#and we’re basically of a waste of money

[maxdibert]

There is no indication that Snape used Dark Magic against people. Lily says that MULCIBER is the one who uses Dark Magic to play a prank, not Severus. Severus’ stance regarding what Mulciber did seems quite similar to Remus or Peter’s stance regarding what Sirius and James did, which is wrong, and we’re not going to deny it, but it’s not an active position.

It’s an accident because it’s spontaneous magic. You can’t accuse a 9- or 10-year-old child who doesn’t have a wand or magical education of being some sort of mega-genius in Dark Magic, surpassing even Riddle himself, capable of performing nonverbal magic before even starting their first year at school. I mean, it’s absurd. Severus got angry, and as happens with magical children, spontaneous magic emerged. You can’t blame him for that; it’s established in the canon that those are things they cannot control.

It’s not rivalry, dear; it’s bullying. Severus was calmly talking to his friend, and James interfered because he felt like it. He started the situation and the fight. End of story. Everything else is mental gymnastics to justify school bullying, which is repulsive, just so you know.

It’s not in the books because Remus and Sirius NEVER say that James tried to avoid Severus. Never. What happens is that they say James calmed down and stopped being a repugnant bully who cursed people out of boredom. Harry then asks if he did the same with Snape, and they respond, “Well, Snape was a special case,” making it clear he didn’t. And before Harry freaks out again, they point out that Snape also didn’t waste any time cursing James. That doesn’t imply he sought him out but rather that he defended himself. And a victim who defends themselves is still a victim.

Hahaha, I suppose you’ve lived in super-privileged environments to say such utter nonsense. What a huge embarrassment, seriously. Can you explain how a half-blood without a last name, without blood status, without money, without parents to support him is going to COEXIST in the same house as a bunch of violent purists while also standing up to them? People who tortured and killed? People who would have tormented him to the extreme without a shred of conscience? Are you stupid, or what’s wrong with you? In what kind of fairytale world do you live to say that in that context, he could have remained friends with Lily without consequences? In Slytherin, they would have crucified him, and outside of there, James and Sirius would have continued bullying him. It’s not that easy. And stop talking about the slur like it was a huge deal when it was just a silly insult. It happened while they were SEXUALLY ASSAULTING HIM BY STRIPPING HIM IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL. James Potter wasn’t just violent; he was sexually violent.

No, explaining (not justifying) how Severus’ social and economic circumstances influenced his decisions is not ridiculous—it’s basic sociology, it’s basic criminological anthropology about organized groups. It’s something you study in any discipline that addresses the relationship between crime and young people at risk of social exclusion. But since you live in some fantasy world and complain about fictional slurs without having the slightest idea what classism is, how it works, and how it establishes social lines that can define the path of certain vulnerable groups, you say utterly absurd things, like, for example, that a kid without resources or family to turn to could stand up to an entire house full of powerful people.

You’re either delusional or on something strong, honestly.

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame, and that snape was innocent before hogwarts and innocent in all of his choices. It’s clear in the books that this is not the case. In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different. When lily asks him if her blood status matters he hesitates before saying it doesn’t matter, this is because it does matter to him but he thinks that she is special enough anyway. Not to mention that snape began using slurs against muggleborns before saying it to lily in fifth year, which she reveals she knew about when he tried to apologise for it.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James, as Sirius and Remus say that James was always against dark magic and blood purity. Snape was using dark magic as a student early on, lily mentions he and his friends using dark magic - even against another student which snape says was just a “joke”.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years. James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp). This is not the actions of an innocent boy and his devilish bully this is a rivalry with the tensions of the war looming over them.

Also, the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself - it is therefore not canon. It is also so weird for people to try and justify snape becoming the equivalent of a Nazi because his father abused him and he happened to be a muggle, when snape grew up in a muggle neighbourhood and would have had many other experiences with muggles that were not abusive. It’s just nonsense.

Furthermore, trying to justify snape being a death eater by saying he had no other choice because he was a slytherin is again nonsense. Not every slytherin became a death eater and most people were not involved in the war based on the size of the order of the phoenix and the original named death eaters. Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

Snape is a very grey character, in my opinion more dark than light, and trying to justify his terrible behaviour by blaming everyone else takes away from the depth of his character and is also just not accurate to the canon.

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Reader.

tw: abuse, blood. violence, child abuse, alcohol abuse.

Part 1: The Coffee Shop Encounter

The soft hum of chatter filled the air of the cozy little coffee shop on Gotham’s east side. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans lingered in the atmosphere, mingling with faint notes of cinnamon and vanilla. You sat across from Damian Wayne, his sharp green eyes scanning over a book he brought with him. Despite his stoic exterior, there was something about him that made you feel safe—a sense of quiet understanding you rarely experienced.

“You’ve barely touched your drink,” Damian pointed out, his voice calm yet observant as he placed his book down.

You looked at your untouched latte, the heart-shaped foam design slowly dissolving. “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated. How could you even begin to explain the chaos at home? The constant yelling, the suffocating expectations, the fear that seemed to follow you around like a shadow. Damian, though guarded, had an innate ability to notice when something was wrong.

“It’s nothing,” you finally said, forcing a smile.

His sharp gaze lingered on you, seeing right through the façade. But before he could press further, the ringtone of your phone shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

You froze. You didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who it was. Slowly, you picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID: Dad.

Damian’s eyes flicked to the phone, his jaw tightening. He knew about your father—at least, the basics. You’d mentioned the tension between you two, though you’d never gone into much detail.

“Are you going to answer it?” he asked quietly, his tone unreadable.

“I have to.” You stood up, the weight of the call already sinking into your chest. “I’ll be right back.”

Damian nodded, though his eyes followed you as you stepped outside.

The cold Gotham air bit at your skin as you swiped to accept the call. “Hi, Dad,” you said cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Where the hell are you?” his voice boomed on the other end, making you flinch.

“I’m just out with a friend—”

“With that boy, aren’t you?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with disdain.

Your stomach churned. “His name is Damian. We’re just studying, I swear.”

“Studying? Don’t lie to me!” he barked. “You’re wasting your time and my money! I told you to come straight home after school. What’s so important about hanging out with some rich brat anyway?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Dad, please, I—”

“Don’t you ‘Dad, please’ me! You have five minutes to get your ass home before I come get you myself, you hear me? Five minutes!”

The line went dead before you could respond.

When you stepped back inside, Damian’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. He didn’t need to ask what happened; your expression said it all.

“Do you need me to come with you?” he asked, standing up.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I… I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N.” His voice softened slightly, and for a brief moment, his hardened demeanor cracked. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

You gave him a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Damian. But it’s better if I do.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway, his hand brushing against yours briefly—a silent promise that he was there if you needed him.

Part 2: The Confrontation at Home

The walk home felt endless, even though it was only a few blocks. Each step dragged as your heart pounded in your chest. The frigid Gotham air was no longer biting; instead, it felt suffocating.

By the time you reached your house, you noticed the front porch light flickering faintly, as if it, too, was worn out by the energy inside. You hesitated on the doorstep, your fingers trembling as you reached for the doorknob.

The moment you stepped inside, the heavy scent of alcohol hit you. It was almost a permanent fixture in the house now, along with the faintly sour smell of sweat and unwashed laundry. You tried to slip into the hallway unnoticed, but the sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen floor froze you in place.

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice roared through the small space.

You turned slowly, already bracing yourself. He stood in the doorway, his frame slouched and disheveled. His bloodshot eyes glared at you, a near-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“You think you can just waltz in here after ignoring me? Huh?” He staggered toward you, his voice thick with anger and liquor.

“I didn’t ignore you,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone even. “I came home as soon as you called.”

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” he shouted, slamming the bottle onto the counter. The sound echoed, making you flinch. “You were out there with him, weren’t you? That little punk who thinks he’s better than everyone else?”

“He’s just a friend, Dad,” you said, your voice trembling. “We were studying—”

“Studying?” he mocked, his voice dripping with venom. “You think I’m stupid? I see how you look at him. You think he’s going to save you? Fix everything?”

Your chest tightened. “I don’t think that, I just—”

“Just what?” He cut you off, his face inches from yours now. The stench of alcohol on his breath was overwhelming. “You’re nothing without me, you hear me? Nothing! All this…” He gestured wildly around the room. “All this crap I put up with, all the money I spend, and this is how you repay me?”

You stepped back, your heel hitting the edge of the hallway rug. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

His laugh was cold and humorless. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Y/N. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t have a life outside this house. You don’t get to defy me!”

His hand shot out faster than you could react. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and cruel. Pain radiated across your cheek and eye as you stumbled back, clutching your face.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

“Go to your room,” he spat, his voice slurring as he turned away and grabbed his bottle again. “And don’t even think about leaving until I say so.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t even look back. You just bolted up the stairs and into your room, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

Part 3: The Messages

Your room was your only sanctuary, though even here, the sounds of your father’s shouting and stomping reached you. You collapsed onto your bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline. Without thinking, you opened the messages with Damian.

Y/N: I’m home.

Damian: What happened?

Y/N: It’s fine. I just need to cool off.

Damian: Don’t lie to me. What did he do?

You hesitated, staring at the screen. Your hands trembled as you typed.

Y/N: We argued. It’s nothing new.

Damian: Y/N.

Y/N: He hit me.

The moment you sent it, you wanted to take it back. You didn’t want Damian to know, didn’t want him to look at you differently. But his response came almost instantly.

Damian: I’m coming over.

Your heart raced.

Y/N: No! You can’t. He’ll freak out if he sees you.

Damian: He won’t see me.

Part 4: Damian’s Arrival

The hours dragged on as the house fell into a tense silence. From your window, you could see the faint glow of streetlights and hear the distant hum of traffic. Inside, though, the quiet was suffocating. Your father had likely passed out on the couch, the bottle still in his hand. You didn’t dare leave your room to check.

Your phone vibrated in your hand.

Damian: I’m here. Open your window.

Your breath hitched. You scrambled to the window, peeking out into the darkness. Sure enough, there he was—perched on the low-hanging branch of the oak tree just outside. He wore his usual black hoodie and dark jeans, blending into the shadows like the trained assassin he was.

You unlocked the window and pushed it open. “Damian, you shouldn’t—”

“Shh.” He climbed inside with practiced ease, landing silently on your carpet. His piercing green eyes scanned your face, narrowing when he saw the faint bruise forming around your eye.

His expression darkened, a mix of anger and something deeper—something protective. He stepped closer, his hands hovering near your face but not touching. “He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. You knew Damian—he was used to solving problems with action, with force. But this wasn’t a fight he could jump into.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I wasn’t going to leave you here alone after that.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” you admitted, sitting down on the edge of your bed. Your hands fidgeted in your lap. “It’s not your problem.”

He crouched in front of you, his eyes leveling with yours. “It is my problem if someone’s hurting you.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and before you could stop yourself, the tears you’d been holding back all night started to fall.

“I’m so tired, Damian,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. He’s always yelling, always drinking, always… hitting. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough for him. I just—”

You couldn’t finish. Your sobs took over, and you buried your face in your hands.

Without a word, Damian moved to sit beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You clung to him like a lifeline, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “You don’t have to face this alone anymore.”

His words felt like a balm on your shattered heart. For once, you didn’t feel completely alone.

Part 5: The Quiet Comfort

Damian stayed silent for a long time, letting you cry until your sobs turned into soft sniffles. His hand moved gently along your back, a quiet reassurance that he was there.

“I want you to come with me,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want you staying here with him,” he said firmly. “You don’t deserve this. You can stay at the manor.”

You shook your head, the thought overwhelming. “Damian, I can’t just leave. He’s my dad. What if—”

“What if he hurts you worse next time?” Damian interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. “You think he’ll stop? You think he’ll change?”

You swallowed hard, unable to answer. Deep down, you knew he was right.

“I’ll talk to Bruce,” Damian continued, his tone softening. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to go back to this—not ever.”

The idea was tempting, but the fear of what your father would do if he found out paralyzed you. “What if he comes after me?”

“He won’t,” Damian said simply. There was an edge to his voice now, a quiet promise that sent a chill down your spine. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Part 6: A Night of Peace

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater kicking in. Damian’s arms remained around you, solid and reassuring. You leaned into his chest, your body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline and fear. For a moment, the world outside seemed distant, muffled by his steady presence.

“I don’t know if I can leave,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

Damian tilted his head to look at you, his sharp green eyes softened with understanding. “You’re scared. I get that. But staying here won’t help you, Y/N. It’ll only get worse.”

You looked away, your gaze drifting toward the faint crack in the wall above your desk. That crack had been there for years, a silent reminder of one of your father’s drunken outbursts. “What if leaving makes him angrier? What if he… tries to find me? I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“He won’t get near you,” Damian said, his voice low and resolute. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The certainty in his words made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just empty reassurance—this was Damian Wayne. The son of Batman. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to protect you.

“You’re not alone in this,” he continued, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

The weight of his words broke through your defenses. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. I… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” he said, his voice softening.

Damian stayed close for the rest of the night. The tension that had gripped you all day began to ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of his presence. You sat together on your bed, talking about anything and everything to distract yourself—the books he’d been reading, the latest Wayne Enterprises scandal, even some of the more bizarre cases he’d helped his father with as Robin.

“You really fought a guy dressed as a giant condiment bottle?” you asked, your eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Damian gave you a rare smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Unfortunately, yes. Condiment King. He’s… not exactly the brightest of Gotham’s criminals.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you felt foreign, almost strange after the night you’d had. But Damian seemed to notice, his smile growing slightly.

“There it is,” he said quietly.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Your smile.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your hands. “It’s… been a while.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “You deserve to smile more, Y/N. To laugh. To feel safe.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve someone like Damian in your life, but in that moment, you were endlessly grateful for him.

Part 7: The Plan

As the night stretched on, you leaned against Damian’s shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. His presence was like a shield, keeping the fear and pain at bay.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against your hair.

You hesitated. “What about you? You can’t stay here all night. If my dad wakes up—”

“He won’t,” Damian said firmly. “And even if he does, he won’t touch you. I promise.”

His confidence was unwavering, but you still worried. “What if he sees you leave?”

“I’ve snuck into far more secure places than this,” he said with a faint smirk. “He won’t see me.”

You nodded, finally giving in. “Okay.”

As you settled into bed, Damian stayed seated on the edge, his watchful eyes scanning the room like a sentry. Even as your eyelids grew heavy, you felt his presence grounding you, keeping the darkness at bay.

The next morning, Damian was gone, but the weight of his words lingered. You stared at your phone, reading over the last text he’d sent before leaving.

. Part 8: Breaking the Cycle

The sunlight creeping through your curtains felt out of place. The house was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of your father stomping around or slamming doors absent. You sat up in bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline. Damian’s words from the night before replayed in your mind:

“You’re not alone, Y/N. Call me when you’re ready.”

But were you ready? The thought of leaving terrified you, even if staying was worse. You hesitated before opening your door, tiptoeing into the hallway. The living room reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes, but your father was nowhere in sight. The empty bottle on the coffee table told you everything you needed to know—he was likely passed out in his bedroom.

Your fingers itched to text Damian, but doubt crept in. Was leaving really the answer? What if things got worse? What if your father came after you?

Later That Morning

By midday, the silence was broken. Your father’s door slammed open, and his heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. You froze in the kitchen, clutching the counter as he appeared in the doorway, looking worse than usual—his hair unkempt, his face pale and splotchy.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your room?” he growled, his voice rough from last night’s whiskey.

“I-I just came down to make breakfast,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

He sneered, stumbling closer. “Breakfast? You think I care about breakfast? You think you can do whatever you want now, huh? Just because you’re playing friends with that little rich boy?”

Your stomach churned. “It’s not like that. We were studying—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he snapped, his hand slamming against the counter beside you. You flinched, taking a step back. “You think you’re better than me? You think you can just walk out of here whenever you feel like it?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” you said, your voice cracking.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he was going to hit you again. But instead, he pointed toward the stairs. “Get out of my sight. Now.”

You practically ran to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Your breathing was ragged, tears threatening to spill as you grabbed your phone and opened your messages with Damian.

Y/N: I can’t do this anymore. I want to leave.

His response came almost instantly.

Damian: I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Pack a bag.

