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artists-ally · 6 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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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 months

Text

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

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

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

Length: 14.2k

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

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

“Ross. Mike Ross.”

“Cut the Bond schtick.”

“I’m a contender.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s at your two o’clock.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here often?”

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

“...Annually, at least.”

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

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

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

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

“What did Mike tell you?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around.

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

Well, he was hard to miss.

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

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

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

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

“Target acquired.”

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

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

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

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

“If I had a nickel.”

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

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

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.”

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.”

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

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

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight.

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

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head.

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

“Really.”

“Mm…N—...No—?”

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

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

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

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

“What could have happened there, I wonder?”

“You must not have taken care.”

“Of what?”

Of me. “Of anything.”

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

“Friends of yours?”

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

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

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

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

“And this is Harvey Specter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I took a crack at writing it myself.”

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

“I look forward to it.”

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

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

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

“Thirteen,” You sighed.

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered.

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

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

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

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

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?”

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

“It’s an open bar.”

“Good. Then it won’t break the bank.”

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

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

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.”

“Smart move.”

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

“Better late than never.”

“I guess.”

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

“We’re going to.”

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

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

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

“I’ve barked enough for now.”

“Biting?”

“If you play your cards right, sure.”

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

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

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What did?”

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

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

“You don’t say.”

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

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

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

“I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

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

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

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

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

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

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

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

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

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

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

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

“You have that good faith deposit.”

“I told you where it went.”

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

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does one make a polite killing?”

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

“Redbull?”

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

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

“On which?”

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

“Anything stand out?”

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

“What about the others?”

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.”

“You have the print-outs?”

“In my car.”

“Why are they in there?”

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

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

“You do that often?”

“What, drink?”

“Yes.”

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?”

“I’m asking if you do that often.”

“Once in a while.”

“New for you?”

“Relatively.”

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

“So you can talk me out of it?”

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

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

“We don’t have to talk.”

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

“Call me anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll drive up.”

“And Gstaad?”

“A little trickier.”

“Could bill it.”

“I doubt it.”

“You could, under discovery.”

“This would not be covered under discovery.”

“How would you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.”

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

“I await the enraged phone call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.”

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Remember what I said.”

“I will.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

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

“...Harvey?”

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

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

“I don’t want to litigate that.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Not like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—”

“I need you to come into the office.”

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

“What happened?”

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

“Come to the office.”

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

“Cheese fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey’s on that.”

“Your divorce.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know of it.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.”

“Lucky guy.”

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

“It’s nice to meet you.”

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

“Look, Mr. Alford—”

“David, please.”

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

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

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

“It could be again.”

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

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

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

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand.

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

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

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.”

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

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

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

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

“You need one.”

“That is beyond the point, Mr—”

“David.”

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

“How would you know what’s enough?”

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

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

“Yes, I do.”

“Because it was your business, too.”

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

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

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.”

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

“I mean, having been served—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“There is no way.”

“You’d be surprised.”

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

“Well, it certainly would be before.”

“What exactly has changed?”

“You didn’t know me. You do now.”

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

“What a cozy little conference this is.”

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?”

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

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

“We can’t all be queens of quip.”

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.”

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

“Coffee?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

But you were not going to fuck him.

“Don’t fuck him.”

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

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

“Excuse me?” You finally managed.

“You heard me.”

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

“I have plenty of business.”

“No—”

“Don’t—”

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

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

“Do not say that you know me.”

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

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

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

“I know the type.”

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?”

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

“I meant Steven.”

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

“Just…Be careful with him.”

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

“I’m not lecturing you—”

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

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Fuck you.”

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

“We’re not done talking about this.”

“Yes, we are. Get out.”

“We’re not done until—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

“I did not—”

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

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

“Oh, really—”

“And a helluva lot worse than me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Against your better judgment.”

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

“Don't call me that.”

“Why not.”

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Give me a good reason not to.”

“You haven’t earned it back.”

“Any idea of how I might do that?”

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

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

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

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

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.”

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

“Turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left one on the counter.”

“You want one?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey?”

“What.”

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?”

“What?”

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?”

“I had a date.”

Your brow furrowed as you took that in.

“...When?”

“Tonight.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Because I’m here.”

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

“Don’t read into it,” He added.

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

“I was.”

“Arrange for that, did you?”

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

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

“What.”

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

“I know.”

“Good.”

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

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

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.”

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

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

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

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t promise a rain check?”

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.”

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

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

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

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.”

“Sure.”

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

“You’ve earned one.”

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

“I understand.”

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

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?”

“Can we talk about it?”

“The sex or the other thing?”

“The other thing.”

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

You shook your head.

“Some other time,” He promised.

“Sure.”

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

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot.

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

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

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

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

“They’re worth more than your apartment.”

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

“...This is different.”

“It’s criminal,” You muttered.

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

“Both. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now who’s making cute comments.”

–

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

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

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.”

“So, what do you think?”

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

“Why list it in your name, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

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

“And Gstaad?”

