best Man Pt.2

https://www.tumblr.com/eyesthecolorofarson/722299567819882496/dick-didnt-know-what-to-expect-when-he-arrived-at

Jazz watched, bemused, as Danny bounced around the work room. He went from one project of an improved Specter Speeder to a project he and Sam were working on with the mutated fauna in Amity to his newest.

She didn’t know what to think about Damian, but she was thankful the Council would like him. He was obviously raised entirely around aristocratic figures but possibly separated. His wording choice suggested the former and odd accent suggested the latter. She’s always been worried about Danny’s open heart, even more so when she saw his reaction to just seeing Damian.

Thankfully, Damian seemed just as smitten as Danny was. She didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but she understood an alphas immediate attraction to an omega who fit all their preferences and an omegas immediate attraction to the same. Though it is odd how they both fit each other’s preferences.

She would ignore it for Danny. He’s been so excited and happy since their meeting, and even though it’s only been two days he’d already started making the wedding rings. Dad was over the moon when he asked for the blueprints and chemical makeup. Apparently he wasn’t going to make the actual ring part until he knew what Damian would like.

Those thoughts reassured her over-protective mind. She’d thought the attraction was either an aphrodisiac or plain old mind control, but Damian’s reaction to Danny told her that wasn’t the case. She’d been able to overhear a portion of their conversation, and it soothed her to hear Damian getting more and more flustered.

Her protectiveness flared up when she walked in on the kissing, but Danny’s face of absolute horror washed it away. As the best big sister she was she ignored how he now smelled of brown sugar and spice, coffee and caramel. She would only make fun of him for the rest of his existence. Like the best big sister she was.

“Jazz! C’mer, I got it to work!” Danny excitedly waved her over, bobbing in the air. She marked her page and went to the work table. It had a microscope, scale, Bunsen burner, dozens of glass beakers in racks, pipets, magnets and a friability tester. In the middle of everything was a Petri dish with a single green geode.

They were calling it Ectolite, and it seemed to be the Infinite Realms version of fossil fuels. It was created from decaying Blob ghosts or fading emotional remnants. Naturally, anyways. It took a very long time for ghosts to fade and Blobs were no exception.

Artificially they were much easier to make. She thinks. It only took Danny two days after all. “What cut are you going to make it?” She asked as she put on gloves. They didn’t want to contaminate the love it would emit with her own feelings. The love it was supposed to emit if Dannys theory was correct. “I don’t know. The other gem changes shape and texture, but I didn’t check to see if the bottom changes too.”

Danny used a pair of tweezers to pull the shape of the geode into a triangle, then a square, and then a circle. He worried his bottom lip. “I want it to keep this free flowing quality, but I don’t know if actually cutting it will change it. But if it can be manipulated like this,” he stretched it until it looked like a teardrop with a thin tip, “then touching it could ruin the shape I put it in.”

Danny moved aside and let her inspect it more closely. Each side of the geode seemed to be a different texture, one side looking like an earth geode, one looking like bismuth, one appearing to be sea foam, and one seemed to look like a meat hammer. “Have you talked to dad?” She moved the dish to the microscope as Danny groaned.

“I would–and honestly I really wanted to make it with him, but–well, it’s mom again.” She hummed. The geodes cells seemed to be shaped in an infinity symbol, and when she pulled them with the tweezers the cells seemed to go through cellular division to fill the new space, and reabsorb when she moved it back.

“Still angry?” “Worse.” Danny sighed, and she glanced to see him lounge into the air. “She overheard me tell dad about Damian and now she’s pissed that she not only has a half ghost son, but a liminal son-in-law. She’s convinced I’m overshadowing him.”

Talking about mom was always difficult after the reveal. Dad had taken it surprisingly well, explaining that he loved Danny more than he hated ghosts. He even went as far as to say he’d make an effort to learn about ghosts from actual ghosts. Mom on the other hand… “It’s not your fault,” she leaned up from the microscope and took his hand. “Moms always been more eccentric than dad, and we both know she lost it a few years ago with the Pandora situation.”

“We can’t force her to change, and we can’t change ourselves for her. It’s not fair for her or us. The only thing we can do now is try to move on.” Danny sighed and squeezed her hand. “I know, it’s just—I don’t know why, but I blame myself.” “It’s not your fault.” She said again, firmer this time. “It’s not your fault you got hurt, it’s not your fault you hid Phantom, and it’s not your fault she reacted like that. You did the best you could in your situation.”

She was so proud of him. He’d saved the town, the universe and multiverse, he was rebuilding the Infinite Realms and now he was courting someone. It hurt her heart in the best way. He was growing up so fast, and it made her so happy.

“Hey,” she pulled him down until he was back on the ground, “how about you take a break? You can go and see Damian, maybe meet his family, take him on the first date and talk more about the wedding. You can ask him about the ring.” Danny lit up.

“Yeah! That sounds great! Do you wanna come? I think you’ll really like him.” She smiled and shook her head. “I have an appointment with a few ghosts about setting up my firm. Besides, I think I’ll give it a bit more time for our last meeting to wear off.” He blushed and she couldn’t help but ruffle his hair. He laughed and batted her hand away.

“Alright, but you’ll meet him next time, right?” She smiled. “Promise. Now go see your omega.” Danny’s grin was wide enough to show all his sharp teeth. Teeth that were similar to hers. She pulled him into a hug and kissed his head. He squeezed her as if he was scared he would break her.

Jazz watched as he bobbed out of the room, and once he was gone let herself deflate. She pulled out her phone and saw all the texts from her mom. There were at least eighty and they just kept coming. Telling her to call her, to be reasonable, to convince ‘the ghost to let that poor omega go’. Six more came in rapid succession.

Jazz knew she could just block her and get a new phone. It’s what Danny did. But for some reason she just couldn’t. Well, she might know the reason. It was all simple guilting and manipulation, her mom pretending she was the good guy and it was really Danny who was the problem. She was being manipulated subconsciously, and every text she read only made her feel more sorry for her mom.

Her finger hovered over the ‘block’ button. She really, really wanted to press it. But there was a little girl inside her, whispering ‘no! You’ll never see momma again! I miss momma so much, don’t you?’ She sighed, made sure the notifications for that number were off, and picked up her book as she walked out. She had ghosts to help move on.

Danny fixed his shirt again. And then he adjusted his pants, which messed with his shirt. Should he wear his cape? He really liked his cape, but would it be too much? Oh! He had a space blazer that Nocturne got him! He could wear that with a—well, would a button up with the blazer be too formal? He should choose a different shirt. And black or white? Black, black was good. He ran his hand through his hair in the mirror before taking a breath and choosing the turtle neck.

He pulled his hair into a pony tail, fixed his belt, adjusted his blazer, the turtleneck, and then put on his shoes and grabbed his second courting gift. It was a circlet crown with a silver chain. The front had a small, teardrop gem and the sides had three larger ones inside flowers with dangling gems. He’d found it after he’d raided the treasury for anything he’d think Damian would like, and even imagining him in it was making Danny blush.

He wrapped it in green velvet cloth, then put it in a black box and wrapped it with a green ribbon, both of which he’d, uh, liberated from a jewelry store. He couldn’t ask his servants for one because they’d take that information to the break room, those gossips.

Wait. Where would he even meet Damian? At his house? He didn’t know where he lived. Well, he kind of did, but would him showing up unexpectedly be rude or creepy? He didn’t have a way to contact him. But he really, really wanted to see him. Should he just use the Ring of Rage? He’d use the Ring. “Ring of Rage, take me outside of Wayne Manor Dimension 45Q-X.” The Ring glowed bright and a red portal opened in front of him. When he stepped through he was in Gotham City.

Wayne Manor looked like every other manor he’d seen, just more Victorian Gothic with gargoyles and cobblestone walls. He fazed through the gate and took a deep breath. Walking up the steps felt similar to walking to fight Pariah Dark. He rang the doorbell, and adjusted his hair over his shoulder before the door opened.

The man who opened the door seemed to be a butler, rather old but like Damian–and everyone else in Gotham–smelled like death. He smiled, and hoped he wouldn’t be freaked out by his teeth. “Hello! My name is Daniel Phantom, but you could call Danny! Would you know if Damian is available, and if he is could I perhaps talk to him?” The man studied him for a second, then smiled and opened the door wider.

“Ah yes, King Phantom, an honor to meet you your highness. Damian has not stopped talking about you since your meeting. I am Alfred Pennyworth, the primary caretaker of Wayne Manor and it’s residents.” Danny stepped inside and held out his hand. “Please, Mr.Pennyworth, the honors all mine! Damian spoke about you quite highly. You don’t have to call me your highness or king or any of that royal decree.”

Alfred took his hand and shook it, and his smile made him feel a bit better. “Thank you, Master Daniel. If you will follow me, I believe Master Damian is currently in the dining room with his siblings and father.” Oh god, siblings and father? “Pardon me, Mr.Pennyworth,” his smile strained a little, “but—how many of Damian’s siblings are here?” Alfred seemed to notice his slight distress, and it made him smile a bit wider.

“Five of Master Damian’s siblings are present today, as well as close family friend Barbara Gordon, a rare occurrence you are lucky to see.” Oh. Ok. So, six of Gothams Greatest Detectives and The Batman are here. Oh god he hoped he didn’t do anything stupid. But knowing him he’d fall and break his nose the moment he walked in. He really had to stop thinking like this. He just—oh, for the love of Ancients, he was a king! He could handle meeting his future father, brother and sister-in-laws. He could do this! For Damian!

Alfred opened a door for him, and he said a small ‘thank you’ and tried not to wince under all the eyes now on him. It looked like a large dinning room with a long rectangular table filled with various foods. What time was it? Oh he hoped he didn’t interrupt breakfast. All the chairs were filled and they were staring at him with various emotions on his face.

But his eyes landed on Damian, and suddenly none of it mattered. Damian’s face lit up, and he launched himself out of his chair with a joyful shout of his name and into his arms. The force made him raise a few inches into the air, and he couldn’t help but laugh and pull Damian closer.

He still smelled like him. It was as if he’d added his scent into his own, and Danny wanted nothing more than to lean into his neck and leave a mark. But the voices in front of him reminded him there were others here, so he had to–literally–come back to earth and address the situation.

Jazz and Clockwork would be so proud of him.

When he lowered Damian had wrapped his arms around his neck and touched their heads together. “Oh Daniel,” he cooed, and his voice drove him a bit crazy, “What a wonderful surprise! I’ve missed you so.” He couldn’t help but laugh and nuzzle his nose, inhaling more of his scent. “It’s been but two days and I already have a piece of my soul dedicated to you. You’ve captured my mind in a state of worship that continues even in your absence.”

Damian’s face flushed and his smile grew and Danny wanted to kiss him. He held himself back. “Oh. My. God. Daniel!” Another voice said, and Damian pulled back and Danny moved to his side, wrapping and arm around his waist as Damian wrapped an arm around his as someone approached. The man in front of him had light brown skin and slightly long black hair and blue eyes.

He raced through his Gotham knowledge and held out his hand, smiling. “Richard Grayson! Though, you go by Dick, correct? Damian’s told me about you!” Richard’s, or Dick, smile widened and he shook his hand enthusiastically. “Dick, please. It’s nice to meet you, Daniel! Damian has told me so, so much about you.” Oh, that was good! From Damian’s blush and slightly embarrassed scent that was really good!

He let his smile become more relaxed, and Damian led him to a chair next to his that Alfred had somehow gotten in the short time they’d talked. “Thank you,” he said to the butler, pulled out Damian’s chair for him since Pandora would kill him otherwise, and sat when he did. Him sitting seemed to wake the rest of the table.

“So.” Bruce Wayne said, and Danny was reminded he was Batman. “I haven’t heard as much about you as Dick has. Tell me, who are you? You seemed to be a meta, correct?” That first part felt like it wasn’t really for him, but he wasn’t going to be intimidated–even though he definitely was. It also felt like bit of a lie since Alfred knew who he was, but he would answer honestly.

He straightened his shoulders, held his head high and looked Bruce in the eyes. All while trying to appear non-hostile. “My name is Daniel Phantom. I am the High King of The Infinite Realms, The Afterlife Dimension. I act as the King of the dead and underworlds as well as their gods. And, if you shall allow, I want nothing more than to make Damian my Queen.”

There was a pause and he couldn’t help but notice the uptick of caramel in Damian’s scent. He liked it. Dick looked very happy, and the others looked either confused, worried, or–in who he thought was Stephane Brown and Cassandra Cains case–absolutely overjoyed.

Bruce didn’t let anything show, but he glanced to Cassandra. She met his eyes and nodded enthusiastically, softly clapping her hands and giggling with Stephane. He hoped that was good. It felt good. Bruce didn’t seem to think it was good.

“King of the Afterlife?” Another asked, and he definite knew who he was. Jason Todd. “Does that mean your dead?” He could feel Bruce trying to burn a hole into his head. “I’m actually an odd case. I’m what ghosts call a Halfa, which means genetically I’m half ghost. It’s rather odd, so the simplest way I could explain it is that I act as the line between life and death, but I’m capable of moving it. Sometimes more dead, sometimes more alive, but always a bit of both.”

He hummed and leaned back, and Timothy Drake leaned forward. “How does that work? You said genetically, but how are you moving, ruling a kingdom if you always have one foot out the door?” Damian’s spice turned a little hot, but not in a good way the way it did when they were kissing. He rubbed his thumb in circles on his hips, and it lessened the scent.

“Let us not hound my future mate,” Damian scolded, and his face flushed. “Daniel, you must’ve came here for a reason, yes?” Damian leaned a little out of his chair, and Danny did too. “That I did!” He pulled the box out of his blazer and presented it to him, “I wanted to see if you’d like to go on our first romantic outing, as well as give you another gift. It will connect to the crown you choose, as well as your veil if you’d like to wear one.”