Your hands trembled as you read the text. Was this really happening? Could you really leave? You shoved the doubts aside and grabbed a backpack, stuffing it with clothes, your phone charger, and a few essentials. As you zipped it up, the weight of what you were about to do hit you like a freight train.

Part 9: The Escape

Exactly twenty minutes later, there was a soft tap at your window. You turned to see Damian crouched on the branch, his hood pulled low over his face. He motioned for you to open the window.

You slid it up quietly, your heart pounding as he climbed inside. His green eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on you. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly. “Yeah.”

Damian’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to be. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding again. Damian led you to the window, pausing to glance over his shoulder. “Is he still here?”

“He’s downstairs,” you whispered. “Probably passed out again.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Climbing out the window was harder than you expected, but Damian guided you, his steady presence giving you the courage to keep going. Once you were both on the ground, he grabbed your hand and led you through the backyard and into the alley behind your house.

A sleek black car was parked at the end of the alley, its engine idling softly. Damian opened the passenger door for you, and you slipped inside. The interior smelled faintly of leather and pine, a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind.

As Damian slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, a wave of relief washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Part 10: The Manor

The drive to Wayne Manor was quiet. Damian kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t push you to talk. The hum of the car’s engine and the city fading into the distance were the only sounds accompanying your thoughts.

Wayne Manor came into view after a few turns up a winding road. The massive estate loomed against the gray Gotham skyline, a combination of imposing and strangely comforting. Damian pulled into the private driveway, the iron gates closing behind the car automatically.

As he parked, he turned to you. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you here.”

You nodded, clutching the strap of your bag tightly as you stepped out of the car. The enormity of the mansion made you hesitate, but Damian was already at your side, his hand resting lightly on your back to guide you.

The front doors opened before you reached them, revealing Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. His calm, discerning gaze immediately fell on you, and a faint smile touched his lips.

“Master Damian, I take it this is our guest?” Alfred asked, his tone warm yet professional.

“Yes,” Damian said, his voice firm but gentle. “Y/N is staying here for a while.”

Alfred nodded, stepping aside to let you in. “Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Y/N. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Inside the Manor

The interior of the manor was even more overwhelming than the exterior. High ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and a grand staircase made the space feel almost unreal. You followed Damian silently, your nerves twisting as he led you to a smaller sitting room.

“You should rest,” he said, motioning to the plush couch. “I’ll grab Alfred and get you something to eat.”

You sat down tentatively, the soft cushions swallowing you. “Damian… what if my dad comes looking for me?”

“He won’t find you here,” Damian said confidently. “And even if he does, he’ll regret it.”

There was a hardness in his voice that made you shiver. You believed him, though. If anyone could protect you, it was Damian.

A few minutes later, Alfred returned with a tray of tea and sandwiches. “You must be exhausted,” he said, setting the tray down in front of you. “Master Damian has informed me of your situation. Rest assured, you are quite safe here.”

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice cracking slightly.

As you sipped the tea, Damian sat beside you, his presence a quiet reassurance.

“Bruce will want to meet you,” he said after a moment.

“Your dad?” you asked, suddenly nervous. “I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

“You won’t,” Damian said firmly. “He’ll understand. And he’ll help. Trust me.”

You nodded, though the thought of meeting Bruce Wayne—a man as intimidating as the manor itself—made your stomach twist.

Part 11: Meeting Bruce

An hour later, Damian led you to Bruce’s study. Your heart raced as he knocked once and pushed the door open.

Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, his sharp blue eyes lifting from a stack of papers as you entered. He was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined, his presence commanding the room. But there was something about his expression—a mix of concern and understanding—that made you feel slightly less nervous.

“Y/N,” Bruce said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand tentatively, glancing at Damian for reassurance.

“Damian told me everything,” Bruce said, his voice steady but gentle. “You don’t have to worry. You’re safe here, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

The kindness in his tone caught you off guard, and you felt your eyes welling up again. “Thank you. I… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You made the right choice,” Bruce said. “No one deserves to live in fear. We’ll make sure your father doesn’t hurt you again.”

His words carried a weight of finality, as if they were a promise etched in stone.

Part 12: A New Beginning

That night, Damian showed you to one of the many guest rooms. It was bigger than your entire bedroom back home, with soft lighting and a bed that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

As you unpacked your bag, Damian leaned against the doorway, watching you quietly.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “Better. Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, stepping into the room. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but… it feels good to breathe again. To not feel trapped.”

Damian sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on yours. “One step at a time. You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here, no matter what.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope. You weren’t alone anymore, and for now, that was enough.

Part 13: Settling In

The next few days passed in a blur. You stayed in the guest room, adjusting to the quiet luxury of Wayne Manor. It felt strange—having peace, space, and no yelling. Every time the silence stretched too long, you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for a shout or a crash that never came.

Damian stayed close. He had a way of hovering without being overbearing, his presence a constant reassurance. Alfred brought you meals and always checked in with a kind smile. Even Bruce stopped by once or twice, offering updates about what steps he was taking to ensure your safety.

One Morning in the Manor

Damian knocked softly on your door before stepping inside. “How are you feeling today?”

You looked up from the book you’d been pretending to read, offering a small smile. “Better, I think. Still… weird.”

“Weird?” he echoed, sitting down on the armchair across from you.

“Quiet,” you admitted. “I keep expecting something bad to happen. It’s like my brain doesn’t know how to relax.”

He nodded, understanding in his sharp green eyes. “It’ll take time. You’ve spent years in survival mode. You can’t unlearn that overnight.”

The thought made your chest tighten. “What if I never do? What if I’m always stuck like this?”

“You won’t be,” Damian said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. And you have people who care about you now. You’re not doing this alone.”

His words brought a lump to your throat, but you managed to nod. “Thanks, Damian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering.

Part 14: A New Routine

As the days turned into weeks, you started to settle into a new rhythm. Alfred’s calm presence became a source of comfort, and Bruce’s quiet support reassured you that you weren’t a burden.

Damian was your constant, though. He had a way of knowing when you needed space and when you needed him close. He took you on walks around the expansive grounds, introduced you to the family’s collection of exotic pets, and even convinced you to join him in the training room one afternoon.

In the Training Room

“Hold your stance,” Damian instructed, his voice calm but firm.

You adjusted your footing, feeling awkward as you held up your fists. “Like this?”

“Better,” he said, circling around you to adjust your posture. “Remember, it’s about balance. You’re not trying to overpower someone; you’re trying to outmaneuver them.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to focus. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Damian said with a smirk. “Better than most people do on their first try.”

“Are you actually giving me a compliment?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, his smirk widening slightly.

The playful banter lightened the mood, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a spark of confidence.

Part 15: Confronting the Past

One evening, as you sat in the living room scrolling through your phone, Bruce walked in. He carried a folder in his hand, his expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” he said, sitting across from you. “I’ve been looking into your father.”

Your stomach tightened. “What did you find?”

Bruce hesitated, his eyes softening. “He has a record—multiple DUIs, reports of domestic disturbances. Nothing that ever led to serious consequences, unfortunately. But it’s enough to build a case.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly. “What does that mean? Will he… go to jail?”

“That depends,” Bruce said carefully. “You’d have to be willing to give a statement. To tell your story.”

The thought made your chest ache. The idea of standing up to your father, of reliving everything in front of strangers, was terrifying.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Bruce added. “But if you want to take legal action, we’ll support you every step of the way.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I’ll… think about it.”

That night, you sat on the balcony outside your room, staring at the stars. Damian joined you a few minutes later, sitting silently beside you.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked.

You nodded. “I just… I don’t know if I can do it. What if it doesn’t work? What if he gets away with it?”

“He won’t,” Damian said firmly. “Not with Bruce involved. And not with me.”

The conviction in his voice made you feel braver than you had in a long time. “I’m scared, Damian.”

“I know,” he said, his hand brushing against yours. “But you’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I’ll be right here.”

You leaned against his shoulder, the warmth of his presence grounding you. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just let me help you.”

Part 16: Taking the First Step

The decision lingered in your mind for days, every thought leading back to the idea of facing your father and exposing the years of abuse. The idea terrified you, but Damian’s unwavering presence gave you strength.

One morning, as you sat in the sunlit dining room picking at a plate of scrambled eggs Alfred had prepared, Bruce walked in. He gave you a small nod before sitting across from you, placing a phone and a folder on the table.

“I have someone you should talk to,” Bruce said gently.

Your heart skipped. “Who?”

“A social worker. Her name is Ellen Grayson. She specializes in helping people in situations like yours—people ready to take action but unsure where to start.”

Damian, who had been leaning against the wall nearby, stepped forward. “She’s good at what she does,” he added. “And she’s someone we trust.”

You hesitated, your fork hovering above your plate. “What… what would I have to do?”

Bruce’s voice was calm and measured. “Talk to her. Tell her your story. She’ll help you decide what steps to take next. You don’t have to commit to anything right away.”

Your chest felt tight, but you nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to her.”

Meeting Ellen

That afternoon, Damian sat beside you in one of the manor’s private offices as Bruce called Ellen on speakerphone. Her voice was warm and calm, her tone immediately putting you at ease.

“Y/N, I want you to know that you’re very brave for even considering this,” Ellen said. “I know it’s not easy to talk about what you’ve been through, but if you’re ready, I’d like to hear your story.”

Damian’s hand rested lightly on your knee, a silent reminder that he was there. You took a deep breath and began to speak, your words halting at first but gaining momentum as you recounted the years of fear, the yelling, the drinking, and the blows you’d endured.

By the time you finished, your voice was shaking, and tears blurred your vision. Ellen’s voice came through the speaker, steady and supportive.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Y/N,” she said. “You’ve been through so much, but I want you to know you’re not alone. We can take this one step at a time, and we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

After the call ended, Damian handed you a glass of water, his green eyes searching your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands still trembled. “It feels… weird. Like I finally let it out, but now I don’t know what comes next.”

“What comes next is up to you,” Bruce said gently. “But we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Part 17: Filing the Report

The next step was filing a formal police report. Ellen arranged for a detective she trusted to handle your case, someone who specialized in domestic abuse. Bruce and Damian both insisted on coming with you for support.

At the GCPD

The police station was intimidating, its gray walls and harsh lighting making your stomach churn. Damian walked close beside you, his presence a steadying force.

Detective Renee Montoya greeted you with a kind smile, leading you to a quiet room away from the chaos of the main floor. “Take your time,” she said, sliding a notebook and pen across the table. “There’s no rush.”

You hesitated, staring at the blank page. The idea of putting everything into writing made your chest tighten, but Damian gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve got this,” he said softly.

With a shaky breath, you began to write.

By the time you finished, hours had passed, and your hand ached from gripping the pen so tightly. Montoya skimmed over the report, nodding as she read.

“This is a solid start,” she said. “We’ll move forward with an investigation, but I want you to know this might take some time. If you feel unsafe at any point, call me immediately.”

You nodded, your exhaustion overwhelming. “Thank you.”

Montoya smiled. “You’re brave, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

Part 18: A Night of Reflection

That night, back at the manor, you sat on the balcony outside your room, staring at the Gotham skyline. The weight of everything you’d done settled on your shoulders—telling your story, filing the report, taking the first real steps toward freedom.

Damian joined you, a quiet presence at your side. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” you asked finally.

He looked at you, his green eyes steady. “I know you did. You’re taking control of your life, Y/N. That’s never the wrong choice.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice soft. “And you never will.”

As the night stretched on, the stars above seeming brighter than usual, you felt a strange sense of peace. For the first time in years, you weren’t just surviving—you were beginning to live.

Part 19: A Moment of Closeness

After the long day, exhaustion weighed on you, but you couldn’t sleep. The quiet of the manor wasn’t threatening, but it gave you too much time to think. Your mind replayed the conversation with Ellen, the time at the police station, and the memories you’d unearthed. The ache in your chest felt unbearable.

Sighing, you grabbed your phone and sent Damian a quick text.

Y/N: Are you awake?

It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.

Damian: I am now. What’s wrong?

You hesitated, not wanting to seem needy, but the thought of being alone with your spiraling thoughts was worse.

Y/N: Can you come to my room?

A soft knock came moments later. When you opened the door, Damian stood there in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d been lying down. His eyes searched yours, and without saying a word, he stepped inside.

“You’re overthinking again,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him.

You shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It’s hard not to. Everything feels so… heavy.”

Damian crouched in front of you, resting his hands lightly on your knees. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

“I know,” you murmured, looking down at where his hands touched you. “But sometimes it feels like I’ll never be free of it.”

“You will,” he said firmly. “It’s going to take time, but I promise you, you’ll get there.”

The conviction in his voice made your throat tighten. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He froze for a split second, then relaxed into the embrace, his arms sliding around your waist.

An Intimate Moment

Damian pulled you closer, his hands warm and steady on your back. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his faint, clean scent. For the first time that day, the weight in your chest seemed to ease.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes intense but gentle. “Then let me help you.”

His thumb brushed a stray tear from your cheek, the touch so tender it made your heart ache. “You’re safe here, Y/N. With me, with Bruce, with Alfred. No one is going to hurt you again.”

You nodded, though your tears continued to fall. “I just feel so broken sometimes.”

“You’re not broken,” he said quietly, his voice firm but kind. “You’re hurt, but you’re healing. And that takes strength.”

The sincerity in his tone made your breath catch. “How are you always this sure of everything?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “But when it comes to you, I am.”

The vulnerability in his words made your heart race. You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath brushing your lips as the space between you seemed to disappear.

The First Kiss

The moment lingered, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. You weren’t sure who moved first, but your lips met his in a tentative, gentle kiss. Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you close as the kiss deepened, his touch warm and grounding.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks flushed, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath unsteady.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart pounding. “Me too.”

Part 20: In Each Other’s Arms

Later that night, Damian stayed with you, his presence a comforting weight beside you. You lay curled against him, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“I’m afraid of the nightmares,” you admitted.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his hand brushing over your hair. “If you wake up, I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear slowly lulled you into a sense of calm. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt safe—truly, undeniably safe.

And as sleep finally claimed you, Damian’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he could shield you from the rest of the world.

Part 21: Facing the Past Together

The days following your intimate moment with Damian felt different. The bond between you had deepened in a way neither of you had expected, and while the vulnerability that had surfaced between you both still lingered in the air, there was a certain warmth now whenever you were together.

Damian continued to be your rock, always present, always steady. The manor had become more than just a refuge; it was a place where you were slowly rebuilding—reclaiming pieces of yourself that had been lost. Yet, the weight of your past still haunted you.

Late Afternoon in the Manor

It was a quiet afternoon when Bruce came to find you in the library. He had his usual calm demeanor, but there was an edge of urgency in his voice that caught your attention.

“Y/N, we’ve heard back from the investigation team,” he said, standing at the doorway, holding a folder.

Your stomach tightened. “And?”

Bruce looked at you, his expression unreadable. “We have enough evidence now to pursue a restraining order, and we’re beginning to build the case for possible charges against your father. But… there’s more to discuss.”

Your heart raced. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but the weight of Bruce’s words made your mind spin. Damian was right beside you now, his presence like a grounding force.

“What else?” you asked, trying to steady your breathing.

Bruce paused for a moment before continuing. “Your father’s been informed that we’re involved. He might take more aggressive actions in response. We need to be prepared for that.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, his hand subtly brushing yours as he stood closer. “We’re ready for whatever he throws at us,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

Bruce nodded, offering you a comforting look. “We’ll be taking additional measures to keep you safe, Y/N. You won’t have to face him alone anymore.”

You swallowed, the weight of everything hitting you all at once. “Thank you, Bruce. I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You’re family now,” Bruce said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Part 22: The Moment of Truth

The next day, the investigation took a more active turn. Detective Montoya contacted you directly, informing you that your father was aware of the charges against him. He was, predictably, furious.

“You need to stay alert,” Montoya told you over the phone. “We’re taking steps to protect you, but it’s crucial that you avoid contact with him for now. If he shows up at the manor or anywhere near you—call me immediately.”

Damian, overhearing the conversation, moved closer to you. “You’ll be okay,” he said softly, though you could see the tension in his features.

You nodded, feeling the deep knot in your stomach tighten. “I know… I just don’t feel okay, though. What if he tries something—what if he comes after me?”

Damian took your hand gently in his, squeezing it. “He won’t get past me.”