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

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

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement.

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

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

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

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

“He is to me.”

–

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

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.”

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

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

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

“I can handle it.”

“You’d be more comfortable in a car.”

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

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

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

“Cruel is an understatement.”

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, thank you.”

“Stubborn.”

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

“What for?”

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

“Oh, so now you want to?”

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

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

“Nothing. What were you saying?”

“Jessica needs to see you.”

“Right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

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

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

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

"Were there any outstanding features?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

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

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

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

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

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

"She told you?"

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

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

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

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

He was certain of it. "Yes."

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

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

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

"Has Steven seen it?"

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

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

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

"Things are different now."

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

"Let me see this case through."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

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

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

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

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

"She knows."

"What?"

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

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

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

"Jessica—"

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

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

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

"Oh—Come on."

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

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

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

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

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

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

“You slept with—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I went over to hang out.”

“At her apartment?”

“Yeah.”

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

“Get out of my office.”

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

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

“That’s not enough to disbar you.”

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll come over."

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

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

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

"At work."

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

"I'm ready for it."

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

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

"Fine."

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

"Harvey—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Find the place alright?” She teased.

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

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

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

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

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.”

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

“Two minutes.”

Two minutes? Until what?

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

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

“No need. I know what you look like.”

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

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

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.”

“They are.”

“Figures.”

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“You regret it?”

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“And then what?”

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

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

“Donna will keep him at bay.”

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

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

“Probably.”

But neither of you rushed to move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

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

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

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

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

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

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

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's on me."

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

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

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

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

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

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

"He sure has."

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

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

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

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

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

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

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

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

“Impressed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re dazzled.”

“I like the kitchen.”

“You’re helplessly turned on.”

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.”

“So you admit that you’re turned on?”

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

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

“...Harvey?”

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.”

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

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

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.”

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

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

“Please,” You pleaded softly.

“...I didn’t write the note.”

Fuck.

“Okay.”

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.”

“Who wrote that one?”

“Scottie.”

“...Okay.”

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

“Well, she was right.”

“Yeah.”

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

“I had doubts.”

“About me?”

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

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

“I was afraid of it.”

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

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

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

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

“Because you loved Steven?”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t ready!”

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

“You wanted to get married.”

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

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

“Would you if you could?”

“Yes.”

“...Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmhm.”

“Want coffee?”

“Yes.”

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

“Sure.”

“‘Kay.”

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

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @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 ; @mythical-goth ;

#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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amourlyns · 3 months

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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which the reader meets bruce wayne at a gala, the riddler is rampant in the city. and this gala is his next target. part one of two.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of alcohol consumption, and drugs. bruce is vv emotionally repressed, he’s got problems ok?

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 🦦 this is pattison’s batman influenced by matt reeves (the batman.) no use of y/n, pov switches to bruce twice in this fic. listen to 〞thank god for the rain 〞 by bernard herrman for ambiance.

⟡ ⠀ | Gotham is well (…) an odd city. An odd city with slick—tongued alley cats who roam and lurk at each corner, merging with the shadow and watching passerby dance and speak in hypnotic tongues.

You liked to call it the Gotham effect, it comes with the city of sin and crime. It’s odd, like you stated before. There’s the occasional glitz and glamor of wealthy Gothamites, galas laced with cocaine pearls and wine filled bottles (…)

Accompanied by champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvre’s to indulge in for the night.

And within this false sense of normalcy and entitlement, there’s the night. The Gotham better known for its crime and vigilantes. You see, everyone in Gotham is acting. The key to understanding it all in Gotham is the rhythm.

The people are the rhythm, the day is the rhythm. The night is the rhythm. And within this element of rhythmic chaos, there’s always something lurking. Watching the city underneath light polluted skies and charcoal clouds. When the smog seems to clog up your lungs and choke your breathing, there’s always something else to worry about.

The Batman, of course.

If anything, he highlights what Gotham is at the core. A broken city, deeply scarred and angry. Scratching at its surface to be heard. To be healed. Has Gotham always been seeking justice and light? Or is it seeking something much more carnal and sinister (…) Vengeance? A certain greed?

Whatever it was, it spoke to Gothamites. Hate the Bat, or love the Bat. He spoke for the city of Gotham, and he would always be there at every corner, watching.

Gotham is sick and venal.

You hope for the day of a real rain to come and wash off the scum from the streets. For now, it’s the Bat who takes care of the illness. Could 〞 it 〞 save Gotham?

Maybe.

It’s silly thought anyways, Gotham has been plagued with crime for decades. Some masked vigilante wouldn’t be able to stop that regardless. The thought is flimsy and useless. Something made out of hope and optimism, the kind of thing you consume in dreams. Not only that, but the Batman is more of a fable, a myth.

Besides, there was no use in consuming yourself with thoughts of Gotham and its nightly specter. For now, you’re here, at another Gala— with the same diluted faces and the same twisted smiles. Then night moves on in an odd distorted way, a blur even.