Someone choked, and he heard the girls and Dick ‘aww’ as Damian blushed. Caramel and brown sugar wrapped around in, and he let his own scent do the same. Together, they smelled like a cup of coffee in a thunderstorm, a warm hug in autumn, the kitchen during the holidays. Damian took the box and gently undid the ribbon, smoothly wrapping it around his wrist before opening the box. He gasped, and Danny remembered he didn’t check where the gems were from.

Under the normal light they looked very out of this world. They seemed to look like heat waves, or the lines you’d see on an old box TV. Damian tilted the back center gem back and forth, and the color changed, the middle of it seemed to split into an eye—oh. Oh! He knew what they were! Oh thank the ancients, this was the best mistake he could’ve made!

Damian leaned back quickly as the waves came off the gem in a smooth streak, similar to his tail when he flew. It circled his shoulders and then expanded, solidifying into a white cat with four tails. Its eyes were a vibrant purple, and it didn’t seem to have fur but its skin was sleek and metallic. Like an Egyptian cat but without the wrinkles. It meowed and made some clicking sounds, sniffing Damian’s cheek before relaxing on his shoulders. Its mouth was filled with sharp teeth and a black tongue.

Someone muttered ‘oh my god’ and the giggling and ‘aww’ing increased. All good things. Damian’s eyes were wide as he traced a finger along the cats back, and it liked it if it’s purring was anything to go by. “This is a cat from Dimension AB12-00! Because of this Dimensions number everything in it is usually numbered in some way. This cat was the fourth born in its litter, as you can tell from the tail. They like to hide in shiny things. I believe it’s siblings are in the other three gems, though they’ve been incredibly shy so I don’t truly know.”

That was a bit of a lie, he could sense them a little bit, but that just made everything better! Damian looked overjoyed, cooing over the cat as it crawled into his lap and sniffed around. “Oh, she’s beautiful, what is her name?” “You can choose. They do not have one.” He let her sniff his fingers, and chucked lightly as she affectionately bit them. “I found them in the treasury, and as far as I know they’ve been in there for about twenty thousand years. At this point they’re AB12-00’s version of a Saber Tooth Tiger.”

The other cats were coming out. The one in the left kept coming out then going back in, and the one in the front teardrop bounced out and onto Damian’s lap. This one had only one tail, and it meowed and pawed Damian’s chest for attention. He laughed and scratched it behind the ear. As he did he leaned forward, put his hand around Danny’s neck and pulled him forward to kiss him. Danny blinked for a moment before kissing back.

It was just as wonderful as last time. The whole world seemed to shrink until they were the only thing that existed, as if they’d become one. But he didn’t get to enjoy it like he wanted because someone loudly cleared their throat. Damian pulled away quickly, his scent embarrassed and his face bright red. It was cute. He glanced to the table and had to stop himself from shrinking.

That was definitely Batman glaring at him. He had this odd shadow over his face, and it actually looked like a mask. “Wow,” Tim teased, “didn’t know you knew how to do that!” They all laughed as Damian’s face became redder, and he couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m very glad you like it. I know you’ll be a wonderful owner for them.” Damian huffed, but his scent showed he was very happy.

The two cats seemed very tired, probably because they’d been in the gem for so long they weren’t used to this much movement. Damian was sad to see them go, so Danny proposed that they set up a schedule to get the cats used to being outside the gem. “Where would you like to go for our outing? You can choose any time, any place, and I will find it for you. I have access to it all.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Where would you like to go? I wish to learn more about your interests as you have for mine.” Oh that was sweet. He could take him anywhere in the multiverse he wanted, and Damian wanted to know more about him. He felt his face heat up, and took Damian’s hand. “Well, I love space! If you'd like, I could take you to my favorite planets in this dimension. There’s a planet a few galaxies away called Elma, and it’s inhabited completely by crystals!”

Danny rambled about Elma, detailing the crystal coral reefs and the glass islands and the crystallized sulfur and ozone in the atmosphere that protected the planet from invaders and painted the surface in sun catching rays. He waved his hands around and used ice to create the cris-cross pattern they froze in and the colored crystalline that made constellations that could only be seen on this planet.

“Ah! I apologize!” He said sheepishly, fiddling with his hair, “I did not mean to take over the conversation. But I could tell you more on Elma, if you’d like. I could take you to the Riverbend Festival!” Damian’s scent was so sweet and sugary, and he wanted to drown in it. “Do not apologize! You are so passionate, Daniel, the way your eyes shine as you detail the things you love is divine! I would love to see the festival! Is there anything I should wear for the weather, the activities and the like?”

They would be walking a lot, it would be chilly but not too cold, and something smooth he could give a crystallized texture to help them blend in since off-planet outsiders were basically impossible. Damian nodded, gave him a small kiss which almost made him explode, and stood and rushed off. On instinct Danny stood as well, and was left there with his future mates family.

“Damian, wait! Lemme help!” Stephane called, and her and Cassandra rushed off after him. Ok, that was two less interrogators. He must’ve looked a little nervous because Dick smiled and said, “Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” Danny laughed with him, and tried not to look at Bruce. “Your taking him off planet? Into another galaxy? What’s the point of that? You could take him anywhere on Earth.”

Dicks smile tightened, and Jason not-so-subtlety kicked Bruce. “I, for one, approve. I sorta want to threaten you, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t work on you.” Danny laughed. “Yes, I don’t tend to get actually scared anymore. One of my Council members is the personification of fear, and after looking him in the eye multiple times a day nothing fazes me.”

“And to answer Bruce’s questions, I want to show Damian the reaches his rule will go if he becomes my queen. Death goes far beyond this Dimension, and I pride myself on being able to at least slightly connect with every world and culture I come into contact with. I don’t mind if Damian does not wish to do that, but I want to see if he can. I believe he can.”

Bruce didn’t look any happier. If anything he seemed to be pouting now, and his scent was sour and unpleasant. Tim also had an odd sort of look on his face. “How do you plan to get onto Emla if you know nothing can enter the atmosphere?” Bruce raised up—“By teleportation. I can turn intangible as well.” — and sunk back into his chair. Jason snorted. “I’d like to get to know you more!” Barbara said suddenly. She’d been silent the whole time, watching him, and he’d honestly forgotten she was there.

“There’s going to be a Gala on the twenty-third, two weeks from today, to announce Jason and his mates child. Knowing how forward Damian is and how forward you seem to be, I’d assume by that time you’ll be sure that your going to become mates, correct?” Danny shook off his shock and nodded. “Yes, I’m already sure. But by that time we’ll have the wedding planned out, I’d hope.” Her smile grew. “Then would you like to come as Damian’s future mate? I think he’d love to flaunt you to everyone.”

“That I would.” At Damian’s voice he turned, and—

Wow.

Holy shit. Oh my ancients he’s so beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s never seen someone so stunning. Damian was wearing a dark green button up with black dress pants and shoes, with the circlet crown. It fit him perfectly. It was all tight and form fitting, and it seemed like his scent was a thousand times stronger and sweeter.

His mouth gaped like a fishes for a moment, and it made him realize Damian had come right up to him. He closed his mouth with a snap, reattached his tongue, and regained his senses. “I’ve never seen anyone or thing as mesmerizing as you.” He smoothly took Damian’s hand and kissed it. Damian’s face was a nice red, and he heard the girls giggling. Damian was wearing the ring. It made him purr louder.

Wait, purr? Oh FUCK he was purring. He quickly tried to stop but it didn’t work. It only made it stutter, and he cleared his throat. “Ah….Apologies.” He laughed awkwardly, and subtly tried to hit his chest. It didn’t work. Thankfully, for some reason, Damian looked as if he was in love. “I was unaware you could make sounds such as this,” Damian came closer, almost chest to chest, and tilted his head back to expose some of his neck.

“It’s attractive.” His braid short circuited. He swallowed, tracing the curve of Damian’s collarbone with his eyes. He imagined kissing along his shoulder, tracing his fingers down his spine, and biting—he bit his tongue off again. A growl had been building in his throat, but he knew Bruce would take it as a threat.

He cleared his throat. Damian looked very pleased with his reaction, and he leaned closer, inviting him to leave a mark. He really, really wanted to. But Bruce’s scent was getting more and more hostile, so he held himself back. “Ha…thank you, my love. Are you ready?” Damian bid everyone goodbye, and Danny used the Ring of Rage to open a portal to Elma.

“Oh my gooooooddd!!!” Dick cheered, grabbing Jason and rocking him back and forth. “I told you!! I told you!! Oh my god he’s even perfecter than I thought!!” Jason laughed and Bruce huffed. Tim laughed and the room was quickly filled with excited chatter and laughter.

“You should’ve seen him!” Steph squealed, “He was so nervous and exited and he smiled at me! He smiled and hugged me and said thank you so much!!” Cass giggled and clapped her hands, “Very happy! Very good! Hopeful!” “King of the goddammed afterlife man,” Jason chuckled “how the hell’d he do that?”

“You’re just jealous,” Tim poured himself more coffee but quickly stopped when Dick pulled him into a hug. “Anyone would be!” Jason retorted as he was also pulled into the hug. “This went awesomely!” Dick laughed, “Barbara, good job remembering the Gala! Oh I hope he brings his sister next time. Maybe we can meet his parents too!”

Alfred came around and took the chair Daniel had been seated in. “I look forward to seeing them dance.” He smiled at his grandchildren, and accepted Cass’s hug. Bruce made a ‘hmf’ noise, and Jason rolled his eyes. “Geez old man, what’s the problem now? Too touchy for your taste?” Barbara snorted. “He probably wasn’t respectful enough,” They both laughed as Bruce’s sulking increased.

“I just think it’s suspicious is all,” they groaned, “No, no, listen; what are the chances the king of the afterlife wants to marry the prince of the League of Assassins after their first meeting? What if he wants access to the Lazarus Pits?” Barbara rolled her eyes. “Why would the king of the dead want to bring people back to life? He’d be losing citizens.”

“He could be angry about that!” Jason sighed and banged his head on the table. “Maybe he’s only pretending to court Damian, as revenge! Regardless we need to be careful, we don’t know what he’s capable of.” Jason tried to hit his head again but was stopped by Dick. “Your just upset Damian’s getting courted. Relax, if this was for revenge why would he give Damian four cats?”

Barbara snorted, “Four saber tooth tigers!” And they laughed. Bruce huffed again. “Oh, and that second gift? It’ll attach to his veil or crown??” Steph fell into her chair with a dreamy sigh. “Did I tell you guys the ring was his mom’s wedding ring? It isn’t just an otherworldly ring?” The whole room seemed to gasp. “Master Dick!” Alfred scolded playfully, “That is not a detail you keep to yourself! What do you think of that, Master Bruce?” The room laughed. Bruce huffed sulkier.

“We still need to be careful.” “And we will.” Cass said firmly. “But. We will not deny him this happiness. He’s very hopeful. Very happy.” Tim chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. “More than happy, I’d say. He kissed him in front of us! And the first thing Daniel said? ‘I have a piece of my souls dedicated to you’? Whoo!” He fanned himself, and the table laughed. “You could see it in the way he looked at him! That man, this literal king, looked like a lovesick puppy!”

“Imagine their wedding,” Jason continued dramatically, “not just a royal wedding but a union of the living and dead. Imagine the scandal, the scene!” Alfred patted Jason’s shoulder. “This is not one of our books, by boy. But,” he went on as the table laughed again, “I believe he would find it most helpful if we only assisted in the wedding when asked to, no?” There was a murmur of agreement, and Bruce once again huffed. Alfred gave him a look, and finally he conceded, “Alright, I’ll allow it. But we still need to be careful.” Immediately the table launched into discussion, and Bruce was forced to listen to the excitement of his youngest sons wedding.

#Jason internally: frothing at the mouth over the fact that Damian gets to live a YA romance novel style romance #Everyone talking with Danny and liking him more and more and already seeing the good he’ll do for Damian:#Bruce sitting there with his arms crossed: kissing is yucky #As someone else said; Bruce having beef with Danny no matter what is hilarious #dead serious #damian wayne x danny fenton #ghost king danny #infinite realms #royalty au #a/b/o au

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spectersgirl · 5 months

Text

Snowed In

Harvey Specter x Reader

I hope everyone's having a great holiday (or just a great Monday!)

I wanted to write a little winter-themed mini-fic as a little treat, enjoy!

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You stood with a mug of hot tea as you watched the streets below, they were surprisingly empty for New York at this time of night. The emptiness felt almost eerie. The snowstorm the weather forecast predicted had blanketed the city streets in well over three feet of snow throughout the day, but you hadn't really noticed how bad it had gotten until just then. You were pretty sure everyone else had gone home earlier, which was, in hindsight, probably the smart move.

Resigning to the fact that you were effectively snowed in at the office, you dug out the emergency comfy clothes you kept in your desk drawer and walked to the bathrooms to change when you heard music coming from Harvey's office. You quickly went and changed before walking over curiously, wondering why he hadn't left like everyone else.

Softly, you tapped on the glass door he'd left ajar. He looked up, somewhat startled, but relaxed once he saw it was you.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave when everyone else did, there's no way we're getting taxis in this storm."

"I planned on it but I wanted to finish something up, and before I knew it this place was a ghost town." You said, gesturing at the strangely silent halls of the firm.

"Well, might as well make the most of it," Harvey declared, attempting to infuse the situation with his trademark confidence. "We've got the office to ourselves. Want a drink?"

The offer caught you off guard, but the prospect of spending the night with only Harvey for company was surprisingly appealing. "Sure, why not?"

In his office, Harvey poured two glasses of scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the soft light. You settled into the leather couch, the clinking of ice against the glass breaking the silence.

"So, stuck in the office with me. Not exactly how you planned your evening, I presume?" Harvey quipped, a playful glint in his eye.

