#and the reason why I avoid shows like the heart stopping one is because I do not need a story of realized queerness and the sudden frenzied

[ofthemorningstars]

A Black Heart (Part 1)

TerzOmega ~ Secondo's POV ~ Family Fluff ~ Light Angst ~ Resurrection AU

3.9k words

Part 2

Ao3 Version

When Terzo is rushed to the infirmary, a reluctant Uncle Secondo must watch Terzo and Omega's oldest child. Trouble ensues.

Content warning: mpreg(cis), pregnancy complications, medical trauma

----

Secondo stormed through the hallways of the ministry in a fury, pissed off and ready to start a fight. He was headed towards the infirmary, and not by his own will; he had gotten a frantic call from Omega, at two fifteen in the morning, no less. Terzo was going to regret disturbing him at this hour. 

Meeting his brother’s newest child was a formality at best, and there was absolutely no reason that it had to happen in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, the busiest day of the week for him. Unlike his brother, he still pulled his weight within the ministry. He had shit to do. As he rounded the corner and laid eyes on where his ghoulish brother-in-law was seated in the waiting area, he was about to open his mouth to rip Omega a new asshole, but he stopped when he saw the look on his face. On both of their faces. 

His oldest niece, Starlight, was sitting next to him and leaning on him heavily, still in her rainbow-print pajamas. She looked upset, her purple-grey complexion stained with tear tracks. She had a death grip on a fuzzy pink blanket, her other hand in her mouth, sucking her thumb. Secondo grimaced in disgust; what a filthy habit. If he had a child, he’d never… Well, he’d never, would he. He and children simply didn’t mix, so he did his best to avoid them. Even children that were his own blood. 

He evaluated Omega with fresh eyes. He didn’t look much better than his daughter did. His complexion, while identical to hers, looked somehow ashen, as though the blood was drained from his face, which was lined with worry. His white hair was out of its usual neat bun, hanging around his face in messy waves. One of his large hands rested on Starlight’s shoulder, while the other was furiously typing on his phone. 

When Omega spotted him, he rose quickly to his feet, picking his daughter up and situating her on his hip. She clung tightly to him, grabbing onto his hair hard. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. It took only a few strides of Omega’s long legs to cross the room to him, and when he stopped, he was far too close for comfort, towering over him as he did. Secondo refused to allow the ghoul’s stature to intimidate him, scowling up at him with his arms crossed. 

“What the hell is this all about? Do you have any idea what time it is? I know your husband gets to sit on his ass all day now, but some of us have to–”

“Language!” Omega hissed at Secondo, covering one of his daughter’s pointed ears and pulling her head against him tightly. She looked positively frightened. Secondo felt his face heat up, anger bubbling up within him. He continued on, pushing past the warning.

“I can meet your damn baby any time, did this REALLY need to happen at nearly three in the morning?!” When the little girl looked like she was about to cry, he cut himself off, if only to avoid the noise.

“Frankly, Secondo, no one cares about you meeting our kit,” Omega spat back, venom in his voice, although he appeared to be restraining himself. “I called you here because we need you to watch Starlight. Terzo… isn’t well.”

At this, Starlight well and truly began to cry. Omega turned his attention to her, shushing her softly and running a hand through her white hair, the same shade as his. “It’ll just be for a day or two, ok princess? You’ll be back home with Daddy and Papa in no time.” He punctuated his reassurances with a kiss on her forehead. Secondo wanted to gag at the saccharine sweetness of the scene before him. 

“Why the hell can’t Primo watch her? I have important shit to do!” Secondo was done playing games, hellbent on putting his foot down. Omega pinched the bridge of his nose, looking for all the world like he was talking to a petulant child.

“Primo has to assist with the delivery. He’s the only one who knows how to perform the binding ritual on ghouls who aren’t summoned from the pit,” Omega explained, sounding as though he were repeating the same line for the hundredth time that day. Perhaps he was. It was only then that the severity of the situation hit him. Primo “has” to assist with the delivery, not “had”. The baby hadn’t been born yet. More worrying was the realization that, obviously, they never would have called him prior to the obligatory newborn visit. Not unless it was an emergency. 

Fuck.

“Sir?” A nurse popped her head out from around the corner, her gaze fixed on Omega. Omega bristled, barely concealing the look of panic and fear that crossed his face. He turned his head, nodding in acknowledgment and holding up a finger, asking for one more moment. She nodded back at him before disappearing. Omega returned his attention to the distraught toddler in his arms.

“I’ve got to go watch after Papa and your baby sister. I need you to be a big girl for me and go with Uncle Secondo for right now, ok?” To both of their dismay, she started hyperventilating, tugging hard on the lock of her father’s hair that she still held tightly in her clenched fist. Secondo watched as Omega gently grabbed the back of her head, pulling her forward until they were pressed together forehead to forehead. They were doing their weird quintessence ghoul thing, Secondo thought. He rolled his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. If Omega heard him, he didn’t pay him any mind.

After a few long moments, Starlight’s crying ceased, her breathing returning to normal and her body visibly relaxing. Omega pulled back, wiping the young girl’s tears away and giving her a final kiss, this time on the cheek, before setting her gingerly down on her feet. With a gentle nudge, she took a few tentative steps towards her uncle. Omega handed him a large bag that he somehow hadn’t seen earlier, as well as a key to their chambers, in case she needed something they'd forgotten in their haste.

“We’ll see you soon, sweetie,” Omega assured her, but the slight quiver in his voice gave him away: he was scared. Shit, shit, shit!

When Starlight reached out and grabbed Secondo’s hand, his eyes grew wide with shock. He froze, unsure of what to do, before settling on giving her clawed little hand a firm squeeze. With that, she nearly collapsed into him, grabbing hold of his arm and clinging tightly. He led her back to his quarters, the journey far more slow and awkward than he would have liked. Finally, though, they reached his door, and he unlocked it and let them both in. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by the prospect of his newfound responsibility. At least, he thought, she would soon be asleep, and he could worry about it when she woke up. She was already beginning to nod off on the way back to his room, after all.

When he closed and locked the door behind him, he slumped against it, letting out a deep, exasperated sigh. Starlight looked around at her new surroundings, eyes wild, overwhelmed. To Secondo’s dismay, her earlier cries resumed, and she sat heavily on the floor with a thud, rubbing her eyes, grabbing at her own horns in what seemed to be a self-soothing gesture. Her tail was wrapped tightly around one of her legs. 

Unsure of what to do, Secondo gave her a half-hearted pat on the back, reluctantly kneeling on the ground to better reach her. He’d regret this later, he knew he would. His knees weren’t what they used to be, but he’d do anything to get that infernal crying to stop. She lunged forward, catching him off guard when she wrapped her little arms around his middle, wiping her nose on his shirt. Ugh. Gross. This was why he didn’t spend time with children.

“U-uncle Secondo, will Papa and my b-baby sister be ok?” she sniffled after she’d seemingly cried herself out. Secondo didn’t immediately answer, unsure of how best to respond. “Papa was hurt, he was s-screaming and holding his tummy. I heard Daddy say it was too early for my sister to come,” she continued. 

Secondo’s earlier worry returned. Sure, he and his brother weren’t exactly close, but he certainly didn’t want him to die , or to suffer the loss of a child. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. She sensed his hesitation, her cries threatening to break into a wail. In a desperate bid to calm her, he put both hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

“Sì, they will be fine. I promise.” He hoped he wasn't lying.

He got her settled down on the sofa, her eyes closing almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. He changed his tear and snot stained shirt with mild disgust. Before going back to bed himself, he called Omega, hoping to get some answers as to just what the hell was happening with his little brother. The call went straight to voicemail.

When he awoke the next morning, Starlight’s face was a foot from his own, standing at the edge of his bed and staring at him with watery eyes. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

“Uncle Secondo, I’m hungry,” she whined. Secondo looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was only 7:45.

“Jeeze, kid. Are you usually up this early?” Starlight stared at him blankly. He got up with a sigh. He was greeted by mostly empty cupboards in the kitchen. He didn’t eat at home much, preferring to go to the great hall over cooking. He found a box of bran cereal, figuring it would have to do. She made a face when he put the bowl in front of her, sniffing it cautiously. Secondo watched with amusement as she ate all of it anyway, even drinking the milk. She really must have been hungry after all.

Not knowing what else to do, and having called out of his ministry duties, Secondo put on cartoons and let her sit and watch for the rest of the day, despite being told that her fathers didn’t let her watch much TV. She remained glued to the screen until just before noon, when she started to get visibly bored and antsy. He sympathized, feeling much the same way. Surely there was something they could do. Suddenly an idea occurred to him.

“Hey kid, do you wanna go pull a prank?” Secondo asked with an evil grin. She looked at him quizzically, her head cocked to the side.

“What’s a prank?” she asked innocently. Secondo’s smile evaporated. Man, he thought, his brother really sheltered this kid. He ignored her question and got her dressed. Once he had applied his face paint and gotten dressed himself, they headed to the great hall together, bringing a secret weapon. 

The walk felt like it took ages, Starlight continuously asking questions about the nature of pranking someone. When they finally arrived and Secondo was sure no one was looking, they snuck into the kitchen, quickly spotting their target. It was easy to identify Copia’s food, as he ate the same thing nearly every day, like the little weirdo he was. He fished the bottle of extra-hot hot sauce out of his pocket, lacing the red sauce on his rigatoni with it with a snicker. Starlight looked up at him, puzzled.

“Won’t that hurt Uncle Copia?” Her concern was endearing, but her voice rang out a little too loud. Secondo shushed her, quickly ushering her out of the kitchen and into the great hall. They ate lunch in silence at a table directly across from Copia, Secondo trying hard to be inconspicuous as he watched Copia like a hawk.

When Copia finally took a bite of his food after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Secondo watched with delight as he quickly spit it out, downing an entire glass of water before fanning his mouth cartoonishly.

“Fucking shit, that’s hot! What the fuck?!” Copia exclaimed, more shocked than angry. Starlight began to giggle, and Secondo elbowed her in the ribs, not wanting to get caught. Copia’s gaze flew to them immediately, his eyes widening in horror and his hand flying to his mouth as he seemed to only now realize that there was a small child present. He stalked towards them, glaring at Secondo before turning his attention to Starlight, expression softening. He crouched down to her level in a deep squat. 

“Do you know who messed with my food, little Star? You look like you do,” he stated plainly, face a mask of seriousness, but his voice was soft. Her eyes darted to Secondo for a moment, but she quickly stared forward, shaking her head. “Now now, I know your fathers taught you not to lie. That’s not very nice.” Copia took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb when her lip began to quiver. She turned her whole head to stare at Secondo this time. “Yeah, that’s about what I figured.”

Secondo scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I did no such thing. She’s three! You’re really going to believe her?” Secondo managed to sound indignant despite being fully aware of his own guilt. 

“A heck of a lot more than I believe you,” Copia snarked. “Why’s she hanging out with a grumpy old man like you anyway?” Secondo rubbed the back of his neck when he felt Starlight stiffen beside him. Please, not another meltdown.