The man who snaps you out of this daze is Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s Prince, the man of the hour. You could only wonder what caused this recluse to emerge out of the manor he calls home. Unlike other notable people in Gotham, Bruce Wayne chooses to live a quiet life shrouded in mystery.

When he does remove himself from the confines of the manor, and the tabloids simply go into a frenzy. Like sharks during a feeding. It feels like everyone in Gotham wanted a piece of Bruce Wayne. Craving a flesh they surely don’t deserve.

Something tells you to draw closer to the oddity, like this would be the only time you’d be able to lay your eyes on Bruce Wayne in the flesh. So, you might as well take the opportunity to really take him all in.

Wayne eventually loses the limelight. The audience dies and you decide to pass through the sea of bodies that separate you two. He notices this of course, ever so vigilant. Some part of you expects him to flee and avoid the confrontation all together. Wary hues remain fixated on your figure slipping through the crowd.

Surely he isn't waiting (…) Right ?

Apparently he wasn’t, not like you knew of course. Bruce Wayne was a hard man to decipher after all, you couldn't tell if something compelled him to stay or if that kept him still.

For the first time tonight, you're accompanied by someone else. It'd off to say the least, Bruce is certainly a presence to behold, sure. But he wouldn't even spare a glance at you, you gaze eventually follows his line of sight.

Now? Now, all eyes are set on beacon in the sky now. The symbol of the night.

Batman is called by the city tonight, needed in the shadows once more. You could only wonder what for. You’re not one for new and tabloids but, there has been some discussion about the 〞 Riddler. 〞

Gotham’s newest deranged lunatic villain.

The man was terrifying, you’ve seen the footage. You've seen the terror and heard the screams. So how was the Batman going to save the city now? The thought of Gotham coming to its own demise (…) it was bound to, the city hasn’t had hope in a long time. You knew that very well.

Now what was he thinking? Did the Wayne believe in the Bat? In Vengeance, and his own crusade. Before you can even ask the question, he’s turning away. Maybe he’s had enough of your company for tonight.

❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜

Bruce does not turn back around to face you, instead he turns his head. Adjusting his gaze to you and the symbol in the night, it shifts. Once, twice than thrice. His face is unreadable. Typical.

He wants to speak, you know that much. Yet he doesn’t, for whatever reason. Bruce chooses to stare right through you.

You let him.

He doesn’t owe you a response, you know that much. Before you know it, he’s gone.

𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙰. A FEW HOURS BEFORE YOUR ENCOUNTER (…)

⟡ ⠀ | THE CITY IS QUIET TONIGHT. Unlike any another night, the city streets are deserted, emptied if you will. It’s all because of the recent attacks by the Riddler. There’s a few stranglers of course, sticking near the shaded roads and corners.

There’s a gala tonight, Alfred informed me on that. He wanted to me to attend because I needed to 〞 maintain 〞 my appearances for the sake of my family’s reputation and legacy. I only agreed because it would be the perfect opportunity to watch the city through civilian eyes. And give me an advantage.

The suit is less than ideal. Tight, stuffy and constricting.

Alfred is in the middle of fixing my tie when he tells me I look like my father.

I do not reply to that.

I stare into the mirror. Taking the time to analyze my polished appearance, Alfred fixes my tie and hands me my father’s cuff links once more. Now he’s watching me closely, too closely. Like I’ll break and shatter because he mentioned my father.

My face must’ve given my thoughts away, Alfred is quick to place his hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze. My eyes dart between his hand and his face.

There’s that (…) sympathy again, or was it regret? Sometimes the two emotions blur and mix, all into one.

I should be kinder to Alfred.

If I could vocalize it, I would. But it comes out all raw, sore and achy. Like I’m forcing the kindness out of me. If only I could— could verbalize this gratitude. I would—

My chest throbs at the guilt. I grimace. Alfred seems to get it somehow, he can see the apology in my eyes. He lets me go for the time being, I insist to drive myself. He obliges.

The arrival is dreadful. The lights are too bright and there’s too many eyes on me. Voices ring out, calling out my name— Gothams Prince, Wayne, Mister Wayne, Bruce Wayne. They chant to me. The media swarms me like flies, and questions flood after.

I hardly keep my head above the water, I’m practically drowning. The only thing that keeps me going is that light in the sky.

The signal.

The media disperses, shifting towards the beacon of light that brands the sky tonight. From my peripheral view, I see something moving closer to me. Slipping through the sea of people. Their destination is to me. My gaze remains fixated on the bat-signal.

I have to go.

The figure besides me shifts, eyeing me down every now and then. I decide to take my leave.

❛ ❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜ ❜

Their words capture me for a few moments. I still. Letting the words settle into my mind. I can’t find it in me to look at them.

WHEN I LEAVE, it seems like the city mocks me. It feels like the rain corrodes my kevlar. The frigid rain seems to sink through bone marrow and nip away at skin. There’s a ferocious wind in Gotham tonight, the rain drenches everything in a torrential downpour.

