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youvebeenlivingfictional · 9 months ago

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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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celestie0 · 2 months ago

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I LOVEE GOJO AND I LOVE SPIDERMAN IF U DO WRITE AN AU ILL WORSHIP U FOREVER

ahhh see i really do want to. but ughhh. too many ideas too little time.

i was kinda thinking, i've really been wanting to do a hospital au, so maybe mix it w spiderman au. sumn like reader n gojo are both part of a trauma surgeon cohort of first year residents and maybeee it's also childhood friends to lovers? like they've been friends forever and went through med school together n stuff. so likeee reader knows him better than anyone else

ok and then hear me out. so gojo has his typical spiderman lore right like he gets bit by a spider n becomes spiderman. it'd be kinda crazy if gojo n reader both work the night shift...but suspiciously, every single night that gojo isn't working, the hospital keep getting spiderman-related roughed up criminal patients 🤔 like they're covered in webs and all claim to have been beaten up by spiderman in the downtown streets of new york city. and reader is always telling gojo about the crazy patient cases whenever they hang out and how it sucks that he's never on shift when they get those patients and he's like yeaaaaa damn that's crazy 💀💀

anywho there was also additional idea i had where reader is also a clinical researcher and she steals samples of spiderman's webs n forensic material from the patients to look at the stuff under a microscope and she believes there's a promising cure for cancer based on what she's found in the chemical composition of his webs. but when she brings it up to the institution, they shut her down. so she takes matters into her own hands and tries to seek spiderman out bc she needs more web to run experiments

ok but imagine the angsttt when reader feels like gojo is slipping away from her n becoming more n more distant for some reason even though they've been best friends their whole life, but it's only bc he has this big secret that he doesn't want her to find out bc he knows that it'll only put her in danger :(( sobs

yea idk such were my ideas... it's a little cliche but i like it xd ... i have absolutely put my foot down and said no more series until i finish kickoff and get at least halfway through ihm...but i'm super excited by the prospect of a spiderman au!!

#asks #also pls no one steal this idea before i get around to it lol just wanted to share it for funsies #spiderman au

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kitchenisking · 10 months ago

Text

It's January and the new year has started! I hope everyone had a great new year and that 2024 bring only good things our way! and please remember to leave a kudos and some love in the comments to our amazing writers in this amazing fandom! love you guys😘

Children's Tales by artemis69 - (Rating: G, Words: 4,690, sterek)

Be careful, little girl.

Don’t go causing troubles in Beacon Hills, little girl, because the Hales live there.

Keep away from Beacon Hills, little girl, or the Hales will destroy you.

-- Or: In a world where the Hales are alive and the protectors of the town of Beacon Hills, the humans politely fake ignorance of their not-really-human status, and they all live happily ever after.

Then Kate comes in.

Well.

Tries to.

in the waiting room by CoraRochester, ravenclawkward - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 29,753, sterek)

“So, uh,” Stiles said, peeling the crust away from his toast. It was barely darkened, smeared thickly with butter and orange marmalade, just like he always liked it. “I have tattoos, which is weird, because I’m like, clinically terrified of needles. Swooning, fainting, the whole nine yards.”

That made the corner of Derek’s mouth lift into something like a small smile before it quickly smoothed out flat and neutral again. “I know,” Derek said, lifting up his fork. Stiles looked at the back of Derek’s hand and saw it was dark with ink—an elaborate full moon, stark on Derek’s skin. “I did them.”

…

In which Stiles has amnesia and falls in love with his husband all over again.

Sweet Tooth by Spikedluv - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 24,866, sterek)

Derek Hale had returned to Beacon Hills and the ice cream place was reopening. “Best. Day. Ever,” Stiles told Scott.

Lessons in Humanity by exclamation - (Rating: Mature, Words: 40,234, sterek)

Fleeing from werewolves, Stiles comes face to face with Derek, a werewolf human in shape but animal in his mind. Stiles is terrified of being killed, but it seems Derek has decided Stiles would make a suitable mate. Unfortunately, his idea of a romantic gift is a dead animal on the doorstep. Stiles must help Derek remember what it is to be human... and figure out how to explain his new werewolf stalker to his dad.

Happiness is Effortless by clotpolesonly - (Rating: G, Words: 5,210, sterek)

Derek just wanted an excuse to run out on his date. A very public fight with the fiance he didn't know he had is not exactly what he was expecting, but he'll take it.

come with me by buckysharons - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,657, sterek)

Derek turns his head to the loft door, messily shoving whatever he could into the large bag. He’d rearrange everything on his property in New York. In another loft, but one much nicer, one cleaned with his parents money.

There’s a slam of a door, a slam filled with so much anger it makes Derek jump, alarmed.

“You’re leaving?” Stiles roars. He’s not angry, no. He’s hurt. Derek could sense it on him and he had no idea why.

He puts on the brooding mask he always seemed to have on, but this time was different. Stiles could see right through him. Though something tells Derek that Stiles has been able to see through it for a while now.

“Why are you leaving?” Stiles continues, giving Derek no room for him to explain himself. He demands an answer. Like he’s done everything to deserve it.

Which he has.

“I can’t stay,” Derek says vaguely, swallowing.

Stiles didn’t- he couldn’t take that.

Next To You (You Tell Me What To Do) by mercury_caduceus - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,175, sterek)

"Derek had barely noticed that he was still kneeling in a foot of water. His knees were sore and he was freezing but none of that mattered. Not now. Not when Boyd’s lifeless body was laying in front of him, his blood still on Derek’s hands. Cora was sobbing and clinging to Boyd, making his heart break even more. He hadn’t thought that was possible, Boyd had become one of his best friends and now he had killed him. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t keep looking at the body laying in front of him. Stiles hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart, but he knew he was about to snap." ---- Stiles helps Derek after Boyd dies.

After the Smoke Clears by sffan - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,062, sterek)

Stiles needs a peaceful space. Derek gives him what he needs.

Alchemy of Attraction by ravenclawkward, wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15,893, sterek)

Once the table is set up, Stiles picks up the box and starts pulling out beakers, a hot plate, some Erlenmeyer flasks, a bunsen burner, and a bunch of other equipment and laying them out on the table. The last things to come out of the box are sealed containers with labels.

Derek is starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

Frogs? by Itsreallyjustforresearch83 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10,694, sterek)

“Catching frogs? This far into the pack lands? I’ll give you five seconds to tell me the truth before I rip your throat out. What is it that you want?”

“YOU! Alright?! I want you!”

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #ficrec #fanfic #kitcheniskingficrecs

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alezangona · 9 months ago

Text

Second Chances (Salaar AU)

Part 1: A Surprise Encounter

Summary: Amidst a crazy wedding season, the Mannar siblings face chance encounters that change the trajectory of their lives.

“Mam,” Bilal’s exasperated tone snaps Radha Rama out of her thoughts and she places the folder she’s holding on the desk, devoting her attention to him.

“What’s the matter, Bilal? Did the Arodha’s want to make another change to their destination wedding because I swear to god, I’ve told them in a million different ways that I cannot get those parrots flown into the island this late in the game without proper permits.”

“No, they’re actually being reasonable this time– if you can believe it.” He lets out a huff of air as he plops down in the chair across from her. “They’ve just decided that veganism is the new trend they want to hop on. Which means they want to drag their family and friends in on it too.”

“No! No, no, no.” Radha Rama squeezes the bridge of her nose, bangles clanging as they move down her arm. “Don’t tell me… the wedding is in three days Bilal!”

“I don’t think they seem to realize that, but anyway, they want new caterers. Baachi was able to reach out to some of his contacts and draw up a contract with one of the best vegan restaurants on the island.” She lets out a small sigh and sinks back into her seat.

“If that situation is handled, then what’s the issue?”

“I was supposed to meet with the Krishnakanths today to discuss their daughter’s wedding, but I just got a call that my son is sick. I need to pick him up from school and take him to the doctor.”

“Oh.” Radha Rama turns to her computer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she observes the screen. “That’s okay Bilal, you handle that. I’ll just send… ah, yes! Varadha is free around then. He can handle it.”

“Thank you, mam! I’m so sorry, I know how important their contract is, especially with how much power Krishnakanth holds. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t–”

“Bilal,” Radha Rama looks up at him, dark eyes filled with understanding. “I know. I know you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t urgent. Don’t apologize, not to me, okay? Just make sure your son is okay and we’ll handle your projects till then.”

“You’re the best, boss.” Bilal stands, a relieved smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t I know it.” She winks, face alight with mischief as she sends him out on his way.

~*~

Varadha’s teeth grit together when he checks his watch, a curse leaving his lips. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his ability to be punctual regardless of any hurdles in his way. He didn't know what his sister was thinking, giving him a new assignment an hour before the meeting time, when she knew he had to make his way through Khansar traffic.