“Terzo is… in the infirmary, and Omega is with him,” Secondo said, choosing his words carefully.

“Ah, mazel tov! A new baby, how wonderful,” Copia exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Secondo shot him a look, shaking his head. Copia looked confused, then concerned. He opened his mouth to ask the question that Secondo could feel coming, when Starlight chimed in, opening her mouth for the first time since Copia had come to their table.

“Papa isn’t feeling good. He got hurt,” she said quietly, her voice threatening to break. A look of panic crossed over Copia’s features, and he rose to his feet, patting his pockets, clearly looking for his cell phone.

“Don’t bother, Omega’s phone is off. I tried last night and again this morning.” He sounded defeated. “Primo is with them. I’m sure everyone will be just fine.” The last part was added more for Starlight’s benefit than for anything else. Copia sighed, deciding to sit down beside Starlight, wrapping an arm around her.

“Why doesn’t anyone ever call me for these things? I love children!” Copia sounded genuinely hurt.

“No one ever calls you for these things because you’re a fucking idiot,” Secondo said bitterly. Copia covered Starlight's little ears, but to his surprise, she let out a giggle.

“Language!” Secondo was cautioned for the second time that day. He rolled his eyes. Whatever. She’d learn it before they knew it anyway. 

“Uncle Copia, could you come play with us? Watching TV is boring,” Starlight pleaded. Omega looked chuffed.

“Of course I can, little Star! I’d love nothing more. Why don’t the two of you come back to my chambers after lunch? I’ve got something I’d like to show you.” Copia patted her on the back and walked back to his table, taking the rigatoni to the trash and going into the kitchen himself. Secondo pinched the bridge of his nose. This was an unexpected consequence, and a huge pain in his ass.

After they ate, Secondo followed them to the papal suite, trailing behind like a shadow while Starlight skipped ahead of him, holding Copia’s hand. Copia was talking a million miles a minute at the little ghoul, although Secondo couldn’t have told you what he was talking about even with a gun to his head. 

When they entered, Secondo felt a sense of bitter familiarity; this suite had once been his home, and then Terzo’s after him. All of the brothers had taken turns residing in these luxurious quarters, but Copia was the one who’d been allowed to stay the longest. It was an unpleasant reminder of everything that had happened over the last decade or so. While, yes, Copia had been the one to overthrow the previous tyrannical regime and bring all of them back from the pit, he had also been the reason they were sent there to begin with. To say it had soured their already strained relationship was an understatement. 

He hated what Copia had done with the place. How could someone manage to make such glorious living quarters look like a pathetic bachelor pad? Empty pizza boxes, video games, an arcade cabinet… And worst of all, a cage filled with filthy vermin: Copia’s beloved pet rats.

Starlight squealed with delight when she saw the fat furry little shits, running over to their cage and putting her fingers through the bars. Three large rats scurried over to her, sniffing her hand curiously.

“Would you like to hold one?” Copia asked, and Starlight began jumping up and down, clapping her hands. Copia opened the cage, pulling out a light brown rat with beady black eyes, the largest of the bunch. “His name is, eh… Rigatoni. I guess you could say I really like pasta.” He patted his belly for emphasis. The ghoul giggled as she was handed the creature, her face lighting up. She held it carefully, with an awareness of her claws that Secondo found impressive for a child her age.

Copia sat her down in his armchair with Rigatoni, watching fondly for a while as they played together. While she was distracted, Copia pulled Secondo aside, walking to the far side of the sitting room, his face uncharacteristically serious.

“Ok, now are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on with my brother?”

“I don’t know any more than you do,” Secondo replied defensively. “Omega called me at two in the morning demanding I go down to the infirmary. He sent Starlight home with me, and she told me that Terzo was hurt. She said he was screaming and grabbing his stomach. Now Omega won’t answer the phone, and Primo is nowhere to be found. I’m assuming he’s still with them.”

Copia grimaced. Secondo could see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to figure out what exactly was going to happen next. Secondo turned around to check on Starlight, doing a double take when he saw her curled up with the rat in her arms. Both of them were fast asleep. 

“Man, she’s really tuckered out. What time does she usually take a nap?” Copia asked, amused. When Secondo stared blankly at him, Copia shook his head judgmentally.  “Toddlers need naps, dipshit.” Secondo just shrugged in reply. They sat for about fifteen minutes in uncomfortable silence, letting the little girl sleep. 

Eventually, though, Secondo got tired of waiting. He decided to pick her up and carry her back to his own quarters. When they got there, Secondo set her down on the sofa. He felt a twinge of guilt, though, at making her sleep there. Surely it wasn’t comfortable or healthy for a growing child, and he knew her fathers wouldn’t be pleased about it if they found out. With a deep sigh, he stripped his bed, putting fresh linens and blankets down. He transferred her to the bed, covering her up and going so far as to tuck her in. He wondered when he’d become such a softie.

After she woke up, the rest of the day was just as stilted and awkward as that early morning had been, with his niece again growing restless. Secondo gave her a bath, wanting to wash away the germs of that filthy rat. That night after she’d gone to bed, Secondo texted Copia, reluctantly asking him to come over tomorrow to help with Starlight. His reply was nearly instantaneous, eagerly accepting the invitation, almost like he expected it. Secondo didn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the sofa.

Copia followed them back to Secondo’s chambers after breakfast like a lost puppy the next morning, a small animal carrier in tow. To say that Secondo wasn’t thrilled about the unexpected furry guest would be an understatement, but Starlight was very excited, and he supposed that was what really mattered. 

They spent the afternoon playing together, and when she again fell asleep with Rigatoni, Secondo expected Copia to gather up the animal and leave, but to his dismay, Copia whipped out some sort of handheld video game system. Apparently, he came prepared to wait out naptime. Secondo rubbed his temples as he realized what he had set himself up for. 

They played until evening, and when it was dinner time, Copia followed them there too and ate with them, sitting next to Starlight, trying the whole time, with moderate success, to make her laugh. After dinner, Copia tried following them once again, but Secondo decided that enough was enough. He had overstayed his welcome, and Secondo made that clear to Copia in no uncertain terms. Copia sulked, clearly taking it personally, and went to leave, but not before giving Starlight a big hug. She happily returned it, squeezing tight. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, much to Secondo’s relief. 

Secondo had just gotten her situated on the sofa watching TV again when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that it was his brother-in-law. He went into his bedroom, silently shutting the door behind him.

“Hello?” Secondo answered, trying to sound calm and collected, not wanting to let the ghoul know how frazzled he felt. 

“Secondo,” came the deep voice of Omega. He sounded exhausted. 

“Yes? Where the hell have you been?” Secondo was getting a little irritated, wanting him to cut to the chase. There was a pause, followed by a long sigh on the other end of the line.

“We need you to keep Starlight for another couple of days. Two, maybe three. Hopefully no longer than that.” Anger bubbled up within Secondo. Was he really to be expected to put his entire life on pause at a moment’s notice for these people?!

“Why can’t Primo take her? Surely the new ghoul has been bound to our world by now, his job is done!” Secondo hissed through clenched teeth.

“We still need him here. He’s been working around the clock to help keep Terzo alive.” Omega’s voice was dark. There was another long pause, Secondo stunned into silence. He took a moment to appreciate the severity of the situation.

“That bad, huh?” Secondo said, keeping his voice down.

“Yes,” was all he got in reply. Secondo hung up the phone before he could say anything else, feeling numb, his extremities tingling. He peeked through a crack in the door at the little girl currently perched on his sofa, her stark white hair standing out like a beacon in the dim glow of the television. He braced himself to tell her the news of her extended stay, praying to whatever would listen that he wouldn’t soon have to deliver even worse news.

Starlight cried herself to sleep that night.

[1prodigy1]

All desire for gentleness goes out the window I guarantee it

[jxwl4k]

The Only Exception

Plot: Bakugou hates everyone but YN, the only one who softens his tough exterior.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t known for his friendliness. In fact, the opposite was true. He was brash, loud, and always seemed to have a scowl on his face. Most people avoided him, and that was exactly how he liked it. Except for one person: YN.

No one could understand how someone like YN, always smiling and filled with sunshine, could handle someone as explosive as Bakugou. It didn’t make sense. Bakugou seemed to hate everyone, but for some reason, when it came to YN, his attitude completely shifted.

The moment YN entered the common room, his eyes softened. She bounced in, her usual cheerful self, waving to everyone in the room.

“Hey, guys!” she called out, her smile lighting up the space. Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima waved back, used to her bright personality.

Mina leaned in and whispered to Kirishima, “Watch. He’s gonna melt the second she talks to him.”

Sure enough, YN walked over to Bakugou, who was slouched on the couch, arms crossed and glaring at the TV. His scowl softened just slightly as she approached.

“Hey, Katsuki,” she said softly, sitting down beside him.

“Tch, what do you want?” he grumbled, but there was no bite to his words. In fact, he shifted slightly, making more room for her to sit closer.

She grinned. “Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

He huffed, his eyes still glued to the screen. “I’m watching a stupid show ‘cause these extras can’t pick a decent channel.”

“Hey!” Kaminari called out from across the room, clearly offended. “This show is awesome!”

Bakugou ignored him, his focus still on YN. She just laughed and leaned into his side. To everyone else, Bakugou was intimidating and aggressive. But with YN, it was like he was a completely different person.

“Wanna get some fresh air?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

He glanced at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever. I was getting sick of sitting around with these idiots anyway.”

As they stood up, the rest of the group exchanged knowing looks. Bakugou had always been protective of YN, and while he seemed to hate everyone else, it was clear to everyone that he was softer when she was around.

Once they were outside, YN breathed in deeply, enjoying the cool air. Bakugou walked beside her, his hands shoved into his pockets. His usual tense expression had eased, and he glanced at her every so often as if making sure she was okay.

“You’re the only one who gets away with making me do stupid stuff like this,” he muttered under his breath.

YN smiled, nudging him playfully. “That’s because you secretly love it.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. She had a way of breaking down the walls he built around himself, and he didn’t mind it when it was her.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while until YN suddenly stopped. “Katsuki?”

“Hm?” He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you so different with me?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His usual bravado faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…kinder. I mean, not to everyone, but with me, you don’t act the same.”

Bakugou looked away, his jaw tightening as if struggling to find the right words. Finally, he let out a sigh. “Because you’re different.”

She blinked, surprised by his answer. “Different how?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly frustrated with himself. “You’re not annoying like the rest of them,” he muttered. “You don’t piss me off. I don’t feel like I have to be on guard with you.”

YN smiled softly, stepping closer to him. “So, you don’t hate me?”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly, like he was holding back a smile. “No, idiot. You’re the only one I don’t hate.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Bakugou stiffened for a moment, not used to physical affection like this, but then he relaxed, his arms hesitantly wrapping around her.

“Tch, you’re such a pain,” he mumbled, though his hold on her tightened ever so slightly.