That evening, after the conversation with Montoya, Bruce came to see you in your room. His expression was calm, but you could tell he was thinking through the strategy.

“We’re putting in place additional security,” Bruce said. “Damian will stay with you at all times for now. We’ll have someone monitoring your father’s movements, but we’ll also be here to keep an eye on things. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You looked at Damian, his presence both comforting and intense. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Part 23: A Quiet Evening

Later that night, after dinner, the two of you found yourselves once again on the balcony, the cool night air drifting around you. The stars above felt endless, much like the road ahead.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, staring at the horizon.

Damian sat next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he looked out at the dark sky. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You turned to him, studying his face, noticing the lines of worry etched on his brow despite his calm demeanor. “I don’t know how to ask for help,” you confessed. “I’ve never really had anyone I could rely on before.”

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “You have me now. And I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re a burden. You’re not.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but it was hard to ignore the emotions that still felt tangled in your chest. “I’m scared, Damian.”

“I know,” he replied, his hand reaching for yours. “But fear doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re still fighting.”

You turned your palm up, your fingers intertwining with his. For a moment, the weight of everything you’d been through—the fear, the pain—seemed to dissipate as his warmth wrapped around you.

Damian leaned in, his forehead touching yours. “You don’t need to carry the world on your shoulders, Y/N. I’m here. You’ll never be alone in this.”

The depth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, made the last bit of doubt fade away. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart reassure you.

Part 24: In His Arms

As the night grew darker, you stayed there, together, in each other’s company. Damian’s arms wrapped around you, his presence both a shield and a comfort. You felt his fingers trace slow circles on your back, the rhythm soothing as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for the first time in days.

“I need you to know something,” Damian said quietly, his voice soft in the night air.

You looked up at him, the words you’d wanted to say in the back of your mind finally finding their way to your lips. “What is it?”

“I care about you, Y/N. More than I can explain.” His gaze softened as he spoke, his hand gently cupping your face. “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens next.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your chest tighten with emotion. “I care about you, too.”

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and without another word, his lips found yours. It was soft at first, tender—an unspoken promise that all the pain, all the fear, would eventually fade. For now, you were here together, and that was enough.

Part 25: A Moment Interrupted

The night had grown deeper, and the soft glow from the stars outside illuminated the quiet balcony. You and Damian had been talking—about everything and nothing. The conversation had drifted from your past to your hopes for the future, from your fears to the small moments of peace you’d found together. It was one of those rare times when the world felt still, and for a brief moment, you could forget about everything else.

Damian’s fingers traced small patterns on your wrist, his touch gentle, thoughtful. There was an unspoken tension between you two, something that had been building over the past few days. Every glance, every word, felt more loaded than the last.

Without realizing it, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. Damian’s eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission.

You didn’t hesitate. Closing the gap between you, you kissed him softly, your lips brushing against his in a gentle, almost tentative touch.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek as the kiss deepened. The warmth between you both surged, the tension of the past few days melting away as his lips moved against yours, slow and tender. It was everything you’d wanted, everything you’d needed—a quiet moment where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies aligning as you lost yourself in the kiss. The night air seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of his touch, the soft rhythm of your breathing, the shared warmth that made you feel safe.

But then, just as you were completely lost in the moment, a voice rang out from the door, breaking through the bubble of intimacy.

“Well, well, well…” Bruce’s amused voice echoed in the hallway.

Both you and Damian immediately jumped apart, the suddenness of the interruption making your heart race in embarrassment. You scrambled for words, but none came.

Bruce was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a knowing smile on his face. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he surveyed the scene, clearly entertained by your flustered reactions.

Damian’s face was flushed, his usual composure faltering as he shifted uncomfortably. “Bruce, we—uh, we didn’t hear you.”

You couldn’t stop the heat from flooding your face. You had barely kissed him, but the interruption made it feel like you’d done something much more. “Sorry,” you mumbled, not meeting Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce chuckled, stepping further into the room. “Don’t worry, kids. It’s not like I’ve never had this happen before.” He waved a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. “Just don’t get carried away. And, Damian…”

Damian straightened, his embarrassment quickly turning into a defensive stance. “What?”

“Just make sure she stays safe, alright?” Bruce said with a small, almost affectionate grin. “I trust you both, but I’m sure we can all agree that you two don’t need any more distractions.”

Damian gave a sharp nod. “Of course.”

Bruce’s smile softened. “Good. Now, get some rest. We have a lot to handle tomorrow.” He turned to leave, but then paused and glanced back at the two of you.

“I’m happy for you both,” he added, his voice quieter. “But remember, there’s still work to do.”

With that, Bruce left, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a long moment, neither you nor Damian spoke. The air was thick with the awkwardness of the situation, and both of you avoided looking at each other, the weight of Bruce’s words hanging between you.

Finally, Damian broke the silence, his voice almost shy. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

You let out a small laugh, still feeling your cheeks burning. “I feel like we’ve just been caught doing something we didn’t even do.”

Damian smirked, his hand finding yours again, the tension from earlier quickly dissolving into something more familiar. “We didn’t,” he said simply. “But we’re definitely going to have to be careful around Bruce from now on.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I think I’ll avoid making eye contact with him for a while.”

Damian gave you a small, teasing smile, leaning in close again, but this time, he didn’t kiss you. Instead, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Are you still nervous?” he asked quietly.

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze. “A little, but not as much as I was before.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “You should be able to relax around me.”

“I do,” you whispered, your heart fluttering in your chest.

And for that moment, everything felt perfectly, blissfully right.

[lilgynt]

went to that horror thing at that dudes house - it was fine and i had fun but it was just a groups of older white dudes and what comes from that like mostly fun! but watch out

[fakebwitch]

rafe tries to teach you how to play golf…

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’ve always accompanied rafe with topper and kelce at the golf course, you sat on the golf cart a few meters from them, a small cap with a visor covered your eyes from the scornering sun while you sipped in your hands the cold drink you had taken with rafe’s money. you had never tried to play seriously, only a few times with some of your friends. rafe had insisted for almost more than a week that you learn, arguing that he would have preferred to play with you rather than with kelce and topper. it was rare to see rafe so insistent about something and so you decided to please him, maybe that way he would have realized that it would be a waste of time.

that’s how you found yourself in this situation, rafe’s hands placed firmly on your waist, holding you still in the correct position, his bulge right against your ass, feeling his warm breath on your neck while he indicated what you should have done. he moved his hands over yours, which were firmly holding the bat, “wait... like this” he addressed you, moving your hands so that they were positioned correctly and then angle the bat better.

“once you are in this position you calmly pull back the bat, maintaining the same angle, you focus on the hole and then with a sharp blow you hit the ball” his words were firm and clear, explaining the basic rules of golf, while with his hands still firm on yours he showed you how you should have moved the bat back and then close to the white ball.

“got it?” he asked you bringing you back to reality, you nodded without uttering a word, “words baby” he incited you by lightly pinching your waist, “got it” you said, trying to convince both yourself and him. “try with a shot” he said moving away from you, the warmth of his hands left yours as well as his body, watching you from behind waiting for you to put into practice what he had explained to you.

you swallowed looking around you, nothing he had told you had entered your head, your mind was focused entirely on him, on how his body was so close to yours, how he seemed so attractive patiently showing you the rules. “c’mon princess ‘s easy, just hit the ball like i told ya” he said reassuring you, you turned your head crossing his gaze, he gave you a small smile.

you looked back in front of you, focusing on the hole, you raised the bat a little and then hit the ball. you watched as the ball slid on the green lawn, unfortunately it stopped a few centimeters after the hole. your shoulders fell disconsolate turning with a slight pout towards rafe, “it’s okay baby it’s your first time, we’re gonna try again” he said approaching you again placing his hand down on your back.

“don’t know if i’m good” you said squinting your eyes at the sun, meeting his gaze while he took another ball out of his pants pocket, “you just need a bit of practice angel, you can do it” he reassured you by lowering himself to place the ball on the tee.

“put yourself in position” he said getting up, you did as he said, slightly opening your legs holding the bat tightly between your hands, “your legs are too open” rafe positioned himself behind you, his hand rested on your thigh, tightening the skin under his hands while slightly closing the space between one leg and the other. you felt yourself blush at the gesture pushing you unintentionally against his bulge.

“you’re too rigid princess, loosen up” his tone low while with the same hand he wrapped your biceps, indicating you to relax the grip, you breathed deeply shaking your shoulders trying to relax your muscles, “you’re tense baby, what’s wrong?” he asked you frowning his face, his hand still tight around your arm. you tried to do your best but you couldn’t focus on anything other than his hands on you and his bulge in contact with your ass.

your skirt, already short in itself, due to the slightly bent position had risen, so that the fabric of his jeans was in contact with the thin material of your panty. you moved slightly, so as to create some kind of friction between your pussy and his dick in the pants.

rafe knew you too well, and immediately realized what you were doing, using him to please you. “rafe...” you almost gasped, now completely distracted, no longer caring about where you were and what your boyfriend was trying to explain to you.

“stop this shit you need to be concentrated” he said stopping your movements by placing his hands on your hips, his cock now semi-hard. you snorted squeezing your fingers around the handle of the bat, it’s hard now to ignore the growing need between your thighs. “center the hole and i’ll take care of it or keep snorting and not focusing and we’re gonna stay here all day until you make it ” he warned you, his voice was serious and you knew that if he wanted he would’ve keep you in this exact position all day, even ignoring his growing bulge.

you decided to listen to him. you took a deep breath while slowly repeating the action of a few minutes ago, hitting the small white ball with a sharp blow, both you and rafe stared carefully at the ball that was sliding quickly on the lawn, hoping that it would end up inside the hole.

and so it was.

a smile grew on your face as you turned towards him with a small jump, “that was perfect angel, wasn’t that difficult right?” he said putting a hand around your waist, pushing you towards him. “right” you said wrapping your arms around his neck, his soft lips finally on yours in a sweet kiss, but this cute moment was soon put aside by your hand that rested on his, carrying it between your legs, his fingers came into contact with the wetness of your underwear.

“s’all you were thinking about when I was teaching you how to play?” he said with a smirk, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, your eyes innocent as you shrugged your shoulders unable to hide your smile.

“let’s go take care of this, we gonna try again another time” he said giving you a little slap on the ass, you gave him a kiss on the cheek as you rolled your eyes jokingly at his determination to continue with these “lessons”.

[chlorinecake]

— GYM BROS | 20th birthday special for @wonbinisbabygurl

⚡︎ PAIRINGS : fitness trainer!chaemin x gym rat!sungchan x subby!wonbin x desperate fem!reader

⚡︎ PLOT : in search for a hot body to match your plans for a hot girl summer, you seek out the council of your city’s most famous fitness trainer, Lee Chaemin… however, you never would’ve guessed that his intentions to get you in shape would turn out to be a team effort…

⚡ ︎WARNINGS : BIG DICK AGENDA, foursome, sungchan's kind of a perv in this, wonbin’s on the subby side, and chaemin's somewhat mean!dom coded, kissing, breath play, spanking/marking, dry humping, finger sucking, praise & degrading kink, oral (m. r) & fingering (f. r.), cum eating & breeding kink, ft. aespa’s ningning

⚡︎ WORD COUNT : 5.8k | co-written w/ the lovely @squoxle !

THERE HAD BEEN a time in your life where guys often threw themselves at you, gracing you with compliment after compliment in hopes that you’d spare them a prolonged glance… or perhaps, even a chance at hooking up with you somehow…

But then, your high school graduation happened, and coming up promptly on the adulthood menu, college applications and job searching.

Academia was simply something you weren’t interested in at the moment, so you took the work route, being employed at a 9-5 desk job until you got sick of that and terminated your contract before the summer.

Now, introducing your best friend Ningning Yizhou, someone you’ve known since high school yet only recently reconnected with within that past six months.

Your bond flourished as if time and personal journeys had never even separated you two, which is precisely why you found yourself where you were today:

Enjoying a sunny afternoon while walking arm-in-arm beside her, exploring the side shops of an outdoor strip mall from a distance…

The sunlight casted long shadows of the surrounding trees across the worn asphalt pathways trailing from the boutiques, the air meddling with scents of freshly cut grass, expensive perfumes, and tasty treats from the nearby food stands.

Back to Ningning though, the poor girl just wouldn’t stop raving about this new workout program she found online, excitedly informing you on all the details about this celebrity status fitness trainer who co-owned the company.

A strand of her long black hair danced in the wind as you both continued to stroll the area, her dainty sunglasses framing her round face as she nudged your shoulder slightly.

“Girl, you gotta try this with me,” she protested in between taking a sip of the fruit smoothie she held in her free grasp.

“Oh, come on ____,” Ningning whined this time, “how are we supposed to have a hot girl summer if we’re not looking like hot girls?!… The math is basic, to be honest…”

You let a soft sigh escape your lips as your gaze fell down towards the hoodie you wore, its fabric feeling heavier than usual, acting as a direct testament to your own lacking commitment to fitness.

“I’m just not too comfortable with the idea of wasting my money on some poor excuse for a fitness trainer,” you sulked, the sweet and icy nectar of your berry blast smoothie providing you with an extra layer of comfort beneath the blazing afternoon heat.

It had been far too long since you’d laced up your sneakers to exercise, your body looking a little too soft for your liking especially on top of the sedentary job you worked for months.

“Well, the lady who runs the program says that her trainers are licensed professionals,” Ningning continued passionately, despite the uninterested look on your face.

“Uh huh,” you nodded plainly, “and by that, you mean she hires people who wasted their money getting a license to help people do push ups, right?”

“Look, if we sign up now, we can get our first month free,” she stated, halting the pace of her steps to turn and face you directly this time, “so do you wanna do this with me or not?…”

The pressure was starting to kick in now, and although you had been trying to keep up your stubborn act for as long as you could, all of Ningning’s talk about sculpted abs, toned legs, and the perfect bubble butt was enough to spark even the smallest flicker of appeal within you.

It was a simple fact, really… like most women, you wanted to get in the best shape of your life this summer, possibly granting you a much needed injection of excitement into your otherwise mundane single life.

“Fine, I’ll join the stupid program,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically, a bright smile creeping across Ningning’s lips as she cheered for joy, exposing her cute round teeth.

“Yes! Hot girl summer, here we come!”

You let yourself giggle at your friends enthusiasm, her energetic aura always having a way of radiating onto you anyways…

And yes, you still felt a bit hesitant about venturing back into the gym after such a long hiatus, but with a little push, a little sweat, and a little confidence, you were ready to accept that maybe this whole workout thing was exactly what you both needed…

AFTER AGREEING TO enroll into the program, you decided to do a little research on your own back at home, and from what you could tell, the website looked fairly promising.

“Once I joined, I just couldn’t stop coming,” one review read, another following comment stating that they couldn’t remember the last time their bodies looked 'this great.' 

And strangely enough, you found yourself convinced from that alone, jotting in your name, age, and other necessary credentials on the website's "SIGN UP" front page.

Wrapping a hoodie around your waist, you slipped into your fitness shoes, tossing your gym bag over your shoulder and making your way to your first fitness class.

Initially, you were under the impression that your trainer would be another girl by default, so you didn’t put too much effort into your appearance. 

To be honest, your outfit was giving more of a “I just fell out of bed on a lazy sunday and decided to go for a jog” look rather than “Oh my God, this is my first workout class and I wanna make a good impression!”

Not like you cared all that stuff anyways, though... you were here to work up a sweat and get your dream body, not win a fashion competition.

Sprinkling a peach flavored electrolyte pack into your 40 ounce water bottle, you gave it a few shakes in your hand, watching closely as the powder dissolved before taking a sip and walking into the daunting building ahead of you—

“Alrighty, it looks like you’re all set, Miss ____. Your personal trainer will be waiting for you in the Private Training Room, code number 210B,” the older lady at the front desk smiled, straightening out the consumer information sheet you had just filled out and sliding it into the file drawer beside her.

“Ok, cool! And I'm sorry, but where do I go from here?”

“Just take that elevator to the second floor, hun. From there, you're gonna need to take a right, and room 10 should be right there!”

“Ok, thanks,” you nodded in a friendly voice before walking off, deciding within yourself that you'd take the stairwell instead of the elevator given the long line of people waiting there.