Varadha was nothing if not determined though. So his eyes scan the route on the GPS, mind rapidly putting together the different pieces of the puzzle till a picture flashes in his mind– the exit he could take, followed by the route that could get him to the meeting location as soon as possible. Ten minutes later, he’s sitting at the cafe, his laptop and documents arranged neatly on the table in front of him.

Two minutes later, his foot taps a staccato against the brick patio, still waiting for the family to arrive. After five more minutes of sitting around hoping to catch sight of these rich bastards who don’t seem to give a fuck about other people’s time, Varadha decides it’s best to kill time by being as productive as he possibly can. He pulls out the file Radha Rama handed to him as he was running out the door and flips it open to the page that describes the bride.

Aadhya Krishnakanth. Born and brought up in the States. A doctor initially based out of New York before deciding to move to India. Opened a free clinic for patients in marginalized regions of the country. Lives in Hyderabad with her mother–

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” There’s a sudden pink blur that races through the cafe before crashing down in the seat across from him. “I’m so sorry! I always try so hard not to be late, but you have to understand it’s so difficult with my schedule. There was a surgery today that ended up getting more complicated than we expected and oh god! I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, no it’s okay!” The sudden noise after an excruciating phase of silence is enough to give him whiplash, but seeing how frazzled the poor girl is softens him up like butter. “We’ve all been there. I was late too, to be honest. Stuck in traffic actually but that’s nothing compared to saving lives now that I think about it.” She smiles at him, relieved and thankful, sinking into her seat.

“Aadhya,” she holds out a hand, grinning brightly in the way Americans tend to do. “So nice to meet you…?”

“Varadha. Is anyone else going to be joining us today?”

“Yeah! My parents weren’t able to make it, but my fiancé and f–”

“Ey, Tingari (crazy girl). Wait for me next time, will you?” A towering figure appears behind Aadhya, his arms wrapping around to pull her into a hug that is powerful enough to lift her off her chair for half a second.

“Rey! Let me down!” She swats at him playfully, bringing out a deep and melodic laugh from the man. He does as she requests and takes a seat next to her, an arm draped casually over the back of her chair.

“Hi sir! I’m De-” The sound dies on his lips when he makes out who exactly it is sitting in front of him. “Varadha?”

“Deva?”

“You two know each other?” Aadhya looks between the two of them, confused as to why they look like they’ve seen a ghost. They don’t say anything for a second, too stunned to speak. She might’ve left it well alone if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a nosey little fucker who wanted all the details. So she digs her fingers into the side of Deva’s waist, smirking when he jumps and his attention diverts to her.

“Yeah, we were roommates in college.” Deva mumbles, rubbing his hand over his side and glaring at Aadhya. Something about that answer doesn’t seem to be what Varadha expects because his face darkens for a moment, lips pursing when he takes a second to recompose himself.

“Yeah, roommates. Anyway, today’s meeting isn’t about that. Your father wanted to hire us because of our commitment to excellence in every event that we plan. However, as a company, we prioritize creating unique experiences that are a reflection of our clients and their journey. So I usually like to start by getting an idea of what you’re looking for going forward. It seems that according to the file, you’re hoping for a big wedding?” Deva immediately scoffs at that.

“Deva–” Aadhya starts, a slight blush coating her cheeks.

“What? It’s true.” Deva looks at Varadha then. “She’d prefer a smaller wedding. As small as we can get considering her dad is stuffing the list to the brim with his entire network.”

Varadha can’t find it in him to say anything, so he looks down at the file, making note of the fact. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s digging the pen into the paper though, till the free flowing movement stops and he realizes the pen is stuck in a tiny hole. Swallowing, he pulls it out and looks back up at the couple.

“Well considering we got most of our information from your father, I’m assuming more things in this file are wrong than right?” Varadha hands over the file to the other side of the table. Deva reaches over to grab it, placing it between him and Aadhya as they lean over to read it together. Varadha’s attention catches on how their expressions almost move in synch, going from light frowns to wide-eyed looks of incredulity. “So?”

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong…” Aadhya shrugs at the piece of paper, her hunched posture a direct contradiction to her tone.

“Pichi Pilla (crazy girl),” Deva crosses his arms over his chest and looks directly at Varadha, who can feel the world closing in on him, slowly but surely. “Look, half of this is bull. She wants a smaller wedding, something in India and not a destination abroad. She hates beaches, would probably rather burn herself alive than be caught dead dragging a trail of sand behind her. She loves food, so none of those small plates of Hors D’oeuvres that leave you feeling more hungry after taking a nibble than you were before that. Probably a big giant buffet where people can go back for fourths, that’d be ideal right?”

At that, Aadhya places her hand gently on his arm in an effort to stop him perhaps. Still, she gazes up at Deva with so much warmth, her eyes glassing over just slightly enough to let Varadha know that what Deva said mattered to her. Why he said it, mattered to her. He has to look away from the image in front of him, simply because he knows what it’s like.

Varadha knows what it’s like to be in Aadhya’s place because that’s where he was for the longest time. If anyone knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Deva’s love and affection, it’s him. It’s no surprise that the memories of that man are etched into every fiber of his being, even after all these years.

The coal-dark eyes that would come to life when Varadha would enter a room. The warm body that would press into his from behind during movie nights on that dingy-ass college couch. The smell of burning food left abandoned on the stove as wine coated lips explored each other against thin walls.

The man who dropped to his knees, begging Varadha to forgive him when–

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Varadha says, pushing out of his chair and walking himself out the door to the cafe. The second he gets to the parking lot, he pulls out the remaining half of a cigarette he bummed from a friend the night before at a party. Smoking wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed doing. It was an occasional habit he’d picked up after college.

Whenever Deva would feel anxious about something, he’d make his way onto their roof, taking a drag beneath the night sky. Every once in a while, Varadha would join him. More often when he knew times were tough. They’d lie there together in silence for a moment before Deva would point to different constellations and tell him the myths he heard as a child. Deva wasn’t much of a talker with other people, but when he loved people enough to let them into his small circle, conversation was something that dripped from his lips like sweet honey. Once he’d calm down, he’d turn towards Varadha, a look of pure gratitude in his eyes as his chapped lips would brush against his own. The taste of nicotine in those moments used to be so irresistible, because it became the taste of Deva.

That was all it was, to be honest. It wasn’t often that Varadha found himself in distress, but in those rare moments of weakness, the warmth of the cigarette against his lips would remind him of Deva. For some time, it would be as if they were still together, the mistakes of the past erased.

Yet, when the cigarette touches his lips today, it leaves behind a bitter taste. He scoffs as he lets out a puff, scraping his shoes against the ground. Why wouldn’t it? The man he’s in love with, even after all these years, is about to get married to a beautiful, kind, caring woman. His stomach churns uneasily and he gives up, too tired to try and process the day beyond the fact that the man he loves isn’t his anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now.

“Let me have a drag?” Varadha freezes, finger that was about to drop the cigarette tightening around it and passing it along to Deva’s waiting hand without further thought. “Thanks, ra.”

“Should you be smoking at this age? It kills you know?” Deva leans against the car, lips quirking up and he doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at Varadha’s hypocrisy. “I smoke occasionally, I don’t count. You probably do it on a daily basis.”

“Careful, Varadha. You don’t want me thinking you actually care do you?”

“Of course I care!” Varadha pauses, looking to his feet. “You’ve got a nice girl in there. Least you can do is make it to your wedding alive.” Deva’s eyes dig into Varadha’s profile and he can feel his skin rising uncomfortably. “What’s with all the staring?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, B- Varadha. I’m soaking up as much as I can before you go.” He flicks the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before speaking again. “As for the girl, we’re not together. She’s just a friend.”

Varadha should be embarrassed by the immediate relief he feels at the statement. The churning pit in his stomach disappears in seconds as he takes a moment to really observe the man standing across from him. If it was possible, he was more handsome now than all those years ago. His lanky frame that used to be hidden behind drowning fabrics has now filled out deliciously, the protruding muscles emphasized by the various textured clothing that wrap snugly around him. His wild mane that would stick out in every direction, frizzing out during the humid months, is now styled to perfection with every curl staying in place. His once clean shaven face is now painted with a dark beard that makes him look less like the boy next door and more like a rugged stranger that Varadha wouldn’t mind running into during a night out. The tattoo wrapping around Deva’s arm further emphasizes that particular fantasy of his.

Was it pathetic how in love with him he still was? If Radha Rama was here with him, she wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.

“What about her fiancé?”

“He’s running late. His flight’s coming in from L.A. today. I just wanted to hop along because I knew if she was alone she’d say yes to all the shit her dad had laid out for her.” Deva lights another cigarette he pulls out of his pocket, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he lets out a puff of air that fades into the afternoon breeze.