"Not exactly," you chuckled, taking a sip of the drink. "But it could be worse. At least I'm stuck with good company."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation flowed easily between you, anecdotes and stories exchanged with a surprising ease. Without the usual office distractions, the night seemed to stretch on endlessly, each passing hour bringing you closer together in a way that the confines of the workplace rarely allowed. The snow continued to fall outside, relentless in its assault, but inside the office, the warmth of the scotch and the easy conversation kept the chill at bay. It was a night that blurred the lines between professional and personal, a rare moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of daily life.

You didn't remember falling asleep, but when you woke up, you and Harvey were wrapped in each other's arms. The glasses from the night before were placed haphazardly on his coffee table, and his suit jacket was draped over you as a makeshift blanket. You smiled softly, snuggling back into him before drifting off again, deciding that if you had to be stuck at the office, you were glad this was how it ended up going.

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits fics #harveyspecter

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otherworldly-tresses · 6 months

Text

Fae x Reader

The Will Of Your Master

Summary: You are sent to seduce a Fae of the Summer Court at the will of your master.

Tags: monsterfucking, some mild elements of dubcon, royalty

Notes:

-Words used include: whore, slut

-Reader has breasts and a vagina, PIV sex involved

-Faeries in this setting are more insectoid and are usually very tall (about 6 and a half feet for the nobility). They have varieties of insectoid body parts, varying per individual (some have claspers, others have extra limbs, spare eyes, etc.)

-Sorry if this is not very well-edited, it's been a while since I've written/edited anything and self-editing my own work is a bit of a sore spot for reasons

-This might be a multi-parter (MIGHT)

-I'll probably edit this when I'm more awake

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The sweet scent of fae food and ethereal perfumes float through the air. The sounds of soft music and crystal drinking glasses echo across all the attendants of the ball. Laughter, singing, and casual conversation punctuates the air as Fae of all shapes, courts, and sizes dance to the live music, played from crystal instruments with no visible musicians. Only very few humans are in this party, all of whom are pets and servants of the Fae, taken for whatever reason.

You were one of them, taken from the mortal world a year ago. Any other person would have been horrified, begging for a way home. But why wouldn’t you want to live here? Your old life was miserable, marred by things outside of your control. At least here, your master afforded you some level of freedom, though the rules of the fae often eluded you.

Your Master, a tall Lord of the Winter Court was busy chatting up three specters, fae creatures that skulked about in cloaks and ominous, icy winds. By the time the night was over, they would have three more powerful allies for their inscrutable needs. They didn’t have time for you right now. But that was all right. You had a job to do for tonight, given to you a night before. You knew exactly who to approach, and what to do to them.

You weave through the crowd, casually plucking up a glass of clear wine from a passing server. Your target, Lord Lumentia of the Summer Court is fairly visible through the colors, being tall even for the Fae. He is dressed in a dizzying display of red, orange, and brown, his exquisitely pattened clothing mirroring his large, mothlike wings. He was speaking to several envoys of the Summer Court, all dressed in bright yellow, listening with rapt attention. He had always been described as a person who knew how to keep a kind, faint smile, though that smile was very easily ripped off to betray baser instincts and truer emotions.

It wouldn’t do for you to interrupt a Fae Lord’s conversation. You had to get his attention some other way. You look left and right. A commotion would cause too much of a disturbance, and unfortunately, none of the Fae around you owed you favors.

A soft voice, like spider’s silk, makes its way to your ears from behind you. “Hello, darling human. May I have this dance?”

You turn around, slightly surprised that anyone was able to sneak up on you. A stark white Winter Court Fae with eight red eyes towers over you, even taller than Master Orellia, their thin, spindly fingers reaching out to caress your face. You manage to keep your composure, curtsying before them as their thin fingers barely graze your skin. None of the other Fae around you notice, too busy with their own affairs.

You gauge your options. Even if you refused, the Fae have their ways of roping you into their will, if you weren’t careful. On the other hand, you could use this dance to your advantage somehow, if this individual was in a good mood.

You put on a smile and take the fae’s hand. Their smile widens, and you are taken into a dance. You waltz with this creature, following their overlong steps as well as you can. They ease into the rhythm of the music, their motions eerily spiderlike and silent as they follow you with pure-black eyes.

They lift your arm and you pirouette. For a moment, you spot Lord Lumentia, watching you through six eyes, the three faceless Summer Court fae also following you with their faces. Several other fae were also watching you with curiosity, some people whispering behind their hands.

You return to your dance partner. They take your hands and pull you close, bending over so that the two of you face to face. Their red eyes eyes gaze into yours, a cold, biting pressure emanating from them.

You feel the noise from around you fade away. You only have a split second of realization that you let your guard down and got charmed, before your own thoughts are subsumed by a feeling of icy dread, creeping up your senses. You cannot even break your gaze to check if the ice is real. Your entire body is rooted to the spot. You feel the silk of spiders start to wrap you in their web.

A clear voice cuts through the fog, a sunbeam through a cloud. “That’s enough for now.”

You suddenly feel your thoughts return to you and inhale sharply, realizing that you hadn’t taken a breath. You feel a warm presence next to you, like the sun. Someone puts ahand on your back, and you realize that it is Lord Lumentia, standing at your side and looking at your dance partner. He has a faint smile on his face.

“It would not do well for you to charm someone else’s subjects, Ievis.”

“Chancellor Ievis,” the pale figure hissed.

“Apologies, Chancellor.” Lord Lumentia’s smile widened, but you sense steel behind it. “I should not have forgotten your station. But imagine the harm it would do to yours if you were caught overstepping your boundaries.”

The Summer Fae waved a hand. Most of the other fae were busy with the party, but quite a few were staring at Chancellor Indalor, some with suspicion, others with disappointment.

“Now, I do not want to get in the way of your enjoyment.” Lord Lumentia continued, nodding in a farce of politeness. “There is still much time left in the night, and I have to ensure that our little friend here--” You feel his hand at your back push into you, “is unharmed.”

Chancellor Ievis watches for a moment as Lord Lumentia leads you, hand on your back, through the crowd. Normally, Lord Lumentia would be important enough for people to be jumping out of his path, but he seems to be employing some kind of spell to minimize being noticed. He gives you a quick smile as you walk, but you can sense a calculating aura from behind his golden eyes.

He leads you through the crowd to the doors leading to the balcony. They were only slightly ajar, but large enough that both Lord Lumentia and you could walk to the outside without brushing the doors. The moment you step out, the doors shut silently. Lord Lumentia’s pace quickens, and you struggle to keep up lest his hand topples you over. He leads you to the right side of the door, to the stone brick walls, well out of earshot.

“Thank you, Lord Lumentia,” you say.

The hand behind you withdraws. You look up at Lord Lumentia, his smile already gone. He regards you suspiciously, gazing down at you from his height.

“Well, well. Orellia’s pet has come to play.” His once warm tone is gone, to be replaced with something steely, but still smooth and regal. “I know they sent you for something. Those of the Winter Court never seem to be able to hold a proper conversation with us without all the scheming.”

You remain composed, and curtsy, just as you had practiced hundreds of times. “Congratulations, sire. You are correct.”

Lord Lumentia’s six eyes narrow. He steps closer and bends down, regarding you closely. After a moment, he huffs. “If he had wanted me dead, he should have sent someone fitter. A killer. You’re no killer. You don’t have the movements of one.”

“Not at all,” you respond. “I am not here to kill you. I am here to deliver Lord Orellia’s most genial regards, and an invitation.”

Lord Lumentia’s eyes narrow further. He tilts his head slowly, an owl getting the measure of a mouse. “A Summer Lord? Invited to the home of a Winter Fae? In what world would that not be an assassination attempt?”

“Lord Orellia had 9 months to kill you. And he didn’t. I assure you, they have no reason to cause you harm.” You look back into his eyes. “All he wants, my lord, is a discussion.”

Lord Lumentia chuckled.

“And he sent you to seduce me into it.”

You don’t respond. Lord Lumentia smiles a wry smile.

“It sounds like Orellia has their ear to the rumor mill. And you definitely are dressed for the occasion.” His six eyes rake over you, your blue-white dress, the thin cords only barely keeping the fabric from flying into the wind. “And what makes you think you can convince me into running headfirst towards danger?”

He lays a hand against your face, caressing it experimentally. You grasp it gently, holding his hand to your cool cheek.

“I assure you, my lord, you will be cared for as a proper guest in his realm.” As you speak, you move his hand towards your lips, so that the corners barely brush against his fingers. You sense the slightest hint of tension in his hand.

“A proper guest? How unlikely. The rest of the Winter court would surely disapprove.” He steps closer to you. You hear his wings rustling behind him.

“Which is why this will never go out to the rest of the Winter court. You could be in and out, and they would never know.” You briefly brush your lips over his fingers, and lay his hand against your cheek again. Lord Lumentia exhales as you do so. He leans forward again, your faces only inches away from each other.

You maintain eye contact and gently press your lips to each of his fingers. He watches you, a hunger flickering to life behind his gaze. You kiss his middle finger, letting your tongue linger on his warm skin for a moment. You hear a small groan emanate from his throat.

You slowly pepper his hand in more kisses, slow and sweet. You feel his breath quicken as you do so. You let your hand brush against his back, and his wings rustle.

“Have you thought about it, my lord?” you ask quietly.

Suddenly, Lord Lumentia lunges forward and pins you to the wall, lifting you up so that your toes brush the ground. He kisses you deeply, his composure shattering like glass. You kiss him back, slowly, tasting sap and wine and dust on his lips.

He groans in approval and kisses you again, elegance making way for urgency. His fingers no longer dance across your skin, but grasp your skin through your clothes, feeling you, but savoring the treat for as long as it lasts.

Your lips part, and Lord Lumentia puts you down. He still pins you to the wall. His six eyes burn with hunger, and his breath has already grown heavy.

“Not bad for Orellia’s whore,” he murmurs.

“Thank you, my lord,” you respond.

Before you can respond, he turns you around and pushes you into the wall. He kisses your neck, pressing against your body. His long hands reach into your bust. Long, warm fingers caress your skin, teasing your breasts and pressing your nipples. You can tell that he is not casting any spell, but you can feel warmth welling up inside of you. You push your hips against his crotch, grinding against him. You can already feel him getting hard under his clothes.

“It’s a shame I can’t tear this dress off you. Orellia could definitely afford another one.” You feel one of his hands rest against your leg, past the slit of your dress. He caresses you firmly, pressing against your tense thighs. He coyly avoids the inside of your legs, choosing instead to rub your leg up and down. This, combined with the attention given to your nipples, is almost enough to make you lose control of your legs.

“My lord,” you manage to gasp, in just the way that would pique his interest the most.

“Hush, little one. They might hear.” His light fingers inch closer and closer to the inside of your thigh, but nowhere near where they were needed the most. You grind against his crotch again, and he inhales, suddenly grabbing your breast firmly. You yelp, but try to immediately muffle the sound.

Lord Lumentia definitely heard you. His fingers glide over to your sex, already wet under the sheer fabrics of your dress. His warm fingertip lands on your lips and you shudder, grinding again on his cock. He strokes your labia, relishing in the muffled sounds he coaxes out of your mouth. His touch is warm, firm, but betrays a barely-concealed hunger in the way he twitches and tenses every time you squirm and moan.

“No wonder he sent you. You can’t wait to have one of the Lords inside your cunt.” Lord Lumentia makes his way to your clit, and fingers it. His touch wrenches a small moan from you. He fingers it again, and you writhe, whimpering.

“Whore.”

He inserts a finger inside of you, pressing against your walls. You instinctively jerk your hips towards him, pushing his finger deeper, another desperate moan escaping your lips.

He continues fucking you with his finger, then two, then three. Your body seems to respond on its own, jerking and bucking. Your soft whimpers and moans grow slightly louder, and your legs begin to weaken, anticipating Lord Lumentia’s cock inside of you. He is already very hard through his clothes, and you feel his hunger through the breaths he lays against your ear.

And then you feel it. Your dress is pulled up over your hips, and you feel Lord Lumentia’s throbbing cock against your sex. He slides it up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices. You whimper, thoughts already scrambled with a basal need for release.

He presses the thick head against your opening, and your knees almost buckle from the sensation. His warm breath tickles your ear.

“Beg for it,” he mutters, rubbing his cock against you, just barely pushing it inside.

“My lord… please…” you manage to sputter, through a whimper.

“Please, what?” He stops moving.

“Please don’t stop-- I need you inside me--” Was he casting a spell over you, or were your thoughts falling apart as you stood?

“Keep going. I want to hear you beg,” he murmurs, his once silky voice now a low, animalistic growl.

“My lord, please, I need you, please fuck me-”

“You can do better than that.”

“Please my lord, I need you inside of me--”

“Try again.”

“My lord, please--”

Your voice is cut off by a moan as he pushes his thick cock inside of you.

He thrusts once, forcefully, almost sending you to your knees. You manage to keep standing, legs shivering from cold and the effort required to keep you upright.

You barely have a moment to keep your thoughts together before he starts thrusting. His moans blend into the night wind, dissolving into the breeze like dust. Your moans get inelegantly loud; if anyone were to walk into the balcony, they would definitely hear. But that was not unexpected; the fae loved to have a taste of mortal flesh, when they could have it. Your fingernails fruitlessly scramble against the stone brick as he continues thrusting into you.

And you were here to weaponize that desire.

“Good little Winter slut,” he grunts. “Doing exactly as your master tells you. Do you like your reward?”

“My reward- comes from my master alone,” you manage to say.

“Oh, unsatisfied with this? Do you think they could do better?” he pants. “I’m sure you enjoy their frigid cock in you, fucking you until you can see no more.”

Before you can respond, he grabs your hips and thrusts faster, slapping your flesh, overloading your senses. You see stars as he fucks you, and you can no longer control your voice as he goes faster, moaning and grunting.