That's when the sound of humming treadmills, heavy metal clinks, and a mix of strained grunts hit your ears as you navigated around the second floor, taking a right turn just as the receptionist advised.

And there it was... Room 210B in all of its mysterious glory.

Your eyes wandered down to the soft natural light peeking from beneath the door, the handle twisting with a gentle creak as you walked in.

“Hi! You must be ____,” a deep male voice immediately greeted you. “I’ll be your fitness instructor and personal body trainer for the entirety of this program,” the man went on with a smile, extending his hand to shake yours, “My name is Lee Chaemin, but you can just call me Chae or Coach.”

What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself, struggling to properly return the handshake given the way your eyes ogled at him now.

He was criminally attractive, and you doubted wholeheartedly that you'd be able to function efficiently in his presence, let alone under his piercing gaze—

“V-very nice to meet you,” you somehow managed to choke out, making him quirk a brow at your flustered demeanor before going on to outline the criteria of your workout plan.

But your inner thoughts... God, they had gotten so loud that you could hardly even process a single word that escaped his lips, imagining within yourself how nice his hands would feel while wrapped around your neck...

At this point, you had completely missed the part where you were supposed to answer his question.

“Huh? I mean uh- Sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked if you had any particular body goals in mind?” He repeated with a faint chuckle, eyes flattening out into pretty crescents as he tilted his head at you. 

Shit, his smile is absolutely perfect—

“Hmm... I mainly just wanna tone up and lose some body fat, y’know?”

“Yea, of course... in that case, we’ll start you out with some basics so I can get an idea of your current strength... then, we can work our way up from there,” he said, just as he made his way over to the wall and grabbed two yoga mats.

“I’ll demonstrate the poses and you can just cop me. Don’t worry if it feels a little awkward at first, I’ll guide you into position if you need,” he smiled again, laying down the mats for you two.

You joined him on the ground now, eyes following the movements of his body as twisted into various different stretches before finally coming to one that nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh, hold on! I gotchya,” he huffed, grabbing hold of your waist as you bent over with your legs spread apart. Even though you knew he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, you couldn’t help but internally melt at the feeling of him standing behind you like this...

Eventually though, your stretching period was finished, following up with a few simple pilate-like exercises and a mile run on the treadmill right after.

Fairly easy enough for my first day, you thought to yourself again, noting that if there was anything you learned today, it was that this Chae guy or whatever the hell he wanted you to call him, was sickeningly sexy, or in other words, just the extra vessel of visual motivation you needed to keep going on this journey...

BY THE END of the first week, you had changed up your wardrobe completely, not wanting any extra fabric to get in the way of you copping a feel here and there.

Besides, wearing a tight pair of yoga leggings with a mini crop top was much better suited for your hot girl aesthetic versus your usual hoodie and baggy gym pants.

As expected though, the next few classes became progressively more challenging... similarly to the rock hard bulge resting behind Chaemin's pants.

You were already seeing some promising results, too, despite how it had only been a few weeks since you first started... Ningning was in a more dance-focused class than yours, but her results were just as amazing, making this little hot girl duo between you two really worth the effort.

Unfortunately though, your free trial was coming to an end soon, so with the last few hours you got to spend with Chaemin every week, you hoped there'd be a chance for you to get a little something more out of him.

“See ya after class, babes,” Ningning waved with her typically warm and optimistic energy, making you flash her an equally friendly smile as you waved her off in the same manner, walking off into Private Training Room.

“Today’s gonna be a little different,” your trainer started to speak as soon as you opened the door.

“Different how?” You asked, sliding your gym bag from over your shoulder and placing it on the carrier shelves beside you.

“Well,” he continued in between clearing his throat, “one of my friend’s will be joining us in the room today, if you don't mind... He’s a personal trainer, too.”

Your eyes widened slightly as his words as a neutral pout overcame your features. “Oh, well yea, I don't have a problem with that,” you reassured him, making Chaemin flash you a thankful smile as you got started on laying down the yoga mats, just as Chaemin reached in his gym shorts pocket to pull out his phone.

“Perfect... I'll get started with you in a bit, though... I'm just texting him to verify how much longer it's gonna be before he gets here–” 

“Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” a new voice called out from beside you as the room door slung open, the sound of layered footsteps hitting your ears as the newcomer invited himself into the space, cutting Chaemin off mid-sentence. 

“Oh- Hey, Chan! I was just about to text you,” Chaemin let himself chuckle slightly before dapping up his friend.

“____, this is Sungchan, the trainer I was telling you about earlier...”

“Nice to meet you, ____,” Sungchan nodded with a gentle smile, a feeling of butterflies rushing through your lower stomach aa you found yourself having to look up to meet his face.

That's when the source of the second pair of footsteps became clear to you, just as a slightly shorter but equally as attractive guy joined the space.

“Wonbin,” the third boy introduced himself plainly, voice a bit feathery as he nervously shook your hand.

“Don’t worry. We shouldn’t bother y’all too much. Me and Won are gonna be training over here, but if you need anything just let me know, okay?” Sungchan went on, looking directly into your eyes, practically knocking you off your feet.

“Cool! Me and ____ are gonna get started over here, then,” Chaemin clapped as you started your first round of cardio, which today turned out to be a 10 minute jump roping circuit to help warm you up.

Chaemin kept track of the time as usual in between barking out a few words of encouragement, even though you could definitely tell another set of eyes were on you...

Glancing in one of the mirrors, you caught onto to the way Sungchan shamelessly stared at your body as you jumped up and down, a small smirk staining his features as the sheen of sweat decorated you slightly exposed chest now.

He was supposed to be spotting Wonbin at the bench press, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the life of him, almost in disbelief at the way you clearly started to put on a little show for him, letting your breath come out in high-pitched pants as you continued jumping.  

“Nice work, ____,” Chaemin exclaimed as your timer went off, right before he suggested that you work on a bit of strength training for the next 30 minutes.

“I think I need a little more time to calm down before I hit the weights, Coach,” you huffed out tiredly, explaining to him that it'd be better if you just worked on something a little less strenuous for the time being...

Glutes.

Of course, Chaemin wasn't going to make you overwork yourself, especially since you claimed to be feeling a bit more spent than usual...

By now, you had fully memorized the glute routine he made you do twice every week, including a rep of squat variations, lunges, bridge lifts, and fire hydrants.

Chaemin usually stood behind you whenever you did squats, guiding your waist with the lightest touch he could to make sure your form was on point.

This time though, you noticed that he wasn't even within three-feet of your presence, having his backed turned to you as you pushed out your first set of sumo squats, watching him walk even further away in the mirror ahead of you. 

“Hey, where're you headed?” You asked through slightly labored breaths, still counting in the back of your mind how many squats you had done so far...

“Oh, I just gotta take care of something really quick... Sungchan'll be here if you need him for anything.”

“Alright then,” you nodded, feeling that familiar burning sensation course through your hips, “take your time!”

“Thanks,” he replied, walking over to where Sungchan stood near Wonbin and exchanging a few words with him that you couldn't make out through all of Wonbin's grunting, leaving to room shortly after.

Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty, you lazily counted out each squat in your head, letting yourself take a few conscious breaths just as Sungchan made his way over to you now.

“Looks like it’s gonna be just you and me then, huh?” he began with a smirk, scanning your body with his eyes. 

“Well... not exactly,” you returned quietly, peeking over his shoulder to find Wonbin adjusting a pair of headphones over his head.

“He's not one to bother people, trust me... It’ll be like he’s not even here,” Sungchan reassured you, just as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair and walked closer towards you, “Now... I say we freestyle a bit and try out a few exercises you've probably never done before, yeah?” 

The word 'intrigued' didn’t even begin to describe the way you felt right now... the look on his face was so mysterious yet so telling at the same time... you could hardly make any sense of his behavior, but you had a pretty good feeling his mind was on the same thing as your own wandering one:

A quick fuck sometime with no strings-attached.

His heads rested at your shoulders now as he positioned himself behind you. “Let’s start with a stretch first since you just finished a pretty intense cardio set,” he suggested with a slight rasp to his voice, a familiar and alluring feeling washing over you as he spread your legs apart with a strong hand.

“This will help stretch out your hip flexors,” he continued, keeping his touch secured around your inner thighs. “Just get down as low as you can for me, 'kay? You can stop if anything starts to hurt...” 

You couldn't help but blush a bit at his choice of words, following his instructions carefully as you squatted down as far as you could, poking your hips out a bit before coming back up to a standing position.

“So,” his still voice sounded from behind you, “you enjoying this little program so far?”

“Yeah, actually... I had low expectations in the beginning, but it's turning out to be a really good thing for me,” you answered while peddling your feet, hands glued to the floor.

“Oh, cool! That's always good to hear... What do you think about Chaemin, though?”

“What about him?” You returned with a bit of confusion to your tone.

“Well... I'm just curious to know if he’s been a little… touchy with you,” Sungchan hummed as you laid on your back, forcing your legs apart gently with his hands as your breath hitched slightly.

“I uh…well... not really,” you exhaled through your nose, feeling the sudden pull in your muscles.

“Oh?... I would’ve expected something different from him,” Sungchan shrugged while pushing his weight into your thighs even more... the position was already a bit erotic in itself, but it really didnt help now that his bulge had grazed up against the growing wetness behind your yoga pants, making your stomach tighten with need.

And it was written all over his adorably mischievous face, too... how much he enjoyed stretching you out passed your limits—

“Ngh!” You winced through furrowed brows, slightly turning your head to the side with your hands framing your head on the yoga mat.

He chuckled softly, letting his eyes wander from the sight of your puffy pussy poking through your leggings before making eye contact with you suddenly. “Sorry about that... Let’s work on a different position...” 

You shook the tightness out of your legs before standing to your feet, letting Sungchan guide your body into a downward dog position, leaving your ass high up in the air and your legs spread wide open to the point where almost nothing was left to the imagination now... 

You're not sure why, but every single thing this guy said or did in this moment was turning you on... from his voice, his body, and even to his scent, Sungchan had you fully enthralled by him in just a matter of minutes—

“So,” he started again, “how long have you been training with Chae for?”

“Just a few weeks,” you huffed back, voice a bit tight given the stretch you felt in your spine.

“Really? That’s impressive,” Sungchan exclaimed from behind you, eyes obviously falling to the view of your cleavage in the mirror ahead before flickering back up, “your physique already looks so amazing, ____.”

“Please,” you scoffed, a warm feeling erupting in your stomach given how close he was to you, “but I appreciate the compliment, Channie… your friend Chaemin’s a pretty good coach, y'know…”

“Yea, that might be true, but,” Sungchan’s voice trailed off in the same manner that his hands trailed from your thighs, applying pressure to your lower back as he forced you abdomen closer to the ground, “he can be a little mean with his clients, if you ask me…”

In all honesty, you didn't fully understand why Sungchan kept bringing up Chaemin, but you couldn't say you disagreed with his opinions about him...

Chaemin did have his moments where he was a little tough on you, but the horny slut inside you didn't mind his dominance, anyways...

“Agreed,” you sighed, letting your muscles relax into the position, “but if he’s so mean and what not... what does that make you?”

“A well-balanced personal trainer,” Sungchan replied with pride almost instantly, “considering that Chae often forgets to include the ‘personal’ aspect when it comes to fitness… he’s more—”

“Physical... like you said,” you budded in for him, making Sungchan chuckle, “and you’re personal… gotchya…”

“But what’s your preference?” He asked, voice falling a little closer to your ear as he forced his palm into your back even further, the curve of your ass sitting right at his front.

You knew there was more to Sungchan's question than what met the surface…

Briefly reasoning within yourself, you moved from the stretching position, turning to face Sungchan as you leaned towards him.

“I suppose I’m open to both,” you whispered seductively, resting your hand just inches away from the mound between his legs.

His breath got caught in his chest now as your hand started to tread even closer to his center, moving upwards until you suddenly stopped, looking back into his eyes. “Think you can meet both those needs for me… Channie?” You went on in a voice soft as silk yet as seductive as a siren, batting your eyelashes at him as he licked his lips slightly.

“How about this... I’ll offer you a free trial before we make anything official,” Sungchan whispered, trying to keep his lingo as indirectly suggestive as possible, “but it’s only a limited time offer…”

His voice faded away, just as the eye contact he held with you wandered off to the wall bench just a few feet from you both on the stretching mat.

And before you could even turn to meet his face again, he was already standing up, flashing you a knowing expression as he walked to the bench, taking a seat and shamelessly manspreading right before your eyes.

He reached for his water bottle sitting on the ground, raising the liquid to his lips and taking a few gulps, your eyes watching the line of veins trailing up his sculpted neck and shoulders as you simply accepted that fact that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore…

Not while this horny, of course...

Besides, if there’s anything a hot girl did best it was hot girl shit, annd you’d be a fool to let Sungchan sit there and do nothing about the boner obviously growing behind his gym pants.

Limited time offer, huh? You thought to yourself before standing up from the mat, zipping down your workout top a bit to let your tits breathe.

Well it’s a good day to be impatient…

You climbed onto Sungchan's lap, wrapping your thighs around him as you felt him pressing into your core, a feeling that excited you more than you cared to admit.

"Oh so we're doing this now?" The tall boy asked, smiling as you got comfortable on top of him.

"As if this wasn't the goal since you set your eyes on me," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his plump lips.

Sungchan hummed within the contact, letting his eyes flutter shut before speaking...

"You just look so fucking hot in these yoga pants," he mumbled with your lower lip snug between his teeth before lightly pulling away "can’t wait to get ‘em off you..." he continued raspily, gripping at your hips before kneeding the flesh there in his hands.

In the midst of all this, Wonbin was completely oblivious to what you and Chan were up to, too focused on pushing out his final reps of bench presses, silver headphones secured tightly around his sweat-drenched mane as a certain tune blasted in his ears.

That’s when he caught onto the faint sounds bleeding beyond the audio from his headset, plain curiosity getting the best of him as he hooked the barbell back to its power rack, ending his set to get a peek at his surroundings.

He took off his headphones and sat them neatly on the equipment, giving his damp hair a slight shake before turning his head to the noise behind him, only to find a breathless you situated in Sungchan’s lap.

The eldest flashed Wonbin a look with the most shit-eating grin plastered across his deer-like features as your tongues intertwined sloppily, even though Wonbin’s attention had clearly darted toward your ass by now, both enticed by and shocked at the way you grinded against his friend’s lap so shamelessly. 

You soon noticed the way Sungchan’s face wandered from yours slightly, provoking you to turn for yourself to see exactly what had caught his attention. 

And there he was, an utterly flabbergasted Wonbin meeting your eyes with his own hesitant ones, an even more evident bulge resting behind his gym shorts now as blood rushed to the tip of his cock, getting harder and harder with every breath he took. 

Sungchan returned his lips to your neck now, nibbling at the skin there while still keeping a grip on your tight ass, "Don't think I can wait much longer baby..." he groans against you, almost as if the taste of you alone was making him hungrier for any sort of stimuli.

"What are you waiting for then, big boy?... it's not like anyone here has a problem with us... isn't that right, Binnie?" You pressed, biting your lip while looking the reluctant boy up and down.

But Wonbin remained quiet, only giving you a shyly desperate look as his lips part slightly, making way for his tongue to run over his lips greedily.

He felt like he had never contemplated something so hard in his entire life while in this moment.

"C’mon, don’t be shy… you can join us if you like..." you continued, flashing Wonbin your signature blowjob eyes as Sungchan obviously began to appear a bit thrown off by the boldness of your offer towards his friend, making his plush lips cease from marking you for a moment despite his initial playfulness…

Still, and oddly enough, Wonbin’s nervous demeanor had a way of exciting Sungchan even more, especially with how dirty you and him were getting during what was intended to be your training period.

"Get over here, Won... she doesn't bite as much as I do..." Sungchan mustered encouragingly, even though Wonbin’s feet were already moving towards you two at the wall bench.

He sat down next to you both, watching dumbly as you suddenly stopped grinding against Sungchan’s lap.

"W-...what do I do?" He asked timidly, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap as you simply smiled back at the gorgeous men before you.

"Pull your pants down," you said bluntly, "both of you..." 

And with that command, it didn't take long for Wonbin to start working with the waist tie of his shorts, pulling at the strings and sliding the fabric past his hips.