YN just grinned into his chest. “You love it.”

And though he would never admit it out loud, she knew he did.

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[augustinewrites]

does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can. 

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before. 

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place. 

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.” 

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head. 

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out. 

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.” 

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!” 

he regrets it as soon as he says it. 

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.” 

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket. 

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him. 

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.” 

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat. 

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.” 

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[hel1nn]

PLSS PLSS PLSS I NEED THIS

So Gojo has been neglecting his girlfriend y/n because of triggering the mental health of gojo's ex and because gojo still loves his ex he starts to neglect or abandon y/n but then again y/n only sees gojo as the source of her light, y/n sees gojo as a reason why y/n is still alive, and when Gojo starts to get mad towards y/n, y/n slowly falls apart and led her to death

PLS PLS I'M ON MY KNEES!!

The other women.

︵⠀satoru gojo x fem!reader ⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

⌗ !! Heavy angst | Cursed words | heart break |

Listen to i bet on losing dogs by mitski and the other woman by lana del rey while reading:b

A/N : thanks for the request ^.^

Oh how you want him to forget about her. You know why satoru is avoiding you all the time. You caught him texting his ex, begging her to meet him. But his contact was blocked in her ohone,All you could do was keep it to yourself. What else can you do anyway, he's all you have left and trying your best to make him forget about his ex. As always you were watching tv alone,the promise of a movie night long gone. His not coming back hoke tonight again. You can't even focus on the show on tv,all you could think was about satoru. How he isn't sleeping properly,the bags underneath his eyes. You want to be his safe space that you always wanted to be. From the start of your relationship,satoru would let you touch him,even let you have the intimacy time with him but as time passes satoru had been pushing you away more and more. Its only two year of your relationship with him and why are your feelings are so deep? Because even before dating him you had loved hik for years,even when his ex and him were together. You had admired him from afar,not even daring to step into his love life. But when satoru accepted your love you thought you don't have to admire him from afar anymore yet. Here you are now,seeing satoru again cling to his ex,but you were still trying your best to continue this relationship. Trying your best to be enough for him, always treating him like satoru not like the strongest. You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your phone buzzing. Maybe its satoru,as you though just to see shokos contact spaming you with so many texts. You were to tired to reply to anyone's texts and calls for now except satoru. You and shoko weren't that close but still she was a sweetheart to you. You turn the tv off, walking off to the bedroom to sleep knowing that trying to sleep is useless for you. You lay down on your bed,the clock already hitting 12 am.

It's already 3 am and satoru still hasn't come back,why ? You thought as always. You can't sleep, can't sleep without his warmth. One time you tood him this he ended up calling you too much clingy. And you ended up crying. You sit up slightly as you hear the jigglings of the keys, finally he had came back. You step out of your bed to see him. Satoru doesn't even tries to glance at you knowing you were standing behind him

"why didn't you come home early like you said" slips you lips,even though you didn't wanted to sound rude. Satoru just lets out an annoyed sigh as always.

"was busy with work,we can have a movie night later.." satoru said before leaving for bathroom to fresh himself up. You again walk off the the bedroom, laying down on it. Satoru comes to bed alot later than you,as satoru lays down you fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. His back facing you, missing how satoru used to hold you against his chest. You wait a few minutes, waiting for him to relax fully so you could wrap your arms around him. Finally when the moment comes,you gently wrap your around him torso just to-

"y/n." You freeze up, fearing he would push you away again.

"w-what is it" you mumble

"i am not in the mood"

"but i was just want to cuddle satoru.." you traill off, slowly pulling yourself away.

"just stop being clingy for a moment..please." satoru grumbles, before moving further away from you. Satoru noticed how hard your trying to continue your relationship with him. How your lips stays on his cheeks more longer than before. Everyday making dinner for him even though he doesn't comes home. Trying to takr extra care of him but all he does is pushing you away. Satoru feels the guilty covering him up again but- satoru cant help but love and miss his ex so much more than you...oh.

You don't say anything, just lay down. Trying your best to keep your teaes to yourself that are already peaking in the corner of your eyes. Satoru still hasn't moved on yet got in a relationship with you,its your fault for still continuing this barely alive relationship. But you cant help but be selfish. trying your best to make him forget about his ex by giving him all the love you have for him. You felt so so much stupid but you loved him so much more than you loved yourself. He was your everything. You silently cry yourself to sleep again, waking up to a empty bed. You take your phone to check all the texts finally, opening the shokos contact. Oh,you feel like your heart stops beating. Why is there a photo of satoru with a familiar girl? What is that. Not even reading her texts you hit the call button to talk with shoko. Did satoru really met his ex? No that's not true,it shouldn't be true.

"y/n" shoko say behind your phone, already knowing you will say.

"w-whos that girl with satoru w-why does s-she looks like his e-ex-" you speak with the tremblings on your lips, already trying to stop the tears.

"y/n try to relax a little bit,i know it doesn't feels real but it is. I caught him talking with her. And it's the best for me to tell you. I am sorry what that asshole has did to you. Its the best if you two break up,you don't deserve him y/n. This relationship isn't healthy for you" shoko sighed,she couldn't help tell you all these things and as much details as she could. After all the talking and crying you finally hung up. cheeks stained with tears as your breath was stil Hitching. Maybe your the other woman here. The other woman who didn't get the love she wanted. You feel like crying again. You try your best to keep your pieces together as you finally left for work. The night you came home alone as always. No satoru to greet you warmly. You slip down on your bed,not even bothering to remove your clothes. Satoru is the only hope for you but tonight you will ask him. If he loves you more or her. Everything inside you feels hollow. The sheets had his scent but it only increased the pain in your heart.

-

"satoru.." you finally spoke after he got in the bed,satoru looked at your. His blue irises missing the loving gaze. you take a deep breath.

"we have to talk" you said, avoiding eye contact with him

"what do you wanna talk about now, don't tell me why did i came home late tonight even though you know the reason" satoru mutters, your miserable. Satoru is the reason yet seeing the tired expressions and dark circles,his sadness underneath it makes your heart clench. You know no Matt what you'll never be able to hate this man. The man that never loved you like you wanted to.

"why do you always push me away? Is it her?" You blurt out. "Do you still love her?"

Satoru freezes,why are you asking him this? Yiu should know it. Know it and left him already,you don't deserve a man like him. You deserve better. His mouth opens to say something but it closes again.

"answer me satoru. Please.." you look at him with the pleading eyes of yours,you want to know it. You don't know when this talk turned into a argument,him yelling at you while you yell at him,tears streaming down your face when finally admits the truth you never wanted to exist.

"yes i do love her. I love her more than you" satoru grumbles, feeling guilt and anger at the same time, how the hurt was painted on your face, how the fat tears were running down your face. he walks away from the room, planning on sleeping on the couch. All you could do was cry more,you knew he loved her more than you. Or Maybe he had never tried to love you. You were something he used to forget about his ex. So why did it hurted this much hearing it from his mouth. Your sobs were loud,satoru could hear it. All he could do was ignore. And you crying yourself to to your most painful sleep. You and satoru broke things off but your love for him never disappeared. You felt like a dead body who's heart was still beating. At work you'd see him, looking so happy with his students. But you were never able to make him this much happy, you thought. Today you had a mission to complete. A special grade, knowing that you were far from it. Oh how your heart had ached so badly when you saw him in a cafe with her. You don't know why did you agreed to this but you did. You couldn't get what was going on in your life. Everything felt meaningless without him,he was your sun and you were the moon. The moon who nedded the sun but the sun was focused on the earth. Actually its her. And no one. So when the curse's arm pierced through your chest you didn't fought back,tiu didn't had the energy to continue anything anymore. Being dead would be more peaceful than living a life so painful like this. Maybe in another life,you would be satoru's earth.

Satoru looks at your dead body laying in shoko's morgue,he told himself he doesn't loves you but seeing you here laying lifeless, knowing that you were there for him no matter what. You loved him no matter what. His heart ached. He still remembers how you you cried when satoru told you he still loves his her,her who's getting married to someone next year. His hand gently holds yours, caressing you cold knuckles. The white clothe around you had almost soaked in your blood.

"maybe in another life I'll be able to love you,y/n."

Okayyy i tried my best:((( thanks again for the request nonnie!! And English isn't my first language sorry if i did any mistakes:)

[crustyfloor]

Till's point of view on his and Ivan's relationship - An (personal) analysis of Till's side of things leading up to Round 7.

As kids, IvanTill's relationship was tulmotious, to say the least.

Ivan would do things to rile Till up as a means of getting closer to Till when they were just starting out, and Till would fall for it.

Ivan would steal Till's things and turn around and give it back like some evil Christmas gift as a means of trying to get closer to Till, and Till would fall for that too, for some time.

But we all know Till isn't stupid. Till must've noticed after some time that the constant disappearance of his stuff only to be coincidentally found by Ivan every time wasn't actually a coincidence. And Till, being handled roughly his whole life by aliens naturally wouldn't have been so fond of the way Ivan would constantly instigate fights with him. All of these things that Ivan did, they did irritate Till. In any normal case they would've given all the more reason to avoid Ivan. So why did Till let him linger?

Well, I think Till actually considered Ivan at least a good friend, At least at the start. Ivan was strange, mean, and annoying but he was one of the only people who actually made an effort to stay and get close to Till. To have someone in a world like this would mean a lot to a kid like Till, even though Till and Ivan had their moments he was still the closest person to Till.

Other than that, Till is a high-spirited, compassionate, and emotional character. it's shown in a comic where Ivan and Till spot a crushed flower and Till tells it to cheer up out of sympathy, it's shown in the way Till cares about others around him even if he holds a cold exterior that keeps him from showing his heart often.

This isn't to say Till regarded Ivan because he felt bad for him, he didn't know the first thing about what went on in Ivan's mind. Till allowed Ivan around him because he cared about him enough to look past those aspects, Till is observant enough, so he was able to see that Ivan was just a kid trying. Till indulged Ivan, allowed him to stay because he cared.

And then we have the meteor shower scene. (pain&suffering.exe)

Ivan, motivated by his strong love tries to get Till to escape with him at the perfect moment. Keyword tries. Because they couldn't get far before Till stopped in his tracks and went right back to Anakt Garden, why? fear of the unknown? Of course. But it's because Till wouldn't have been able to live with himself knowing he left behind a person he loved so very dearly, Mizi. He couldn't possibly leave her there, aware of these deep feelings he had for her. He cared too much to leave.

Till probably felt guilty, going back to Anakt garden because it was all in wrong timing, probably felt guilty knowing he disappointed Ivan back there. But imagine just how much guiltier he felt seeing Ivan the next day. He followed Till back knowing there was no way he'd get the chance to escape again. And so this was the first thread of their relationship that was frayed.