“Is that why you’re so stressed?” Varadha leans against the car as well, a couple of inches away from Deva. The hairs on his body stay on edge, aware of the electrical pulse that beats between them. He tries not to let that distract him.

“Please, I can handle Krishnakanth.” Deva passes the cigarette back to Varadha, who forces himself not to think about the fact that Deva’s lips were wrapped against the paper just seconds ago. He fails miserably. “He doesn’t mean any harm really. He’s a good man who just wants to see his daughter taken care of and she hasn’t met anyone she’s fallen for yet. So, why not say yes to marriage to make her family happy?”

“What about her? Will she be happy?” The look Deva gives him is enough for Varadha to understand and he keeps quiet, not knowing what else to say.

“Meeting you today was a surprise.” Deva offers and Varadha takes greedily.

“For me as well.” He admits, fingers coming up to play with his watch.

“You look good Varadha. You look happy.”

“Well… that’s open to interpretation.”

“You’re not happy?” Deva crushes the cigarette against the ground, rigidity taking over his body once more.

“I’m doing well, Deva. That should be enough right?”

“Not for me. It shouldn’t be for you either. What’s wrong Varadha? What’s missing?” Deva steps closer to him, the scent of his cologne surrounding Varadha in an intoxicating cloud. Maybe that’s what allows for him to let his guard down.

“You,” the word passes uninterrupted from his lips. “You’re missing from my life and I’ve wanted you back every day since–”

Deva takes a step back, snapping Varadha out of his daze. The broken expression on his face makes Varadha feel like an absolute asshole.

“Shit, Deva. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I left that day because you asked me to. Not because I wanted to.” Varadha sucks in a sharp breath at the admission, mouth falling shut.

“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, especially after all this time. Just because I haven’t moved on doesn’t mean the same applies to you.” Varadha looks away, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe me anything, Deva. Not after everything, but I need you to know that I regret what I did back then. Not a day goes by where I don’t wish that it played out differently because then maybe…” He swallows, stopping the words in his throat. The images play in his mind though, of an intimate wedding, a beautiful house on the edge of the river, a small child’s laugh echoing through the property.

“Yeah, well… I wish it played out differently too.” Deva takes in a deep breath, his gaze resting on the horizon. “I haven’t gotten over you either.”

“Oh?”

“So, where does that leave us? Are we just going to get that off our chests and never see each other again? Because I’m getting old, Varadha. I don’t think I have energy to wait anymore.” Deva hangs his head, hands tucked into his pockets.

Varadha can’t help but to think of how his life passed by in a blink of an eye over the past two decades. A lifetime of memories that felt as if they hadn't been experienced, not in the way they were meant to. All the moments of joy and pride, sadness and pain, nothing more than fleeting emotions that refused to ground themselves into the core of his very being. When he’d lie in bed at night, desperately trying to find a reason for this ache, Deva’s name would echo through his mind and he’d wonder how he could’ve ever been blind to it before.

Why did he ever let that man go?

“I won’t make you wait, not this time.” Varadha’s hand intertwines with Deva’s, touch as gentle as a feather brushing against glass. “Let’s start over?”

~*~

6 Months Later

Varadha makes deliberate cuts into the meat in front of him, trying hard to clear out any remaining bones so the previous week’s episode doesn’t unfold a second time. Sure he and his sister had their fair share of fights, but nothing drastic enough where we wanted to murder her through way of choking on a bone.

“Bujji?” The call comes simultaneously with the thud of the front door closing.

“In the kitchen.” Varadha replies, refusing to break his concentration.

“Here’s the sauce you asked for. They didn’t have the brand you usually get, but this seemed like it’d be good too.” Deva sets the glass container next to Varadha, leaning in to place a quick peck against his cheek. Varadha hears a sound of disgust from behind him and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“You make a fuss now, but the second I put down the food, you’re the first to gobble it up.”

“You see how gross uncooked meat is right? Your chopping skills don't help the image either.”

“Rey–”Varadha turns, holding the knife threateningly towards Deva.

“Calm down, Kick Buttowski. Get back to work and look out for any bones. I’m not about to lose my favorite Mannar sibling to something smaller than a lima bean again.”

“Don’t let Baachi hear you say that. It’ll break his heart.”

“I’m sure it will. After all, we’re attached at the hip, the two of us.” Deva chuckles as he opens up a bottle of wine for them. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to impress that kid. He’ll just hate me for the rest of his life.”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Varadha defends instantly, putting down his knife now that he was finished with his thorough inspection.

“The bruise from when he chucked a volleyball at my head last week begs to differ.” Varadha washes his hands meticulously before heading over to Deva and pulling him down to place a lingering kiss on his left temple, where the remnants of a pretty terrible bruise were finally starting to fade.

“You have a point, but he does it out of love. I swear.” Deva shakes his head at the comment before handing Varadha a glass of wine.

“No, me putting up with his murderous tendencies is what’s done out of love.” Deva whips out his phone and taps against the screen. A soft Hindi melody plays from the speakers and Varadha smiles at his boyfriend at the gesture. “But I can put up with that till death as long as you keep kissing all the wounds better.”

“God, you’re such a sap.” Varadha complains, but there’s no malice behind it. Just the light hearted tone that comes from being in love with an unbelievably sweet idiot. So he grabs at Deva’s shirt and tugs him in closer for a deep kiss. A small moan escapes his throat when he tastes his favorite wine lingering on Deva’s lips. The various notes of fruit, spices, and coco dust intermingle seamlessly into the unique flavor that belongs to Deva, and Varadha can’t possibly get enough. His fingers tangle into the taller man’s hair, pushing off the ground to wrap his legs around Deva’s waist. A grunt of surprise leaves Deva’s lips, but he’s quick to catch on to Varadha and move towards the counter. Placing Varadha down gives him more leeway than before, so he digs his ankles into the small of Deva’s back, pulling him closer to gain more access to his mouth.

“Rey,” Deva groans as he forces himself to pull away. “God stop teasing me. We have guests coming over soon.”

“They can wait.” Varadha’s teeth catch against the bottom of his earlobe, nipping playfully. “They’ll understand that a chef deserves his kiss.”

“I don’t know that chef is the right word when all that’s sitting out right now is a lump of meat.”

“Whyyyyy!” Varadha whines as he pulls away from his hot boyfriend. “Why do you do this to me? What’s the point of having a sexy boyfriend if I can’t make out with him whenever I want.”

“You can still ogle me.” Deva winks at him. “Now, stop pouting and get to cooking. We have the rest of the night once they leave.”

“It would take a S.W.A.T. team to evacuate them out of this apartment post dinner. The second Aadhya whips out the cards, everyone’s going to settle in for a round of poker and before we know it, she’ll have us drowning in debt.”

“Drowning you in debt. The rest of us actually win every once in a while.” Deva comments, making his way into Varadha’s room to change.

Varadha spends the next hour quickly shuffling through the kitchen and preparing the feast, while Deva tidies up around the apartment and sets up the dining table. They idly exchange stories from their day, where Deva speaks of his cute Kindergarteners who gifted him a paper crown that was more glue than paper at this point, while Varadha complains about how billionaires shouldn’t be allowed to get married because it is quite frankly impossible (potentially unethical) to bring in a whole herd of elephants just so the celebrity guests could make a grad entrance to the reception. Which would pale in comparison when the newlyweds would enter on the backs of lions. That idea was vetoed pretty quickly by him and his sister, thank god.

“Ey, Macha!” Aadhya bustles in just as they finish getting ready, a tray of brownies in hand. “This is about to be the best dessert of your lives! Crumb coffee cake brownies, made by yours truly.”

“There were supposed to be two trays, but I downed one on the way here!” Radha Rama shouts from near the entryway. A wide smile settles on Aadhya’s face.

“Seal of approval from the best Mannar sibling!” Aadhya declares happily as she grabs herself a hard cider from their fridge.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Varadha frowns in his sister’s direction. “What’s so special about you besides an undiagnosed sugar addiction?”

“I’m the one who’s kept this circus afloat for years, kid. Show some respect!” Radha Rama smirks as she pushes past her brother, making her way over to Aadhya and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Don’t take it too seriously, Bujji.” Deva laughs leaning against the counter. “Our Tingari Pilla is just too in love with her girlfriend to see things objectively.”

“It’s not just her.” Baachi comes stomping into the apartment, carrying a heaving box of decorations that he plops unceremoniously to the ground. “Considering they’ve been using me as a pack mule for this wedding, the least you can do is declare me the best Mannar sibling instead of tucking tail and following my brother around like a lost puppy.”

In the blink of an eye, the siblings start bickering, bringing up every moment from the past in an effort to one up each other. Deva and Aadhya choose to sit back silently, watching the event play out in front of them.

“We’ll get to dinner soon, right?” Aadhya asks, anxiously gazing at the clock.