Storm drains are filled and plugged, creating miniature oceans in the road.

When I arrive, the commissioner informs me on the recent developments of the Riddler. He has plans for tonight, and another letter written for me.

An explosion goes off that night.

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layton-heritage-posts · 3 months

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I’ve finished the brackets! (And the Name!)

Man, there are already a bunch of though decisions to be made… this is going to be hard. Well start the first round tomorrow! Kinda! More like a prologue to the first round. I’m gonna post only the four battles that are on the side at first, and then the actual round one will begin after that.

Each poll will last for a week, with a two day break between them.

And with that, it officially means that my Heritage Work is shut down for the remaining time of this tournament. Archive closed. Door Locked. You know how it is.

In case you have a hard time reading what’s up against what, which is fair, I wrote them all again under the cut.

Professor Laytons theme vs the winner of The Plot Thickens vs The Toy Robot

Theme of the Specters flute vs Time Travel

London Streets vs PL vs AA Opening

Guilded 7 Casino vs The Great Don Paolo

Emmy‘s Effort‘s - Emmy‘s Theme vs the winner of Conclusion vs Chinatown

Main Theme - Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy vs Folsense

Theme of the last time travel vs Folsense

The eternal diva vs iris

Norwell vs the winner of Misthallery vs A tragic Fate

Pursuit vs Black Market

Descoles theme vs theme of the diabolical box

Main theme - Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask vs Puzzle Battle

Mobile Fortress vs the winner of Toy Car vs Pursuit - Spellbreaker

Monte‘Dor Carnival Night vs The Final Battle

Future British Gentleman vs Puzzle (Specters Call)

The feelings will always be close vs The veil of night

#Professor Layton and the Golden Melody #do you like the Name btw?#i had some joke ideas at first but at the end I thought let’s make it sound like it could be an actual Layton game

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ultra-puzzlemaster · 5 months

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A bit late but for the @layton-npc-appreciation-week, I wanted to talk about Beth from The Last Specter:

Mostly because I've only now realized how important she's for the plot, years after playing LS for the first time.

Spoilers for Last Specter/Spectre's Call ahead!

So Beth worked as a maid for the Barde family, but got fired shortly before Evan's death, then started working in the Triton household. Which means she's the one who can tell you the most about both families and how things changed when the Specter appeared. And she does so!

Her first and perhaps most important action was actually before the game started. If you remember what Luke says…

That's right, she's the one who let Luke know about the flute being sold at the black market! She may not be aware of it but it's thanks to her that Layton and the other get to meet the Black Ravens and learn about Barde, and ultimately

In fact, if you think about it, perhaps she could have told them even more about this flute if they had asked her, since:

She already knew Arianna was the one playing it all along.

But that's not all! She has a role that might be less important for the professor but crucial for us players.

Indeed, she's the one giving us the biggest clues about Doland being an impostor:

In game, Layton realizes and proves he's the mastermind thanks to Luke's notes, which we sadly can't see.

But if we listen to Beth and help her, she'll tell us how Doland suddenly changed after the Specter appeared: his beautiful penmanship became nearly impossible to read, he started going out who-knows-where a lot, didn't gave her clear instructions like he used to, and got mean to her.

Another character, Jasmine, notices and mentions Doland's change in character but she doesn't say much except "he ignored me and my puzzle do you want to solve it?" while Beth gives us an entire puzzle based on Descole's awful handwriting.

And it makes sense: since they work together, she's the most likely to see the cracks in his act, and since he doesn't really care about her, she didn't get kidnapped nor blackmailed.

Other notable things she can tell us include:

Mentioning the oracle and that Doland knows about it.

Another clue that there's something hidden in the cellar, and that when Emmy thought she heard voices it wasn't just her imagination. (also the poor woman started to doubt her own sanity because of Descole)

She confirmed (although was there any doubt about it?) that Barde's death and his will are very strange, even if they were confirmed by the famous police officer Third-Eyed Jakes. She doesn't say it in front of Luke but she suspects that Clark killed Barde and now his ghost is haunting the house.

Speaking of Jakes, she informs you later that Clark left with him.

If you go see her before going to save Arianna she'll tell you that both Clark and Doland left without a word. Layton knows what's going on.

Not a hint but she also has this line:

Poor Beth struggles with Fake Doland's instructions and bad temper to the point she has to repeatedly ask Layton to help, she gives him puzzles (which he likes) and then feels guilty about it. This woman deserves a break. And someone to tell her it's not her fault Doland was so rude to her.

There's a lot more to talk about: how working under a manipulator's supervision affected her self-esteem, how her role in the story was overlooked, how the game treated her character… (I could probably make a whole post about sexism, working classes and the devaluation of social work… but not today)

I'll end with this picture from the credits where we can see Beth regained her place in the Barde's family:

If you've read to the end, thank you very much!

And remember: whoever you are, whatever you do, you matter, and you're more important than you may think.