After this point, Ivan was under the full assumption that he had been wrong about how he thought Till saw him so he gradually started to distance himself too, Ivan's antics seemed to have mellowed out, as they grew more distant but he still messed with Till, remained in his life in the shadows, and cared about him, becoming gentle when Till was unaware because even then he couldn’t force himself to leave Till’s world even if Till wanted to leave him in favor of a more bright, beautiful paint that permeated Till's dull canvas, that was so much different from his own bland, dark existence.

Till noticed their distance, and Till thought Ivan hated him for leaving him behind, so as a last effort to bring Ivan back to him and fix his relationship with his friend, to let Ivan know he wanted him near, he left him a message on graduation.

"You were the one who stole my pencil at that time right?"

That was in response to Ivan's "I hope you'll remember me" message.

Till's response sounds pretty straightforward, by design. but I read it as an indirect pointing to a direct message; "I know it was you, of course, I'll remember you. I'm not even mad at you for all of it...So come back?" unfortunately for Till, Ivan didn't read it like this because Ivan isn't a simple person, he needed more than Till could give him. So most likely instead Ivan ended up reading the message as Till still not caring this only motivated him to distance them more until they weren't even talking anymore.

And so after everything, round 6 comes. Till has to compete and win against Ivan.

Till went into round 6 with the full intent to kill himself on that stage and let Ivan win. He couldn't continue to live in a world he hated, in a world where he was tormented, was used, and had nothing else to live for. he couldn't continue to live in a world knowing Mizi, his only shining light and goddess was gone, most likely dead.

It's eerie just how close he was to succeeding, but his plan was thrown off as Ivan realized what Till was doing when he stopped singing and interfered before it was too late.

Ivan kisses Till, selfishly furious with emotions, and sentiments that haven't been addressed for years, but gentle in the message Ivan was trying to get across. Ivan chokes Till for the final blow. Till doesn't understand any of it, it's all too fast and it confuses him. it's hard to say what exactly Till was feeling in that moment, but Till doesn't fight back properly because he doesn't want to, he can't bring himself to show that spirit he had anymore, not the one Ivan saw in him when they were kids, that's been drained out of him because of years of the trauma, the torture, the pain, everything. He's tired. He's lost Mizi, and he's lost everything. If he's just meant to be lamb to the slaughter then why should he delay the inevitable fighting for a life he didn't want? So if Ivan was going to kill him in that moment, so be it. He was going to let him.

Only that's not how it goes, as soon as Ivan's hands leave him Till is disoriented. and then he is shocked, confused, worried? because he didn't expect, nor want this either, he didn't ask for this, he didn't ask for Ivan to take away that one thing he wanted. That expression on Ivan's face, he doesn't get it. But it hits him, that this was all a plan.

And at the end of the day, Ivan is dead, and Till is left staring at his peaceful corpse on the ground, with his blood staining his shoes like Ivan's actions are staining, permeating his perspective, giving him more questions and less answers. All while knowing that he is truly alone in this world now. He has been abandoned.

(I go over pencil.exe a little more in another post of mine if anyone is interested in reading keke)

[missmeinyourbones]

CLEAN ME UP 

c/w: established relationship, hurt/comfort, light mentions of blood and injury, atsumu lowkey gets his ass beat </3 but he is so sweet

Atsumu sits crisscrossed on the floor of your bathroom with a tender black eye and a busted lip—and though this should be a rare thing, you need all five fingers to count the number of times you’ve seen this film before.

The first two were ages ago, high school days when he and Osamu couldn’t stop themselves from throwing a punch or two over nothing at all. Their egos too big and brains too small, twice you'd gotten roped into their post-brawl aftercare. Another time it was a fight off the court, when a rival captain made a snide remark about his foul accent. The fourth, a drunken, immature mistake.

Tonight’s wounds are different. Because when Atsumu nonchalantly shows up black and blue at your door, he doesn’t tell you what happened. There’s no story attached to the bruises he bares, no lengthy explanations or excuses. And Atsumu is a lot of things, but speechless is never one of them. 

He looks childish, you think, the way his broad body folds itself into a tiny pretzel and hardly takes up a corner of your tiled floor. He’s oddly quiet, too. Sure, you heard his witty comments down the hallway about how you should see the other guy, but something’s still off. His eyes aren't lit with their usual flame of youth, pride. 

Only a few words are exchanged through the process of cleaning him up. Between wet washcloths and tiny sniffles, Atsumu fumes, You haven't asked enough questions yet, and it’s beginning to freak him out. He doesn't know whether or not he should be grateful or unsettled with your silence.

A frozen bag of vegetables presses against his left eyelid when you finally ask, "What the hell did you do this time?"

Atsumu smiles at the mere sound of your voice, an instant warmth against the burning ice on his body. "Why's it always my fault?"

You remove the bag from his brow to shoot him a look, that look. He knows better than to argue with that look. Arguing with that look gets him nothing but trouble and an achy back from a night on the couch. So, he diverts. 

"Nothing,” he sulks. “He started it, and—"

"—And you finished it, right?" 

Your words are meant to be sarcastic, at his dispense of how stupid he behaved, but Atsumu doesn't take them as such. Instead, at your interruption, he shoots you an earnest smile filled with satisfaction and dried blood stretched across his chapped lips.  

"See? So smart, baby." 

His hand rises to pet your chin but you lean back quick enough to dodge his caress. His eyes fall to the bag of vegetables that now sits by your lap. 

“Atsumu,” you try again, foreboding. 

He rolls his head back in a huff against the bench of the bathtub, and the ceramic feels warm against his neck compared to the still stinging chill on his eye. 

“What was I supposed to do? They were bein’ assholes.”

His whole team had gone out drinking tonight for a celebratory round or five, followed by a few days off. And as charming as Atsumu is, he does have his foes. People in the volleyball world he’s not the biggest fan of, for reasons he doesn’t seem to discuss with you. He likes to leave it at his good intuition, something you know he lacks.  

With the context clues provided, you can think of two or three people he’s implying. 

His reasoning is flawed, to say the least, but the way he says it has your heart breaking in the slightest. He avoids eye contact, as if he's embarrassed, dancing around the subject and wishing the ground to swallow him whole. 

His shyness has you trying a softer approach. 

“Everyone is an asshole,” you whisper, lightly returning pressure to his eye with the makeshift ice, “if punching assholes was reasonable, I’d do it all the time.”

Atsumu smiles a bit at that, but you catch how he winces slightly at the movement. 

“Yer so funny, baby,” he tries to trail off. “Funniest person I—”

“Miya,” comes his second warning, and by the look in your eye, he’s not brave enough to try for a third.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “but when yer a Miya, I’m playing that card on you, too. Y’know that, right?” 

You nod, and whether it's to his proposal or to encourage his words, you don't know. But it works, because Atsumu takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling again. 

“This time was different, okay?”

His tone is eerily soft. One only you get the privilege of hearing, and not because it's out of love, but because it's out of hate. Something’s shaken him so bad, he’s almost been rendered speechless. 

“How was it different?”

“They were talking about you,” he shakily exhales. “Sayin’ stupid shit that isn’t true.”

Your heart softens as you do your best to keep a strong facade, but maybe Atsumu does have good intuition, as his hand squeezes yours through the quick moment of silence. 

“If it’s not true, then it shouldn't have mattered, right?” you try.

“No,” he’s quick to work himself up again, eyes finding yours. “Like hell was I gonna let ‘em keep talking about you like that, ‘specially when I’m right fuckin’ there.” 

Your fingers lightly skim his jaw, nowhere sensitive but he jumps all the same. You apply pressure to tilt his head, forcing him to find your gaze. He does.

“Do you want to tell me what they said?”

Atsumu gaze softens, and after a moment of thinking, he shakes his head. 

“No,” he decides, “I don’t.” 

His eyes fall to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Do you want to know?”

You smile at his sincerity. Atsumu, who you know to be just as sweet as he is boisterous, would tell you if you asked. He’d do anything you ask. But, you decide against it. 

“No. No, I don’t.” 

Atsumu exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he lets his head nuzzle against your palm. Contrary to the ice, it's warm and soft on his skin. He thinks it could heal wounds faster than any bag of broccoli ever could. 

“I trust you,” he hears you coo into his hairline, kisses now dancing along his forehead and jaw, “even if you do have the emotional intelligence of a middle school boy, sometimes.”

Astumu hmphs at your words, simultaneously agreeing and brushing you off. He doesn't care enough to bicker, right now. He doesn’t need to tell you about how the man from the bar was talking about you. About how easy you’d be to persuade into bed. About how you're just with Atsumu for his flashy perks and award winning smile. 

He doesn't need to because he knows they're wrong. Because they don't see these moments, when Atsumu sits on the ledge of your empty bathtub. With popped blood vessels and tender welts, those men don't melt beneath your careful fingertips or soothing pecks. 

He doesn't have to say anything, because you trust him. You trust Atsumu, and it's the one thing in this world he knows to be true. 

He lifts his head up from your hold to find your lips. 

“I jus’ love you,” he insists, lightly pressing himself to you with such caution, “so much.” 

And if there’s one thing in this world you know to be true, it's that Miya Atsumu loves you.   

[peanutpinet]

You Are Loved - Sylus x Insecure Fem Reader

Prompt: “I’m going to prove everyone who made you feel like you don’t deserve love that they’ve been so, so fucking wrong. And I’m going to make you understand that you deserve so much more than you realise.”

Prompt is from: @dumplingsjinson

Blurb: When you thought that you were not worthy of love and are always worried that you would get hurt in the process, Sylus proves you wrong

Trope: I don't really believe in love girl x let me show you what love is guy

Warnings: Light angst, insecurity, soft and loving Sylus, reassurance

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credits go to the images' respective owners.

“You’re dozing off again, is something wrong, sweetie?” Sylus pointed out as the two of you had dinner together

You immediately snapped out and looked at Sylus, reassuring him. “No, no. Just work…yeah” you went back to look at your food and started to pick at it which didn’t go unnoticed by Sylus

Sylus let out a sigh and used his hands to stop you from picking at your food. Instead, he interlaced his fingers with you, rubbing your knuckles. “Hey, tell me. What’s wrong? What’s in that pretty head of yours, hmm?”

You honestly didn’t want to admit what you were thinking. It was silly and you were being insecure because Sylus was your first-ever boyfriend. Sure, you were aware with love, the idea of dating from the books you read, movies you watched but when you’re the one who’s actually going on a date with your boyfriend, it just feels off.

“Hey…” Sylus called out to you again, rubbing your knuckles and getting your attention

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off again. Umm, what were you saying?” I asked, trying to get into the conversation

“Something is on your mind. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Sylus asked, gripping my smaller hand tenderly but firmly at the same time while you tried to avoid his gaze because you knew that if you did, you would actually give in and admit what was wrong

“Sweetie?” Sylus called you again, his grip a bit tighter but not too much that it would hurt you. “Tell me, why are you picking on your food, avoiding eye contact with me? Did I do something wrong?” Sylus asked as you immediately shook your head

“Then? What is it, sweetie? Do I really need to use my aether core and look into your mind? You know that I can do it but I’m not out of respect for your boundaries” Sylus added on, getting a little frustrated on why you wouldn’t tell him what was going on

“Sometimes I just wonder…” you started, trying to unscramble the words to create a concrete sentence while Sylus rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, reassuring you that he’s not going to judge you. “Go on, sweetie. What do you often wonder, hmm?”