“Yeah… as soon as your girlfriend stops trying to rip my boyfriend to shreds with that pillow?” Deva’s brow furrows as he tries to determine when exactly the physical fight broke out.

“I’m going to be honest Deva. I think tonight’s the night we confess to them.”

“Confess what?”

“You know? That there’s no superior Mannar sibling because all of them are certifiably insane?”

“And that we’re the angels for putting up with them?”

“Mhm. Exactly!” Aadhya places down her cider and makes her way into the sibling’s circle to drag Radha Rama out by the arm. “Food first, fighting later. I refuse to eat cold lasagna again, Babe.”

They spend the rest of the night eating, drinking, and playing poker. Varadha loses every round and at some point, he gives up and leans against Deva’s side instead, inadvertently becoming a part of his team. It’s something he realizes he should do more often because he likes the feeling of winning every once in a while, even if it was his boyfriend doing most of the work.

By the time everyone leaves, Varadha can barely keep his eyes open. He leans his forehead against the door, eyes closed as he allows the silence to envelop him.

“Rey, come to bed.” Deva places a hand on his shoulder to peel him off the door.

“The door is so soft though.” Varadha slurs through wine drunk lips.

“The bamboo pillows you brought are softer, I promise. Come on now.”

Soon, the two of them are tangled up under Varadha’s sheets, holding each other close as they let the day finally slow down around them.

“This is getting annoying.” Varadha murmurs into Deva’s chest.

“What, family dinners? I love you Bujji, but you have to stop picking fights with your sister. We could get to eating faster for one thing.”

“No!” Varadha shoves Deva away before pulling him back when he realizes how cold it is. “No, you asshole. I meant having to work around our schedules to see each other recently.”

“Oh, that.” Deva hums and settles closer to Varadha. “I’ve been trying to find apartments closer to this side of the city. I think that could fix the scheduling conflict a little.”

“Rent in Pathran is abhorrent, Bangarm.”

“So? What’s your solution?”

“Move in with me?”

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Deva places a peck on Varadha’s head, chuckling a little.

“I’m being serious. Move in with me.” Varadha insists.

“I know, but let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re less tipsy.”

Varadha groans, asking the gods silently why they fated him to fall in love with an oblivious, asshole of a man. He reaches over to switch on the lights and because he was just a little annoyed with Deva, he revels when the man shields his eyes from the sudden onslaught.

“Now you can look at me and see how serious I am when I ask this. Move in with me, Deva.” Varadha intertwines their hands together when their gazes meet. “It’s as simple as this: I’m happiest when I’m with you and I hate not being around you. I love it when you walk into the apartment, I love it when you help me cook, I love it when you help me clean. I love it when you curl up with me to watch a movie, I love it when you read next to me before bed, I love it when I see your teaching plans scattered across my desk. I even love it when you’re grading your students’ art projects and all the glitter falls onto the carpet. Nothing I do gets rid of it and I keep finding it everywhere, even in my coffee! I just love you so can we go back to being roommates? Please?”

The way Deva flips him over onto his back and devours him is answer enough.

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #khansar #aadhya krishnakanth #radha rama mannar #ramaadhya #ramaadhya fic #varadeva fic

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beardedmrbean · 11 months ago

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(Reuters) -The U.S. Supreme Court on Monday passed up a chance to consider overruling its own precedent allowing protective "bubble" zones around abortion clinic patients, turning away a challenge by a Catholic woman in New York to a now-repealed county law passed after the justices overturned abortion rights nationally in 2022.

The justices declined to hear abortion opponent Debra Vitagliano's appeal of a lower court's decision to throw out her lawsuit that had claimed the Westchester County measure that had limited protests or "sidewalk counseling" near abortion clinics violated the U.S. Constitution's First Amendment right to free speech. The county is located north of New York City.

The law was adopted by the county just three days after the Supreme Court in June 2022 overturned the landmark 1973 ruling Roe v. Wade that had recognized a woman's constitutional right to terminate a pregnancy and legalized abortion nationwide. The measure was intended as a public safety measure and to protect access to reproductive healthcare centers.

The county repealed the "bubble zone" part of the law in August, saying it proved unnecessary and difficult to enforce. The county, as a result, told the justices that the case was moot.

Westchester's law created a floating 8-foot (2.4 meter) "bubble zone" around people within 100-feet of an abortion clinic, barring anyone from "knowingly" approaching the person in order to protest, display a sign, counsel, educate or pass information to them, without their consent.

The law was modeled after a near-identical 8-foot (2.4 meters) bubble zone law from Colorado that the Supreme Court upheld in 2000. Vitagliano asked the Supreme Court, which has a 6-3 conservative majority, to overrule that precedent, called Hill v. Colorado.

Demonstrations occur at many abortion clinics around the United States and some protesters try to approach women entering to seek to counsel them against terminating a pregnancy.

Beth Sousa, a senior policy advisor at Planned Parenthood Federation of America, said clinic violence has increased since the 2022 Supreme Court decision and that the zones help protect against violence, harassment and threats, while balancing free speech rights. "These zones can be used to protect the rights of patients and health care providers and staff, while still allowing protesters to convey their messages," Sousa said.

The justices in 2014 struck down as overly broad a Massachusetts law that prohibited standing within 35 feet (10.7 meters) of an abortion clinic's entrance or driveway.

Vitagliano, 65, said in court papers that she believes abortion is the "deliberate taking of innocent human life," and sought to perform sidewalk counseling at a Planned Parenthood clinic, an abortion provider in White Plains, a small city north of New York City.

Vitagliano said she saw such activity as a "final attempt to encourage pregnant women's hearts away from abortion and to save innocent unborn lives."

Vitagliano challenged the law in federal court but earlier this year both a trial judge and the Manhattan-based 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that, under Hill v. Colorado, Westchester's law complies with the First Amendment.

#nunyas news

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number1yisuchongfan · 2 years ago

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My full version of Cmedic aka Dr Rubén Pacifico Jabir Rodríguez

Some info on Cmedic:

His personality is a mix between Spy from Tf2, Aracade Gannon from FO:NV, and Augustus Sinclair Esquire from Bioshock 2 + that “smoking army doctor” stereotype. He’s 5’6, second shortest (the shortest is Fred, who’s 5’3) and 3rd youngest (the youngest is Greg aka CScout who was born in 1906 making him 24 by the events of tfc), and is by far the most sane out of them all.

He’s can be very sarcastic and pessimistic at times to the point it pisses people off. Cheavy has been “accidentally” used as his personal ashtray at times as well but Cmedic always makes it up to him. He also tends to stay away from alcohol when the tfc mercs ever went out to bars, mostly just dancing to take his mind of it.

He can be very nice but most of time he’s too tired or just doesn’t care enough to deal with anything more than picking up a few papers and smoking (his clinical depression makes this worse). Cheavy and CSniper or Virgil worry about him constantly, Cheavy as a romantic partner and Virgil as an older brother figure.

He came to New York City from Panama with his parents (His father is Honduran and his mother is Panamanian), who were doctors themselves but found it tough to keep jobs in the US. He ended up being a provider for his family, much like Scout, and is a lil momma’s boy and while he and his dad became strained (they still love each other).

Cheavy actually got to meet them for Christmas once and got so embarrassed around Cmedic’s mother he could barely stay in the same room as her (he is over a foot taller than her). No matter how many Cmedic explained to him that his mother actually thinks he’s quite a nice man; Cheavy worried she hated him. Cmedic gave up after that.

His story after tfc is.. convoluted. He and Cheavy ended up getting married but he had a sense that something was going to happen, so for nearly 8 after their marriage in the summer 1939, they were at peace, started growing old together. Until one day he got a call from the Administrator, who he knew from his work with Mann Co., and she forced his hand into up and leaving his life for her. He had rejected at first, leading to many near death experiences for Cheavy in the weeks after the call. Cmedic realized if he wanted to protect Cheavy; He had to leave him. So he divorced him, the whole thing coming as a blindside to Cheavy, and became the Administrator’s spy. He recruited Engineer to become a part of the group after the teams disbanded.

He’s also very gay, and I mean GAY. He doesn’t let people really know he is (for safety reasons) but the rest of the mercs but Cheavy (he realized two weeks later) clocked him as as gay guy

Now have some art of him + Cheavy:

#tf2 #tfc #team fortress 2 #team fortress classic #tfc medic #cmedic #classic medic #tf2 headcanon #I love this man okay??#he’s my special lil bilingual clinical depressed doctor #he’s just a lil guy with a big heart #tf2 fan art #tf2 Art

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ashleywool · 5 months ago

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This is what I mean when I say "nothing is weird in New York."

That said, the phrases "boa constrictor" and "Upper West Side apartment" should not ever exist together in the same sentence.