#professor layton #professor layton and the last specter #professor layton and the spectre's call #last specter #spectre's call #layton npc appreciation week #pl beth #arianna barde #pl4day #screenshots #pl screenshots #no jokes in the alt text this time sorry

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alto-tenure · 7 months

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The Specter of Misthallery, allusions, and narrative framing

Professor Layton and the Last Specter alludes to the fact that, of course, this is not the first specter to have been in Misthallery -- the specter is, in fact, a much older fairytale, the nature of which is, just as with most folklore, impossible to verify.

The nature of fairytales is such that they often get distorted by those who are telling them, and then those distortions continue to be passed onwards to generations afterwards, and new distortions evolve. The way characters tell the story of Misthallery's specter tells us things about them, too, and the parts they play in the story.

Long ago, in a lawless age, a pack of bandits invaded a small village. Amidst the chaos, a terrified young farm girl played her flute to drown out the madness. As the music spiralled high into the sky, a giant spectre appeared above her. She begged the spectre to destroy the bandits and it swiftly obeyed. The town was saved, and the spectre vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. But the farm girl knew that in times of danger she needed only to play the flute and the spectre would appear again.

This is, of course, Descole's narration from his first appearance. He is taking advantage of the legend of the specter, and seems to be reading from a book during this cutscene.

The specter is unequivocally a force for good the way Descole words the tale. The specter is the girl's savior. It's a bit of intrigue, but also...the way it's portrayed here feels like a very obvious allusion to Arianna and Loosha, for which Loosha is very much Arianna's savior, getting her to the Golden Garden so that she can live. Descole also says after this that it's time for them to "pen the next chapter". He is using the myth of the specter on purpose to smokescreen his true intentions of unearthing the Golden Garden. He means neither to help the villagers or hurt them -- he only has his own agenda. Of course, this isn't the last we hear of this tale...

There's a legend here that tells of an ancient spirit… A specter. When the town was in danger, the specter would act as Misthallery's guardian in its moment of need.

This is how Clark tells the tale. Note its brevity compared to Descole's telling (or Luke's, later on). When the town is in danger, the specter acts to protect it. It is more general than Descole's telling, but is more in line with Luke's version of the events. His portrayal of the specter of lore is fairly bare-bones, but enough to understand that Descole's version is nothing more than a false echo. Something that he understands more than the people of Misthallery, considering that he knows more about the specter due to the blackmailing.

Long ago, the villagers used a flute to call upon a spectre for protection from their enemies… So, if the spectre does the bidding of whoever plays the flute… Then someone is trying to destroy Misthallery! "If the spectre is ever used for impure motives, it shall unleash its wrath upon humanity. It will destroy all in its path, creating its own paradise."

Luke's telling of the tale centers around the idea that the world will end if the specter is used to cause harm -- his telling fuses both ideas from Descole's (the flute is used to summon the specter and control it) and Clark's (the specter was there for the town at large, not for one specific person it was bonded to). This suggests that Luke is familiar with the version that appears in the book (after all, the book is likely from the Triton library), but he's filtering what he remembers through the lens of his anxieties around the specter attacks, his mother's disappearance, and his father's behavior. He expects the world to end because of the connection to the tale.

(And, of course, the connections to Azran Legacy can't be ignored here -- everything destroyed to carve out paradise for the villain of a story.)

The truth is, as always, a complicated affair -- there is no such things as specters, only machines fighting monsters -- but it is likely that the story started out with a specter that protects the village. The version in the book has probably gone through several layers of generational filtering, but its relevance to the narrative remains.

#professor layton #pl spoilers #last specter spoilers #meta #azran legacy spoilers

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

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Dungeon: The Veiled Palace

Sorrow pervades this valley, the painful ache that remains after tears and screams have exhausted themselves and the body can only linger on in faltering surrender. You can feel it in the rain, in the rocks, in the chill of the wind as it pulls the mirth from your bones.

Setup: Forlorn and forgotten thought it may be, the Veiled palace was said to have been constructed by a besotted celestial and played home to a succession of demigod warlords before it and the surrounding lands were reclaimed by nature at the end of the last civil war, transforming into a vast hinterland ripe for exploration.

Hooks:

Though the warlords have been gone for generations, their most cunning servants, a coterie of assassins live on, location concealed by ancient enchantments that cloak their fortress and their movements in near impenetrable mist. They now sell their services to the innumerable nobles and merchants of the lowlands as the “Serpent-Unseen”, a group the party will only hear of after taking an innocuous job that sees their prospective employer killed half way through and the party hastily pinned for the crime.

In addition to the isolated human villages in mountains, there are also encalves of aarakocra and jaguar-tabaxi in the region, both of whom retain scraps of lore about the palace and its formation, but have become increasingly unfriendly towards outsiders of late. Someone has been wandering their territory and ensnaring their people through the use of a bewitching flute, and all those who try to rescue the ensorceled are never heard from again.