You took another deep breath, not wanting to meet Sylus’ eyes as you spoke. “I just wonder…what made you pursue me and to keep going until now? You know I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m not someone who seems to be capable for long-term because of trust issues and all”

Hearing your reply, Sylus gripped your hand a bit more comforting instead of tight and rough. “Sweetie, look at me”

You still tried to avoid Sylus’ gaze until you felt his large hands creep under your chin and gently turn your head so that you were facing him. Instead of looking annoyed or angry like he normally does when he’s out, his eyes showed a softer, more vulnerable side of him. One that you almost never saw.

“Is there truly a need for a reason to pursue you other than the fact that I adore you?” Sylus asked, his hand on your chin rubbing your face gently and lovingly to the point you almost leaned into his touch but held back and shook your head. “It’s just weird. You’re practically the most powerful man in the N109 zone, you’re wealthy, and handsome might I add. Why pursue me when you can have many other gorgeous and much more successful girls?”

Sylus felt his heart swell when he heard you put out all the compliments to him. “You really think I’m that handsome?” Sylus smirked as you scoffed, trying to pull your hand but Sylus being Sylus, he wasn’t going to let you go that easily

“Seriously? That’s the only thing you caught when I talk?” Sylus chuckled at your sudden outburst, finding it cute. “I assure you, sweetie, it’s not. But it’s not everyday you call me handsome though I know you thought about it. But for real sweetie, what does all my trait have to do with wanting to pursue you? Why should I pursue other girls when there’s you”

“That’s the thing, Sy. I’m just me. I’m no one special. I’m not even that pretty, not that smart, not a business owner or anything outstanding” you argued back

“But you see, I don’t care about you being someone famous, special, or outstanding. I adore you because you’re you. You’re special to me whether you see yourself as special or not. I adore the way you ramble on about the little things of life. I adore how kind, gentle, and caring you are. I adore how raw and real you are with me. You don’t try to hide your bad side or be fake. You’re always yourself with me and that’s what I adore. You” Sylus reassured you, bringing your hand closer to his face as he kissed each of your knuckles before rubbing them again.

“Sylus…people will talk. Well, people already talk…” you mentioned but didn’t get to continue as Sylus immediately cuts you off

“Let them talk. I don’t give a damn what they say. They can think, assume, or judge the hell they want. But I’m going to prove to everyone who made you feel like you don’t deserve love that they’ve been so, so fucking wrong. And I’m going to make you understand that you deserve so much more than you realise”

“You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine” Sylus kissed your knuckles, making sure his lips linger on your skin a bit longer

And somehow, the gentleness of Sylus’ touch and the raw feelings he poured out today brought a sense of relief and reassurance. Bringing a new feeling for you that maybe, for once in your life, it’s okay to be selfish and allow yourself to be loved.

A/N: I hope that you all are well, here is the fic I promised where you, the girl, doesn't really believe in love and Sylus reassures you by asking you to trust him and show you what love truly is :3 xoxo, peanutpinet

[strnilolover]

.✦ ── What You Need ── ✦.

♫ What You Need • The Weeknd

♡ toxic&mean!chris x fem!reader

⚠︎ Warnings : Cheating (don’t do that), smut, unprotected pnv (riding!), praising, degrading, faux sympathy, manipulation, big dick!chris, dacryphilia, after care!, and more.

♡ Wc : 3.5k

♡ A/N : i have never written something for toxic and mean chris so if this is ass, i apologize. This shit is also long as fuck so enjoy.

The party was in full swing, music pumping through the walls, reverberating against your skin as you leaned against the kitchen counter. The glass in your hand had gone warm from your grip, your half-hearted sips more out of habit than interest.

Parties weren’t normally your thing. They were too loud, too many sweaty bodies — and you didn’t really enjoy drinking much like other people did. But, your mind wasn’t focused on the party, you were focused on him.

You could see him across the room, the way he laughed, his eyes catching on you for just a second before he looked away, as if he knew exactly how to make you burn without even trying.

Sure you shouldn’t be looking at him — that would be wrong, so wrong on many levels. But you couldn’t help the way your body felt when ever his eyes landed on you if you were staring for too long.

Chris knew you too well — knew what made you tick, what made you question yourself. It was like he could read your mind from across the room, and the way he looked at you, even in fleeting glances, told you he was going to pull you in again, whether you wanted it or not.

You and chris were fuck buddies at one point, but you guys never had sex — or it didn’t get to that point. But, his fingers and mouth were amazing — so fucking good. Though, things didn’t last between the two of you. You eventually found a guy and chris…well you didn’t know. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him, cause you damn well did even if you didn’t want to admit it out loud.

The guy you were seeing, the one you kept telling yourself was good for you, wasn’t here tonight. Maybe that was part of the reason why you had let your eyes linger on Chris a little too long, why you felt that pull to be closer to him, even when every rational part of your brain screamed at you to stay away.

Then, Chris moved through the crowd, his eyes locking on yours, the smirk on his lips growing with each step he took closer to you. He was magnetic, commanding the space around him in a way that was both intimidating and alluring.

"You look bored," he said once he was close enough for you to hear, his voice cutting through the sound of the music, his smirk widening when you didn’t respond right away. "You waiting for him?"

You frowned, trying to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks. "What do you want, Chris?"

He moved closer, leaning in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "I want you to stop pretending, to stop avoiding,” he murmured, his voice low, dark, the kind of voice that could slip into your thoughts and make itself at home. "We both know he can’t give you what you need."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, because he wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. He knew that the guy you’d been seeing, the one who treated you with care and kindness, wasn’t enough — not for the part of you that craved something deeper, something more intense.

Chris leaned back, his eyes searching yours, and you hated that you couldn’t look away, that you couldn’t hide the truth from him.

"You’re wasting your time with him," he said, his hand moving to your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin, a possessive touch that sent a shiver through you. "You need someone who knows you. Who knows how to make you feel alive."

He was right there, inches away, and you could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of his body. He reached up, brushing his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle despite the dark look in his eyes.

"Let me show you what you need," he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek, trailing down to your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You closed your eyes, your heart pounding, and you hated yourself for how easily he could make you forget everything else.

"Chris..." you started, but your voice came out as little more than a whisper, barely audible over the thumping bass of the music.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his lips curling into that same infuriating smirk. "Tell me you don’t want this," he said, his voice dripping with that arrogance that somehow made him even more intoxicating. "Tell me you don’t need me."

But you couldn’t. You were tired of lying, tired of pretending that you didn’t think about him when you were with someone else, tired of pretending that he wasn’t the one you really wanted. You reached for him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he chuckled, the sound low and pleased.

"That’s what I thought," he said, his voice barely a murmur before he grabbed your hand. He tugged you to the flight of stairs leading down to his room — did you mention this was his party? You should’ve known better.

His movements were urgent and rough, pulling you through his bedroom door before he closed it and turned the lock. He turned himself around, stalking toward you as his hand gripped your jaw. He crushed his lips against yours. It was rough, demanding, a kiss that made your head spin, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

His feet shuffled, pushing your body backwards until your knees hit the bed. Buckling, you fell back, Chris’ body landing on top of your own.

You gasped as his lips moved down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, biting down just enough to make you squirm, your fingers tightening in his hair. He pulled back for just a second, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with something dark, something possessive.

"You think he can make you feel like this?" he asked, his voice a growl as he leaned back, his hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart as he fit his body between them. "You think he even knows what you really need?"

You shook your head, unable to form words, your body already arching towards him, craving his touch. He grinned, a triumphant glint in his eyes as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"That’s right," he whispered, his voice a promise, a dark promise that sent a shiver through you. "I know what you need. I know how to make you feel good."

He kissed you again, his hands moving over your body, rough and demanding, and you knew there was no going back. His touch was fire, scorching every inch of your skin, and you let yourself get lost in it, lost in him. You could feel the tension building, the way his fingers worked magic against your skin, and you moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

"s’ what you wanted hm?" he said, his voice low. You stayed silent, pants leaving your lips, desperate, and it only seemed to make him hungrier, his touch growing more insistent.

"You need this, don’t you?" he repeated, the words gritted past his teeth, his eyes searching yours, and you nodded, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"Yes," you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body arching into him. "I need you, Chris."

His smile was almost predatory as he kissed you again, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing your skin, making you gasp. He pulled back once more, your mouth chasing his own.

"That’s it," he murmured. "You’re mine tonight. No one else matters."

You nodded, desperate as his hands moved higher, tugging your dress along with them. “Up.” He mumbled, and you obliged, sitting up quickly so he could discard your dress from over your head, slipping it off with ease.

Once your dress was off, you leaned back down. Your hair flowing over the pillows on his bed. His eyes were hungry, drinking in the sight of your body decorated in the lace set your were wearing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands wandering up to squeeze your bare sides. “You wore this — almost like you were waiting for me, hm?” He chuckled.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, and all you could do was nod. He smirked, humming as his hands wandered higher, skimming under your tits, reaching to the back of you to unclasp your bra with one hand.

Your back arched, pushing yourself against him as he slid your bra off. The cool air making your nipples harden, sending goose bumps across your exposed skin. He threw the item somewhere behind him, joining your discarded dress.

Chris’ head bent down, taking one of the hardened nubs into his mouth, the warmth of his tongue making you sigh. He smirked against your skin, sucking harshly, a moan being ripped from your throat at the sudden action.

Your hands gripped his hair, tugging the strands as your eyes fluttered closed, welcoming the pleasure coursing through your veins. When Chris saw your eyes close, he pulled away, hand gripping your face, causing your eyes to snap back open. He just tilted his head, a grin plastered on his face.

“I want you to look at me while I pleasure you, yeah? Think you can do that f’me?” He spat out, your head nodding vigorously at his words. He hummed, sitting back from you, moving his body up the bed to rest against the headboard.

Your eyes followed him, head twisting to watch where he was going. Once he was situated against the headboard, his hands gripped the waist band of his pants and boxers. Lifting his hips up as he shuffled them down to his mid thighs, your eyes locked onto his cock. He was huge — bigger than your boyfriend.

Chris’ gaze flicked to your face, watching the way your eyes practically fucked him, widening as you stared at his length. He suddenly spoke, the sound snapping you out of your trance, wide eyes looking into his blue ones. His finger beckoned you. “Come sit.” Was all he said before your body was scrambling, moving to hover directly over his hard dick.

You were eager, your boyfriend being a distant memory in the back of your mind, all your senses being invaded by Chris. Your eyes watched as he held his hand up to your mouth. “Spit.” he said, tone a little harsh. You obliged, mouth hovering over his hand as you let spit dribble past your lips into his palm.