On an unrelated note, I had a lot of bloodwork done recently. My blood pressure has been hovering around 90/60 for most of my adult life, and now it's in the hypertension zone, my triglycerides and fasting blood glucose are way higher than it makes sense for a non-diabetic who's never been overweight, and my cortisol levels are astronomical in ways that can't just be chalked up to being autistic or living in a world where boa constrictors randomly show up in NYC kitchen sinks.

Soooo, based on those things and a lot of other things, I think I have Cushing's disease and I think the culprit is a pituitary tumor.

Just feel like I should put that in writing somewhere. If I'm wrong, I'm sure there will be education in there worthy of sharing, and if I'm right, then I'll be gloating about it for the rest of my life.

Because it will be the second time in the last two years I've successfully diagnosed myself with something obscure and uncommon that doctors would later confirm to be accurate.

The first time was when I was experiencing cytokine storms after recovering from COVID in late 2022--my vitals were back to normal, but every time I stopped taking prednisone, my nervous system was gaslighting me into feeling like I still had symptoms. That usually only happens with cases far more severe than mine (mine was awful, but not hospitalization-awful, thank you Pfizer), but guess which population has a tendency towards abnormal immune responses? I felt like a conspiracy theorist when I suggested this to my PCP but she was like "that totally makes sense, try one more round of prednisone, that should do it," and IT DID.

Ever since then, if I'm looking up symptoms or conditions, I tag "and autism" onto the search terms. Which kinda sucks sometimes. Because research has suggested there IS a correlation between autism and pituitary abnormalities too, and I am interested in digging deeper into it...

But even in non-clinical sources, people always write these things as if they never think autistic people are actually going to read them. It's always "if you're a parent or caregiver and you observe this," and never "if you're an autistic person and you experience this." It's got the same energy as the research I've done about food intolerances in cats--Tex has had some gastrointestinal issues recently, but he can't TELL me what he's feeling or speculate about the source of his symptoms or do research on his own. I think the world is starting to understand that autistic people are not cats, but sometimes I wish the healthcare sector would catch up faster.

Anyway. Uh.

WHO IS KEEPING A FREAKING BOA CONSTRICTOR ON THE ISLAND OF MANHATTAN I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS AND ALL OF THEM ARE "WHY"

#NYC #actually autistic #boa constrictor #cushing's disease?#maybe?#metabolic disorders #endocrine weirdness #too much cortisol

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hetagrammy · 2 years ago

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More thoughts about my Progressive Era fic idea because I need to dump them somewhere

I got the idea of Alfred being an aspiring journalist/muckraker a la Upton Sinclair who travels to New York to do more research on immigrant life in the city (and more importantly to him, the social problems that go with it). So he decides to reside at a boarding house where the tenants are mostly single immigrants doing “unskilled” labor. He’s focused on getting to the “heart of the issue,” so he kind of initially approaches it in a very clinical way. He doesn’t really focus on them as people. Of course, nobody wants to tell this random boy about their political activities because it’s sus as all hell.

In the process he meets Molly, Tolys, and Lovino. Molly’s kind of the first to take him under her wing because she likes his spunk and has some maternal tendencies. Tolys in turn, because he likes looking after people and has been making sure Molly doesn't get in over her head, is introduced to Alfred and takes on a bit of a guiding role with him. From there Alfred's introduced to Lovino by the two and the group forms.

Molly’s a seamstress, an Irish republican, and a suffragette. She’s in America because she had limited prospects in Ireland, and her brother gave up the land they had to try for work in Belfast. She struggles to reconcile her longing for Ireland with the life she’s built and the opportunity she's found in America that she'd never have gotten if she stayed.

Lovino works as a grocer. He originally intended to stay in America for a short time before returning to Italy and constantly complains about America, but the personal connections he's made with the group start to make this decision harder. He starts entertaining the idea of putting down permanent roots, and seriously realizes this over the course of the story.

Tolys is a factory worker by day and a union organizer by night. He works to keep his younger brother, Raivis, out of the factories so he can continue his schooling and get the education he couldn't before they came to America. He becomes interested and very invested in Alfred's project. However, he's also (ironically) lost a lot of his faith in humanity, and frequently questions whether or not people will even care once Alfred has published

Over the course of the fic Alfred kind of has this arc of realizing that these are multi-faceted people with deeper lives than the difficulty they face at work. They have other problems, but their lives aren't defined by misery. They have complex feelings about being in America, as is typical of members of a diaspora. They also strip him of his savior complex a bit through their own activity, and place themselves on equal footing with him in his project. He gradually grows more attached to and invested in them, and his writing truly becomes about their lives rather than the generic view he originally had of them.

He becomes romantically involved with Tolys as they realize how much they have in common regarding their motivations. Alfred exposes Tolys to a lot of the idealism he'd grown disillusioned with, and Tolys brings him back down to the reality of their situations and gets Alfred to recognize more "human" elements in what he sees. Alfred also becomes very fond of and protective of Molly, and the two come to see each other in a very familial light. He becomes encouraging of more optimistic tendencies within Lovino, while Lovino grows more open to actually reaching out to other people.

I'm thinking I want it to end with Alfred publishing his book and splitting the pay he gets from it equally, which helps the others in several ways (Lovino gets to set up his own business, Molly finally gets enough money to offer her brother a ticket to America, Molly and Lovino have an extra source of income for the family they start to have in general, Tolys can afford to send Raivis to college, etc.) Alfred and Tolys also start living and working together, because it's what they deserve

#hetalia #my thoughts #hws america #hws lithuania #hws romano #hws ireland #nyo!ireland #immigrant trio #immigration squad #i'm also working on the regency au #but this has been living in my brain rent free as well

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bloogers-boogers · 1 year ago

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Kyle Brofloski/ Eric Cartman (onesided) Eric Cartman/ Yentle (SP two-parter)