The tension in your body grows tighter and tighter, almost too much to bear, and you can feel Lord Lumentia losing control as well, his voice growing strained and his wings twitching. You take a moment to look at him, and he looks almost transformed with lust, nearing his climax. He sees you peeking, and his eyes flutter.

“You want to watch me? Watch me as I cum? Don’t take your eyes off me. Don’t you dare. Don’t you-”

And your body clenches, your walls squeezing around Lord Lumentia’s cock. The tension overflows, and you release, a ragged moan falling from your throat as your mind falls apart, and your hips tremble in ecstasy. You feel the Summer Lord twitch and jerk inside you, warm fluid flooding inside of your cunt. You can barely hear his voice as he moans, your own orgasm filling up your senses.

The climax fades, and Lord Lumentia pulls out of you, soaking wet. He turns you around and kisses you, pressing against your shuddering body.

“Well, well,” he whispers against your ear, still pinning you to the wall. His breath is heavy from exertion. “You really are quite the specimen your master managed to capture.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you exhale, brushing your leg against his. Lord Lumentia chuckles.

“You would love another round, wouldn’t you?” Lord Lumentia says, brushing a finger against your lips. “Oh, but look at you, poor thing. You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

“I’m willing to be with you as many times as you would like, my lord. Or… as many times as it would take for you to answer my master’s call.”

Lord Lumentia laughs, a soft, warm sound that warms you from the inside out. “Tell your master,” he murmurs, putting a hand on your waist, “that I will consider his offer.”

He leans forward and kisses you again, a hungry sound escaping his throat. You can feel his desire rooting itself in your mind, an unconscious act of magic nearly driving all reason from your mind. You kiss him back, your hips beckoning against him for more.

#monster fucking #monsterfucker #monsterfucking #exophilia #monster fucker #monster kink #terato #monster lover #nsft #fae #someone tag that fae fucking blog im too shy to do it #monster x reader #my writing #monster x human

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 6 months

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Just What You Wanted

Pairing(s): onesided!Pietro Maximoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: pietro really misses his chance here, oocpietro? (first time writing him), reader being a big adult and moving on, pietro acting like a child, mentions of sexy time (readerxbucky), toxic!pietro, protective!bucky

Words: 4430

Summary: You decided to take your chance and ask Pietro out. There had to be more to his flirting right? Unfortunately he turns you down but you won't waste your time mourning what could have been. You move on and find a perfect partner in the Winter Soldier.

"Maybe I got the signals mixed up?" You lightheartedly muse to Wanda. Carefully, you push down on the button stopper of the wine box that was situated between the two of you.

Wanda shakes her head. "Don't even give it a second thought. He's my brother and I love him, but you can do WAY better than him." She couldn't fathom why Pietro would reject your proposition of a date. Wanda knew her twin brother liked you. Painfully obvious in the obnoxious manner both of you flirt.

Making a mental note to chew him out later, Wanda tilts the remainder of her own wine glass into her mouth. "He's been acting like a complete ass since we arrived in America. I think now that he has freedom, he's overdosing on it. What was the term Tony used?"

You choke on your wine, a snort burning your nose and throat. "Man-whore."

She nods. "Yes! That is it. He's become quite a man-whore!"

Near dying next to her, you're forced to put down your wine glass or you would ruin your bedspread. Once your hands were free, you use them to clutch your stomach as it aches from your laughter.

Really you weren't that upset about it. You thought you would give it a shot, maybe something was there. No big duh to you.

"Did he really say he didn't want to date you because you're coworkers?" Confusion still plagued Wanda as she slowly blinks her eyes. Trying to understand what her brother was thinking. They didn't have that type twin telepathy. That was mainly based on feelings. "That's complete bull."

"Honestly it's okay. Really." You tell Wanda trying to calm her down. "He's probably right. No harm done."

Wanda placates her own feelings with a smile at how unperturbed you were by the rejection. Pietro was a fool. His loss will be someone else's gain.

Not long after someone else did stumble upon you.

Never before had you worked with the Winter Soldier. You'd seen him around Avenger's HQ and spotted him in the common areas, but you wouldn't say you were close to Bucky Barnes. Only a handful of friendly words had ever been shared between you.

The assignment that paired you together with him would ultimately turn out to be a blessing in disguise. A simple mission that you confidently thought you could finish in no time. The run of the mill shadow organization that possessed weapons of mass destruction and infiltrating said organization. You and Bucky were picked for this based on your success record and skill set. You found it a compliment as you heard nothing but great things about Bucky. He was a fine soldier and outstanding friend to Steve Rogers.

Fury told you the timeline looked to be a month before this organization known as 'Specter' planned to launch its weapon. A major problem was that their base was hidden so both you and Bucky would have to go deep undercover.

You shared an close space with Bucky and found him pleasurable to be around. He was easy on the eyes too. His smile makes every inch of you flutter delightfully. Similar to how flirting with Pietro made you feel.

Patience was required when gathering intel. An operation like this couldn't be rushed. That meant learning more about Bucky. He even manages to pry some stories from your childhood out of you. Things you hadn't remembered in a long time.

When passing binoculars, fingers linger against one another. Excuses of offering warmth just so that you could press yourself against him. His jacket might as well have belonged to you now due to how often you were wearing it now.

"It looks better on you anyway." Bucky would tell you. A heaviness in his gaze puts all of your functions at a halt.

You started noticing how kissable his lips looked. Or the fine veins that run along his hands. Beautiful as they held a gun. Between your legs start to ache for him when you watch Bucky strangling a man for information. You never found violence. . . attractive until you worked with Bucky. It was just a means to get by. A requirement for the world you lived in.

Throughout the mission, you manage to keep things professional. Even though the burning gazes exchanged were still frequent. You had to focus your efforts on completing your assignment. Bucky respects that type of work ethic.

Identifying the main figures within Specter was easy once missing pieces were filled with the information you received along the way. One would be spared for questioning, the other two were quickly disposed of.

When your prisoner was handed over to the government which held dominion, you and Bucky head back to the room you'd been using to hide out in.

You were excited to go home and tell Wanda all about it. You're giddy, imagining her scandalized reaction that you loved. Her eyes would get so big, hands clutching onto your arm begging for more details.

A knock at the door puts a pause in your packing as you go to check the peephole. You open it once you verify it's just Bucky. "You all done packing? Sorry, I'll just be five more minutes."

He closes the door behind him. "It's not that."

The depth of his voice has you shivering, turning back to him with your full attention. He's cleaned off the dirt from his face and changed his clothes. Appeared Bucky even brushed his dark hair. Disheveled Bucky was sexy but cleaned up Bucky was a god damn smoke show. Your bones become trembling jelly as he stalks up to you.

"I believe, we have some personal business to take care of." The corner of his lips twitch up in a predatory manner to show off his sharp cuspids.

"By all means," You breathe out and internally cheer when it doesn't come out as a squeak "lets commence the business Mr. Barnes."

The delay of your return to headquarters did raise brows.

Especially Pietro's.

You took Wanda by the arm and she knew you had a story to tell. Using her magic-like ability, she conjures a bottle of wine accompanied by two glasses.

Two schoolgirls giggling and kicking their legs as they talk about one's crush.

"And he told me-" your cheeks hurt from your smile "that he wants to take me out on a proper date."

Wanda swoons backwards as she falls against your bed. She says something in her native Sokovian before switching to English "I told you that you could do much better than Pietro."

From then on it was a common occurrence to find you and Bucky together. You visit one another's room frequently day and night. Time spent not on assignment, Bucky would take you out on both fun and romantic dates. He wooed you like no other man had before. A goddamn gentleman who ate and slurped your pussy in a way that sucked the soul right out of you.

There were men before Bucky but sweet mercy they couldn't compare to the beast that was Bucky once he got your legs perched atop his shoulders. You would never had taken him for a sloppy eater, not by the way he used his fork and knife when he took you out to fancy restaurants. When he slides in his cold metal fingers, your back spikes up in a arch off the bed.

However, not everyone in the Avenger's Headquarters was happy for you and Bucky.

When Pietro first walked into the communal kitchen to find Bucky's hand up your shirt, he nearly suffered from an aneurysm on the spot. Thankfully his feet reacted faster than his brain and took off in the opposite direction before either of you noticed his presence. He'd heard the office gossip that you and Bucky were an item now. Pietro arrogantly thought that your relationship with the winter soldier was a fling or some fucked up way for get back at him for turning you down.

Hitting the two month mark had Pietro sweating. Your relationship with Bucky was thriving. The sting of betrayal sears his insides. When he voices his woes to his twin, Wanda held no comforting words for him.

"Oh well. They love each other now. So you have to move on." Uncaringly, her attention goes back to her phone. "You had your chance, Pietro."

He shoots his sister a glare. "Have some empathy."

That makes her laugh but at least Wanda puts her phone down and turns back to Pietro. "Empathy? Refresh my memory, what was the real reason why you didn't date her?" He'd told you it was because you were coworkers. Claimed he didn't want things to be weird around HQ. Conveniently forgetting that Wanda and Vision were in a happy relationship. But she knew the disgusting truth.

His eyes turn pleading, round and lined with those pretty lashes he flaunted. "Wanda-"

"No, I want to hear you say it again and really help me try to understand." Her arms cross in front of her.

Pietro takes his bottom lip between his teeth to give it a worrying chew. "I. . . I wasn't ready to be in a monogamous relationship- Hey, I'm being serious." He adds the last part after he hears Wanda snort. "We spent all of our adolescence and young adult lives under HYDRA control. It's only been two years since we were liberated. I want to live a little bit more before settling down."

"And look what that has cost you."

"I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't." Wanda's exasperated. "That's not a good excuse. Bucky is in the same boat as us and just because he missed out on having a life he didn't let that stop him from making things official with her."

In short, Pietro simply had no choice but to deal with it. And his way of dealing with it was bringing home his current ladies in the hopes of catching your attention. If you see him with another woman, maybe your jealous would remind you of your feelings for him. That tactic didn't work and only gained him disapproving looks from his twin. He stopped when it was clear your heart eyes weren't straying from Bucky.

Evident that he wasn't going to win you back, Pietro's disbelief curdled to jealousy.

Words weren't enough to bring him to his senses; none in English or Sokovian reached his ears. Exhausted from trying to speak reason to him, Wanda stops all together. Perhaps her brother needed to fall on his ass to wake up.

You weren't blind to Pietro's spike in hostile conduct. Lately there were a few close calls between Bucky and Pietro. Bucky refused to stand for Quicksilver's attitude. Fists weren't raised- not yet. But if looks could kill, both would be incinerated.

Unable to ignore Pietro at Headquarters, you and Bucky take the plunge and buy an apartment together and move out of the superhero facility all together. The apartment complex was still relatively close to headquarters; mainly housing other staff that worked out of there.

Just because you removed yourselves, you were still Avengers and required to attend functions for different movie fundraisers or anything else that had you in hair and make-up for two hours. It paid off to watch Bucky's mouth near drop at the sight of you. This once-assassin who has blood on his hands truly did something to you when he wore a sharp suit. Seams that are streamline and highlight his broad shoulders. Even his waist was deliciously framed. You wanted to hop on him and wrap your legs around that sinfully sexy waist.

Alas, neither you or Bucky could just continue to stand there drooling over the other.

"Wipe your chin, Barnes." Natasha teases as she passes by. To you she shoots a lively smile. "Come on you two. Free booze and food await us."

Pietro had already found the said free booze; ignoring the free food part. He was obligated to attend the gala, agreed to it months ago. If he backed out now, everyone else would have his ass over the fire.

Though he felt like maybe it would have been better had he just said fuck it and stayed home. Especially when you and Bucky walk in looking like the perfect couple. Cameras went off yet people kept a respectful distance from the two of you. You basically had your own guard dog in the form of the Winter Soldier. He towers over you in a way that told others to back off; a protective hand holding onto your's. Both of you are quite the sight standing next to Wanda and Vision. Wanda happily hugs you, her words lost to the loud background music.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

Alcohol warming his system, Pietro downed glass after glass. There was a momentary warmth he felt inside of him before he caught sight of you again.

Hating seeing the two of you together, Pietro spirals in his own head. Plenty of pretty girls around him, all he could focus on was you and the fact that you were hanging off the arm of a murderer. Everyone seemed to have so quickly forgotten that this man killed Howard and Maria Stark.

The moment you unlatched yourself from Bucky's side to go to the bar, Pietro descent upon you.

Your heightened senses barely register the high velocity sound that you associated with Quicksilver. Half a step back was all you were able to make before you heard his husky voice "You find killers sexy?"

His question rakes claw marks against your mind. "What?"

A mocking laugh puffs out of him and he rolls his eyes over in Bucky's direction. "The Winter Soldier. You like the fact that he's murdered innocent people?"

On edge, you notice in your periphery how people were starting to turn to look your way. The volume of Pietro's voice was gradually starting to rise and draw onlookers.

Flushing and attempting to retain your composure, you keep your shoulders back confidently. “Looks like you’ve had too much to drink.” Your eyes search the crowd for Wanda so that she could take him home before he said or did anything he’d regret later. You couldn’t see her or her floating man among the many bobbing heads. Even unable to find Bucky despite his stature.

“Deflecting the question, I see.” Pietro smugly smirks at you; a sway in the step that he took forward. “Shall I raise my voice so you can hear better?”

You narrow your eyes into deadly slits as you squint at him. He was clearly not in his right mind. “What do you want, Pietro?” What was this sudden change in him about? The moment your relationship became public knowledge, Pietro had been pissy ever since. He was the one who rejected you. The one who told you that you shouldn't date because you're coworkers. He had no right to be jealous.

Bucky suggested a few weeks ago that Pietro may still be interested in you. Proposed that his peaked interest must have been from seeing you and Bucky together. At the time you laughed it off. A corner of your mind was screaming at you to listen to him.