“Good girl.” he groaned, retracting his hand to bring it down to his aching cock. Wrapping his fist around it, he gave a few tugs, hissing at the friction. After a few more tugs, he moved both of his hands to grip your waist, moving you to hover more directly over his length.

Your eyes widened, hands pushing against his chest. “W-wait chris, you — you’re not — that’s not gonna fit in me.” you gasped out, trying to wiggling out of his grasp slightly.

He just chuckled, gripping your hips tighter as he moved you back. “Don’t worry sweetheart — i’ll make it fit. You’ll be okay.” he cooed, a hand leaving your hip to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head slowly as you let him guide your hips more. His fingers pulled your panties to the side, slowly he tugged you down, the tip of his cock pushing past your folds as your hands gripped his shoulders. You gasped as the tip pushed into you — eyes squeezing shut at the slight burn. “Shhh, i’ve got ya.” he whispered.

You too a deep breath, hips moving down more on his length. A hiss escaped your lips, he was only in a little bit but it felt like he was splitting you open. A returning groan slipped past his own. “Fuck ma — y’squeezing me so fucking tight…shit.”

You whined, your nails digging into his skin. He pushed your hips down more on his length, his head tipping back against the headboard. “Almost there baby — fuck.” he said through gritted teeth. You nodded, watching his face contort in pleasure.

Soon enough, he bottomed out. You felt so full. His head tipped back forward, looking down at where you were connected and he could see the bulge in your stomach — making him groan.

Your eyes bore into his, he was still — not moving at all. You realized he was waiting until you gave the go ahead, who knew he wasn’t such an ass after all. Slowly, you nodded your head, and he smirked.

His hands lifted you up, sliding out almost fully before he slammed you back down onto his cock. You let out a screech, eyes rolling back as he set a fast pace. “Ah — c-chris!” you squeaked, nails gripping harder, sure to leave a mark.

It felt so good — the burning turning into pleasure that coursed through your body. Your head tipped forward, resting in the crook of his neck. Little gasps and whines escaped your lips.

Chris shifted, his feet planted on the mattress as he bullied his cock deeper into you — if that was even possible. The angle made you moan, the pleasure overwhelmingly good. “Chris…ah — fuck s’too m-much!” you cried out, tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Chris chuckled, keeping the rhythm going, his hips slamming up into yours. The sight of your glassy eyes spurred him on. “Oh, poor thing, is this too much for you? Thought you could handle it?” he moaned, head tucking into your neck as he nipped at the skin, sure to leave little purple bruises.

Your walls fluttered around him at his words, his teeth gritting together. The tears spilled down your face now — not from pain, but from pleasure. Chris brought his head back up, gripping yorker hips tighter as your started to fuck yourself on his cock now.

“Fuck look at you — such a cock slut hm? taking me so fucking well ma.” Your hips moved faster, the sounds of skin slapping against one another and the wet squelching of your pussy was the only thing that could be heard. The blaring party from upstairs couldn’t even be heard through the both of you.

“s’big — so fucking big oh god.” you moaned out, the words tampering off into a high pitched whine at the end. Your hips shifted, bouncing up and down on his cock as a particular thrust of his hips hit that spongy spot inside of you, causing your body to tremble as a mewl slipped past your lips.

Chris leaned forward, taking one of your pink nipples into his mouth, sucking and nipping on the bud. His groans reverberated through your body, making you shiver. “What would he think if he knew where you were right now? being such a fucking whore for me.” he mumbled around your hardened bud, biting down harshly. You threw your head back again, crying out at the pain.

“What if i told him hm? show him how much you love bouncing on my cock.” he muttered, letting go of your nipple as his tongue trailed up to your collarbone. You didn’t answer, only a whine slipping out as your ground your hips down more, your clit rubbing against him.

Chris didn’t like that, his teeth biting your collarbone harshly. You squeaked, “N-no! don’t — don’t tell him.” you choked out, the tears cascading down your face more. He hummed, his hips still slamming up into you. “No? y’sure baby — fuck — i think you’d like that wouldn’t you?” you shook your head, trying your hardest to deny, but the way your walls squeezed around him at the thought told chris other wise.

One of his hands left your hip, sliding up your back to tangle into the back of your hair, tugging your head back sharply. The action made you whimper, closing your eyes as your legs started to burn, but you pushed through — bouncing harder on his cock.

He grinned, the hand helping move your hips left. “Keep moving yourself baby — make yourself feel good. Take what’s yours.” he whispered. You nodded, moving more as you felt a knot form in your stomach. The hand in your hair never left.

Chris reached over, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and opening his camera, pushing on the video button. He hit record, holding the phone to point down where his cock could be seeing in your guts, your tummy bulging.

Your legs burned, the feeling of them wanting to collapse was strong, but the need to get off was stronger. “Taking me so fucking good ma — tell me how good i’m making you feel.” he said, punctuating his words with some sharp thrusts. His hand tugged your hair harder, “S-so good! fuck me so good!” you cried out once more.

His phone panned to your face, capturing how it contorted and scrunched up in pleasure before panning back down. The knot forming in your stomach tightened, pricking up your spine, heat swirling in your stomach. “Gonna cum — c-chris m’gonna cum.” you breathed out, grinding down harder.

He moaned, the hand in your hair letting go as he brought it around to your front. His thumb connected to your clit, rubbing tight circles and made your body jolt. “Yeah? y’gonna make a mess all over my cock? go ahead, cum for me baby.”

That was all you needed to hear, your body moving faster as you chased that release you so desperately needed. Chris kept the phone pointed at you — your knowledge of it non existent. Little babbles left your lips, your walls squeezing him tightly as the knot snapped.

“c-cumming!” you moaned, body tightening as you released all over his cock. Your juices slipping down his length. Your movements slowed, but chris wasn’t done.

He quickly tipped your body back — your back making contact with the mattress as his one hand gripped your his bruisingly. His cock plowed into you at a mad pace, the phone still in his other hand. He aimed it up, capturing your whole body in the frame. You choked out a whimper, hands pushing up at his stomach.

“C-chris!” you cried. He hissed, his own release creeping up his spine as your walls clenching him hard. “Fucking take it — take it, take it.” He growled. He was so close, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you.

“Gonna fill you up baby — make you feel me for fucking days.” he said, and you nodded, hands now gripping his bicep as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation. “Give it t’me.” you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper into you.

“Ah — fuck, fuck, fuck.” he chanted, burying himself deep in you as he released inside your walls. The warm feeling of him spilling into you cause you to whine, eyes rolling back again as you babbled.

Stilling his movements, he stopped the video, quickly opening his messages and sending it to your boyfriend — how did he have it? you don’t know.

He tossed his phone aside, slowly pulling out of your fluttering walls. His gaze traveled down, watching as his cum spilled out of you. He hummed, pleased with himself. You could feel his eyes on you, causing your hands to instinctively cover yourself up. He tsked, taking your arms away from yourself.

“Don’t hide yourself ma, y’so beautiful.” He muttered. You cheeks flushed, his voice so calm and soothing compared to earlier. He smacked your thigh a few times, the weight shifting on the bed as he got up and walked to his conjoined bathroom.

Coming out a few minutes later, your head tipped to look at him. He was cleaned up, in a pair of sweatpants, carrying a wet warm washcloth over to you. “Open your legs baby.” he said, gently tugging your thighs apart. You obliged, the warm feeling of the washcloth soothing your body.

When he moved over your pussy, you flinched slightly, still sensitive. He cooed, apologizing quickly before he continued to clean you. Once he was done, he helped you sit up, walking over to his dresser he pulled out a pair of his boxers and a fresh love hoodie.

He helped you get dressed, taking your ruined panties off and replacing them with his boxers as he slid the hoodie over your head. Once he was done, he helped get you situated under his covers, offering you water.

He climbed in next to you, your mind already slipping into unconsciousness as you felt yourself grow exhausted. He pulled you into him, your head resting on his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You hummed contently, snuggling into his chest as you doze off into a peaceful sleep. Your soft snores echoing through the room. After while chris got up to make his way upstairs to end the party. But as he got up, his phone buzzed.

He checked it quickly, smirking to himself when he saw the message.

Your Boyfriend : What. The. Fuck.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”

Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.

“What? I’m just not as good as you.”

Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”

Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.

“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”

A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.

“Will.”

Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).

“Will.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”

It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.

But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.

Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.

(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”

He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.

All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.

“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.

Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”

Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“No.”

“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”

Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.

“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”

“Still!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”

Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.

Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.

“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”

Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”

On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.

“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”

Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.

“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”

Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”

Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”

She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.

From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”

Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.

“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)

“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.

“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.

Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.

“Too bad for you guys.”

[astorianyxkings]

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

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

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

Length: 14.2k

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

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

“Ross. Mike Ross.” 

“Cut the Bond schtick.” 

“I’m a contender.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s at your two o’clock.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here often?” 

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

-- 

“...Annually, at least.”

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

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

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

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

“What did Mike tell you?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around. 

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

Well, he was hard to miss. 

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

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

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

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

“Target acquired.”

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

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

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

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

“If I had a nickel.” 

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

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

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?” 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.” 

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.” 

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

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

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight. 

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

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head. 

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

“Really.” 

“Mm…N—...No—?” 

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

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

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

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

“What could have happened there, I wonder?” 

“You must not have taken care.” 

“Of what?” 

Of me. “Of anything.” 

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

“Friends of yours?” 

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

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

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

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

“And this is Harvey Specter.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I took a crack at writing it myself.” 

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

“I look forward to it.” 

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

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

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

“Thirteen,” You sighed. 

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?” 

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

“It’s an open bar.” 

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

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

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

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.” 

“Smart move.” 

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

“Better late than never.” 

“I guess.” 

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

“We’re going to.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve barked enough for now.” 

“Biting?” 

“If you play your cards right, sure.” 

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

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

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What did?”

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

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

“You don’t say.” 

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

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

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

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

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

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

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

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

“Where are we going?���

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

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

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

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

--  

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

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

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

“You have that good faith deposit.” 

“I told you where it went.” 

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

“Not yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not a good idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does one make a polite killing?” 

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

“Redbull?” 

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

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

“On which?” 

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

“Anything stand out?” 

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

“What about the others?” 

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.” 

“You have the print-outs?” 

“In my car.” 

“Why are they in there?” 

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

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

“You do that often?” 

“What, drink?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?” 

“I’m asking if you do that often.” 

“Once in a while.” 

“New for you?” 

“Relatively.” 

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

“So you can talk me out of it?” 

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

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

“We don’t have to talk.” 

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

“Call me anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll drive up.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“A little trickier.” 

“Could bill it.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You could, under discovery.” 

“This would not be covered under discovery.” 

“How would you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.” 

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

“I await the enraged phone call.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.” 

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Remember what I said.” 

“I will.” 

“Call me if you need anything.” 

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

“...Harvey?” 

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

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

“I don’t want to litigate that.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“Not like this.” 

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

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

--  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—” 

“I need you to come into the office.” 

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

“What happened?” 

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

“Come to the office.” 

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

-- 

“Cheese fries?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey’s on that.” 