/Selfishness/ [part 2 ⬇️] 》》》》 [part 1]

~~~~~~~~~

After that day he only witnessed Cartman get closer to Yentle, he couldn't do much cause he feared people or Stan will pick up what was actually going on.

Still he did his research, printing piles of Cartman's criminal history, heading towards her house; that was across the block from his.

Knocking carefully the front door.

"Yeah?" She answered, tilting confused as she eyed him, "omy God, did Eric send you to give me a romantic note? He's such a tease~" she beamed in thought, guessing his why arrival.

"No, Yentle. I need to talk to you seriously," frowning slightly annoyed by that.

Her face went blank before gesturing to come in.

He pass her a notebook full of Cartman's shit, watching how the girl eyed carefully each page. The silent of the room was piercing deadly at his chest. He can only imagine how disappointed Cartman would be after being rejected by Yentle.

But, he can't say he feels any sorta of guilt for it.

Tapping his foot lightly desperately wanting to hear or see a reaction from her. Making sure it was a definitive she'll leave him alone.

But she seemed a little too unfazed by it, passing the notebook back to him. And pushing him to go towards the door as 'you should leave now.'

"Don't you have anything to say?" He asked confused by her lack of reaction.

"Eh, my dad has done worse," She shrugged before slamming the door in front of him.

He shuddered by the noise emitted, but he was left even more confused by what that meant, but it wasn't even remotely close of how angered he was for not achieving his goal.

Being back home gave him the freedom to look in to Yentle's own history, it didn't seem there was much more to the girl from what she had displayed in school but it seems her family was quite a reckless one. Her father was sent to a mental clinic two years ago because of his bad schizophrenia and murderous tendencies, he actually caused a lot of shit back in New York, which in one of those bad episodes was sent off to the clinic.

Her mother on the other side seem to be a narcissistic freak, the head of a model industry to be in fact. You can already see the arrogant personality in her interviews and written web articles describing her. She was definitely not the nicest person to deal with for what it's shown.

In his eyes this seem like a very a sad case, Yentle didn't seem to have a good and happy life.

The complete opposite of what she shows in school.

Maybe she can't even tell the difference between what was right for her and.. Cartman.

Cartman was like a mixture of both her parents, something she's already grown accustomed. So she probably found familiarity in him, but then again, he doubted Cartman would show his tendencies if he attempted to curt her.

°°°°

They were at starks pond enjoying their evening with no bother of the world until it was interrupted by no other then..

"Let's play gay chicken," Cartman blurted outta the blue.

"Okay," Kenny not so surprisingly agreeing to it, with zero hesitation, just searching for some fun and entertainment.

However he and Stan on the other side..

"Fuck no, dude!" Stan exclaimed baffling by the suggestion.

"No," He blankly stated, not very convincing.

The idea of being able to kiss Cartman with out it being questioned made him actually considered it.

His eyes landed straight on his lips as he heard Stan kept backing down to the idea.

"C'mon, Stan. Stop being such a pussy. Or are you afraid that you might actually like it?" Cartman taunt in his usual manner while Kenny snickered next to him.

"Shut up, fatboy. I'm not playing that shit."

"Aweee, you afraid you'll fall madly in love with you best friend~?" He kept edging Stan to his limits before he ceased in.

"Okay, fine," reluctantly giving up, "Kyle are you in?" He asked lightly.

"Fuck, no way dude." He denied with his head, even though internally he was already driving himself crazy to suck and flavor ever inch of Cartman's pink thin looking lips.

"Don't be a pussie, Kyle. If I'm doing it you're doing it too," Stan said with much more determination, probably just wanting it to get it over it before it even started.

He frowned but didn't protest on it, looking at Cartman who gestured them to form a circle.

"Rule number one, no one should know about this."

"As if we wanted people to know we kissed a fatass," Stan remarked sarcastically rolling his eyes.

"For your information, hippie, I'm a good kisser."

"Uhuh sure."

"Second rule, whoever budges out will have no complaints with our dares."

"Fair," Kenny added, beaming mischievously.

"Okay, that's much it," Cartman shrugged uninterested on adding anything else.

"Who goes first?" Kenny asked now looking at them expectantly.

"Well I suppose, if hippie dick right here has no worries about falling in love with my amazing kisses." Cartman once more gesture Stan in a provoking manner.

"Fuck you, dude," Stan blurted out but took the unspoken challenge, "watch yourself I don't want you to fall for me, fatboy."

"As if," Cartman chuckled in a laugh, before placing his face inches apart from Stan.

He and Kenny watched expectantly, eyeing the two boys In curiosity who just casually glared at each other before reluctantly closing the gap between their lips.

A small gasp came out from his mouth as he watched his friends make out.

Images of him and Cartman doing exactly that in a couple of minutes dreaded him.

Stan reluctantly placed his hands on Cartman's shoulders a minute after before moving his face away. Pretty much giving in the lost.

"Ha!" Cartman pointed at him victorious.

"Yeah, I can't keep this up man.." Stan winced in displeasure finally moving apart from him.

Cartman beamed while rubbing frantically his hands eyeing Kenny as if they were already sharing what to give Stan as punishment.

They made Stan pee on top of a police officer's car hood as they took a picture as evidence and– to laugh about it later. Running back to their first spot to continue the game.

"Stan, being our loser you must kiss the person of our choice," Cartman said in an arrogant manner making Stan huff.

"Jewboy if you give us the honor," He toothly grin, gesturing with his hand towards Stan.

He watched worrisome, as he gulped looking at his best friend in a mutual awkwardly stare.

Feeling his hands sweet he open and closed them a couple of times before leaning in to Stan's plastering their lips together, eyes now wide opened as he winced already feeling so weirded out by it, Stan pushing away after seconds in immediately sharing the same sentiment.

"Sorry, dude. But this is weird as fuck, it's like kissing family," he blurted out, eyes were still processing the whole thing.

He nodded frantically in understanding, he didn't like it all.

Cartman groaned loud, "uuuuuggggh you're all such pussies. We'll just wait after the next loser to give your dare, Hippie," he declared, gesturing Kenny; who grinned devilish.

Knowing that piece of shit he probably already made up a whole strategy to make them lose.

Moving excited, Kenny place himself in middle of the circle waiting for his competitor.

"Okay, so considering Stan is a pussie bitch and lost two times, I'll give this round to Kahal," Cartman stated smugly, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

"Hey, no fucking fair dude!? Kenny's a perv!" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"C'mon, Kyle. Do this for me," Stan pleaded with sad puppy eyes, clasping his hands together.

"Yeah, ky~ I'll be gentle," Kenny teased while Cartman howled in laughter.

"Make sure he loses, Ken," Cartman call him out, still having that annoying grin on him.

Kenny taunting nodded his head as he hummed some song.

And with out warning he smashed their lips together, he heard Stan gasped and Cartman snickering. Kenny kept on digging his tongue inside his mouth as he winced and tried to follow back, Kenny slid his hands on his chest provoking him to move backwards with he pushed forward in a huffed almost pushing him away, but backing down cause he didn't want to give that fatass the win.

It kept going for like two minutes before Kenny declared he was accepting the defeat.

"Can't keep it up, man," he sighed disappointed, panting heavily as he tried grasping for some air.

On the other end he was glad it was over, he felt like in any second he was gonna budge out.

"Dammit, kinny! What the fuck! You said you were good at that shit," Cartman exclaimed pissed off, he couldn't help but smile smugly by that

"I underestimated Kyle's determination on giving you that lost, fatboy," Kenny guessed right on his persistent.

He wiped with his hand any remaining saliva and licked his now drying lips, glaring daringly at Cartman.

"Sweet, that means it's our turn to pick the next player," Stan commented now more enthusiastic, pointing at Cartman with a grin as he gesture Kenny, "your turn, fatboy."

"Goddammit" he mustered after, accepting his lost, before smirking lightly at Kenny, "bring it up poor boy."

"I'll make you cum," Kenny teased, grabbing him from the waist.

"As if," Cartman rolled his eyes, resting his arms on his shoulders.

Both furiously began making out, Kenny with a loud thumped dropped Cartman on the ground gripping his brown hair as Cartman began sliding his hands under his jacket touching Kenny's bare skin.

"Wow.. is that how we're supposed to play..?" Stan murmured still not taking his eyes off the two, bewildered by the intense playing of their friends.

Kyle bit his tongue holding in his jealousy, gripping his side as tension was felt in his body. The only thing that kept him from kicking Kenny off was by imagining himself in his place.

It was like three minutes until Cartman began gasping for air calling in a truce.

"No truce, fatboy. You lost," Kenny declared, giving him a hand to stand up.

"Goddammit!" He whined childish, before kicking some dirt in a grunt.

"Alright, alright, let the actual fun begin," Kenny added, rubbing his hands frantically before pointing at Stan, "seeing you two up your assess today made me realize how funny it is to piss you guys off, why not you give me the honors, Stanley?"

"God, give me the fatass again," Stan complained, chugging in some air before stomping his way towards Cartman.

"Aye! Watch yourself," Cartman warned, cupping Stan cheeks in a desperate attempt to lead.

He puckered his lips planting them on Stan, now best friend knew how to keep up the pace of the game, running his hand on Cartman's back then yanking lightly his hair.

Cartman began following Stan's lead as he was let slammed against a tree, Stan towering Cartman licking his lips before sucking them again.

He glance at Kenny who was recording discreetly while snickering silently.

"So, are we placing our dares after the game's over?" Kenny asked out loud, receiving a muffled as a 'yes' from Cartman who gripped hardly on Stan's messy hair.

This gay motherfucker was letting himself get riddled up by Stan, he was far from comfortable seeing both his best friend and Cartman make out in a desperate attempt of dominance.