Tales in local roadhouses tell of Tamha, a long vanished village in the mountains that once traded in heavenly treasures, some beautiful or powerful beyond beleif. While these rumors may incite the party to start combing the rainforest for trinkets, they’ve also inspired the Serpent-Unseen’s latest leader, Janbek the collector, aspirations for his organization far above being petty cutthroats. Having found a few of these trinkets ( such as the flute), the collector realizes that the Veiled palace is a storehouse of powerful enchantments that could lead him and his people to true power far beyond the swords and poisons they currently wield.

Those traveling high into the mountains should be wary, as to hear the locals tell it a soaking wet ghost that appears wandering the roads in the area dazed and confused, bloodless save for the silvery ichor which drips down from a bone-bearing gash in his head. As the ghost story goes, should the specter clasp you in his deathly grip, you’ll start to drown on land, all while he pleads with you to help him find his way home, dissolving into tears should his victim fight their way free.

Background: As the story goes, the celestial noble Rindal’jar was traveling the mortal world admiring the beauty of the mountains when he fell in love with a mortal girl from a tiny little village by name of Sya. This was a problem, as Rindal’jar was already married to the local goddess of rain, and so cloaked the surrounding valley in a never ending mist so as to hide the affair from his betrothed. Rindal’jar likewise concealed his true nature from his beau, claiming to be a wandering noble in search of poetic inspiration as he lavished gifts upon her and her people. Sya for her part figured out Rindal’jar’s ruse when such gifts icnluded bundles of gold or a bridge over a valley she was forced to cross every time she went to gather fruit, but she and her people were poor, and she feared offending this fanciful stranger and all the power he seemed to wield. The affair continued for years, and eventually saw Sya living like royalty in a palace conjured by Rindal’jar, waited upon by a staff of animals transmuted into servants: brilliant birds for her ladies and courtiers and a pack of leopards for her honor guard. Her people were forced to stay in the village below, but she smuggled them whatever riches she could to trade for food and proper tools. Having long suspected her husband’s unfaithfulness, the goddess of rain eventually used her trusted agents to track him to the valley, giving them a bronze vessel empowered by years of bitter hurt and resentment to unleash upon him when he was alone in the valley. Unstoppered the vessel unleashed monsoon storms and flooded the valley in an instant, washing away the unfaithful Rindal’jar as well as Sya’s village in an instant of divine spite. Watching from above and hidden by the palace’s enchantments, Sya watched her people destroyed, and afterwords retreated to the depths of the palace, living out the rest of her life like a ghost. Her and Rindal’jar’s children, raised by magical convenience and their sorrow-broken mother came up spoiled and wrong, eventually declaring themselves as warlords and raising successive bands of jaguar folk and mountain bandits as they use their father’s gifts to carve out territory for themselves. This pattern persisted over generations, until Rindal’jar’s line got tangled up in a brutal civil war and ended up extinguished for their troubles, their territory falling back to the wild.

Further Adventures:

Once and orphan and petty thief, the aasimar Janbek (perhaps correctly) sees himself as the heir to the warlords’ legacy, feeling pulled to collect the trinkets and treasures a celestial noble carelessly bestowed upon a hapless village girl so long ago. While many of these trinkets are merely valuable, others possess powerful abilities that have gone long unobserved, but seem to blossom in the collector’s grasp allowing him to ascend the ranks of the Serpent Unseen faster than anyone in the organization’s history. His ultimate goal is to uncover the origin of these wonders, and bring the valley under his control as a new reigning warlord to which surrounding territories must offer their allegiance. To this end the party may end up doing battle with Janbek over treasures they do not know the true origin of, or even inadvertently passing a few into his hands in the early game.

Of all the magical items scattered throughout the hinterlands and the surrounding region, perhaps the most dangerous is the stormbearing vessel, which was washed downstream and into the plunge of a violent waterfall and stuck in the rubble beneath the crashing water ever since. The party may only come to know of the vessel thanks to the locals telling them the sad story of Rindal’Jar’s transgressions, and connecting it with their earlier ghost sightings.

If one held the wrathful vessel, one could bring rains in times of drought, or summon hurricanes to ravage armies and scour fleets at sea. One could even use it to summon the wrathful goddess, which Janbek may attempt to do if the party closes in on him. What this scornful rain-god will do with the descendant of her philandering husband is anyone’s guess, perhaps smite him on the spot or take him as a consort, elevating him to terrible power. The gods are inscrutable after all, and it would be impious to try to predict how they would act next.