“Your divorce.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know of it.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.” 

“Lucky guy.” 

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

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

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

“Look, Mr. Alford—” 

“David, please.” 

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

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

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

“It could be again.” 

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

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

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

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand. 

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

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

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.” 

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

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

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

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

“You need one.” 

“That is beyond the point, Mr—” 

“David.” 

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

“How would you know what’s enough?” 

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

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

“Yes, I do.” 

“Because it was your business, too.” 

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

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

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.” 

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

“I mean, having been served—” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“There is no way.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

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

“Well, it certainly would be before.” 

“What exactly has changed?” 

“You didn’t know me. You do now.” 

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

“What a cozy little conference this is.” 

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?” 

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

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

“We can’t all be queens of quip.” 

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.” 

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

“Coffee?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

But you were not going to fuck him.

--  

“Don’t fuck him.” 

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

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

“Excuse me?” You finally managed. 

“You heard me.” 

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

“I have plenty of business.” 

“No—” 

“Don’t—” 

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

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

“Do not say that you know me.” 

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

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

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

“I know the type.” 

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?” 

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

“I meant Steven.” 

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

“Just…Be careful with him.” 

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

“I’m not lecturing you—” 

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

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Fuck you.” 

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

“We’re not done talking about this.” 

“Yes, we are. Get out.” 

“We’re not done until—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.” 

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

“I did not—” 

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

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

“Oh, really—” 

“And a helluva lot worse than me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Against your better judgment.” 

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

“Don't call me that.” 

“Why not.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

“Give me a good reason not to.” 

“You haven’t earned it back.” 

“Any idea of how I might do that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.” 

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

“Turn around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left one on the counter.” 

“You want one?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey?” 

“What.” 

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?” 

“I had a date.” 

Your brow furrowed as you took that in. 

“...When?”

“Tonight.” 

“Why aren’t you there?” 

“Because I’m here.” 

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

“Don’t read into it,” He added. 

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

“I was.” 

“Arrange for that, did you?” 

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

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

“What.” 

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

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

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

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

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.” 

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

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

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

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?” 

“Nope.” 

“Didn’t promise a rain check?” 

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.” 

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

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

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

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.” 

“Sure.” 

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

“You’ve earned one.” 

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

“I understand.” 

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

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?” 

“Can we talk about it?” 

“The sex or the other thing?” 

“The other thing.” 

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

You shook your head. 

“Some other time,” He promised. 

“Sure.” 

-- 

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

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot. 

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

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

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

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

“They’re worth more than your apartment.” 

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

“...This is different.” 

“It’s criminal,” You muttered. 

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

“Both. Come on.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now who’s making cute comments.” 

– 

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

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

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.” 

“So, what do you think?”

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

“Why list it in your name, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.” 

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

“And Gstaad?” 

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

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

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement. 

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

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

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

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

“He is to me.”

–

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

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.” 

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

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

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

“I can handle it.” 

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

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

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

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

“Cruel is an understatement.” 

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.” 

“Stubborn.” 

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

“What for?” 

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

“Oh, so now you want to?” 

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

--  

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

“Nothing. What were you saying?” 

“Jessica needs to see you.” 

“Right now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

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

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

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

"Were there any outstanding features?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

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

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

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

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

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

"She told you?"

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

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

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

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

He was certain of it. "Yes."

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

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

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

"Has Steven seen it?"

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

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

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

"Things are different now."

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

"Let me see this case through."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

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

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

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

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

"She knows."

"What?"

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

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

--

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

"Jessica—"

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

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

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

"Oh—Come on."

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

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

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

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

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

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

--

“You slept with—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I went over to hang out.” 

“At her apartment?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

“Get out of my office.”

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

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

“That’s not enough to disbar you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

-- 

"I'll come over."

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

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

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

"At work."

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

"I'm ready for it."

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

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

"Fine."

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

"Harvey—"

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

-- 

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

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

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

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

--  

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

“Find the place alright?” She teased. 

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

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

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

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

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.” 

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

“Two minutes.” 

Two minutes? Until what?

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.” 

“They are.” 

“Figures.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

“You regret it?” 

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

“And then what?” 

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

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

“Donna will keep him at bay.” 

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

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

“Probably.” 

But neither of you rushed to move. 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

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

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

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

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

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

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

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's on me."

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

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

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

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

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

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

"He sure has."

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

--

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

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

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

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

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

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

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

--  

“Impressed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re dazzled.” 

“I like the kitchen.” 

“You’re helplessly turned on.” 

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.” 

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

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

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

“...Harvey?” 

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.” 

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

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

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.” 

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

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

“Please,” You pleaded softly. 

“...I didn’t write the note.” 

Fuck. 

“Okay.” 

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.” 

“Who wrote that one?” 

“Scottie.” 

“...Okay.” 

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

“Well, she was right.” 

“Yeah.” 

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

“I had doubts.” 

“About me?” 

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

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

“I was afraid of it.” 

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

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

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

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

“Because you loved Steven?” 

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

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

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

“I wasn’t ready!” 

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

“You wanted to get married.”

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

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

“Would you if you could?” 

“Yes.”

“...Okay.” 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmhm.” 

“Want coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

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

“Sure.” 

“‘Kay.” 

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

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 ;

[stairain]

Gun that doesn't shoot.

You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.

Warnings: Hard Dom Spencer, Bratty Reader, spanking with a belt, degrading, hair pulling, slapping, fingering, crying, orgasm denial. 

WC: 3.7K

For reasons you don’t know, you were being overly bratty towards Spencer today. Actually, you had a completely valid reason. He’s gone soft, to put it simply, and quite frankly you were tired of being babied 24/7

So today, whenever he asked you to do something, it was met with a mocking grumble and hesitance to do said task. He thought it was just a one time thing, and let it slide, but now here you are again, facing the other way with a pout as he talks to you.

"What is the matter with you, Princess?"

Your heart skips a beat as you hear him call you by your favorite name, but you huff and cross your arms over your chest, as if throwing a silent tantrum.

“Don’t give me attitude, Princess. You’ve been in a sour mood all day and I haven’t done anything to you.” 

Spencer crosses his own arms across his chest as his tone is one of pure disapproval and disappointment. He sighs. 

“What has gotten into you?’

You almost make a show out of turning your head away from where he stood, exaggerating how much you wanted to do everything but look at him. 

He slightly bends over to firmly grab your chin and force you to look in his eyes.

"What's the matter? Speak."

You suck your teeth as you look up at him with malice burning in your eyes.

“Why should I tell you?”

Spencer’s eyebrow twitches as he becomes irritated with your behavior.

"Because you're being bratty, and I'd like to know what you're upset about." His voice starts out stern, but slowly turns gentle at the end of the sentence.

“And why would you care? It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.” You’re still avoiding his question, wanting to see just how far you can push him before he snaps. He was always so gentle and caring with you, and for once you just wanted to see what’d it’d be like once he finally lashes out on you.

"Why wouldn't I care?" He seems genuinely lost at your response.

"Just tell me what's wrong, and I'll see what I can do to fix it, okay?" His tone is still gentle, but he seems a little confused and maybe even hurt. With a scoff, you turn your body so you’re facing away from him.

Spencer sighs heavily as he stands back upright, getting more and more frustrated. 

"Look, I can't fix what's wrong if you won't tell me. So talk, or I'm going to give you something else to pout about."

You have to suppress the small smile that grows on your face, you’re finally getting somewhere. You huff once more.

“You wouldn’t.”

"Try me, Princess." He says the name in an almost mocking manner, and takes a few steps closer to you. He leans down and grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. He gets just an inch or two from your face.

“That’s what I’ve been doing all day, didn’t think it’d take a genius like you to take this long to figure it out.” Your voice is sarcastic as your words bite at him. 

You can see violent anger flash in his eyes for a moment, before he’s squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. His hand slides around the back of your neck and grabs you there, dragging you like a dog over to the kitchen counter. Your back hits the edge of the island, and his voice is quiet as he speaks to you. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but for your own sake, please tell me what's made you so angry."

You simply bite the inside of your cheek as you stay silent, despite all of his warnings and pleads for you to just talk to him. His hand slithers from the back of your neck to your throat, and gently holds it in his fingers. 

"You don't give up, do you?" He asks after a moment, still holding you there against the counter. As his frustration continues to grow, his grip tightens, but he doesn't seem to realize it.

"I'm begging you, sweetheart. Just talk to me."

You push down a sound of pain at the feeling of him gripping at your throat, and swallow nervously before speaking. “Or what?”

Spencer sighs and his grip on you gets tighter and you can tell his frustration is only growing at your stubbornness.

"Or I'll have to punish you. You know how much I hate doing that, Princess." He sighs again, clearly hurt by the thought.

This time, you don’t stop the soft grunt that escapes your mouth, and you stutter when trying to speak.

“Y-You’re all talk..”

The man's eyebrow quirks up, and he shrugs. 

“If you say so.." His expression is now cold and serious. "Your choice, Princess." He suddenly lets you go and takes a step back. He crosses his arms and stands in front of you, waiting to see what you will do next. 

A look of confusion and disbelief crosses your face, and you’re sputtering out your words. 

“W-What are you doing? You..You’re supposed to punish me, why are you just standing there?” 

As you speak, you can see a cocky grin spread across his face.

Spencer looks at you for a moment before speaking, his tone coated in disdain as realization sets in for him.

"You really want to be punished, don't you? That must be it." He starts walking in circles around the kitchen island that you’re leaning against, slowly shaking his head.

"You're being bad on purpose to get my attention.” His tone is mocking and his grin is teasing, but there's still some coldness behind his words.

He knows he’s read your intentions perfectly, just as you had recited them in your head. Your heart starts to pound in your chest as you try everything in your power to not look at him, as he circles you like a shark would their prey.

He continues to circle you, his look turning more predatory as time goes on.

"Is that what this is really about? You get some sick satisfaction out of pushing my buttons until I snap at you and have to put you in your place? You just like seeing me angry." His grin grows, and he chuckles darkly. "Does it get you off, Princess?"

The tone in his voice is dark and condescending, and it sends a shiver through your senses. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I-I..”

Spencer watches you as you try and fail to speak, and his grin only grows darker. His eyes are cold and unforgiving now, looking down on you like you're one of the worst of the worst that he's put behind bars.

"Speak up, Princess. Unless you have nothing to say?" He gets even closer to you, getting right in your face and leaning a hand against the counter next to you. You can see the anger starting to boil in his eyes, despite him trying to keep himself calm.

And it’s clear by the way all your previous confidence has crumbled underneath you, that you have nothing to say. You were trembling with fear and anticipation as you could feel the huffs of his heavy breathing hitting your skin.

His eyes narrow at your silence, and his hand suddenly shoots out to grab a fistful of your hair. You are pulled forward painfully and he pulls you close.

"Speak. You don’t have a choice." He growls at you as he grabs your hair tighter and his face looks like he's just one step away from losing control.