And once you climbed off of Sungchan’s lap, he proceeded to do the same, hooking his thumbs at the hem of his pants before shimmying them down like you asked.

You got on your knees between them, exchanging one more look of consent before taking their sensitive members in your hands, alternating between either stroking them or letting their dicks take turns basking in the warmth of your skilled mouth. 

The sounds of their pleased grunts and hums layering over each other was more than enough to get your pussy dripping with need.

You admired the feeling of Wonbin’s long and pretty cock gliding down your throat while also savoring the girth of Sungchan’s throbbing dick as you pumped him in your fist at the same time. 

The eldest of the two had his mouth hung open, head thrown back against the wall as his hips lifted into your hand, desperate for more friction than what was already being offered…

And on the other hand, Wonbin tried to keep his lip bitten firmly between his teeth as an attempt to hold in his moans, only to fail miserably once you licked around a certain spot along his shaft... his sweet spot… 

"Oh, you like that baby?" You asked rhetorically, watching as his chest began to heave with each stroke of your tongue against his log of nerves, his lustful eyes wandering to the sight behind you as another person invited themselves to witness the filthy scene ahead.

It was none other than Coach Chaemin, who judging from the outside, appeared as though he practically expected this to happen… finding a horny you slutting it out with his close mates in the private training room at the first opportunity you got... 

Still, he wasn't gonna let you get away that easily without first inserting himself into the fun... and I mean that quite literally, here. 

Chaemin kneeled himself behind you, tugging down your yoga pants and landing a hard smack to the curve of your ass, snickering at the fact that you didn't even have panties on.

And it all happened so fast that you didn't even have a chance to react properly before his thick fingers were lodged inside you, curling against the spongy spot that never failed to make your back arch. 

"F-fuckkk," you mewled erotically, turning your head back to find your trainer fucking his digits into your heat, this more openly dirty side of him finally coming out to play... 

"Turn back around," he ordered, just as Sungchan already helped himself to guiding your chin back to face him, shoving your lips over his cock and hitting the back of your moist den with his tip.

His veins were even more pronounced now as intense pleasure coursed through every cell in his 6-foot-something body, gently smacking his cock through the side of your cheek to tease you.

"Shhh," he cooed facetiously as your teary eyes met his taunting ones, the mascara you put on earlier bleeding at the corner of your eyes as your grip around Wonbin's cock tightened with your growing urge to gag. 

Sungchan went on, almost chuckling now as he slowly pushed your head further down his length, whispering within the mere air separating you two, "You like choking around my dick, huh pretty girl? Like it when I stuff your mouth so full with my cock that you can’t even think straight, don’t you?”

All you could do was dumbly nod around him, eventually gasping out loud once he finally released your head from his hold, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

But at this point, Wonbin was already spilling his load over your freshly manicured fingers, a reddish hue rushing to his cheeks out of embarrassment of how fast he came.

He stuttered out your name in between his hiccupy moans, Chaemin’s narrowed eyes catching sight of the sticky situation, just as he landed a wet smack against your ass again with the same hand he just fingered you with.

"Lick it up, babyface… or else my fingers are all you're getting from here..." Chaemin ordered in a deep and almost threatening tone, making you clench your pussy around nothing as he slid his hand beneath your workout top, smacking your tits as a means to encourage you.

And already being too desperate for the lost feeling of his fingers inside you, you leaned over Wonbin’s lap almost immediately, clinging to his toned thighs as you lapped at the pearly release, making his abs clench at the returned stimulation. 

"So fucking hot," Sungchan mumbled, fisting himself at an aggressive pace as you kept catching Wonbin’s cum on your extended tongue, keeping eye contact with him the entire time as he groaned out his high, gently caressing the side of your face.

“You’re unreal, ____,” the long haired boy hummed, almost feeling lovesick at the way you kept licking at him.

Being so distracted in the way Wonbin gazed at you in this strangely intimate moment, you didn’t even realize that Chaemin had already slipped his shorts down, letting a bit of spit dribble from his tongue to help coat his length before sliding it into you.

The stretch genuinely caught you off guard, a shaky whimper slipping past your lips as you covered your mouth, trying to hold in your cries.

“Aww, too big for you, sweetie?” Chaemin taunted, watching the way your pussy practically struggled to take all of him, but he didn’t care, knowing that it’d only be a matter of time before you started begging for more.

“I can be gentle if you want me too… is that what you want?” He went on, landing another smack to your tits as he leaned closer to your ear, nibbling at the flesh there.

You couldn’t even attempt to get a word out once you felt his length slide further into you, amazed in your own mind that the stretch you felt earlier was only from half of his cock.

“Didn’t think so,” Chaemin smirked, his dick twitching at the tightness your hole provided before moving away from your ear, grabbing hold of your hips again as he slowly started to move inside you.

“Move your hand, angel,” Sungchan mumbled again, desperate to hear any more sounds from you to help him reach his high. “Need to come so fucking bad, baby… open your mouth for me,” he groaned, letting you take his tip in your mouth as your sealed your lips around him, only to break away suddenly as Chaemin thrusted roughly into you this time, grunting at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re pussy’s perfect… so tight,” he said with a rasp voice, struggling to stop himself from fucking you any faster than your tightness could take, “afraid I might split you open if I keep going, princess…”

All you could do was whine pathetically as Chaemin kept thrusting into you from behind, a burning sensation mixing with the growing pleasure from his length stretching you out.

“F-fuckk- Shit!” Sungchan groaned desperately, jerking his cock to the point where his seed ended up making a much bigger mess than intended, spurts of his cum getting everywhere but in your eyes at this point.

Your hands still rested at Wonbin and Sungchan’s thighs, and although Wonbin seemed a bit relaxed now, he was simply waiting for his next chance to get off, Sungchan slowly relieving his cock from the relentless strokes of his own hand before leaning down to kiss you, moaning at the taste of himself in your mouth mixing with your saliva.

Wonbin watched closely as his friend's tongue ran up against yours in the messy contact, the sight doing nothing but making the poor boy stiff all over again.

“Hey… wanna take a turn?” Chaemin asked Wonbin through a breathless voice, his question almost getting lost between the series of whines spilling from your mouth, Sungchan’s hand holding your face in place as he looked into your eyes, whispering dirty nothings against your lips as you took Chaemin from the back.

“Fuck, please,” you cried out for reasons you didn’t understand, face a mess of streaky makeup as you laved at Sungchan’s thumb in your mouth.

“It’s okay, baby… we’re taking good care of you, see?” Sungchan smiled, just as the feeling of fullness left your core as Chaemin slipped out, moving over for Wonbin to take his place.

“Gonna make you feel so much better,” Wonbin said from behind you, lining up his tip with your gaping entrance before fully sliding in, much easier than Chaemin did.

While Wonbin’s fucking you from the back, Chaemin swaps places with Sungchan on the wall bench, tapping your lips with his slimy cock with a smirk on his face, all before sliding himself in and fucking the daylights out of your throat. 

And your eyes were practically popping outta your head at this point given how rough he was being… you couldn't help yourself but to scratch at his thighs like a helpless kitten, making Chaemin wince as you marked his honey-colored skin with thin, red lines.

Meanwhile, Wonbin was still getting busy behind you, his hips grinding against you at a slow pace, clearly contrasting between Chaemin’s more aggressive sexual nature. 

And it was only a matter of time before Sungchan joined Wonbin where he was on the ground, discarding himself from his pants completely now as he held his cock in one hand and stroking over the curve of your ass with the other, utterly mesmerized by your feminine figure.

“C’mon, Wonbin, you can fuck her harder than that, huh?” Sungchan huffed sarcastically, jerking his cock once again with his fist at the sight of your hole gushing with arousal, your fluids creating the most heavenly sheen around Wonbin’s length as he took heed to his friend’s words, fucking into you faster and deeper despite how much it overstimulated him.

“Yeah… that’s it… keep fucking her just like that- mmm, fuck yeah,” Sungchan groaned, sliding his hands between your legs and letting his fingers find your heat, slapping a bit at your pussy lips before circling your throbbing clit.

You felt like you were going completely dumb now given all the sensations you were experiencing, Wonbin’s tip working wonders in your cunt as he hit all the best parts inside you, his own eyes becoming watery now as he felt himself approaching his high again, mumbling tiny words of praise from behind you.

But Chaemin… oh God, he was a complete menace in this moment, calling you his good little cum slut as he continued fucking your face full of his shaft, your jaw going slack as you cried dumbly around his veiny cock.

That’s when you felt a burst of warmth enter you from both ends, Chaemin’s seed coating the back of your throat as Wonbin collapsed over your back, stilling his thrusts as he spilled his release all over your walls, heavy grunts coming from both of them now that they’d reached their highs. 

“Awww, fuck,” Sungchan moaned this time, feeling himself draw closer and closer to the point of no return as Wonbin backed away from you, knowing that Sungchan had every intention of getting to stuff your pussy with his length just like the others did.

That's when you felt Sungchan grab your waist from behind, right before pushing his dick into you.

You couldn’t help but whine as you felt him stretch you open, gasping at the feeling of his hand wrapping around your throat, still feeling a bit sore from Chae's ministrations earlier.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as cum and saliva dripped down the sides of your lips, trailing down your neck as he humped into you hard and fast, causing your breasts to bounce freely from the force.

And seeing this only drew Chaemin's attraction to the perky flesh of your best as he found himself sucking on one of your tits, grazing his teeth over your skin.

“Get over here, Wonnie,” Sungchan grunted, watching as his friend sat tiredly by himself... “There’s a pretty tit for you, too,” he chuckled before smacking your ass, making you yelp at the stinging sensations traveling all the way up to your face.  

“She’s still not making enough noise for me,” Chaemin huffed before jamming two of his fingers into your mouth, causing your eyes to tear up even more.

“Scream for me, slut,” he grinned while he roughly stimulated your clit with his free hand, Wonbin's tongue never ceasing in sucking at your nipples, moaning at the taste.

At this point, you struggled to keep your balance, feeling your body begin to shake uncontrollably as Sungchan held your body tighter, hips still drilling into you at a relentless pace.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby,” Sungchan sucked through his teeth, a bit of saliva filling his mouth as the pattern of his thrusts slowed down, his hips ripping away from your heat as you fell into the two other boy's before you, your body fucked completely dumb now.

There was so much cum inside you at this point that you're sure it'd probably be leaking out of you for weeks after this...

You felt Sungchan’s dick slide out as he rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing the skin there before sighing against your neck and saying, “That was pretty fun, huh, pretty?”

You couldn’t really get a word out in this moment, and he caught onto it, talking for you instead of trying to get any words out of you…

“We should do something like this again, y’know?…I’m sure Wonbin would like it too,” he went on with a chuckle as Wonbin’s cheeks flushed red, running a bashful hand through his bangs down as he worked on fixing his shorts back.

“This’ll only last for another week before your free trial expires,” Chaemin began with a hoarse voice while keeping his eyes trained on you as he pulled up his shorts, too.

“Well, that’s only unless she doesn’t come back for more,” Sungchan pitched in, lifting his weight from your body and helping you guide your yoga pants back over your hips.

Although you are were currently unsure as to whether or not you would proceed with paying for the full program after such an unexpected encounter, you couldn't deny that being tossed around by three hot guys had your head spinning in the best way possible…

And as the four of you stood all sweaty and sticky in a circle, still trying to catch your shaky breaths as the fitness session neared its end, the idea of your average workout sessions with Chaemin seems much less appealing than the full-body workout you experienced today.

⚡︎ AUTHOR'S NOTE | My sister and I definitely got a little carried away with the plot this time, but hopefully someone out there enjoyed reading the hot mess of a story as much as we did when writing it for our dear mutual... And once again, Happy belated Birthday @wonbinisbabygurl !!! Cheers to another year of your beautiful life <3

⚡︎ TAGS | @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikisvanillaccola @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

⚡︎ Feel free to check out my RIIZE masterlist if you’re interested in more works by me!

[spicy30]

Modernness of 1400s 001

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

cw: Misinformation, cannon-typical violence

Rating: 13+

Not proofread

WC: 4k

“Yes! I will call you both when I arrive at the airport.” You spoke in a hurried voice excited to leave. It was your first time leaving the country without your parents. Your first trip alone, well not exactly alone. Your best friend was in the car. Saying your final goodbyes you grabbed your three large suitcases and stuffed them in the back while taking one in the front.

“Why did you bring three!? What even is in there?” Your best friend spoke as she was squished to the side.

“Basically all of my clothes and shampoos, soaps, scrubs, sanitary pads, sanitary wipes, toothpaste, y’know all the stuff you need to be clean.” You listed the things on your fingers as you spoke to her.

“You can’t bring liquids on a plane.” She stared at you with a blank stare. “You’re so gonna get stopped by security.”

“If they’re over 100 milliliters. I did my research. You can never be too clean, and you never know when you might need them!” You urged with an exaggerated tone of voice.

“Girl, we’re gone for two weeks, we can buy anything we need once we get there.” She rationalized with you.

“We’re on a budget. Why waste money on useless things when we can simply just take from what we already have, duh!” You rolled your eyes and chewed some gum while smiling then offered her some. Your best friend hummed and shrugged while taking one and popping it in her mouth.

“Anyways, these jeans are gonna be the death of me, I know it. This plane ride is like 10 hours!” Your best friend complained as she unbuttoned her jeans.

“Airport crushes. Gotta look your best.” You spoke as you touched up your makeup and adjusted your sweater. “Anyways, I hope it’s cold on the plane. I hate it when it’s too hot, but just in case I wore this.” You unzipped your sweater showing a cream-colored, halter-style top with a square neckline. “The cold is better because you can always put on more layers, with the heat, only so many layers you can take off.” You hear your best friend hum in agreement.

You watched the world pass you by and the sunset as the music sounded in your ears from your headphones. The car came to a slow stop to pay the highway toll before speeding up again. You looked into the darkness of the night. This bridge that you were crossing was quite long. Deciding to prep ahead of time, you downloaded movies and songs on your phone.

Red lights flashed on your left and you heard a honk. You looked over and saw a semi-truck switching lanes. It was far too close to you. You simply sat still watching as the semi-truck hit the front of the car. There was nothing you could do. Another collision hit you from behind, jerking you forward. Your best friend screamed. You only screamed when the car began swerving closer to the edge of the bridge. The only thing below this bridge is the black ocean.

The car gave a screeching stop as it crashed into the concrete wall. The back of the car hung over the edge. Both you and your best friend were screaming and crying for help, though the driver only quickly unbuckled themselves and got out of the car. Your screaming drowned out anything else as the car hung in the balance. The car door opened on your right and your best friend was helped out by a bystander.

She called your name as the car slipped backward. Acting fast you stuffed your phone in your purse, crawled over your suitcase and finally stepped onto solid ground again. As you tried to walk forward you got stuck. Looking back, your sweater had gotten stuck in the suitcase. In desperation, you pulled, and it pulled the whole suitcase out. However, the suitcase fell over the edge. You heard your name being yelled at as you were yanked backward. You screamed and swiped for anything, your hand only hit the car. As you fell you screamed even louder as you saw the car fall after you, the bright red tail gates chasing after you. It was a long drop, every second you felt as if you would hit the cold black waters. You moved mid-air and curled yourself into a ball before you felt the sharp hit of the cold water.

As you sank down you extended your body swimming upwards, but you felt heavy. Nevertheless, you persevered. Swimming with desperation you felt a cramp in your calf. You groaned as you stopped moving your leg. Looking down, you saw nothing but black, but as you looked back up red lights crashed into you. The blow was hard and the wind was knocked out of you. Reflexively you breathed in, only to swallow water, coughing, and you swallowed more water. You failed your arms trying to get to the surface. Everything burned and you tried to breathe once more, only to take in more water before you finally gave up.

…

Your body jerked to the side and you threw up seawater while crying. More and more water came out and you couldn’t breathe. Every time you tried a water shot from your mouth. Finally, you took a big deep breath in and grabbed on firmly to what seemed to be an armored shoe.

Looking up the sun blinded you, as well as the shine from the armor.

“That’s her…we just found her…when…what…wearing?” Voices came in and out and you flipped back over onto your back letting the sun hit you. You simply breathed, looking up towards the blue sky. You simply laid back trying to refocus, though it didn’t seem to be working. Large dark figures flew in the sky, you didn’t know what they were but you blinked trying to figure it out. As your eyes focused on them, a man stepped in front of you, he was bald with thick white eyebrows and a matching beard.