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souriz-e · 1 year

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yknow playing last specter for the first time felt so different for a number of reasons, but i think a huge part of it was because of the shock due to the sheer contrast in layton’s personality from UWF. listening back to layton’s UWF voice clips after being so used to prequel layton in general was so jarring because in that game, he’s SO serious. his voice is deeper and his tone more to the point. his lisp is a little more harsh, even his humor is different. he approaches things with a no-nonsense attitude and chuckles at general mishaps.

so in UWF, i think he’s more mature overall and the most serious we’ve even seen his character in a game… which is SUCH A CONTRAST to LS layton, who is arguably the most unserious we’ve ever seen him. this man chases cats and jokes about the police behind their backs, and his humor leans on the side of being at the (minor) expense of others. his voice lines are *noticeably* more sarcastic, especially in this game’s reveal/point scene. the tone of UWF is so somber; he’s very experienced and almost tired. but LS is likely the first big adventure he’s been on. we see that in his character at the end too, when he’s in awe at the golden garden and makes the proclamation that he will go on and solve more mysteries, and when luke begs to come him and be his apprentice. even his sprites are rounder; they’re a little more baby-faced and a little kinder.

he’s observably younger and newer at this in LS, even if he’s been a professor for 7 years at this point and the time span between LS and UWF is only about 3-4 years of experience on top of that. ig it started having more of an affect on him once he hit the decade mark 😭 but yeah, crm showed that contrast and that pre-character development attitude in hershel absolutely flawlessly and i will never shut up about it

#christopher robin miller #flawless perfect impeccable #if he doesnt come back for NWS im RIOTING.#professor layton #last specter #unwound future #lost future #specter’s flute #special interest #character development

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angelbellelc2 · 2 months

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Here's my second try on uploading Emmy's correct puzzle quote. I didn't like the first one as I didn't like how it came out. This is from the original Japanese version of Last Specter/Spectre's Call.

#professor layton #emmy altava #professor layton last specter #professor layton specters call #professor layton devil's flute

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sibyl-of-space · 6 months

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I know I seem like a perfectly normal, reasonable, and well-adjusted person right now*, but I need you all to know that the minute Professor Layton and the New World of Steam drops I am going to go insane. I am going to come entirely off all of my hinges. Everybody shut the fuck up that is all I am going to be talking about for the next ever.

I don't even expect it to be very good. If it IS very good that will be a pleasant surprise!!! But I fully expect it to be kind of mediocre and set in an alternate "America" that has been imagined by someone who glanced at a Wikipedia page on US history and called that good enough. Whether it is good is not the point.

This game is for ME. This game is for the bitch who made a powerpoint presentation for my high school English class final about how excited I was about the new prequel game, Professor Layton and the Specter's Flute (editor's note: this game has been officially titled "Professor Layton and the Last Specter"), that would get localized ANY DAY NOW (editor's note: it was localized the following year).

This game is for the bitch who bought that game first thing after classes on the day it came out, went back to my undergrad dorm room, and played it nonstop until I beat it at like 4 in the morning. This game is for the bitch whose self-described life goal was to someday write a piece of music that someone else listens to the way I listen to the Professor Layton live music themes. This game is for the bitch who is now MAKING A VISUAL NOVEL THAT ONLY EXISTS BECAUSE OF PROFESSOR LAYTON MUSIC, FOR WHICH PROFESSOR LAYTON IS THE #1 INSPIRATION IN TERMS OF AESTHETICS AND ART/MUSIC DIRECTION.

That bitch wouldn't have dreamed of a game set post-Unwound Future featuring Layton and Luke again that would come out over a decade later. But it's here. And I am going to play that shit the INSTANT IT DROPS.

GIVE IT TO ME, LEVEL 5!!!!!!!!!!

*this is not true

#this game is going to be the most incredible game that has ever come out #and this will be true whether or not it is any good #thank you have a nice day!

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itsmoonpeaches · 1 year

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Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial, a short fanfic

Title: Horizon Line

Part of the Little Moments ficlet collection. Also, read the full fic on ao3.

Word count: 957

Rating: G

Summary: Tenzin takes a walk on Air Temple Island.

Aunt Suki's hand clapped on Tenzin's back. "Just worry about your mom, okay?" she said with a tired frown. "She's the one you really need to worry about, not your dad."

Tenzin sighed, then nodded. "Right," he replied.

"You and your siblings need to check up on her."

"Got it."

Aunt Suki nodded after a pause, then seemed to be satisfied with his responses. "I know you three will do well for your parents," she finished. "Your Uncle Sokka and I will cook your dinner tonight. Any preferences?"

Tenzin tried not to think about how Uncle Sokka would be relegated to chopping the vegetables rather than actually cooking. He sagged against the pillar next to the entryway, eager to exit the building to escape into the chill of winter.

"Noodles," he said. "Dad likes noodles."

She turned and left, humming some Earth Kingdom tune he vaguely recognized from those fantastic tales his parents and their friends told him, his siblings, and their peers from their childhood.

Snow drifted to the ground, soft flurries that coated the earth in white. He left. Tenzin's footsteps sank into the ground, forming shadowy indents that trailed after him like the specter of a spirit.

He rubbed at his eyes. The corners of them burned in a constant throb and exhaustion weighed heavy on his shoulders and within his bones.

He had made it out of his family's quarters on Air Temple Island after what was probably days. He was not quite sure. The hours seemed to blur together in unintelligible cycles that ticked across his eyelids in an unforgiving march.

He turned, realizing later that he was walking toward the airbending training area where the wooden gates squeaked with each gentle touch of wind.