Well, sorta if you don't count Cartman uncharacteristically rubbing his crotch against Stan's leg making the other groaned in response biting his down lip sliding his tongue inside his mouth one last time before calling quits.

"Alright, you fucking win, Cartman," he surrender almost dizzy, his hands raise up in the air.

"Sweet," Cartman mustered out laying himself against the tree arms crossed behind his neck, "you're next with Kenny."

Stan looked worrisome at the boy in question, who just licked his lips in a playful manner.

"Better do me just like Cartman, Stanley boy~"

Stan gulped, knowingly what he was about to get in to.

In a matter of seconds, Kenny lunged on to Stan gripping his waist and dragging him to the same tree he was previously pinning Cartman, now lifting him up as his legs hold on to Kenny's waist.

Stan yelped by the abrupt gesture, trying to grasp his hands on Kenny's cheeks but wasn't let to as Kenny shove harshly his tongue against him crashing their teeth together, opening his eyes in surprise.

"Damn, Ken's upping his game," Cartman mustered while checking out his nails, unfazed by the scenery.

In less than seconds Stan pulled away accepting once more defeat.

"Fuck no, dude! You crazy beast," He exclaimed grasping for any bit of air given.

Kenny licked his teeth in a beaming victory, then smiling innocently.

Now looking at Kyle with mischievous eyes and slowing eying Cartman while the fatboy laughed at Stan.

He gulped already knowing who was up next, twitching fingers as his nerves grew.

"Eric~" Kenny sang, getting Cartman to look at him, "pew pew!" He pointed in a 'bang-bang' manner at both himself and Cartman.

Cartman expression went flat, but immediately covered it up with a grinned.

"Alright, gaywad bring it on," Cartman challenged him already in the middle of the circle.

He unintentionally licked his lips moving forward and getting closer to him, already feeling himself be dragged by the heating feeling but a ring resonated loudly coming from Cartman's pocket making him stop in tracks.

Cartman took out his phone to check who it was, immediately answering the incoming call.

"Yentle?" He beamed excited, biting his nails intrigued, holding on to the phone for dear life.

Slightly walking away from him as he indulge in the conversation he was having.

"Ofcourse I'm available!" He exclaimed, almost forgetting he was being watch by three pair of eyes, "Yeah, yeah! I'll pick you up, see you there." And with that he hang up before walking away.

"Hey, what the fuck dude!?" He finally exclaimed angry, "are you chickenin' out?" He excused his jealous and disappointed outburst.

Cartman didn't bothered looking back, "Yentle just asked me out on a date! I ain't losing my chances by spending my time on you losers," he answered casually, his voice growing lower as he was far apart.

"What about your dare, fatboy!" Stan screamed offended.

"Eh, I'll do it later, bye faggots!" Gesturing them the middle finger as he ditched them running away.

He tsk, clenching his fist tightly.

He couldn't bat an eye that night, still anger eating every inch of his body digging his nails against his skin until he felt blood dripping out from his palms, he tried distracting himself scrolling through his phone but he immediately regretted it as he saw a post from Yentle of a photo of her and Cartman infront of a movie theater; fatass laying his head on her shoulders smiling widely as she peace signed.

Caption: 'best night ever! 📌 @ EricCart_brah'

Cartman was the first to comment back with a 'madly in love with the most beautiful jew💕'

He threw harshly his phone to the wall in a huff, as he grunted under the covers, digging his nails furious in his pillow.

°°°°

"God, what happened to your screen?" Stan asked as he eyed his phone.

"It's just the screen protector," he mustered out not with much energy, scrolling endlessly on his social media.

He was in a bad mood.

Cartman and Kenny walked their way, and he greeted 'cheerfully', "hey, gay chicken."

"Seriously, Kahal? Is this how we are gonna play," Cartman rolled his eyes, but his smirk never vanished, "you guys should guess what happened yesterday."

"What?" Stan asked, glancing his way.

"I finally asked Yentle if we can go out this Friday night, I'm planning to finally ask her to be my girlfriend," he said cheerful, pride spread in those upward curled lips.

"Congrats man, wish you luck"

"Why thank you, Stan," he kept smiling, now glancing at him, "not gonna say anything, Kyel?"

"What's there to say? You're a gay chicken, wussed out on a dare."

"I did not wuss out on my dare, in a matter of fact I did it this morning. Kenny gave it to me the moment I stood out from my house," he defensively gesture Kenny who raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh shit, really?," Stan interested peeked in, "what did you give him, Ken?"

Kenny smirked taking out his phone.

"Dude, you did not smack Heidi Turners ass," Stan said baffled eying the video of Cartman doing exactly that at a pissed off Heidi.

"He also got the whopping of his life," Kenny added howling in laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Cartman roll his eyes to that, "atleast she didn't accused me for sexual harassment."

"Oh shit, now that I look closer, you cover up your bruises with makeup?" Stan eyed Cartman closer.

"Yup, I have to look good for Yentle today, we're gonna go out for lunch this evening," Cartman explained with added disinterest.

"She did you bad," Stan continued snickering as he kept watching the video; now Heidi had Cartman pinned down in the ground punching him on the face endlessly a whining Cartman was heard in full blast.

'NAAH!! STOPP HEIDI STOPP! BWAAAAAH!'

'YOU PIECE OF SHIT!'

'AHHHH!! NYAAAH!'

'QUIT CRYING I DIDN'T EVEN PUNCHED YOU THAT TIME!?'

'¡YoU hIt mE iN mY aRm!'

With that they burst in to laughter and he couldn't help but smile because that was indeed hilarious. Cartman huffed, crossing his arms while they kept pissing themselves with all that humorous cry.

He glance at Cartman's lips, the disappointing feeling surging up again, watching back in sadness the road.

He waited until lunch time to grab Cartman by the collar, dragging him out to the back of the school.

"Owe! Kahal, what the fuck!?" He whined in protest finally letting go, "Jesus you've been acting like some rabid hymen."

"It's hyena, dumbass," he deadpan corrected, "you've never back down from a fight, fatass what's your deal?"

"What?," Cartman blurted out confused, "I haven't back down on anything, didn't you see how I took Heidi's ass whooping? That's some determination I got there."

"I'm talking about the challenge! You bailed like a complete pussy!" He screamed in an acussing manner.

Cartman eyed him amused, "OHH– I completely forgot about that shit."

"Ofcourse you did, cause now days you've only been a whipped bitch. You're completely acting like a love stuck Stan."

"Aye! Low blow right there! I'm in love, and being in love changes you in many ways, Kahal! I'm distracted cause I don't want to lose my chance with Yentle. I got alot of competition out there, dude! Try to understand where I'm coming from.

I'm still me and I won't change for some chick," he exclaimed frustrated, exhaling heavily as he rubbed his temples, "I just want to make things serious with Yentle and I'll go back to my usual self, kahal.

Yentle is special to me, I don't want to lose her."

He huffed crossing his arm, dismissively.

"Then lets finished were we left off," he sneered, causing Cartman to raise his brows in surprise.

"What? You mean like.. right now?" Eying the isolated area before looking his way, "wouldn't that make it gay..? I mean, we're completely alone and there's no other witnesses here and-"

"Chicken?"

"No! I just- I think it's kinda weird to suggest.. I don't think I'm comfortable knowing there's no one else.. the whole point about witnesses is for it to seem it's a challenge and not two boys seemingly wanting to experiment," he kept on blabbering, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine," he spat sternly, looking for the first stray dog he could find, placing it in front of them, "there. Now there's a witness, comfortable now, fatass?."

Cartman arched a brow looking at the dog that was licking its balls, scratching his head in confusion.

"I don't know.. it kinda feels like you're actually desperate for me to–"

"KISS ME OR I'LL FOREVER CALL YOU A CHICKEN BACKTRACKING LOSER"

"Alright Goddamn!" Cartman exclaimed nervously ceading in, "who put you such immense piles of sand up your vagina," he mumbled out, before tentatively placing his chubby hand on his shoulders.

He leaned instantly closing the small gap between them, finally feeling himself relaxed from that previous tension. He cupped Cartman's cheeks deepening the kiss, flavoring Cartman's mouth as he licked them entirely before shoving his tongue in him receiving a 'hmph!' From Cartman who kept his hands still on his shoulders seemingly not moving a single muscle just letting him lead the entire thing.

He frowned already feeling the lack of hand grabbing from the opposite; with Stan and Kenny he was all over the place but with him he was all stiff and tense, it was really making him feel unwanted.

Which technically he was.. but still.

He began gently caressing Cartman's cheek with his thumb, kissing him in small pecks before deepening it further, somehow trying to make Cartman realize his feelings with the connection they're making.

He felt Cartman's hands carefully place on his neck before sliding down his chest, slowly backing himself away breaking the kiss. Eying him fanatically, still grasping what happened.

"I think.. I'll accept defeat just this once," he winced out almost pitying, removing his hands off pushing him lightly away.

He looked his way with his mouth agape, swallowing hard as he saw Cartman stand up. He didn't bother looking at him as he walked off, he knew damn well Cartman just rejected his ass.

Theres no damn way Cartman wouldn't had realized his feelings by that point, he may be stupid but he wasn't that stupid.

He felt his cheeks reddened with embarrassment as tears fell their way down, feeling his throat dry up as he clenched his fist frustrated, ashamed, humiliated and defeated.

°°°°

"I'm giving you a one in lifetime opportunity here, Kyle," Cartman said while laying on his bed with his arms behind his neck, "I'm letting this slide for the sake of our broship."

He had decided to go talk with Cartman after three dense days with out giving each other a single glance, luckily it didn't seemed to be questioned by their gang.

Cartman had different classes as him out of those three days sharing atleast two classes in each day, if you exclude wednesday where it was actually one. So it wasn't outta the ordinary to not be seen around together even though at the bus stop it was very noticeable the bickery absence of the two.