“Are you…” The words he spoke sounded blurred.

“Huh?” From behind him, a large creature, what seemed like a… well a… a “Dragon?” It was the last thing you spoke before you felt your body give into the exhaustion once more.

…

“Though it is the great hope of the court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As a hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” All watched as Otto finished his speech and then sat on the Iron Throne much more comfortably than Rheanerya would like. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.” Otto called upon him and he stepped into the middle of the hall.

“My Queen, my Lord Hand, the noble history of our noble houses extends to the times of Old Valyria.” Vaemond began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Valeryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean an end to their bloodlines, and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true and impeccable blood runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring Laenor Valeryon,” Rhaenerya spoke. It would be a cold day in the seven hells before she lets the heritage of her sons be questioned. “If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenerya,” Alicent spoke, a cold look in her eye as she looked at her. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

Vaemond turned with a mocking smirk. “What do you know of the Velaryon blood princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” He turned away from the mother of bastards to address Otto once more. “My Queen, my hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of survival and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, Lord of the tides.”

“Thank you Ser Vaemond,” Otto said, nodding as he acknowledged the claim. “Princess Rheanerya, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenrya stepped forward, annoyed and aggravated with the whole situation. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago in this very-” A door opened interrupting her. She turned and saw her father, standing with all the glory, once more coming to protect his heir.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Everyone in that room watched as he hobbled down the steps, then to the Throne. Dropping his crown, they watched as his ever loyal brother, Daemon, placed it back on his head.

“I must…admit…my confusion.” Viserys breathed heavily. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer a kenner insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Everyone looked towards her as Viserys spoke.

“Indeed your grace.” Rheanys spoke and she stepped forward. “It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, his trueborn son,” She looked towards the dark haired boy. “Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rheanerya has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter; Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I…heartily agree.”

“Well the matter is settled…again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the driftwood throne and the next Lord of the Tides.” As Viserys spoke a scoff broke through Vaemonds lips.

“You break the law.” He spoke to Viserys. “And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon.” Vaemond spoke, anger clear in his voice and face.

“No!” A faint yell was heard, but no one paid mind to it.

“No. I will not allow it.” They were words of defiance. He would not let his house fall into ruin because the King was short sighted.

“Allow it?” Viserys spoke, offended that he thought he had a say in the matter. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.” The warning was clear.

“That!” Vaemond yelled pointing towards Luke. “Is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers.” Rheanerya spoke, ushering her sons away but they did not move. “You have said enough.” She redirects herself to Vaemond stepping in front of her children.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson and you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” Viserys spoke once more. This was treading too close to the line.

“Let go of me!” Another voice yelled, though it was muffled and once again, no one paid it any mind.

“You may run your house as you see fit.” The initiation was clear. “But you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” He turned back to Rhaenyra. “And gods be damned…” His eyes shifted to Luke. “I will not see it end on the account of this-” Vaemond held his tongue, but just barely.

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, tempting him.

A grim smile bloomed on Vaemonds face as he looked towards Rhaenyra. If no one else had the gaul to say it, he would. “Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms to hear.

King Viserys leaned forward. “And she…” Vaemond turned to look towards Viserys with conviction in his eyes. “Is a whore.”

Viserys stood up taking out his knife ready to cut out Vaemond’s tongue himself. “I…will have your tongue for that!”

A sharp slice followed and the top of Vaemond’s head came flying off. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon said.

“I said unhand me you twats!” Once more the voice sounded, this time, closer, as if behind the doors.

“Disarm him!” Otto yelled, ignoring the yells from behind the door.

“You smell horrid! All of you!” The voice yelled once again and this time everyone turned as the door opened and they watched a woman nearly fall back while she gave a small yelp of surprise.

The sounds of swords unsheathing sound. “Woah!” The woman yelled once more and lifted her hands high in the air. Her accent sounded clear. She was not from here. The court watched the event unfold. Guards surrounded her. “Those look a little too real to be fake so imma need y’all to stay a healthy distance away from me!” They heard her yell, such an informal way of speaking. A common born they all deduced, but why was a common born here in the throne room, why was she even in the Keep at all? However, what most caught the attention of everyone was her clothes. What was she wearing? It looked very inappropriate.

“Listen I don’t know what kinda freaky stuff y’all got goin’ on, but as you can see.” You gestured to yourself and your clothing. “Look at my clothes, and look at yours” Your hands moved sporadically around trying to explain yourself. “Ergo, I am not a part of this … .role playing? Whatever you guys got goin’ here.”

They watched as the woman tried to reason and the guard stepped closer, and she left a high pitched scream. All winced at the volume. “Stop! Please! I’m unarmed!” She yelled. “Look! My hands are up as you can see!” She gave them all a spin and for the first time, the people of the court saw the woman’s face but only for a second. “No weapons. Please put the swords away, I don’t care if they’re fake, they’re a little too real for me and it’s freaking me out!”

“Lay down your swords!” Commanded Viserys and all the men sheaved their swords

“Oh so you listen to the man and not the girl whos been pleading for you to stop? Okay.” You spoke with annoyance. You turned finally taking a look at the court. “Ooh….” You sucked in a breath as you saw the old man in a chair or what looked like to be swords. “Uhh, good make up artist.” You murmmed.

“Step forward girl.” Viserys commanded. You looked around, the men in armor had their sharp eyes trained on your, as if they were hounds waiting to be told to strick.

“Uhhh, I’m a little hesitant to uh move…” You gave an awkward smile.

“They will not harm you, I have told them to stand down.” Viserys spoke once more, a headache become more potent by every moment that passed.

“Okay….” You moved slow making sure to show your every movement and keeping your hands visible. “I’m moving, I’m just moving, no weapons.” You spoke as you slowly walked forward. You didn’t know where you were, but you didn’t want to find out if the props were real or not. It all looked so real, a nice place they had. Their dresses and attires, it was all very surreal. Very nice wigs as well, they almost looked real. A man who had half of his white hair pulled back and the rest down looked at you. You looked down to his sword noticing a red liquid, you stopped right in your tracks.

You pointed at him while your hands remained in the air. “Uhh what about him? I’m seein’ a little…a little red there.” You looked him up and down then back at the rough looking old man who sat the sword?? Throne thingy.

“Daemon.” You watch the white haired man step aside and you gasped and turned around.

“Oh my god!? What? Is! That!?” You yelled your back turned not wanting to look any closer at the…person?? Who was on the floor. “That uh! Thats ummm…. very good props? The anatomy is uh…very good. Wow! Uh yeah… sorry I don’t… I don’t wanna look at that, I have a weak stomach, I can’t even watch animals get killed, I start crying.” You began babling.

“Take him away.” Visery spoke and the silent sisters whisked him away. As you turned you looked around taking in the sights of people. So many white haired ones. Peculiar. You eyes caught one with dark hair and a semi bad haircut, but he was good looking nonetheless. Damn, you hope you didn’t look too rough. Looking to your right, you caught sight of two with white hair.

“Damn.” You whisper wiping the underneath your eyes hoping to take away any mascara that may be running. “Please let me look good right now.” You whispered.

“Is it safe?” You called out no longer hearing the sounds.

“It is.” The old man spoke and you faced him. “Who are you girl and what are you doing here. Commons are not allowed here.”

You made a face at the word commons but rolled your eyes and introduced yourself and gave where you were from. You were met with faces of confusion. You scoffed. “Listen uh, your highness? I don’t know. Can we uh, quit role playing or whatever this is. I- I don’t do that, its not for me. So listen can we be real here for a second? I gave you my country, and my continent. There is no way, you would not know that. Unless…” You looked around and breathed but quickly covered your nose giving a noise of displeasure. “Listen you’re a..what? King? So uh forgive my insolence your highness, but uh…there no way you wouldn’t know unless you all are…uneducated?” All in the court made a face towards you.

You sucked in a breath. Wrong move. Oh well, it is what it is. “Yeah sorry, uh disconnected because uh clearly…y’know your attire, your buildings….the smell, god it’s potent, uh everything it’s just y’know.”

Everyone stared at you in confusion. They had never heard of the place where you claimed to come from. Perhaps it was a place in Essos, of in the Shadowlands beyond Asshai.

“Are you from Essos then?” An old man to your, now left, asked. “What? What is Essos?”

“Are you sure you are not the one who is uneducated.” A voice sounded behind you. You turned swifted to glare at the man who spoke. It was the one with the sword.

“Uh excuse you, I’m not the one who doesn’t the seven continents. Comeone everyone learns those. You don’t know Asia or Africa, what about Europe?” You asked him as he looked at you with an unamused face. “North America? South America? Antarctica? Oceania? No! Exactly, you wanna know how I know? Because of that stu- I’m yelling. I probably shoudln’t be yelling in my position.” You caught yourself and turned around to face their king.

“But come on Essos?” You scoffed. “Listen I may not be the best at geography, but,” The words got stuck in your throat and you sighed out a breath of defeat. “You wanna give me a hint where it’s at?” You heard a scoff behind you and your eye twitched and you smile became forced.

“It’s in the name.” The man behind you —Daemon they called him— spoke once again and you scoff. “What East?” You smiled as the white haired woman to your right gave no signs of a smile. You smile fell from your face. “What? Seriously? What do you call the West?” You laughed. “Western Land? What about the South? Southlandia?” You give another laugh.

“You’re is Westeros.” The old man on your left said.

“What kind of- Okay,” You murmured. “And South?”

“Sothoryos.” He said once again. You face morphed into an approving expresson. “That one is actually not bad. Sounds really actually cool. Okay North?”

“We don’t have a North, it’s part of Westeros.” Once more he answer your question and you nodded turned to him and pointing. “So Westeros leads to the polar icecaps?”

He furrowed his brows. You made a sound of understanding. “Ah I see, you haven’t discovered them yet. So no South pole or North pole. Okay. These are your continents? Okay…so I’m gonna assume Essos is just Asia, this seems a lot like the UK, England? The accents match, or maybe Ireland? No…I think imma stick with England. Okay so I’m in England.”

“As my uncle said…you seem to be the one who is uneducated.” A male voice rings out, and the one with the eyepatch has an aggravating smirk.

“Excuse me? You try getting into a car crash, falling off a bridge because a damned suitcase, wake up in who knows where and figure out where you are. Might I add after not being told common continents.” You looked him up and down. A shame he was good looking, well as one can be with an eye patch. Him opening his mouth really just ruined him. “Tell me, if you, I don’t know, what do you guys have here? Carriages? Do you guys have bridges? Probably not as big as the one I fell from. Have you ever fallen say 200 hundred feet or… sorry uh…. 60 meters? Thats what you guys use right? Well say you fall from 60 meters, into water, drown, then wake up on a beach not knowing where you are or who anyone is. If you fell from that hight and landed on say…oh I don’t any island on Micronesia. Do you know what or even where Micronesia is?” You tilted your head. “No? Well…I think I’ve made my point.”

“You speak to a Prince girl” The King spoke and you turned to him then back towards the one eye man who seemed a bit shocked that his father would come to his rescue.

“Thats your son? My apologies. Is every white haired person here your child?” You asked but the King suddenly let our a groan. The woman in the green dress ran to him.

‘His wife? No? She’s too young. Are those her kids? No…she’s too young…right?’ The thoughts raced in your mind.

“Get the Maesters!” The woman yelled.

‘Maesters? Masters? Weird accents, definitely in the UK.’ You looked around standing there unsure of what to do.

“Get him milk of the poppy, and the get the leaches!” The Maester called.

“Milk of the poppy? Opioids!? Well I mean, I suppose it's common, but um, as long as he doesn’t get addicted to it.” As you spoke the white-haired woman looked back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite describe. “Did you know, there are only two drugs that can kill you if you just quit them? Opioids, which is what your ‘milk’ is, and alcohol funny enough. Once your body becomes dependent on it, or in other words, you get addicted, if it is ripped away from the addict. Your body will go into shock, thus killing the addict. Just a little fun fact to think about if you feed him that stuff every day.” As you spoke the room became silent as men in white clothing came and grabbed the King. From your left, you heard a scoff.

“You think you know more than the Maesters?” The old man asked once again.

“Well…if my ears do not mislead me and I heard you still do leaching, or bloodletting. Then I think I just might.” You smiled and shrugged at him. “If anything, you’re doing more harm than good. While leeches can be used in other ways that would be beneficial, this is not one of the ways. You’re idea of leaching and blood letting comes from the notion of bad blood or good blood right? Something along those lines.” As you spoke the Maester stopped and let go of the King and another took his place walking him down the Throne. Everyone was looking at you and the sounds of the King.

“Well, there's no such thing as bad blood or good blood. What there is in the body is something called bacteria. It's on a microscopic level, don’t think you’ve discovered it yet, that's okay. Misinformation is common these days. Well in any case, when you bleed the patient, I’m pretty sure you deprive them of white blood cells and then force the body to focus on the cut instead of the actual issue that the body is facing. White blood cells are kind of like the fighters, they fight off the bad bacteria.” You continued. “Well it might not be exactly because of that reason, but it's one of the many reasons why it doesn’t work.”

“Well if there are these ‘white blood cells’ as you call them why isn’t our blood white?” The Maester asked. He had a smug expression on his face.

“Well, there is white blood and red blood cells. Also as I said, it is on a microscopic level. It’s not visible to the naked eye. They’re very very very very small. Also, there is a chemical reaction that makes blood red.” You answered with a smug smile of your own.

“How much do you know of medicine?” The white-haired woman asked.

“More than him it would seem.” You gave a blank smile.

“Would you be able to cure him? My father, the King.” The woman, who was a princess asked once more with a pointed look.

“Uh I’d have to take a look at him. Can’t make any promises.” You spoke and she nodded walking away and you stood still unsure of what to do. You looked over to the boy with the bad hair cut and gave a smile. He gave you a small curt one in return before following the Princess. The the seconds dark haired boy left. You turned to look at the man with the eye-patch and what you assume are his siblings or cousins.

The shuffling of feet stop and you look towards the Princess who looks at you with an expectant look. “Oh! Oh! Right, sorry!” You turned back, they were royalty, it felt wrong to just leave, but you didn’t know what to do. “Um, bye.” You said in a small voice giving a small bow before turn and giving a small run to catch up to the Princess.

Next I Masterlist

Note: This is self-indulgence and I'm not gonna research anything trying to make it as real as I can. If an average person was just randomly there.

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[cierraonline]

They’ve been dating for a while pookie I’m sorry

anywaysssss

Did You Miss US?

chapter two: did you miss us?

warning: none

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

XXX

UCONN GAMPEL PAVILION  

University of Connecticut  

Storrs, Connecticut

Okay guys, we’re back…. Did you miss us? ‘Cause we missed you! - Sasha James UCONN's PG

Whistle blows

“Listen up,” Geno Auriemma, the man with the plan—the man who built stars and legends—UCONN’s women’s basketball head coach with nearly 1,000 wins under his belt, announced. “This season, I will not be your head coach—” The older man was interrupted by gasps that filled the room.

Thirty young women stared at him, mouths agape in shock, while his staff stood behind him in support. “Now calm down. I’m not going anywhere, nor am I retiring. This year, your head coach will be one of our own…. Sasha James.” With that introduction, the brown-skinned girl walked into the stadium and stood next to her mentor, essentially a father figure to her.

“Aahh,” all the returning girls jumped up, rushing to Sasha and pulling her into a tight embrace in congratulations.

“That’s my wife!” Paige pointed to her partner with a wide smile, knowing how much this meant to Sasha.

“Okay, get off me,” Sasha laughed as she tried to push away the arms and hands. “Sit down, y’all are embarrassing me,” she added, mainly addressing her best friends. Once everyone returned to their original spots on the bleachers, her expression turned serious. “So, this year we’ll be following my coaching plan for the women’s basketball team, which was approved by the athletic director, David Benedict,” Sasha said, pointing to the white man who raised his hand in greeting, as it was the first time some players had met him. “First on the list is our Europe tour, a team bonding and learning experience.”

“Really!?”

“Shut up!” The girls jumped up in excitement, thrilled at the prospect of traveling abroad for team bonding.