You wince in pain at the feeling, but also moan softly. As his fist gripped at your roots, it shot a feeling of pure arousal through your body. You take a shuddering breath before you speak.

“Y-Yes.. Just-Just wanted you to put me in my place..” 

His face doesn't soften at all at your confession. He seems just as cold and unforgiving as he did before you spoke, and his other hand now grabs your throat.

"And what is your place exactly, Princess? Remind me."

His gaze is piercing and his breath is as heavy as your own is.

“I-I’m yours, Sir..”

The grip on your hair and throat only tighten as you whimper out your words. 

"That's right, Angel. You are mine. And you know what you do when you're mine?" He leans in even closer, so that he's nearly nose-to-nose with you, his grip becoming almost unbearable. 

"You behave, Is that understood?" 

Your lips drop in an attempt to gasp for air, and you manage to nod in his hold. You swallow and squeeze your eyes shut.

Reid lets go completely and you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. You choke on your own breath as your lungs greedily fill with air.

"That's what I thought." He mutters in a low, almost whispered tone. He watches you with a sick look of sadism for another moment as you fight to breathe, then lets out a sigh and steps away. His face is blank for a moment, then his eyes quickly fill with desire.

"On your knees."

The tone he uses is colder and less forgiving now as he says that. He hasn’t moved in his place away from you, and he crosses his arms, waiting for you to obey him. 

At his command, you take a few steps forward and immediately fall to your knees. You bow your head down to the floor as you await his next order.

“Yes, Sir.” 

He looks down at you and reaches a warm hand out to run over the expanse of your jawline, before quickly pulling it away to slap you across the face. Your head jolts to the side and you let out a quick noise of shock.

"I don't want you to say another word unless I ask you to. Understood?" His eyes are trained on you as he withdraws his hand, waiting for you to respond and confirm that you’re actually listening to him now.

“Yes, Sir.”

You nod and say not another word afterwards. Your body was practically shaking in both excitement and fear for this, you had him exactly where you wanted him.

Spencer nods and reaches out for the belt he keeps on his waist. He pulls it out of his belt loops and holds it in his hand, seemingly taking his time to torture you.

"Look at me." His voice becomes harsher, and you can tell he's lost his patience.

Your head almost immediately lifts to look him in the eyes, and you can feel the littlest of tears brimming your wide, “innocent”, eyes as you gaze at him through your long lashes.

"You’ve left me no other choice, Princess.” He states monotonously as he holds you in his gaze. 

"It won't be pretty, or gentle. You're going to leave with bruises." His voice is dripping in condescension, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver of fear through you. He holds the belt tightly in his fist, waiting for your response. 

“That’s exactly what I want, sir.”

The look in his eyes doesn’t waver as he sits down on the couch and looks over at you expectedly.

"Over my knee."

There's no room for argument. His face remains unmoving as he holds his arm out, waiting for you to do as you're told. With a nod, you lift yourself from trembling knees and walk over to him, before bending your body over his legs, your stomach resting against his thighs and your ass raised in the air.

Spencer looks down at you as you do, his face blank and his expression serious again. Once he makes sure you're fully in position, he flips up your skirt and pulls back his arm. 

"Don't you dare move, Princess.” 

You hold your breath as you wait for the first hit and squeak out.

“Yes, Sir.”

The thick leather of the belt crashes down against your bare bottom and you hiss through your teeth. It hurt, but you knew this was as gentle as they would get, so you take it with gratitude. 

"Let's see if that attitude of yours is the same after a few more, hmm?" He asks in a condescending tone, his voice having turned into a cruel whisper. He pulls back his arm again as he speaks. 

"Tell me again what you are, Princess."

“I-I’m yours, Sir.. I belong to you—“ Your words are cut off as he swings the belt and lashes it against your pink tinged skin, making you cry out in pain. The tears that brimmed your eyes before fell down your flushed face now.

"Good, Princess. That's a good girl, isn't it?" He says in that unforgiving mutter as he pulls the belt back and whips it forward again, just as hard as the last.

"Tell me again, Princess. I want to hear you say it. What are you?"

Your body lurches forward in his lap and you practically scream at the pain.

“I’m yours, Sir.. Y-Yours..”

"And how should I treat my Princess? Do you think I should treat her gently? Is that what you want?" His voice is sarcastic yet menacing and it sends a shiver down your spine. He pulls the belt back and whips it forward once more, hitting you with even more force than before. 

You know better than to answer him, you know he’d like you better with your mouth shut right now. But that proved to be quite difficult, as the second the rough leather slapped against your bottom, your mouth dropped in a screech.

"Shut up. Do as you're told." His voice grows brutal and he continues to spank you, his face becoming one of rage and fury as his hands turn red and white from the tight grip he has around the belt.

"I don’t want to hear a single sound from you unless I want it, Princess. Now, say it again. What are you?" He asks, his voice once again dripping in a scornful frigid tone.

You don’t even have to look back at your ass to know it’s absolutely bruised with purple and red marks, you can just feel them.

“I-I’m yours, forever..”

"Yes, that's right. You belong to me. So don't you ever behave like this again, understood?" 

He stares you down and punctuates his words with a bruising hit.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry sir..” Your voice is wavering as tears stream down your face and your body is shaking against his. His free hand reaches up to grab a handful of your hair and he forcefully yanks on it, making you groan in pain. 

“I don’t fucking care. Shut your mouth or I will make you.” 

An animalistic sob leaves your lips when he tugs at your roots harder and brutally assaults your already abused bottom. It’s like you can almost feel every line and crack of the texture of the belt at this point, as with every hit he dealt to you, the pattern was being imprinted on the red raised surface of your ass.

Then, suddenly, the hand in your hair lets you go and you can hear him switching the belt from his left hand to his right. All you can do is hang your head low and pray he’ll take it easy on you. But you know better. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted to watch him snap, break from that caring and nurturing role he always regarded you with, and ruin you. 

When rough fingers take hold of the bottom of your panties, the fabric is ripped with an unforgiving tearing noise. Your eyes widen against the darkness of the couch and you clench at the feeling of being exposed so suddenly. 

Above you, you can hear him let out a deep chuckle at you bent over his lap, arching in anticipation as your folds glistened pathetically. 

“So pretty.. Shame you have to be so bad.”

Is all he says before you feel two large fingers prod at your hole, not giving you a moment to think before they roughly push into your plushy wet walls. Your cunt hungrily swallows what he’s given you, and he shakes his head at the sight of his fingers disappearing inside of you.

“It’s never enough for you, is it, Princess?”

The digits curl inside of you, making a scooping motion as they thrust deeper and deeper into you. Your eyes cross as they fall under heavy eyelids, and a strained whimper leaves your mouth. 

“You just.. take, take, take..”

He pulls back his fingers and fucks them back into you with each word he lets leave his mouth. 

“And it’s still never enough, hm?”

You shake your head the best you can, and moan out at his claims. 

“N-No, Si-”

The otherwise forgotten leather belt in his other hand thwacks down against your already welted ass, cutting you off. You practically scream in shock at the feeling, before he does it once more, just to shut you up again. 

“Do not fucking speak to me right now.”

A third finger joins the others inside of you in a slick motion, and the stretch has you dizzy in his lap. It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to his girlfriend right now, not speaking at all to the woman he loves so unconditionally. No, it sounds like he’s talking to one of his worst enemies. 

His tone is full of hatred, malice, and coldness. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on beyond belief. He’d never treated you this roughly before and you were getting used to it all too easily.

Usually when he opened you like this, he took his time with you. Slowly pushing in each long digit and feeling your warm liquids gush around him, making sure you’re alright before moving another centimeter. 

But now, his hand was pistoning into you like he didn’t know how to do anything else, and his shaking fist held onto the belt above your ass so hard you were wondering how long it would take for him to pierce his nails through it.  

He was furious with you, and you adored it.

“People would kill to be treated the way I treat you. Pampered like a princess, spoiled rotten.. And yet-”

Spencer raises his hand once more and slashes the leather against your bottom before he finishes his sentence. You hold back a cry.

“You don’t want it.” 

His fingers push impossibly deeper into you and stay still against your stretched walls, giving your soaked pussy the opportunity to finally mold around them, tight like a vice. 

“What happened, baby? What happened to my Princess?”

There’s a faux tone of concern and sympathy for you in his voice, but you see right through it. You simply shake your head in response and try your damndest to not squeeze around his digits to avoid him getting even madder at you, as tempting as the idea sounds.

You can hear the material of the leather hitting the couch as he drops it, and you can feel a comforting hand come around to lightly run through your hair.

His fingers start to move once again, but much slower this time, and much more gentle. The 180 turn confuses you, but you didn’t want to be ungrateful and prove him right. 

The once stoic tone in his words softens, as he speaks to you in a comforting voice.

“Think you can cum, just like this, Princess?”

This time, you don’t stop yourself from squeezing around him, urging him deeper to press against your sensitive spot. When he reaches it, the pads of his fingers caress over it, and it makes you whimper pathetically. You nod, and swallow the drool that’s started dripping from your lips.

Spencer smiles down at you and brushes his hand through your hair. He can feel your arousal leaking out of your cunt, dripping from the fingers stuffed into you and onto the surface of his palm. 

He twists his digits around inside of you as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge, and it doesn’t take much for him to get you there, because after he deals one last press of his middle finger against your spot, you’re crying out.

“Sir.. Sir, I-I’m.. cum..I—”

Your eyes cross and roll back into your head as you right there, and just as fast as he’d gotten you from that point, he robs you of it. 

Before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling all of his fingers out of your drenched pussy and looking down at you with a cruel smile. The hand that was in your hair was still running gently through the strands, almost mocking you. 

Your eyes widen and you’re quick to look back and up at him, a look of panic and betrayal all over you. Tears quickly fill your waterline, threatening to fall at a moment's notice. 

“W-Wh..Why?”

A dark chuckle leaves his mouth before it’s stifled by his fingers dipping against his tongue. He cleans all of your slick from his skin, groaning at the taste. 

You can fill your impending orgasm crashing back to square one and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to just make you cum. 

“You can’t have it both ways, my love. If you want to be a bad girl, then I’ll treat you like one, understand?”

Tears finally begin to stream down your face, and even though you asked for this, you still couldn’t help the pitiful cries you let out at his cruel but deserved actions. 

“Are you ready to be my Princess again, or are you still going to be a bratty little bitch?” 

As he throws the insult at you, his fist tightens on your head and pulls tauntingly at your hair. You shake your head and swallow down a moan, your cunt is still painfully wet, pulsing and clenching around nothing. 

“I-I’ll be good, I pr-promise!” 

You weakly whine, and it’s humorous to him how quickly your little charade ended. You had planned on breaking him, but it’s clear now that you’re the only one left broken. 

As you beg him for forgiveness, you feel the teasing touch of his fingers slowly pushing between your silky wet folds. An evil smile creeps onto his face, and his voice is as dark and taunting as ever. 

“That’s what I fucking thought.” 

[toruro]

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no … Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999  @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!