Not appreciating how closely he leaned into you, Pietro snarls "That guy has taken numerous, innocent lives. How could you fuck someone with that kind of blood on their hands?" Now you were sure more and more people were pulling out their phones and recording to send to whatever social media platform.

Heat rises off of your cheeks as they blare like alarms. You felt your body tremble not because you were afraid, no, you tremble under the weight of your own fury. Your powers rattled the bars of the cage you kept it in. Clenching down hard against your back teeth with the effort to keep them at bay.

"You know why he did those terrible things. It wasn't him." Growling softly you try desperately to keep a semblance of a calm tone. You were never the type to show your anger. The public might turn against you if they see you break from Pietro's cruel words. Even the bits you were letting slip was enough for your audience to know you were beyond furious. "He was under HYDRA mind control. You of all people should understand the ways HYDRA implements their tools of pain." It wasn't working.

You needed Bucky before you really snapped your last strand of patience.

At least Pietro had enough sense to take a step away from you. In his drunken stupor, he hadn't noticed the crowd. Dozens of people holding up their smartphones, a few reporters who were allowed in were snapping bright pictures. That's when he saw Bucky and Wanda toward him.

Wanda uses her power to wrap him up in scarlet bindings and drag him to where she stood at the cusp of the crowd. She spits something out in Sokovian toward him, motioning for Bucky to go to your side and get you out of there. He looked more ready to rip Pietro apart but valued your wellbeing over all else and easily strode to you.

He slings a protective arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side in an attempt to keep you out of the sight of cameras.

Those involved were taken back to Avengers HQ so the situation could be straightened out. That is, after Fury was done yelling at everyone for how they acted at what was supposed to be an extravagant gala. Admonished how you and Pietro were acting like dramatic high schoolers with your stunt and how this would definitely tarnish the reputation of earth's mightiest heroes. Pietro was still as drunk as a skunk, hissing at everyone who tried to get near him. Only being held back by Wanda who was still yelling at him in Sokovian. As everyone argued back and forth, only you and Bucky remained quiet.

A small upside could be found. Though it was quite the public altercation, popularity for you and Bucky as a couple sky rocketed. Within the hours of it happening, many social media websites exploded with praise at how you defended your man.

That news wasn't enough to make anyone happy at the moment.

Seeing that nothing would be resolved with such bickering, Bucky clears his throat to draw everyone's attention to him. "May I get a word with Pietro alone?"

Fury doesn't look like he wants to allow it. He was assured though that if anything were to happen, Bucky would be able to stand on his own and fend off an angry Pietro. His single dark eye roves around the room before conceding to Bucky's request.

Motive unclear, you arch a brow in his direction. He just offers you a smile and leans toward you to say "It'll be alright. Jus' wanna talk to him."

"I've seen you 'just talk' to people before." You remind him trying to keep your voice stern. "Don't make things worse. Okay?"

"Yes ma'am." That smirk of his will be the death of you, you just know it. There's a silent exchange between you and Wanda who finally relinquishes her scarlet restraints on her twin brother. Pietro staggers without the additional support that held him up.

"Fifteen minutes. Cameras are rolling." Fury warns as he escorts the others out.

Comfortably strolling forward, Bucky pulls out one of the conference chairs that had been entirely ignored. "Take a seat, Maximoff." Immediately there's a snarl curling Pietro's lips until Bucky rolls his eyes. "Or stand. Doesn't matter I guess. Just, listen to me for a moment."

Inebriated individuals don't understand reason, too caught up in their own tilted perception. He wants to do anything else but listen to Bucky prattle on about how he needs to back off of you. That you belonged to him now and how he wouldn't tolerate Pietro's pursuit of you.

Luck appeared to be on Bucky's side for the alcohol was wearing off of Pietro as he started to lose his steam and reluctantly slink down into the chair opposite Bucky's. His dark eyes hold steady onto the metal armed man. Remembering all too clear the stories that HYDRA would tell him and Wanda about the best operative they've ever had: the Winter Soldier. Would this legend of a man be able to hold off Pietro's speed attacks if he were to try?

Honestly he was tired of being angry. Emotions both positive and negative were siphoned out of him until there was nothing left.

Bucky could see that.

"Whatever we say here, stays here." Bucky speaks again, each word cruelly clipped. They strike Pietro like small arrows. Nothing could prepare him for the dead eyed glare that now pinned him to his chair. "Your behavior stops here. I've been more than patient. Held my tongue and my fist when I wanted to knock some sense into you. I didn't, for her sake since she didn't want to cause any trouble among the team. But you're spoiled brat act can't be tolerated anymore. You embarrassed all of us at the gala and made the Avengers look like fools."

His metal hand curls its fingers inwards toward his palm before releasing; an attempt to calm himself before his tone became too heated.

Pietro waits for any sign of movement for Bucky as the larger man deeply inhales. Finally, Bucky's eyes flick back up to him. "I get it."

With a heavy tongue, Pietro croaks out "Get what?"

"I know why and what has fueled your actions. Underneath it all you may have possibly loved her. You're upset that you lost your chance with her. It sucks, it has to to lose someone as amazing as her. I couldn't imagine. . ."

There's a flicker of anger at how the Winter Soldier spoke to him. Reminded Pietro of when his father would scold him as a child.

Bucky's voice soften when he detects the subtle twitch of Pietro's nose. He promised you that he wouldn't escalate things. "I'm sorry. I feel for you. But. . . I'm not going to be stupid enough to let her go. As long as she'll have me, she's mine."

He wanted to ignore the sincerity that warmed Bucky's words. Wanted to keep what little resentment remained inside.

Abruptly, Bucky stands from his chair; bottom of the legs scraping against the floor and startling Pietro in the process. In half a second, Pietro is up on his feet, taking a defensive position. Though his movements were sloppy as his perception was still muddled from his quickly consumed drinks.

Whatever camaraderie had been built between them in those short minutes of Bucky talking was gone. Back were those assassin sharp eyes. "If you upset her one more time, it won't be me you'll have to deal with. It will be the Winter Soldier coming after you. And I can guarantee not even your speed will be able to stop that monster."

"I told you."

He didn't want to hear it from Wanda right now. Damn her for always being right. Right now he just wanted to forget how he made such an ass of himself in front of so many people. When he wasn't trying to fend off his massive hangover migraine he was scrolling through social media, coming upon videos of how he spat in your face saying all sorts of cruel and vindictive things to you. So many mean comments slandering Quicksilver and adoring the hero couple.

In an attempt to drown out Wanda, Pietro grabs his pillow and lays it over his head.

That wouldn't stop her as she was on the war path. He'd hurt her best friend.

Red tendrils of her power rip his pillow off of his head. Pietro hisses in response and whips his head to narrow his eyes in her direction. "You're going to apologize to her. Because if you don't and pull this kind of shit again, Bucky is going to kill you and I won't be able to stop him. You're an idiot for not realizing how protective he is of her." She mumbles something about how lucky he was that Bucky hadn't smashed his face in the conference room during their private chat.

Quiet for a moment, Pietro sits up and leans his back against the bed's headboard. "I know. . . I know I've fucked everything up. I just. . ."

Wanda still has her arms crossed in front of her chest, posture vibrating with the need to throttle her twin. The frostiness in her expression slackens though at Pietro finally admitting that he was in the wrong. Not like she got satisfaction out of it. It pained her watching her brother act like a total dick head toward her best friend. It wasn't long ago that she thought you and Pietro would make a nice couple.

He sighs and runs a hand through his ash blonde hair, repeating "I've fucked everything up."

"At least you're owning up to it." quietly points out Wanda.

Time was necessary for all wounds to heal. That applied toward the ones Pietro had caused. He gave you space for two days before he came up to you to ask for a private word; promising he'd behave and that he just wanted to apologize for everything. Even told you about what Bucky had said to him.

You knew he told the truth because his face was the definition of genuine remorse and repentance.

For most of his speech he looked at his hands, but when he dared to glance up at you Pietro would hold your gaze. His earnestness brimming in his blue eyes. For so long they had been darkened by his discontent. Now they remind you of the pretty bright hue they used to be.

After a moment of silence, Pietro hesitantly asks "Are you happy with him? Truly?"

"I am. I've never been this happy in my entire life. He makes me happy." A bright smile flourishes on your face. "I love him."

Pietro nods.

"Hey, even if things didn't work out romantically with us doesn't mean I don't want to be friends with you. I do. We had fun as friends." You bump him with your elbow.

A wisp of a smile beckons at his lips but couldn't quite get all the way there. "I'd like that. Eventually. . ."

"Eventually." You repeat in agreement.

Tags:

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bakugospartner

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artists-ally · 9 months

Text

{Flatline} Harvey Specter x OFC {Pt. 1}

I got the title from this song called Flatline by Jared Benjamin. I added it to this playlist of very Harvey Specter vibes if you'd like to listen. There will be multiple parts, around three so be sure to stick around for those. As always comment and tell me what you think, or pop by in my asks. Anyhoo enjoy my loves!

Word count ~ 10,619 (it is a very fast paced read I promise)

Warnings ~ Age gap, smut (18+), handjob, no real BDSM but Dom/Sub concepts, language, alcohol, anxiety/anxious thoughts, probably really inaccurate lawyer terms idk man.

Summary: Harvey has taken notice of the hardest working first year associate, Claudia Martin. Despite being petrified of the infamous closer, she tried her hardest to not let it get the best of her. Harvey has a few ideas on how to increase her confidence.