“Now, we have a problem,” Sasha began, watching the players’ faces grow worried. “There are 30 of us, half of whom are red-shirts due to either prior injuries or eligibility situations. A portion of those who aren’t red-shirts don’t get time on the court because skills aren’t being picked up quick enough. With that, we’re just wasting space and resources. At the end of last season, an email was sent out stating that although the season is over, we want you all to be prepared and in top condition. Freshmen, you got the same email after confirming your commitment to the team. So, before we leave for our trip, we’ll be cutting off the dead weight. Today, you’ll be doing multiple drills and rounds, and if we believe you’re performing well, you’ll stay. If not, I’m sorry, but this will be your last day on the team, regardless of scholarship status.”

Internally, the players felt a bit of panic, but overall they believed they were the best—after all, they’d made it this far.

“You will also have to play according to my standards,” Sasha declared, making the tension rise further. “The goal this season is to win like it has been for the past five years that got us to win Big East Conference and the Final Four. I don’t like losing and I won’t start this season. I like no-score games—it brings in publicity, which brings in money for the department and us as players. I need to know I can trust you all to win without relying on our heavy hitters to play a full game with no breaks. Last season, we recycled the same five players. This year will be different. We have five  players planning to enter the draft, and we need to put them in the best position to be seen and recognized.”

“Are you guys scared?” Geno asked from beside Sasha, observing his players’ reactions. “You should be. We’re still falling behind on basic skills that should come naturally to us. We’re not rebounding properly, not making fast plays, and not thinking smart on the court. There’s no more depending on the starting five or your status to save you.”

“Everything will be tested and calculated, and by the end of the day, the staff and I will be left with the best 14 players to continue with the athletic department. That means 16 of you will be ending your college basketball careers today,” Sasha nodded, watching her teammates exchange glances, wondering who would stay and who would be shamefully dismissed. “Let’s start with suicides—15 on each side, meeting in the middle. Let’s go,” she clapped her hands and took a seat on the bleachers.

Giving them a moment to get into position, Geno blew the whistle, and the running began. “Ramirez is lagging behind; her speed hasn’t improved since her freshman year,” Sasha noted to Geno, who nodded in agreement, jotting down the player’s name.

“Ayanna’s speed seems to have improved since her injury,” Chris Dailey commented, pointing at the sophomore.

“Alright!” Geno blew the whistle. “Line up!” The players stood in a straight line as the staff observed them. The goal of this elimination round was to test speed but also endurance—who looked tired and exhausted? This would show who had taken the offseason seriously and who hadn’t.

“Ramirez, your speed hasn’t improved. Anderson, you look tired, and you’ve only ran for 10 minutes. Bennett, your speed is inconsistent. Davis, Geno feels you’re not giving us your best because you’re overconfident, thinking we can’t replace you. Lastly, Jones, Coach Dailey feels your maturity hasn’t shown any growth. I’m sorry, girls, but you’re off the team. Tomorrow, you’ll have a meeting with David to go over the next steps.” 

Sasha moved on to the next drill. “Alright, let’s do dribbling drills. I want a relay race with 12 on each side, from the left side of the court to the right. The winning side is safe from elimination.” Sasha didn’t have time to watch the eliminated players cry over their lost positions. She needed a winning team—budget-friendly, hardworking, and serious about the chance they are given.

“Flores’ handles are sloppy,” Geno shook his head in disapproval as the player lost control of the ball twice before reaching the other side of the court. “Ines is doing better than last season. Keep a close eye on her.”

“Garcia is looking down too much,” Chris Dailey noted.

“What do we think about the freshmen?” Sasha pointed out Kamorea Arnold, who seemed to have a strong grip on the ball.

“With freshmen, we don’t need perfect; we need to see that there is room for improvement and how fast they can implement corrections,” Geno advised, advising for  Sasha to not expect perfection from the freshmen class. “We want people to see that we create stars, but we also nurture growth and progression.”

“Flores, Garcia, Harris, Johnson, and King, you’re dismissed,” Geno announced, prompting one of the girls to sob and plead for another chance. “You’re seniors, but we have yet to see evidence that shows the progress you made since you’ve been in this program for three years.”

“I plan on entering the draft this year!” Harris cried out.

“You shouldn’t have entered the draft when you’ve haven’t been getting much playing time for the past two years and had no playing time in your freshman year,” Sasha said, moving on to the next test. “Freshmen, you’re safe. Please grab your uniforms, practice schedules, and packing lists.”

“Thank you!” they squealed with big smiles, running to where Chris stood at a foldable table.

“Let’s make this interesting,” Sasha continued. “Geno, Chris, David, and I will each choose a player to save.”

“Paige,” Geno nodded at the blonde, who exhaled in relief before running to the table where Chris stood.

“Nika,” David selected the Croatian player.

“Azzi,” Chris smiled at the league’s best shooter next to Sasha.

“Aaliyah,” Sasha chose.

“Thank you,” Aaliyah whispered as she passed by her friend and teammate, heading to Chris for a congratulatory hug.

“Alright, let’s do rounds. I want to see smart plays… choose your teams,” Sasha directed the remaining players, who were more nervous than ever. With a whistle, a game on each side of the court began, and the returning players played harder than ever. Some stood out for the right reasons, while others didn’t.

“Caroline is thinking smarter; she’s stepping into that leadership role we’ve been waiting for her to take,” Geno commented, watching as she quickly passed the ball to another player instead of holding it and risking a blocked shot.

“Amari’s passes are getting faster,” Sasha noted as the player did a no-look pass to her teammate.

“Aubrey’s defense is improving, especially in blocking and holding screens,” Geno added.

“Alright, line up!” Sasha blew her whistle. “Lewis, Mitchell, Nelson, Parker, Rodriguez—thank you for the time you put into this team, but you’re eliminated,” she announced, watching as the remaining players huddled together, sharing tears and congratulations. “The rest of you, let’s start making corrections faster and implementing them. You’ve been here; you know the standards. It shouldn’t take the last round of eliminations for things to start clicking. We need it to click the minute you step onto the court. Got it?”

“Yes,” they answered, nodding.

“Well, go get your stuff. We’ve got a trip to pack for,” Sasha smiled, clapping her hands.

“Don’t ever put us through that again,” Aubrey jokingly pointed at Sasha as she and Amari pproached her.

“I had to try to get rid of you somehow. Isn’t this your fifth year?” Sasha laughed, nudging the girl’s shoulder.

“Don’t get jumped!” Aubrey laughed.

“Go get your stuff before I have Geno kick you out too,” Sasha rolled her eyes, showing off her playfully sassy side.

taglist @averette98 @hedidnotpleaseme @unknown5397 @girlyglitterprincess @sunwalker355 @akiracutie @pinkandlilacroses @bennybabyyy @pbueckerslover @pbueckers @okimreadynow @blackbarbie96 @blue-whiteuc @randomhoex @tyler-adaline @espersonalsj @hidden-kay1 @kayckeny @chip-the-teapot @woso-scotland @rickflagfine88897 @amourrnini @hon3y-girl @apreer @stfuzoeyy @50shadesofdeville @rebecca-woso @yourmom-25s-blog @lxonix-ac @kaliblazin @klexiasblog @selenalei @thenewprophecysworld @areyourlightsup @billiesrighthand @lordfarquad-k @rhearipley-69 @vvaaaall @dandelions4us @kluvsspongebob @bratyee @bilssharky

[artists-ally]

{Flatline} OFC x Harvey Specter {Pt. 1}

I got the title from this song called Flatline by Jared Benjamin. I added it to this playlist of very Harvey Specter vibes if you'd like to listen. There will be multiple parts, around three so be sure to stick around for those. As always comment and tell me what you think, or pop by in my asks. Anyhoo enjoy my loves!

Word count ~ 10,619 (it is a very fast paced read I promise)

Warnings ~ Age gap, smut (18+), handjob, no real BDSM but Dom/Sub concepts, language, alcohol, anxiety/anxious thoughts, probably really inaccurate lawyer terms idk man.

Summary: Harvey has taken notice of the hardest working first year associate, Claudia Martin. Despite being petrified of the infamous closer, she tried her hardest to not let it get the best of her. Harvey has a few ideas on how to increase her confidence.