He stopped suddenly, spotting his older sister, Kya on the other side. She had that same look he saw in his own eyes lately. She nodded at him, pointing toward the docks. She dragged her feet through the snow and let him be.

He got her unspoken message. She was going to the water, of course. It was where she could settle herself down in stressful situations. She would waterbend and be content. For now.

In the distance, he heard the soft sound of a cheery wooden flute. Their oldest sibling, Bumi, was playing music again in the room.

Tenzin sat on the steps that led to the airbending gates, too tired to do anything else. The music floated by in steady waves.

At least someone was in the room. It was their agreement, after all. At least one sibling would be always in the room. They could be there together if they wanted, but it did not always happen that way. They made a rotation. They took breaks. They needed them.

Tenzin stared into the nothingness of the night. He ignored the cold air. It was easy too, especially when he could airbend a heated shield around himself. But he did not want to this time. He wanted to feel the frost nipping at his fingertips. At least it would be something.

Someone cleared their throat.

Tenzin jumped. He glanced upward, surprised to see Toph looking sightlessly back at him. Her foggy eyes appeared intense, regardless of her lack of vision. The lines on her face were deeper than he remembered them being, and the streaks of gray in her pulled-back hair nearly blended into the icy mist.

"You people need to learn to pay attention to your surroundings," she harrumphed. She crossed her arms. "Even when I have to wear shoes because of the weather, I can see better than you."

"Hi Toph," said Tenzin. He did notice the boots on her feet. He wondered how clouded her earthbending sight was through the soles of them.

"You sound messed up."

Tenzin did not respond. Instead, he turned away. He did not care if she could not see his expression.

"Your dad's been sick for a while," she continued. "It's not looking good."

Tenzin whipped back around to face her. He wanted to shout, "Of course, it doesn't look good! Nothing looks good! Everything's falling apart and it's not fair, and how does it make sense that the Avatar who's supposed to live hundreds of years is like this?"

But he said something else. "What do you want?" he responded with a strained voice.

There was a long moment in which it felt like she was scrutinizing him in her own way. His skin crawled and he shivered with the intensity.

Toph's lips thinned. "Take care of yourself, all right?" she said.

Tenzin's mouth opened, surprised despite himself. "What?" he sputtered out.

"You heard me."

"But what—"

"You have to expand through your horizons. You know, get out of here," she interrupted. "Take care of yourself, you, and your siblings."

It was not long before she waved, leaving without another word except, "See ya."

Tenzin sat there, wondering what had gotten into him. The images of bedsheets and candles and noodles drifted away. The scent of medicines and poultices disappeared.

No one had asked him how he was doing. No one had asked Kya how she was doing, nor Bumi.

He did not realize, he never did. Not until everything was on the brink of collapse. He worried for his dad. He worried for his mom.

But no one, it seemed, had remembered to worry about him.

He got up, intent on joining Kya at the docks. He did not have to be strong around her. She did not have to be strong around him. They had been lost in the expectations everyone had set for them, and the same ones they had set for themselves.

It had been so long. He let himself cry.

#flash fiction friday #fff177 #itsmoonpeaches fanfic #atla #atla fanfic #tenzin #katara #aang #kataang #kataangtag #kind of kataang i guess #kya #bumi #lok #legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #expend through horizons

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 30

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

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

Warnings: Oral sex; piv; unprotected sex

“You look beautiful.”

“You can cut that out.”

“Cut what out?”

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

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

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

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

“A favor.”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like a brother.”

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

“Drink up. Let’s go.”

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head.

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

“I agreed to the cocktail party, Specter.”

“I’m paying.”

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

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

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

It just wasn’t fair.

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

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

“I paraphrased.”

“You deliberately twisted and embellished my words.”

“I did not.”

“I don't believe you for a second.”

“You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Awwww, poow wittle Hawvey.”

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

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

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

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

“Slick.”

“Yes.”

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

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

“It’s not?”

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

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

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

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

“A frigid little princess.”

You scoffed out a stunned laugh at the admission.

“You did not—!”

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

“Frigid?”

“Aloof, yeah.”

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

“Still feeling shy?” Harvey teased.

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

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

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

“Already got the dine part in.”

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

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

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

“I bet I’d love them.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m not being a dick!”

“No?”

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

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

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

“Sweetheart, I’m never nice.”

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

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

“No, c’mon—”

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

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

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

“It is. Would you like a taste?”

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not one bit, princess.”

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

“You feel so fucking good,” You breathed.

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

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

“Fuck, fuck, Harvey—”

“Almost there?” He murmured.

“Ye–yes, Harvey, shit—”

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

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

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

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

“My card is still behind the bar.”

“We’ll get it tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was a little preoccupied."

"Oh yeah? With what?"

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

"With that."

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#Harvey Spector x Reader #Harvey Spector x You #Harvey Spector/Reader #Harvey Spector/You #Harvey Spector fic #Harvey Spector imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Youvebeenlivingfictional Kinktober 2022

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