Tagging : @maxdamax @ashcosmo @rosedpetal (This is basically just dedicated to you three so I hope you enjoy it the most!)

~~~~~

“Alright, everybody stop,” Harvey announced. I put down my file and sat ramrod straight in my seat, eyes darting at the other associates as they put theirs away too. “We have been working on this case now for four hours and no one has brought me a single thing that I can use as evidence. Now, if someone doesn’t put a file in my hand in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose. And those of you who don’t want to get stuck doing whatever bullshit Louis is going to punish you with, you better come up with something fast.”

I looked at the blue file in my hands, heart hammering in my chest as I saw Harvey leave out of the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, I pushed up out of my chair and followed after him.

Circling around the office a few times, I made up reasons and excuses not to go see him. It was stupid, I knew that, but I didn’t want to bring him something and then immediately be called an idiot for bringing him shit he already knew.

I saw how he treated Mike. And Louis. Even Donna from time to time.

There were two things you did in this world: die, and respect Harvey Specter. As a first year associate in this god awful firm, you didn’t dare break his trust or waste his time.

“Is Mr. Specter available for a moment?” I asked Donna. I hadn’t talked to her much, but I’ve heard her speak to Harvey a few times around the office. She was someone I wished I knew better, someone I wished I could ask for help, but I didn’t want to bother her either.

“Yeah, he’s in his office going over the statements from the mock trial,” Donna smiled, pointing over her shoulder. I nodded, willing my feet to move in the direction of his office. I knocked before pushing the glass door opening, keeping my head down.

“Claudia, now is really not a good-” “I have something for you,” we spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back and-” “Is that for the mock trial?” He asked, and I nodded. “Hand it over.”

I placed the file in his outstretched hand as he came around to sit on the corner of the desk. My hands were trembling with dread as his eyes raked over the words on the page. The lines in his forehead creased, eyes narrowing.

“Claudia, this is brilliant,” he had a very confused expression when his eyes met mine. “Where did you find this?”

“Well, I figured if Mrs. Thompson said that she didn’t pay her rent that month, because there wasn't money in her account, then there had to be some kind of a trail. Some clue. There was, but it was only an amount, and it didn’t say which account it came from. When I did some digging, I found out that she uses Capital One banking and when I looked at her bank statement-

“There was a draw for the exact amount that Mr. Saros used to bet on that game,” Harvey finished before I could get the words out of my mouth. “Claudia, this is genius. Come on, we’ve got a case to win.”

____

“...Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this compelling evidence reveals that Mr. Saros was in fact fraudulent and used his ex- wife’s funds to continue gambling. Thank you.” Harvey closed the argument, taking a seat besides Donna, who represented the client. Jessica looked to the opposing counsel as if to say ‘do you have anything?’. Louis had nothing. Not a sliver of hope.

“Then it is decided, Mr. Saros will be charged with a misdemeanor and face a prison sentence of one year in county jail.”

With a crack of the gavel, the case was over, and applause rang through the office for Harvey and his team. I had a tiny smile on my face as I left the conference room to go back to the bullpen. There was an endless stack of reports to run, motions to file… it never ended when it came to Louis. And now that I was on the winning team I’m sure that-

“Claudia, where are you going?” Harvey called out.

“Oh, I was just going back to my desk. Why, is there something that you need?” God I hope he didn’t need anything. I was sweating bullets by just standing next to him.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your first win,” he gave a small smirk. His brown eyes were sharp, but not as intense as they usually were.

I flushed, “Well, it’s not really a real case.”

“No, it’s not. But seeing what you did today, how would you like one of your own?” He extended a blue file back to me, a stack of papers covered inside. I could feel the gaze of the other associates on me as I hesitantly took the file.

“Mr. Spector, I’m honored, but I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” he cut me off. I bit my tongue. “You are a lawyer, Claudia. And you clearly have an outside the box approach to your tactics which we don’t see very often. I haven’t seen someone able to compile and order evidence like you since Mike came to work for me a decade ago. I’ll be supervising your case, you report to me with any questions you might have, but otherwise this is all you.”

My first case… given to me by Harvey Specter himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. I flipped through the file, seeing that this wasn’t just some pro-bono case. This was against a big time client and the SEC. The SEC meant Sean Cayhill, who, from my understanding, was already on the rocks with this firm and has been for a very long time.

“You can thank me when you win it,” he extended his hand, and I shook it, hoping that they weren’t sweaty. “Look over the file tonight and come ready to swing tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s hand was warm, and significantly larger than mine. Everything about him was bigger than I was, especially his ego. And his personality. Lord help me…

My nod was the only confirmation that I would meet him there. As he walked out, I met some of the eyes of the associates and they scowled at me. At the file in my hand. At the fact that I hadn’t said a word the whole meeting today and then came up with the winning piece of evidence. And now I was working alongside Harvey.

The infamous closer at Pearson-Specter-Litt.

____

“Claudia, what’s wrong?” Donna startled me so bad I dropped my coffee on the floor with a shout. “Something’s really wrong.”

“Oh, it’s just you Donna,” I sighed in relief. I could feel the coffee seeping into my shirt and chilling against my skin. “Great.”

“What has you so skittish?” She asked, worry gracing her features.

I didn’t want to admit that it was because of Harvey and the fact that I had to work alongside him on this case. I hadn’t been able to sleep much last night because I was up thinking about him, wondering how he’d handle this case himself. What he would do, how he would do it. Sure, I admired the guy, how could I not? He was a perfectionist and always found a way. I wish I had half the confidence he did.

“It’s Harvey, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that? Nevermind, you’re Donna. But… Yes it’s because of Harvey.”

“Did he say something to you yesterday after you guys won the mock trial? I saw he handed you a case file, what was it all about?” “That's precisely what’s wrong,” I groaned, bending over and picking up the dropped paper cup. “He gave me a case of my own as a 'thank you' for finding the evidence that won the trial yesterday. I’m terrified of him, Donna. I-I don’t know how to act around someone with that kind of personality. He is so abrasive and forward and harsh and-”

“A total jackass?” She finished for me.

I chuckled nervously, “I’m afraid to even think of that word in association with his name. I mean, how am I supposed to work alongside someone that intense? Plus, I’m a first year associate, how am I supposed to compete with what he as to offer and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. No need to get yourself all worked up, Claudia. Harvey is a lot of bark, and only some bite.” “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say is that there is some heart inside that cold dead chest of his,” she smiled, a genuine, friendly smile. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him give someone a case after a mock trial. Not even Mike. Up until yesterday I’m not even sure he knew you existed.” “Wish it was still that way,” I rolled my eyes, folding my arms against my chest.

“Claudia, listen to me. Yes, Harvey can be rude and obnoxious, but he is the best damn attorney in the state of New York. He didn’t get to the top by being nice and sweet. He was impressed with your willingness to bring him the evidence yourself. Now he knows he can count on you to get things done in a pinch when he needs them.” “I had that evidence for an hour,” I emphasized. “I was trying to build up the courage to give it to him long before he came and ripped us to shreds for not having anything. I just didn’t want him to think that it was a stupid idea or to be in a bad mood and turn me away because I definitely wouldn’t have done it at all after that. I don’t know how to deal with someone like him, Donna. What am I supposed to do? I should just give the case to Griffin or Thomas-”

“No no no. You are definitely not going to do that. That will only show Harvey that you aren’t serious about becoming a lawyer.”

“I am serious about becoming a lawyer.” I was mildly offended that she’d even say that to me. “Of course I want to be a lawyer, it's all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And Harvey will only know that if you work on this case with him.”

I inhaled and exhaled, leaning my head back and looking at the ceiling. “Fine.” “That’s my girl,” she grinned. “Now, come on. I have an extra dress you can borrow because I am sure as hell not letting you walk around covered in coffee stains.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t think what you have will fit me.” Donna jerked her head over her shoulder and I followed to a closet in the back of the file room. When she opened it, it was like a full blown wardrobe. There were dresses and shoes and purses and hair supplies lining the walls. “Woah…” “Don’t ever underestimate the power of Donna,” she winked before rummaging through the office closet.

After searching for a few moments, she pulled out a lovely royal blue dress that was, as she hinted at, a perfect size for me. How she knew that it would fit, I’ll never know. But I did know that I wouldn’t ever underestimate the power of Donna ever again. She’s magical.

“Now, what do you say?”

“Thanks, Donna,” I smiled sweetly.

“Actually I was looking for ‘you are an ethereal goddess who makes all my dreams and wishes come true’ but that works too,” I knew she was teasing, and I gave her a small shove of her shoulder. “Go get dressed, come back here and let me do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with the way it is?” I turned to look in the mirror on the back of the door and grimaced. “Oh…” My messy curls from yesterday looked more like a rat wrapped around a bunch of fishing line.

“Hurry up, Harvey will be back soon and I want you in that office, file in hand, ready to go when he gets here.”

I quickly shuffled to the bathroom and changed into the form fitting, very Donna-style dress. It didn’t look half bad, and I actually somewhat tolerated the dress. Normally I’d find a pants suit far more flattering and business appropriate than a dress, strictly because of the over sexualized nature of women's business clothing.

I hate the corporate world.

I did one more glance in the mirror before heading back to the break room to grab the file. I must’ve set it on the counter while I was pouring my coffee. Hopefully it wasn’t ruined.

There was no blue file on the counter. Or the table. Or on top of the microwave or the fridge. I even checked inside the microwave. Nothing. It was nowhere. Oh shit.

“Do you want curls or for me to straighten-” “It’s gone,” there was a clear panic in my voice. “The file, it’s not in the break room, Donna. It’s gone.”

“How can it be gone?”

“I-I don’t- I don’t know I thought I set it on the counter while I was getting coffee and it’s not there.” I felt a cold sweat break out onto my skin. My forehead was damp to the touch.

“Okay, take a deep breath. Let’s go look again and then check your desk. Maybe someone found it and put it there, or maybe left it with me or Gretchen. It didn’t grow a pair of legs and walk away, we’ll find it.”

“I’m gonna get fired,” my voice was almost a silent whisper, tears building behind my eyes, prickling my nose. “Donna, Harvey is going to kill me.”

“Worst comes to worst we get a new file, Harvey will never know.”

“No no no he will because he had notes of his own on the papers in there.” “Shit,” she swore. “Let’s just go look.”

We speed walked through the bullpen, earning some odd looks as we practically sprinted through the office. She checked the break room for me again, and I went to my cubicle. Nothing, not a blue folder anywhere to be seen.

Donna came up empty handed in the break room, checking with Gretchen on her way by Louis’s office. We met at her desk. Nothing.

“Fuck fuck fuck this is bad.” My hands were shaking, heart thundering against my ribs. I felt faint, like I could’ve fallen to the floor at any moment. “Donna, what am I gonna do?”

“Maybe somebody mistook it as their own file,” Donna blurted out after a moment of silence. She took off towards the bullpen and I followed after her, right on her heels. She marched through there, unapologetic as she invaded the other associates' work spaces.

Still nothing. No blue file labeled ‘Devlyn Inc. Vs. Fulton Dynamics’.

“Where the hell could it be?” She murmured to herself.

“What are you guys looking for?” An associate, Benson, asked.

“Oh, you know, a leprechaun pissing pieces of gold,” Donna’s voice was full of sarcasm. “Claudia set down a file in the break room for three minutes and forty-two seconds and now it’s mysteriously disappeared. Know anything about it?”

“No,” he pressed his lips together. “Not really.” “Not really?”

“There are a million case files floating around this office, you really expect me to pay attention to every single one and where it’s going?” “As an associate of this firm, yes, actually. I do. Now I want to know if you know who took her file and I want to know right now. You have one chance to tell the truth, otherwise the bottom of my stiletto and your ass are gonna be great friends.”

Benson swallowed, “I truly don’t know. I’m sorry, I can keep an eye out for it. Is it the one Harvey gave Claudia yesterday?”

“Yes, and he needs it in twenty minutes,” Donna said, an undeniable urgency in her voice. “If you find it, do the right thing and give it back or so help me god you will find yourself jobless faster than you can get down on your knees and beg me to let you keep it.”

Donna beckoned me for her to follow and I did, my heart sinking and sinking into my stomach. It had to be around here somewhere. It had to be.

I did another lap around, rummaging through all the drawers in the desk and thensome. Still nowhere. How could I be so stupid? So irresponsible? This is exactly why I didn’t want to take this case in the first place.

Despite all Harvey and Donna said the other day, I’m not ready to be a lawyer. Not really, anyway. I know I have my license and I’ve passed the Bar. I’ve done all the hard work, but this was… this was hell. A living nightmare. Not only was this firm constantly on the verge of collapsing, but it seemed like I made new enemies every other week by simply doing my job quickly, quietly, and efficiently.

I don’t know how or why I piss everyone off all the time. I just do my work, I quite literally don’t bother another soul in this building unless I have to. Occasionally I’d ask Donna a question that she could ask Harvey or Mike to see what they thought about it. I’d never speak to them directly, just through her which didn’t make me feel good, either.

I’d eat by myself, working through my meal. It took me two months of being here to finally use the break room because I was too nervous about taking the last tea bag or power bar from the cabinet. I just took a disposable coffee cup and filled it with tap water. And then kept that cup because I didn’t want to take the others because I figured other people needed them for coffee and I didn’t want them to be all gone-

“Claudia,” Donna interrupted my mild panic. “Harvey wants to see you.”

Oh no… no no no not yet god please not yet. I swallowed, or tried to at least; there was no moisture in my mouth whatsoever. I stood, knees trembling as I smoothed out the skirt of my dress.

Before I went on, she ran a brush through my hair, taking out the knots. It lay sleek and flat against my shoulders, a major difference from the low bun I always kept it in. My hair always made me so hot; I never understood how anyone could get anything done with it swaying in their face all day.

I could see him in his office, eyes staring us down as we rounded the corner. His gaze was locked on me and I felt my body tighten and constrict around a breath. Harvey was sitting on the corner of his desk, fingers toying with the cufflink on his left wrist..

“Hey, look at me,” Donna spoke softly, hands coming to my shoulders. “Give Harvey the truth, and nothing but. He will understand, if not, I will make him.”

I nodded.

When I pushed open his glass door, tension was thick in the air. My palms were clammy, still shaking. My mind was going a million miles a second.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Specter?” I asked, trying to keep my cool despite almost throwing up.

“Please tell me you have some good news about the case that I gave you,” he sighed, pushing off the desk and standing in front of me.

Welp… here goes my career.

“Actually, Mr. Specter there is something I need to-”

“You were looking for me, Harvey?” I whipped my head over my shoulder, seeing Griffin knocking on the door.

“Yes, Griffin come on please, shut the door as well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I can come back and we can discuss the details of-”

“No, Claudia. Stay for a moment,” Harvey gave a firm nod, full attention slipping from me to my fellow associate. “Griffin, I see you have something for me.”

“Yes,” Griffin threw a wicked grin at me before handing over a blue file. I could feel the sick rise in my throat. That was my blue file. “I would just like to go over the details of my case with you to get your input.”

“Your case?” Harvey questioned, sharing a glance between me and Griffin. “Where did you get this? Who the hell gave you a case?”

“That’s not important. I was hoping we could actually-”

“No,” Harvey cut him off. “It’s very important, actually. Because I can recall that just last night this exact file, with my handwriting, was in Claudia’s hands. So whatever act you’re putting on, I suggest you cut the bullshit right now.” “Okay I found it in the breakroom,” Griffin rolled his eyes. “Maybe if she were a little more responsible, which she clearly isn’t because she left her documents in a public space, then she’d be more equipped to handle a real case. Like a real lawyer should.”