Gosh, he was even pronouncing his name correctly.

"Look, dude, I personally don't want to ruined what we have."

"And I COMPLETELY agree with you on that, jew. But it's kinda hard to not act like things haven't changed if you keep giving me the googly eyes," Cartman added with a weird hand gesture signaling his eyes as he bashed his eyelashes in a dramatic effect.

"I'm not giving you "the googly eyes", fatass," he spat dryly, "I just want things to be normal between us, that's it."

"Uhuh," he rolled his eyes, seemingly not believing that.

"What?"

"Nothing–" he dragged his word, before getting off from bed, "look, just.. don't expect me to correspond of some shit like that. I may be quarter bi but that doesn't mean I have to go and accept any confused jew my way," he exclaimed not so long, placing his hands on his hips.

"I'm in love with Yentle, and I'm planning to make her my girlfriend this Friday and I don't want you getting in my way from doing that," he pointed accusatory at him

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Okay, fine. Friends?"

"Rivals," he corrected with a soft smile.

He frowned, but nodded reluctantly after a few seconds.

"Okay, but– now that you know about my-"

"Kahal, you better not come to me with that shit of being some clingy obnoxious pursuer, I made myself clear to you that NO gay shit!

Just us, being completely ourselves, the normal casual 'i do that, you disagree with that" type of stuff."

"Fine. But I can't promise you shit."

"Wooow, fine whatever. Just don't ruin my thing with Yentle and I won't try killing you," he shrugged, before looking through his closet, "do you want to.. play video games?"

He supposed their was no choice but to reluctantly having to accept the 'no' just this once. Even if that meant having to see the boy he's been pursuing for almost the entire years of his life get entangled with a girl who knows so little about him.

"Sure, but I take the white controller."

"What!? Nu-huh, kahal, that's the good controller!"

Even if he still didn't manage to fully do what they agreed on, having a couple of slips and making some moves on Cartman. It was still inevitable to prevent him from marrying the woman he hopelessly fell in love with and now building a family together after finishing their college years.

He won't deny Yentle has done a great job on calming Cartman down as a person, being experienced in the matter, he felt quite envious. But grateful too.

Sometimes he wonder, if he had manage to convince himself on falling to Cartman's little set up play with Yentle, would things have been different?

“Uncle Kyle, uncle Kyle!” He heard Moisha call him from outside his house, entering his home like if it were his own like a complete Cartman would. Menorah following behind, beaming.

“We got the best of news!” The girl exclaimed, now both children stood infront of him while he was just laying on the couch with a glass of wine.

“Let me guess, your father finally divorced your mother?” He responded quite unresponsive, eyes drifted to the ceiling, definetly the alcohol talking.

“Dont be silly, uncle Kyle!” Moisha ignore his obvious remark, already very use to his bitterly attitude by now, “my dad is gonna take us to disney world next week!”

“Oh, how fun,” he said sarcastically, before resting his head on the couch leaning deep of the abyss comfort as he closed his eyes.

Moisha climb the couch gripping on his shoulders shaking him frantically, “uncle Kyle stop being such a sore loser because our dad rejected your ass in high school and listen to usssss!”

“Alright, what?” He spat almost shoving the boy off, but was met with the most pleading big eyes. He soften now looking at both children.

Moisha jump back on his heels next to his sister still beaming happily, “papa said we can take two friends along with us, we were wondering if we can take Adam and Eve with us?”

He stare blankly in thought. The idea of letting his children go with the Cartman's thrilled him in many ways. But then again..

“Dont you guys not get along? Im pretty sure Adam doesn’t like you Moisha.”

“But he likes Menorah! And we don’t really have many other friends their parent would trust enough to let them go with us on a trip that long,” he admitted, sadness appearing in both their face.

“How long exactly this is?”

“Two days!”

“Pretty much the weekend, but daddy is gonna get us back on the road before 8 of the night so we arrive at south park early before school!

So mr perfect attendance won’t miss school either, and our mom and dad would be switching turns so you don’t have to worry about sleep crashing like the paranoid ass you are,” Menorah now added, also a small insult towards Adam's way.

Not that he was faze by it either, those two didn’t get along at all, but he resonated with his son’s determination to pursue the girl he likes so much.

Ironically also being a Cartman, maybe even hopeful he could have the luck or chance he wasn't given.

“Well, if you convince Adam on going, then sure, why not?” He shrugged before sipping on his wine while both kids cheered excitedly while dashing back outside.

°°°°

"The fuck dad!?" He heard his son scream from the living room slamming the front door while he was making a sandwich in the kitchen counter.

"Hmm?" He mustered still unfazed by the curses his way, finally giving a bite to his sandwich now eyeing his raged son who glared from the frame door.

"You told the Cartman's I'll be going to their lame ass trip!?"

"Well, not exactly completely settle things out–" the phone ring and he pick it up, still munching on his sandwich. "Hello? Oh, hey fatass. Yeah dude, your kids told me already," he glanced Adam's way, who was basically murdering him with a stare, "totally cool for me, was just— talking to Adam about it he's super thrilled to go. Yeah, okay. Alright then it's settle, Friday morning you can pick up my kids, m-hmm Alright, bye."

And with a clack, he hang up.

"Okay, now it's settle." He finished, giving another bite of his sandwich, now placing it on a plate.

"Dude! I had plans this Saturday. Me and the guys are going to the haunted mansion of Donovans!"

"Was. I already told Cartman you and Eve are going."

"Ughhh not fair!" He groaned exasperated.

"You know, back in my day me and your uncles would've died by the idea of going to Disneyland," he commented nostalgic, opening the fridge and grabbing some juice.

"Yeah, it's sooo fun to go to a place of greedy money eating homophobic mother fuckers and mascots that sexually assault their target audience. How fucking exciting—" he stated sarcastically, "Oh and let me add being around the most cringe lovingly family of all South Park!"

"C'mon it's not that bad."

"Would you stay a night at the Cartman's!?" He declared incredulous.

"I would if I could," he mustered, not paying much mind and grabbing a glass.

"Ugh, here you go again with your creepy obsession with uncle Eric."

"In my defense he started it!" He barked back pointing accusing, "it doesn't matter, you're going to disneyland you like it or not."

"Agh! I hate you!" He grunted out loud before storming off to his room.

He sighed drinking his orange juice.

Having a family himself he's learned to mellow down his anger, but not so surprisingly his children heritage his.. attributes. Or as Cartman would say his 'Jewish rage'.

Anyone would think he'd keep himself away from finding love elsewhere even if he has to repress his urges on pursuing a married man.

Though, during that period of love searching he only found a woman who eventually cheated on him with the Amazon deliver guy and in all honesty didn't love at all, but it really left him feeling bitter about it.

Only good that came out from that reckless marriage was his children: Adam and Eve.

Adam has always been a caring and nice boy, but ever since his mother abandoned them he's become quite rebellious. Though, he truly doesn't blame him.

And Eve, however, was very young when their mother decided to bail so she didn't seem to take the affect as bad as Adam did. She did feel the absence of a mother figure but she's the same as always; sweet, caring and loving.

Sometimes he wonder how the hell did Cartman manage to he a better father than him?

"Okay, is that it?" Cartman asked shoving two small suitcases closing the truck.

"Yeah, that's all of it," he stated now looking at his children, Eve getting inside the car and being warmly welcome by Mrs. Cartman with a baby in arms.

Adam on the other hand watched reluctantly at the two other children who peeked from the window.

"C'mon you little wuss, what's taking you so long!?" Menorah mustered out loud, annoyed.

"Don't call me a wuss, you bitch!" Adam hissed back, glaring.

Yeah, his ways weren't very affectionate or romantic at the minimum.

But Adam never grew tired of ranting how 'cute Menorah's frown was' or that she looked 'cute with the new hair ties' she'd use. Being victim of his son's caramelized crush, having to endure hearing all of his mix rants about how Menorah was both an 'hypocrite little snake' to a 'adorable sweet caring girl'.

"Don't call me a bitch you ass licker!"

"Don't call me an ass licker you–"

"Can you guys both shut the fuck already and get inside," Moisha chimed in bored, "pussy whipped."

"Shut up fatboy, don't tell me what to do!" He spat, before reluctantly entering the car and slamming the door harshly.

"Aye! I ain't fat you dumb jew!"

"I swear, Moisha I would not hesitate on punching you on that smug face of yours and you're also jewish you dumbass!"

"It's MOISHE not Moisha! M-O-I- SH-EEEE pronounce it right!"

"Language children!" Cartman scold a little too late, not taking it too seriously as he cleaned the lenses of his glasses unbothered. But they all kept their voices low after that, "anyways, I'll call once we're there," he added heading towards the car and entering the driver seat, following behind he leaned against the window knocking lightly as Cartman lower the window.

Both Cartman and Yentle looking confused at him.

"Just wanted to wish you guys a nice trip and–" he smirked mischievous, seeing how Cartman turned the engine on, "I'm— sailing away set an open ofcourse for the virgin sea~"

"Goddammit, Kahaaal!" Cartman screamed frustrated hitting the wheel, holding it out before bursting, " 'CAUSE I'VE GOT TO BE FREE FREE TO FACE THE LIFE THAT'S AHEAD OF ME‐" he kept singing now driving off with confused children and a concerned wife at his full care.

He snickered as he watched the car leave from sight.

It wasn't too bad being given a no.

Though, now he wasn't sure if he could consider Cartman as family.

Prev.

#south park #eric cartman #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #kyman #sp kyman #sp two-parter #oneside kyle brofloski !!#i tried searching for the post were i got the gay chicken concept from but i couldn't find it:c #kyle being the bitter uncle of the family gives me so many ideas 😂

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