I could see the muscle in Harvey’s jaw clench and contract several times.

“Claudia, care to explain how our case got in this thief’s hands?” “Thief?” “I had spilled coffee,” I started, taking a deep breath when Griffin cut me a gaze so threatening I almost crumbled to my knees. “I spilled coffee and Donna offered a change of clothes for me. I didn’t even notice I left it. When I came back it was gone.”

“Well, I think that about settles it. How about you get out of here before you cause yourself a real problem. And If I ever catch wind of you stealing another one of Claudia’s files, or anyones for that matter, I will personally make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he ground his teeth, refusing to look at either of us.

“Now get your ass back to your desk and pray to whoever you believe in that I don’t have you fired and disbarred for the shit you pulled today. Get the hell out of my sight.”

Griffin was out of there far faster than he walked in, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. I let out a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked me. “I’m so sorry,” I completely ignored his question. “Griffin was right, I was extremely irresponsible and shouldn’t have let that file out of my sight. If you want to give it to another associate I completely understand. Again, I am so sorry and understand that there are consequences to my actions for letting such important information go missing-”

“Claudia, slow down,” he eased. “It’s okay, you are not the one I am pissed at.”

“You’re not?” I didn’t understand why. “But- but I completely misplaced a case.”

“No,” Harvey shook his head. “No Griffin is the only one to blame. You spilled coffee, went to go get cleaned up, and he stole it. He should know better. And seeing that he clearly doesn’t, I know I’m right in my decision on who to bring onto this case with me.”

I could feel my blush creep up my neck. “I appreciate that, Mr. Specter.”

“Of course, Claudia. And please, call me Harvey.”

I just gave a subtle nod, taking the file from his hand. I followed his gaze from my face to my hair where he took a strand between his fingers, letting the end curl around his digit.

“I’ve never seen your hair so long,” He added, dropping it from his grip. My breath was caught in my throat. Words were vacant shadows in my mind as he surveyed the dress I was wearing. “I bet that’s Donna’s, isn’t it.”

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “She wouldn’t let me walk around with coffee stains all day.”

“It looks good on you,” He complimented. Harvey’s eyes, again, went from my head to my toes. There was nothing I could do but fall victim to his… I didn’t know what to think of how he looked at me. Couldn’t decide if it was good or bad.

“Time for the case then?” I needed to get his attention off of me. Now. I was flushed and losing my mind. Harvey didn’t really seem to acknowledge my words at all.

“Sure.” Was all he gave me.

____

I barely escaped with the skin on my teeth after our consultation. No, he didn’t rip me to shreds, but he would not take his eyes off of me for even one second. It was so… so potent I couldn’t focus. It was almost lunch when Donna came in and saved my ass.

I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

“So, how did it go?” Donna asked as I sat in my cubicle. When she came around, or maybe she just followed me, I didn’t know.

I put my face in my hands. “It was a disaster, Donna. I was a stuttering mess and I kept forgetting everything I was going to say because he would not stop staring at me. Like, he would not stop.” “Well, you aren’t exactly ugly, Claudia,” she snickered.

“Donna, this isn’t funny,” I groaned. “I’m being completely frank with you.”

“How can I be expected to work alongside him when I can’t stand being in an enclosed space with him for more than four minutes without turning into a bumbling idiot? It’s like he enjoys watching me get flustered.”

“Claudia, I think you are making this a bigger deal in your head than it actually is.” Donna came around and sat on my desk, crossing a knee over the other. “And besides, Harvey understands what it’s like to be a new associate. It can be nerve wracking, especially when you have Louis breathing down your neck.”

I chuckled gravely, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” “Why can’t you just tell me?” I whined as she stood up.

“Because I am the Yoda to your Luke Skywalker. Wise you are, patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

“I am not a Jedi who is going on a self discovery journey to start using the Force,” I countered. “I am a nervous wreck who can’t handle being alone with Harvey Specter.”

“Then you need to get over it because Harvey is not going to berate you on your first case!” She argued.

“Did you not hear what he said to Griffin? Or-or to Thomas when he suggested that we consider taking the deal that Mr. Saros had offered during the mock trial? He cracked them wide open and left them to bleed. What about with Mike? How many times has he almost sent him to the curb for not being able to find what Harvey needs?”

“Mike is different and you know it,” Donna lowered her voice. “Plus he always says shit like that to light a fire under his ass. Harvey can see that you are nervous to work with him. He isn’t going to hang you out to dry, I promise. He stood up for you, Claudia, in a way I’ve only seen him do with me and Mike. You know how much he cares about us.”

“Well, yeah of course. But you’ve worked for him for fifteen years and Mike almost seven now. You have a relationship with him and established trust. How am I supposed to have that with him when I can’t even look him in the eye?” “It comes with time, Claudia,” she rubbed my shoulder. “But if there is anything I can say to get you to trust the process, Harvey is loyal, almost to a fault sometimes. He will stop at nothing to make sure the people he cares about are taken care of. I can see that he wants that for you because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Griffin stole the file or not.”

Donna walked away after smoothing down some of the hair on my head, disappearing behind the corner. I let out a huff. She was right, I was being a little over dramatic.

Harvey had a reputation, though. How was I supposed to know if- no. This is unrelated to anything going on. Sort of. I just need to focus on the case.

I pulled out the files and looked over them again, compiling all the notes into one space for easy recall. As I was looking through it, I found a loophole in one of the contracts that unbound our client from having to give up half of her company.

____

I paced up and down Harvey’s office, tapping my file in my hand as I went through all my key points in my head for today’s trial. I needed to lure, or bait rather, the witnesses into my questions to get them to admit to trespassing on our clients property. We had everything we needed; security footage, witnesses to testify on our behalf… Everything was all lined up. I just needed to blow it.

I could do this, right? I had only spent all night doing a fake run of how today would go in my mirror, but then again anything could happen when I got into that courtroom today. Maybe they had another leg on us, maybe there was another witness they had to testify against us.

God dammit, if I screwed up today I wouldn’t get another case. Probably not ever again unless I packed up all my shit and moved to Iowa.

Having Harvey there didn’t make me feel better. I thought it would, but as we worked together I realized he only made me more nervous. I couldn’t help it, he just looked at me this way I couldn't describe. It was incredibly annoying, I don’t know how Mike does it. Or Donna. Or Jessica or Louis or-

Jesus focus, Claudia. I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs. Just focus focus focus. I’ve been over it a million times. I could do this. I didn’t have a choice, court was in less than half an hour.

“Claudia,” Harvey ripped me from my concentration, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you. Are you ready for today?” “Not really,” I admitted. “I am kind of freaking out, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he eased me to sit next to him. “What are you so nervous for?”

I chuckled, “Everything.” “Okay,” he gave a half-hearted laugh. “What specifically? Just name one thing that you are worried about.”

“I don’t know- forgetting cross examination questions? Screwing up the order so it doesn’t lead him into our trap? A billion things could go wrong and I’m not sure what to do if I freeze or stutter. What if the jury or the opposing counsel laughs at me?”

“That is not gonna happen, Claudia,” Harvey reassured. “You have prepared some amazing questions, you’ve got this in the bag.” “You know, I much prefer to stay in the background and do research. I don’t think I’m cut out to handle court stuff this is-”

“Hey,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He grabbed my trembling hand and held it between his own. My body went completely rigid, chest puffing in and out with heavy breaths. “You are going to do great today, I know it, Claudia. You are prepared, capable, and even more prepared. This is always what you’ve wanted to do, isn’t it?” I just nodded. Over the past week and a half of working together, I had told him what made me want to be a lawyer in the first place. About how I saw my best friends’ parents' business completely ruined by a group of robbers and their insurance did nothing to help them.

It made me so sad for them, made me feel so sick that I knew I had to do something to help them. I did my research and then brought it to them. They brought it to their lawyer and ended up getting a settlement for far more than they were ever gonna get. All because of me and my discovery that I made on my computer when I was thirteen.

“Okay. Think back to teenage Claudia for a moment. I bet she dreamed of being in this exact position. Where she can help people and give the sorry bastards who put them there a taste of their own medicine. Well, Claudia, here you are. Your very first case. Your very first helping hand. Your very first entrance into the world of the law. And you are going to absolutely shake up those witnesses, blindside them so hard they won’t have a choice but to tell the truth. This is your moment, Claudia’s moment. Don’t let fear take it from you, okay?” Again, all I could do was nod. And think about how warm his hand was in mine. We stood and he let go, leading me out of the office and down to his car waiting for him in front of the building. Ray, his driver, greeted me sweetly as I settled into the back seat with Harvey.

I flipped through my cards over and over and over on our way to the court house. Harvey snatched them from me. “Hey!” “You know the material,” he gave me a pointed look, sliding them in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“I know but-” “There is no but,” he shrugged. “Have just one ounce of confidence, Claudia. Trust yourself.”

All of whatever I had been reading was swept from my mind as he placed his palm on my knee. I hadn’t realized it was bouncing up and down until he pressed against it to stop its movements. I tried to sit still, but I just started picking at my nails instead.

“Claudia,” he said in a stern, commanding voice. I stopped my fidgeting, laying my hands flat in my lap. “Good, just relax. Everything will be alright.”

Highly doubtful. He was playing a dangerous game, and we both knew it. But neither of us said anything as he left his hand there the entire car ride.

____

“After the conclusion of today’s trial, the jury here finds Fulton Dynamic guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering with intent to steal inside information.”

I felt the tension deflate from my body, eyes fluttering shut as the judges whacked the wooden disk on his stand. He said something, but I couldn’t even hear over the roar in my ear. Holy shit we won…

“Claudia,” Harvey shook my shoulder. I snapped my eyes to him. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I rested my head back against the seat, eyes focused on the window outside so I wouldn’t throw up. Man did I hate getting car sick every time I looked at my phone when in a car. The city lights were bright and fierce, unrelenting all hours of the day. Why on god's green earth did I decide to move to New York? Out of all the places I could’ve gone to work as an associate in this state, why did I choose the city? I hate the city. I’ve always hated the-

“Yoo-hoo,” I heard from my side. I lifted my exhausted head and gave Harvey a look. “Did you hear anything I said?”

‘Oh… n-no I’m sorry,” I stiffened, giving him my full attention. “What were you talking about?”

“I was just saying that you did a great job today, Claudia. You kicked ass in there,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Mr. Specter.” I just let out a sigh.

“You don’t think so?”

“Not really.” Anxiety swirled in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes and nose.

“Why not? Claudia, you gave one of the best cross examinations I think I’ve ever seen. And the way you handled Cayhill? Defended Devlyn from those accusations? It was masterful.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Silence hung between us. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “You did great today.”

“I was a complete idiot when I was defending Devlyn. I was way too animated and let my emotions get the best of me. For Christ's sake Judge Peterson gave me a warning.”

“I want you to take a guess at how many warnings judges give me when I’m the one in there leading the case.”

“You’re Harvey Specter, of course you… get a lot.”

“You right, I do get a lot. But that isn’t a bad thing. And I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you-” “That’s the problem,” I snapped. “You have been doing this for seventeen years and I’ve been doing it for ten days. I’ve barely got my toe in the water and I’ve already shown other lawyers and firms that I can’t keep my cool.”

“Claudia, you are passionate. I don’t see that as a huge problem in the courtroom. There needs to be a level of pushback from attorneys because if you, of all people on someone’s legal team, aren’t going to fight back, then you might as well be fired. Because you are the only person some people have hope for. You have to be aggressive and assertive sometimes to get the job done.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I am going to teach you,” Harvey’s words completely short circuited my brain.

“What do you mean?”

“Claudia, I think you’re going to be a great lawyer, even without my help. I know you struggle with confidence and that is all I want to help you with. To get some leverage over these other associates so you can climb that ladder.”

“I can’t just magically pull a wagon load of confidence out of my ass overnight,” I shook my head, folding my hands tightly together. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

The car pulled up outside the building and Harvey let out a sigh. Great. Now I’ve pissed him off, too. That’s exactly what I needed to do was piss off Harvey Specter after a great win. In all honesty, it had been a good day. I didn’t fumble the ball like I was going to, but this was completely taking away from them.

My door opened. Harvey looked down at me from outside and extended his hand. When did he get out of the car? I hesitantly took it, getting out and shutting the door behind me.

“Claudia,” Harvey started. “You need to learn to let go. To put the bad moments behind you.” “I can’t.” “Which is why you and I are going to go back up there and have a drink. Get to know each other a little bit so we can start building that trust. I know I intimidate you, and I try like hell to be as calm as I can around you, but one day Louis or Jessica or Donna is going to come into my office and give me some bad news. You might be there and see how I handle it. You might not, but I don’t want you to be afraid of that happening to you.”

“And how can I be sure that if I come up with a plan one day, and it falls through and goes to shit, you won’t flip out on me or fire me or-or-”

“Because I won’t. I give you my word. But I need yours as well.”

“Need my word, why?” “I need to know that you won’t think I’m a monster if you’re in the room and I lose my cool.”

I’ve never thought Harvey was a monster to begin with. I’ve always admired his ability to shut off his feelings and get the dirty work done. Of course I’ve seen that side of him a time or two, but never catastrophic like some of the stories I’ve heard from the third and fourth years.

“You have my word.”

The elevator chime brought me out of my spiraling momentarily to walk to Harvey’s office. The firm was empty, not even Jessica was here. He led me to his office and got to work on the drinks. My eyes wandered from him to the view through the window. This was the only part of the city I might’ve let myself enjoy from time to time.

“Donna was right, you do have a lot of music,” I noted, taking in the wall filled with vinyl records. She mentioned it when I was caught with my head buried in a book in the library, some random Beatles song blasting so loud she could hear it down the hall.

“You’re just now noticing that?” “Well, I haven’t exactly been in your office for anything other than to work on this case so… no I guess I never really noticed.”

“You can pick something to listen to, if you’d like.” He was gonna let me touch his records? This place was like a museum; autographed basketballs and baseballs, art hanging on the wall. “Or you can just stare at it.”

I flushed, picking up a record at random and handing it to him. In exchange, he handed me a glass a third full of whisky. I smelled it, it kind of made me scrunch my nose. I didn’t drink often; most of the time I was too tired to even feed myself let alone consume alcohol.

When I took a sip, I actually didn’t mind the taste. It was smooth, simple in flavor and didn’t burn too bad. Quite nice, for all it’s worth.

There was a couch along the wall of records that I fixed myself on, Harvey taking the time to remove his tie and lay it across his desk before sitting across from me on one of the chairs. I toed off my pumps and set them on the floor beside the table. God damn did my feet hurt.

“Do you do this with all the new associates?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs while I took up the couch.

“I mean, when you think they’re ready, do you give them a case and help them get their foot in the door?”

“No, no I don’t,” Harvey admitted. “Louis is in charge of the associates. You know that.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “But I just thought that there was some deal between you guys: you have a mock trial with the new associates, whichever team wins gets to give a case to the best performing associate.”

Harvey laughed. I didn’t even know he knew how to do that. “Oh, Claudia, you really are that innocent, aren’t you?” My throat collapsed on itself. What did I say?

“Relax,” he set his glass down, swallowing his sip. “Yes, we do a fake trial every year for the first years, but we don’t just give them cases when they win. No one in their right mind would give a first year associate, fresh out of law school, the time of day. Normally they have to prove themself down the line, after years and years of loyalty to this firm to get their first case. And it’s usually pretty easy pro-bono shit.” I had to stop and think for a moment before I could speak. “You keep saying normally, usually… What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Claudia, is that in my decade plus of working here, I’ve never seen an associate who busts their ass quite like you. Who takes every ounce of bullshit from Louis and turns it into the Mona Lisa.”

“I think that everyone does tha-”

“No,” he cut me off. A stern look in his eyes, lips in that crooked line. “No they don’t. Not like you. You put your head down, get into it, and don't come up until you’ve found what you were looking for and thensome. You go above and beyond every time. You don’t go to Louis begging for more work, he brings it to you, and only you, because he knows he can count on you. Which means I know I can count on you, too.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I kind of just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. To make me evaporate and never see the light of day again.

“Thank you, Mr. Specter. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I am not very good in the spotlight. I don’t do well with… all of this.”

“I know, but I’m glad that you are trying anyway,” his smile was very charming. In a way that made his eyes crinkle. “So, besides giving a hell of a cross examination, what else do you like to do for ‘fun’?”

“Well, for starters, your definition of fun, and mine, are going to be very different. I am a very solitary person, I don’t need to be around people to have a good time. Most of the time I prefer to go do things by myself because I find when I ask, people already have plans, or they’re faking having plans so they don’t have to hang out with me. I can’t tell what is the truth and what isn’t so I stopped asking… that was totally not what you asked. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“Go ahead, talk about whatever you want. I won’t judge you.”

A small part of me believed that he wouldn’t. A tiny, microscopic part.

“There is nothing like the feeling of getting lost in a good book. I’m a complete sucker for a cliche rom-com where the bad guy gets the good girl.”

Harvey let out a dramatic puff of air, laughing into the space around us.

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” I chuckled.

“I’m not, it’s just lame. Come on, what do you really like to do for fun?”

“That is what I really like to do for fun,” I let my hand fall to the cushion beside me. “I told you, I am not a very interesting person. I don’t have time for a whole lot of anything other than working here so… Most of my hobbies have been put on the back burner through grad school and working nonstop.”

“If you could be any type of sea creature, what would you be?”

“What does that literally have anything to do with anything we were just talking about?”

“It doesn’t,” Harvey smiled. “I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know, a jellyfish?”

“Really?” He questioned, one brow rising higher than the other. “I’d be a great white shark.”

“Of course you would,” I snickered. “Harvey Specter, the Great White of New York. If you wanted to be a real predator that no one fucks with, you should be an Orca.” “A whale?” “The killer whale,” I corrected. “They put sharks in the obituary for fun, you know. They sink yachts for fun, too. If you really want to be on top, be an Orca. No one in their right minds fucks with an Orca. They’re intelligent and not afraid of anything.”

“Aww, you think I’m intelligent and not afraid of anything?” Harvey mewled.

“Well, duh you’re Harvey Specter.” Everyone knew it. Harvey was the baddest cat in the sky, you didn’t approach him without giving him your respect. Cause if you didn’t, a whole boat load of shit will be coming your way.

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there is more to Harvey Specter than the title my name comes with.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Harvey Specter, badass attorney and the best closer New York has ever seen, killer whale of the corporate world.” Harvey couldn’t keep his laugh inside, sending the rumbling noise into the office. I made Harvey laugh, and I have for the past however many minutes.

“You left out the part where I’m devastatingly attractive and charming,” his smirk was nothing short of either of those things. Devastating and charming. It cut through me like a hot knife. I knew I blushed because his eyes went to my cheeks and that spot at the base of my throat that always gives it away.

My fingers tapped away anxiously at the glass in my hands, fingernails rattling against its crystal surface.

“It’s late I should… I should go.” Great, now I’m flustered and stuttering. As quickly as I could, I threw my heels back on and reached for my coat.

“Claudia-”

“Thank you for the drink, and for all your help on the case,” I hurried out, trying to not let my voice break and give away all the things I wanted to say. “Have a good night, Mr. Specter.”

“Claudia.” His voice commanded, stopping my movements. I held still on the couch, drinking in his stare. “Stay.”

“Mr. Specter I really should-”

“Harvey,” he bit out a little harshly. “Stop calling me Mr. Specter.”

“I’m sorry. Harvey, it’s late.” He just nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “And?”

“It’s been a long day and I think we should both go and get some much deserved rest,” I spoke quietly, resuming my nail picking from earlier.

“Do you really want to leave?”

It was such a loaded question. Yes, absolutely I wanted to fucking leave. But there was something deep in his eyes, deep in his voice that made me want to stay and explore. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I wanted to look away. It was impossible.

“I don’t think you do,” he answered for me. “I told you I was going to help build your confidence.”

You never told me how, jackass, I thought. I swallowed, nothing going down, but I did it anyway. Harvey threw back what was left of his whisky and sat back, knees far apart, fingers drawing patterns on the arm rests of the chair.

“Come here, Claudia.” What? “You heard me.”

Shit, I must’ve said it out loud. If I thought my heart was racing before, it sure as hell was halfway around the world now. Legs trembling, I rose. Why the fuck did I stand up? It wasn’t too late to make a beeline for the door and pray he didn’t catch up. Then again, it wasn’t like I could escape him, we worked in the same fucking building. On the same floor.

When I came to a halt, a few feet in front of him, he held out his hand, palm up. As I put my fingers in his grasp, there was nothing I could do. Harvey yanked me to him, other hand catching my hip as I collapsed into him with a yelp.

“Straddle my thigh,” he ordered. Something about the way his voice went down my spine made me obey. With extreme hesitance, I moved one leg on each side of his, lowering myself. I didn’t dare put all of my weight down. And he knew it because his hands came up to my hips and forced me all the way.

“Sir, what are you-”

“Do not call me Sir unless you are ready to deal with those consequences.” His fingers dug into the exposed skin on my thigh, eyes full of his pupils.

“Harvey, what are you doing? We shouldn’t be doing… whatever this is,” I tried to defuse the situation as best I could, but there was such a seriousness written in his features I wasn’t sure I could sway him. Maybe I didn’t want to, either.

“How does it feel?” He asked.

I blinked, “H-How does what feel, Harvey?”

He smiled at the use of his name on my tongue. I hadn’t really ever called him by his first name.

“To have one of the most powerful men in the city underneath you, bent to your will?”

When I did look away from his face, to where I was seated on his lap, I felt my stomach start to twist and mold into something new. I did have Harvey Specter underneath me. Granted, at his own command, but still…

“And before you even think about it, no. I don’t do this with all the other associates.”

“Then why me?” My voice was a barely there whisper, gaze averted from his until his thumb caught my chin and made me look into his eyes.

“Because I see something else in you that I don’t think anyone realizes. And I know the world will never see it unless you start believing in yourself and take control of the cards you’ve been dealt.”

I took a moment to steady my breath, and my uncontrollable thoughts. “And you think that whatever this is… you think this is going to help with that?”

Harvey shrugged, “I am in no way forcing you to be here, am I?”

My blush came creeping back. Of course he wasn’t forcing me to be here. I shook my head, my face just inches from his. I felt oddly relaxed under his touch.

“And I am not stopping you from getting up and leaving right now. It’s your choice, Claudia, but I think you want to be here, on my lap. Because if you didn’t, you would’ve already left.”

God dammit I hated this cocky son of a bitch. Was he right? Yes. Of fucking course he was. But the way his mouth curled up was dangerous. This was dangerous, and utterly a horrible idea. Was I really about to sit here, on one of my bosses thighs? He did look pretty good under me, shirt unbuttoned the top three, cologne wafting into the air every time he moved his head.

Harvey’s hands came back to my hips as he leaned up.

“So, are you going to get up and leave? Or, are you going to ride my thigh while I tell you how pretty you look?” His breath tickled my ear, his lips trailing the space just below. I couldn’t help the shudder that went through my whole body, and I knew Harvey felt it because he cooed.

As I adjusted myself, I couldn’t help the movement, his breath on my skin was making me flutter, Harvey moved my hips back and forth. I felt the air take from my throat. The material of his pants against my core wracked through me. So unexpectedly I found myself pressing closer to him so I wouldn’t fall off.

“That’s it, Claudia…” His voice was sickly sweet with praise. Harvey moved to fiddle with the front of his pants, and when I went to look, he caught my chin. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Harvey this… this isn’t the best idea,” I kept trying to reason. Not necessarily with him, but with myself. Obviously he wanted it, so why was I trying to convince myself to go?

“So?”

“This could have some serious implications if we don’t-”

He laughed against my neck, placing a few kisses right over where I always blushed. “Claudia, Claudia, Claudia. This is exactly what I have been talking about. You are wound far too tightly with concern. You need to let go, need to be out of control with something in your life.”

“Let me guess, that something is going to be you?”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said. “Look Claudia, I know we don’t exactly always see eye to eye on things, and we sure as hell haven’t really worked together, but that doesn’t make me less sure about this. About you. If you are having doubts, and this isn’t what you want, then walk away and we never have to talk about it ever again. But I think there is a part of you that really likes seeing me under you. That likes knowing you can make me this way.”

“And what if I do?” Harvey was right. God dammit he was right and he knew it. I looked and saw just what I had been doing to him.

“Then just let yourself enjoy it because I know I want to.”

Man, he was quite the smooth talker. My resolve crumbled and I gave in. No, I didn’t give in, I made the choice to let this happen. Harvey wanted this too, for some reason known only to the great mother and beyond. This was not going to end well, I don’t know why I thought so, but I just know this is going to cause a problem down the road. Maybe it’ll be a good one, maybe it won’t– Jesus I need to get out of my head before I start thinking into oblivion.

Harvey rolled his eyes, hand cupping the side of my face before his lips met mine. The gasp I let out… I could feel his smile. He guided my hand into the front of his pants, but did nothing else. Just left it there.

When I tried to pull away, he bit my lip and pulled me right back in. Finger pressing into the front of my throat. In a commanding, possessive way that made my stomach burn with desire.

I slowly traced around the outline of him. My fingers were trembling so fiercely that I wasn’t sure they were moving at all. As best I could control them, I made my way up to the waistband of his briefs, just… testing the waters.

“You’re so close to where I need you,” Harvey purred, eyes looking at my surly swollen lips. “Go on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.”

I guess there really was no turning back. As my hand ventured further, I ducked down and swept my tongue into his mouth. He approved very enthusiastically. Harvey continued to guide my hips back and forth and back and forth across his thigh. All too gently, all too slowly. One of his hands kept working my hip, the other camp up around my throat.

How could he know that was one of my weakest sides? It didn’t prevent any air, but it was a firm reminder.

His breath broke our searing lips when I moved my thumb over the tip of his cock. Harvey’s grip tightened on my throat and a noise slipped through my mouth. There was little I could do to keep my eyes from lulling back, head going with it. He made an effort to weave his fingers between my locks and pulled. A lot harder than I think he actually meant to.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured against my ear, sending goosebumps down my neck and arms. “I can’t help myself when you make such pretty noises. I’ll be gentle.”

I huffed out a laugh, as best I could with the straight against my neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Those are dangerous words, Claudia,” he warned, bringing my head back up. His eyes were dark in a way I couldn’t process in that moment. His lips were red and his hair was a mess from my fingers.

I tugged at him as emphasis for my earlier words. “I don’t mind you being rough with me.”

His eyes closed, and his jaw clenched. I continued my motions, slow and long, drawing divine noises from him. Even with his hands away from my hips, I still moved them, picking up pace with my hand. I took the liberty to occupy his mouth with my own, hopefully filling him with euphoria. It was fast, and quite messy. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck with sweat, and I could taste it on his skin when I couldn’t help but trail my tongue up his throat.

Harvey murmured my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t now, not with the constant moans and praise from his tongue. ‘Just like that sweetheart’, ‘I know that pretty mouth of yours will feel so much better wrapped around my cock’, ‘Can’t wait to take you apart’.

With his release, warm and wet over the back of my hand, he stilled my hips. Fingers digging in. At some point my skirt rode up, or he tugged it over my ass, and his nails left long lines of scratches. I hissed, and Harvey was breathing deep.

Harvey’s grin was nothing short of animalistic as he looked at where my hand still connected us. “Look at that, sweetheart. Look how well you’ve done.”

I could do nothing to keep my blood from rushing to my face. When I moved my hand– not entirely sure if I should get up and clean it off– Harvey snatched my wrist.

“Open.”

I was going to question him, but I watched his eyes flick over my surely swollen lips. I flushed deeper. And deeper again as he moved them into my mouth. Bitter, but not in a bad way. And If I had been thoroughly fucked, I’d undoubtably find it irresistible.

“Good girl, Claudia.”

There would be no way to recover from hearing that. I shuddered, so hard I clamped his thigh between my own, and whimpered. Like I had never before. And his stare… the way his eyes watched my tongue circle over my fingers. As they watched me swallow him down.

“I bet you didn’t even realize,” he tilted his head, tucking hair behind my ear, flopping it behind my shoulder.

“Realize…what?”

“How you took control. How confident you were with your hand… with that wicked tongue of yours. It was like it was second nature for you, wasn’t it? I didn’t even have to tell you to keep moving your hips. You just did it.”

I didn’t even know I was doing most of it… It all just happened. At some point or another.

“I wouldn’t say that I was confi-”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You were. And that feeling, of being in control, is what you need to feel when you are in the courtroom. You were able to do it here, with me, to me. It was the most powerful and direct I’ve ever seen you.”

“Sex and being a lawyer aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“No, but you were able to feel safe and let yourself go. To release all that potential and work miracles.”

“You’d consider me giving you an orgasm a miracle?”

He chuckled, leaning so his lips brushed against mine. “Your hands do miraculous things to me, Claudia. I don’t normally give myself to someone the way I did with you. I didn’t have any second thoughts about it because I knew how willing you’d be to please me. And god damn do I love watching you pleasure yourself for me.”

In the minutes that followed, Harvey stood me up and straightened out my skirt. He did give me some hand sanitizer until I could go to the bathroom. I watched as he tucked in his shirt, buttoning his pants and rolling the sleeves back up his arms.

“Harvey?”

“Yes, Claudia?” His voice was much more mellow.

“How often is this… you know. Gonna happen?”

He smirked, “Why, already picturing yourself on your knees for me?”

I wasn’t, but I sure as hell was now. One thing that I needed to learn to do was control my facial reactions because judging by the way his stepped closer, he could see that I was, in fact, picturing his hand in my hair while he forced me to take it down my-

“Oh sweet sweet Claudia,” he chuckled, tilting up my chin. “You really are that eager to please me.”

“I was just wondering when you were going to return the favor.”

Harvey seized my throat, tighter than he had before. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I will have my name dripping from your tongue for so long you will forget it completely and beg for mercy. And when you beg for it, just know that you won’t get it until I say you do.”

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