Tagging : @maxdamax @ashcosmo @rosedpetal (This is basically just dedicated to you three so I hope you enjoy it the most!)

~~~~~

“Alright, everybody stop,” Harvey announced. I put down my file and sat ramrod straight in my seat, eyes darting at the other associates as they put theirs away too. “We have been working on this case now for four hours and no one has brought me a single thing that I can use as evidence. Now, if someone doesn’t put a file in my hand in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose. And those of you who don’t want to get stuck doing whatever bullshit Louis is going to punish you with, you better come up with something fast.”

I looked at the blue file in my hands, heart hammering in my chest as I saw Harvey leave out of the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, I pushed up out of my chair and followed after him. 

Circling around the office a few times, I made up reasons and excuses not to go see him. It was stupid, I knew that, but I didn’t want to bring him something and then immediately be called an idiot for bringing him shit he already knew.

I saw how he treated Mike. And Louis. Even Donna from time to time.

There were two things you did in this world: die, and respect Harvey Specter. As a first year associate in this god awful firm, you didn’t dare break his trust or waste his time. 

“Is Mr. Specter available for a moment?” I asked Donna. I hadn’t talked to her much, but I’ve heard her speak to Harvey a few times around the office. She was someone I wished I knew better, someone I wished I could ask for help, but I didn’t want to bother her either. 

“Yeah, he’s in his office going over the statements from the mock trial,” Donna smiled, pointing over her shoulder. I nodded, willing my feet to move in the direction of his office. I knocked before pushing the glass door opening, keeping my head down. 

“Claudia, now is really not a good-” “I have something for you,” we spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back and-” “Is that for the mock trial?” He asked, and I nodded. “Hand it over.”

I placed the file in his outstretched hand as he came around to sit on the corner of the desk. My hands were trembling with dread as his eyes raked over the words on the page. The lines in his forehead creased, eyes narrowing.

“Claudia, this is brilliant,” he had a very confused expression when his eyes met mine. “Where did you find this?”

“Well, I figured if Mrs. Thompson said that she didn’t pay her rent that month, because there wasn't money in her account, then there had to be some kind of a trail. Some clue. There was, but it was only an amount, and it didn’t say which account it came from. When I did some digging, I found out that she uses Capital One banking and when I looked at her bank statement-

“There was a draw for the exact amount that Mr. Saros used to bet on that game,” Harvey finished before I could get the words out of my mouth. “Claudia, this is genius. Come on, we’ve got a case to win.”

____

“...Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this compelling evidence reveals that Mr. Saros was in fact fraudulent and used his ex- wife’s funds to continue gambling. Thank you.” Harvey closed the argument, taking a seat besides Donna, who represented the client. Jessica looked to the opposing counsel as if to say ‘do you have anything?’. Louis had nothing. Not a sliver of hope. 

“Then it is decided, Mr. Saros will be charged with a misdemeanor and face a prison sentence of one year in county jail.”

With a crack of the gavel, the case was over, and applause rang through the office for Harvey and his team. I had a tiny smile on my face as I left the conference room to go back to the bullpen. There was an endless stack of reports to run, motions to file… it never ended when it came to Louis. And now that I was on the winning team I’m sure that-

“Claudia, where are you going?” Harvey called out. 

“Oh, I was just going back to my desk. Why, is there something that you need?” God I hope he didn’t need anything. I was sweating bullets by just standing next to him. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your first win,” he gave a small smirk. His brown eyes were sharp, but not as intense as they usually were. 

I flushed, “Well, it’s not really a real case.”

“No, it’s not. But seeing what you did today, how would you like one of your own?” He extended a blue file back to me, a stack of papers covered inside. I could feel the gaze of the other associates on me as I hesitantly took the file. 

“Mr. Spector, I’m honored, but I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” he cut me off. I bit my tongue. “You are a lawyer, Claudia. And you clearly have an outside the box approach to your tactics which we don’t see very often. I haven’t seen someone able to compile and order evidence like you since Mike came to work for me a decade ago. I’ll be supervising your case, you report to me with any questions you might have, but otherwise this is all you.”

My first case… given to me by Harvey Specter himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. I flipped through the file, seeing that this wasn’t just some pro-bono case. This was against a big time client and the SEC. The SEC meant Sean Cayhill, who, from my understanding, was already on the rocks with this firm and has been for a very long time. 

“You can thank me when you win it,” he extended his hand, and I shook it, hoping that they weren’t sweaty. “Look over the file tonight and come ready to swing tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s hand was warm, and significantly larger than mine. Everything about him was bigger than I was, especially his ego. And his personality. Lord help me…

My nod was the only confirmation that I would meet him there. As he walked out, I met some of the eyes of the associates and they scowled at me. At the file in my hand. At the fact that I hadn’t said a word the whole meeting today and then came up with the winning piece of evidence. And now I was working alongside Harvey. 

The infamous closer at Pearson-Specter-Litt. 

____

“Claudia, what’s wrong?” Donna startled me so bad I dropped my coffee on the floor with a shout. “Something’s really wrong.”

“Oh, it’s just you Donna,” I sighed in relief. I could feel the coffee seeping into my shirt and chilling against my skin. “Great.”

“What has you so skittish?” She asked, worry gracing her features. 

I didn’t want to admit that it was because of Harvey and the fact that I had to work alongside him on this case. I hadn’t been able to sleep much last night because I was up thinking about him, wondering how he’d handle this case himself. What he would do, how he would do it. Sure, I admired the guy, how could I not? He was a perfectionist and always found a way. I wish I had half the confidence he did. 

“It’s Harvey, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that? Nevermind, you’re Donna. But… Yes it’s because of Harvey.”

“Did he say something to you yesterday after you guys won the mock trial? I saw he handed you a case file, what was it all about?” “That's precisely what’s wrong,” I groaned, bending over and picking up the dropped paper cup. “He gave me a case of my own as a 'thank you' for finding the evidence that won the trial yesterday. I’m terrified of him, Donna. I-I don’t know how to act around someone with that kind of personality. He is so abrasive and forward and harsh and-”

“A total jackass?” She finished for me. 

I chuckled nervously, “I’m afraid to even think of that word in association with his name. I mean, how am I supposed to work alongside someone that intense? Plus, I’m a first year associate, how am I supposed to compete with what he as to offer and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. No need to get yourself all worked up, Claudia. Harvey is a lot of bark, and only some bite.” “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say is that there is some heart inside that cold dead chest of his,” she smiled, a genuine, friendly smile. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him give someone a case after a mock trial. Not even Mike. Up until yesterday I’m not even sure he knew you existed.” “Wish it was still that way,” I rolled my eyes, folding my arms against my chest.

“Claudia, listen to me. Yes, Harvey can be rude and obnoxious, but he is the best damn attorney in the state of New York. He didn’t get to the top by being nice and sweet. He was impressed with your willingness to bring him the evidence yourself. Now he knows he can count on you to get things done in a pinch when he needs them.” “I had that evidence for an hour,” I emphasized. “I was trying to build up the courage to give it to him long before he came and ripped us to shreds for not having anything. I just didn’t want him to think that it was a stupid idea or to be in a bad mood and turn me away because I definitely wouldn’t have done it at all after that. I don’t know how to deal with someone like him, Donna. What am I supposed to do? I should just give the case to Griffin or Thomas-”

“No no no. You are definitely not going to do that. That will only show Harvey that you aren’t serious about becoming a lawyer.”

“I am serious about becoming a lawyer.” I was mildly offended that she’d even say that to me. “Of course I want to be a lawyer, it's all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And Harvey will only know that if you work on this case with him.”

I inhaled and exhaled, leaning my head back and looking at the ceiling. “Fine.” “That’s my girl,” she grinned. “Now, come on. I have an extra dress you can borrow because I am sure as hell not letting you walk around covered in coffee stains.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t think what you have will fit me.” Donna jerked her head over her shoulder and I followed to a closet in the back of the file room. When she opened it, it was like a full blown wardrobe. There were dresses and shoes and purses and hair supplies lining the walls. “Woah…” “Don’t ever underestimate the power of Donna,” she winked before rummaging through the office closet. 

After searching for a few moments, she pulled out a lovely royal blue dress that was, as she hinted at, a perfect size for me. How she knew that it would fit, I’ll never know. But I did know that I wouldn’t ever underestimate the power of Donna ever again. She’s magical. 

“Now, what do you say?”

“Thanks, Donna,” I smiled sweetly. 

“Actually I was looking for ‘you are an ethereal goddess who makes all my dreams and wishes come true’ but that works too,” I knew she was teasing, and I gave her a small shove of her shoulder. “Go get dressed, come back here and let me do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with the way it is?” I turned to look in the mirror on the back of the door and grimaced. “Oh…” My messy curls from yesterday looked more like a rat wrapped around a bunch of fishing line.

“Hurry up, Harvey will be back soon and I want you in that office, file in hand, ready to go when he gets here.”

I quickly shuffled to the bathroom and changed into the form fitting, very Donna-style dress. It didn’t look half bad, and I actually somewhat tolerated the dress. Normally I’d find a pants suit far more flattering and business appropriate than a dress, strictly because of the over sexualized nature of women's business clothing. 

I hate the corporate world. 

I did one more glance in the mirror before heading back to the break room to grab the file. I must’ve set it on the counter while I was pouring my coffee. Hopefully it wasn’t ruined. 

There was no blue file on the counter. Or the table. Or on top of the microwave or the fridge. I even checked inside the microwave. Nothing. It was nowhere. Oh shit.

“Do you want curls or for me to straighten-” “It’s gone,” there was a clear panic in my voice. “The file, it’s not in the break room, Donna. It’s gone.”

“How can it be gone?” 

“I-I don’t- I don’t know I thought I set it on the counter while I was getting coffee and it’s not there.” I felt a cold sweat break out onto my skin. My forehead was damp to the touch. 

“Okay, take a deep breath. Let’s go look again and then check your desk. Maybe someone found it and put it there, or maybe left it with me or Gretchen. It didn’t grow a pair of legs and walk away, we’ll find it.”

“I’m gonna get fired,” my voice was almost a silent whisper, tears building behind my eyes, prickling my nose. “Donna, Harvey is going to kill me.”

“Worst comes to worst we get a new file, Harvey will never know.”

“No no no he will because he had notes of his own on the papers in there.” “Shit,” she swore. “Let’s just go look.”

We speed walked through the bullpen, earning some odd looks as we practically sprinted through the office. She checked the break room for me again, and I went to my cubicle. Nothing, not a blue folder anywhere to be seen. 

Donna came up empty handed in the break room, checking with Gretchen on her way by Louis’s office. We met at her desk. Nothing. 

“Fuck fuck fuck this is bad.” My hands were shaking, heart thundering against my ribs. I felt faint, like I could’ve fallen to the floor at any moment. “Donna, what am I gonna do?”

“Maybe somebody mistook it as their own file,” Donna blurted out after a moment of silence. She took off towards the bullpen and I followed after her, right on her heels. She marched through there, unapologetic as she invaded the other associates' work spaces. 

Still nothing. No blue file labeled ‘Devlyn Inc. Vs. Fulton Dynamics’. 

“Where the hell could it be?” She murmured to herself. 

“What are you guys looking for?” An associate, Benson, asked. 

“Oh, you know, a leprechaun pissing pieces of gold,” Donna’s voice was full of sarcasm. “Claudia set down a file in the break room for three minutes and forty-two seconds and now it’s mysteriously disappeared. Know anything about it?”

“No,” he pressed his lips together. “Not really.” “Not really?”

“There are a million case files floating around this office, you really expect me to pay attention to every single one and where it’s going?” “As an associate of this firm, yes, actually. I do. Now I want to know if you know who took her file and I want to know right now. You have one chance to tell the truth, otherwise the bottom of my stiletto and your ass are gonna be great friends.”

Benson swallowed, “I truly don’t know. I’m sorry, I can keep an eye out for it. Is it the one Harvey gave Claudia yesterday?”

“Yes, and he needs it in twenty minutes,” Donna said, an undeniable urgency in her voice. “If you find it, do the right thing and give it back or so help me god you will find yourself jobless faster than you can get down on your knees and beg me to let you keep it.”

Donna beckoned me for her to follow and I did, my heart sinking and sinking into my stomach. It had to be around here somewhere. It had to be. 

I did another lap around, rummaging through all the drawers in the desk and thensome. Still nowhere. How could I be so stupid? So irresponsible? This is exactly why I didn’t want to take this case in the first place.

Despite all Harvey and Donna said the other day, I’m not ready to be a lawyer. Not really, anyway. I know I have my license and I’ve passed the Bar. I’ve done all the hard work, but this was… this was hell. A living nightmare. Not only was this firm constantly on the verge of collapsing, but it seemed like I made new enemies every other week by simply doing my job quickly, quietly, and efficiently. 

I don’t know how or why I piss everyone off all the time. I just do my work, I quite literally don’t bother another soul in this building unless I have to. Occasionally I’d ask Donna a question that she could ask Harvey or Mike to see what they thought about it. I’d never speak to them directly, just through her which didn’t make me feel good, either. 

I’d eat by myself, working through my meal. It took me two months of being here to finally use the break room because I was too nervous about taking the last tea bag or power bar from the cabinet. I just took a disposable coffee cup and filled it with tap water. And then kept that cup because I didn’t want to take the others because I figured other people needed them for coffee and I didn’t want them to be all gone-

“Claudia,” Donna interrupted my mild panic. “Harvey wants to see you.”

Oh no… no no no not yet god please not yet. I swallowed, or tried to at least; there was no moisture in my mouth whatsoever. I stood, knees trembling as I smoothed out the skirt of my dress.

Before I went on, she ran a brush through my hair, taking out the knots. It lay sleek and flat against my shoulders, a major difference from the low bun I always kept it in. My hair always made me so hot; I never understood how anyone could get anything done with it swaying in their face all day.

I could see him in his office, eyes staring us down as we rounded the corner. His gaze was locked on me and I felt my body tighten and constrict around a breath. Harvey was sitting on the corner of his desk, fingers toying with the cufflink on his left wrist.. 

“Hey, look at me,” Donna spoke softly, hands coming to my shoulders. “Give Harvey the truth, and nothing but. He will understand, if not, I will make him.”

I nodded.

When I pushed open his glass door, tension was thick in the air. My palms were clammy, still shaking. My mind was going a million miles a second. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Specter?” I asked, trying to keep my cool despite almost throwing up. 

“Please tell me you have some good news about the case that I gave you,” he sighed, pushing off the desk and standing in front of me. 

Welp… here goes my career. 

“Actually, Mr. Specter there is something I need to-”

“You were looking for me, Harvey?” I whipped my head over my shoulder, seeing Griffin knocking on the door. 

“Yes, Griffin come on please, shut the door as well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I can come back and we can discuss the details of-”

“No, Claudia. Stay for a moment,” Harvey gave a firm nod, full attention slipping from me to my fellow associate. “Griffin, I see you have something for me.”

“Yes,” Griffin threw a wicked grin at me before handing over a blue file. I could feel the sick rise in my throat. That was my blue file. “I would just like to go over the details of my case with you to get your input.”

“Your case?” Harvey questioned, sharing a glance between me and Griffin. “Where did you get this? Who the hell gave you a case?”

“That’s not important. I was hoping we could actually-”

“No,” Harvey cut him off. “It’s very important, actually. Because I can recall that just last night this exact file, with my handwriting, was in Claudia’s hands. So whatever act you’re putting on, I suggest you cut the bullshit right now.” “Okay I found it in the breakroom,” Griffin rolled his eyes. “Maybe if she were a little more responsible, which she clearly isn’t because she left her documents in a public space, then she’d be more equipped to handle a real case. Like a real lawyer should.”

I could see the muscle in Harvey’s jaw clench and contract several times. 

“Claudia, care to explain how our case got in this thief’s hands?” “Thief?” “I had spilled coffee,” I started, taking a deep breath when Griffin cut me a gaze so threatening I almost crumbled to my knees. “I spilled coffee and Donna offered a change of clothes for me. I didn’t even notice I left it. When I came back it was gone.”

“Well, I think that about settles it. How about you get out of here before you cause yourself a real problem. And If I ever catch wind of you stealing another one of Claudia’s files, or anyones for that matter, I will personally make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he ground his teeth, refusing to look at either of us. 

“Now get your ass back to your desk and pray to whoever you believe in that I don’t have you fired and disbarred for the shit you pulled today. Get the hell out of my sight.”

Griffin was out of there far faster than he walked in, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. I let out a shaky breath. 

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked me. “I’m so sorry,” I completely ignored his question. “Griffin was right, I was extremely irresponsible and shouldn’t have let that file out of my sight. If you want to give it to another associate I completely understand. Again, I am so sorry and understand that there are consequences to my actions for letting such important information go missing-”

“Claudia, slow down,” he eased. “It’s okay, you are not the one I am pissed at.”

“You’re not?” I didn’t understand why. “But- but I completely misplaced a case.”

“No,” Harvey shook his head. “No Griffin is the only one to blame. You spilled coffee, went to go get cleaned up, and he stole it. He should know better. And seeing that he clearly doesn’t, I know I’m right in my decision on who to bring onto this case with me.”

I could feel my blush creep up my neck. “I appreciate that, Mr. Specter.”

“Of course, Claudia. And please, call me Harvey.”

I just gave a subtle nod, taking the file from his hand. I followed his gaze from my face to my hair where he took a strand between his fingers, letting the end curl around his digit.

“I’ve never seen your hair so long,” He added, dropping it from his grip. My breath was caught in my throat. Words were vacant shadows in my mind as he surveyed the dress I was wearing. “I bet that’s Donna’s, isn’t it.”

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “She wouldn’t let me walk around with coffee stains all day.”

“It looks good on you,” He complimented. Harvey’s eyes, again, went from my head to my toes. There was nothing I could do but fall victim to his… I didn’t know what to think of how he looked at me. Couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. 

“Time for the case then?” I needed to get his attention off of me. Now. I was flushed and losing my mind. Harvey didn’t really seem to acknowledge my words at all. 

“Sure.” Was all he gave me.

____

I barely escaped with the skin on my teeth after our consultation. No, he didn’t rip me to shreds, but he would not take his eyes off of me for even one second. It was so… so potent I couldn’t focus. It was almost lunch when Donna came in and saved my ass. 

I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

“So, how did it go?” Donna asked as I sat in my cubicle. When she came around, or maybe she just followed me, I didn’t know. 

I put my face in my hands. “It was a disaster, Donna. I was a stuttering mess and I kept forgetting everything I was going to say because he would not stop staring at me. Like, he would not stop.” “Well, you aren’t exactly ugly, Claudia,” she snickered. 

“Donna, this isn’t funny,” I groaned. “I’m being completely frank with you.”

“How can I be expected to work alongside him when I can’t stand being in an enclosed space with him for more than four minutes without turning into a bumbling idiot? It’s like he enjoys watching me get flustered.”

“Claudia, I think you are making this a bigger deal in your head than it actually is.” Donna came around and sat on my desk, crossing a knee over the other. “And besides, Harvey understands what it’s like to be a new associate. It can be nerve wracking, especially when you have Louis breathing down your neck.”

I chuckled gravely, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” “Why can’t you just tell me?” I whined as she stood up. 

“Because I am the Yoda to your Luke Skywalker. Wise you are, patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

“I am not a Jedi who is going on a self discovery journey to start using the Force,” I countered. “I am a nervous wreck who can’t handle being alone with Harvey Specter.”

“Then you need to get over it because Harvey is not going to berate you on your first case!” She argued.

“Did you not hear what he said to Griffin? Or-or to Thomas when he suggested that we consider taking the deal that Mr. Saros had offered during the mock trial? He cracked them wide open and left them to bleed. What about with Mike? How many times has he almost sent him to the curb for not being able to find what Harvey needs?”

“Mike is different and you know it,” Donna lowered her voice. “Plus he always says shit like that to light a fire under his ass. Harvey can see that you are nervous to work with him. He isn’t going to hang you out to dry, I promise. He stood up for you, Claudia, in a way I’ve only seen him do with me and Mike. You know how much he cares about us.”

“Well, yeah of course. But you’ve worked for him for fifteen years and Mike almost seven now. You have a relationship with him and established trust. How am I supposed to have that with him when I can’t even look him in the eye?” “It comes with time, Claudia,” she rubbed my shoulder. “But if there is anything I can say to get you to trust the process, Harvey is loyal, almost to a fault sometimes. He will stop at nothing to make sure the people he cares about are taken care of. I can see that he wants that for you because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Griffin stole the file or not.”

Donna walked away after smoothing down some of the hair on my head, disappearing behind the corner. I let out a huff. She was right, I was being a little over dramatic.

Harvey had a reputation, though. How was I supposed to know if- no. This is unrelated to anything going on. Sort of. I just need to focus on the case. 

I pulled out the files and looked over them again, compiling all the notes into one space for easy recall. As I was looking through it, I found a loophole in one of the contracts that unbound our client from having to give up half of her company.

____

I paced up and down Harvey’s office, tapping my file in my hand as I went through all my key points in my head for today’s trial. I needed to lure, or bait rather, the witnesses into my questions to get them to admit to trespassing on our clients property. We had everything we needed; security footage, witnesses to testify on our behalf… Everything was all lined up. I just needed to blow it. 

I could do this, right? I had only spent all night doing a fake run of how today would go in my mirror, but then again anything could happen when I got into that courtroom today. Maybe they had another leg on us, maybe there was another witness they had to testify against us.

God dammit, if I screwed up today I wouldn’t get another case. Probably not ever again unless I packed up all my shit and moved to Iowa. 

Having Harvey there didn’t make me feel better. I thought it would, but as we worked together I realized he only made me more nervous. I couldn’t help it, he just looked at me this way I couldn't describe. It was incredibly annoying, I don’t know how Mike does it. Or Donna. Or Jessica or Louis or-

Jesus focus, Claudia. I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs. Just focus focus focus. I’ve been over it a million times. I could do this. I didn’t have a choice, court was in less than half an hour. 

“Claudia,” Harvey ripped me from my concentration, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you. Are you ready for today?” “Not really,” I admitted. “I am kind of freaking out, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he eased me to sit next to him. “What are you so nervous for?”

I chuckled, “Everything.” “Okay,” he gave a half-hearted laugh. “What specifically? Just name one thing that you are worried about.”

“I don’t know- forgetting cross examination questions? Screwing up the order so it doesn’t lead him into our trap? A billion things could go wrong and I’m not sure what to do if I freeze or stutter. What if the jury or the opposing counsel laughs at me?”

“That is not gonna happen, Claudia,” Harvey reassured. “You have prepared some amazing questions, you’ve got this in the bag.” “You know, I much prefer to stay in the background and do research. I don’t think I’m cut out to handle court stuff this is-”

“Hey,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He grabbed my trembling hand and held it between his own. My body went completely rigid, chest puffing in and out with heavy breaths. “You are going to do great today, I know it, Claudia. You are prepared, capable, and even more prepared. This is always what you’ve wanted to do, isn’t it?” I just nodded. Over the past week and a half of working together, I had told him what made me want to be a lawyer in the first place. About how I saw my best friends’ parents' business completely ruined by a group of robbers and their insurance did nothing to help them.

It made me so sad for them, made me feel so sick that I knew I had to do something to help them. I did my research and then brought it to them. They brought it to their lawyer and ended up getting a settlement for far more than they were ever gonna get. All because of me and my discovery that I made on my computer when I was thirteen.

“Okay. Think back to teenage Claudia for a moment. I bet she dreamed of being in this exact position. Where she can help people and give the sorry bastards who put them there a taste of their own medicine. Well, Claudia, here you are. Your very first case. Your very first helping hand. Your very first entrance into the world of the law. And you are going to absolutely shake up those witnesses, blindside them so hard they won’t have a choice but to tell the truth. This is your moment, Claudia’s moment. Don’t let fear take it from you, okay?” Again, all I could do was nod. And think about how warm his hand was in mine. We stood and he let go, leading me out of the office and down to his car waiting for him in front of the building. Ray, his driver, greeted me sweetly as I settled into the back seat with Harvey.

I flipped through my cards over and over and over on our way to the court house. Harvey snatched them from me. “Hey!” “You know the material,” he gave me a pointed look, sliding them in the breast pocket of his jacket. 

“I know but-” “There is no but,” he shrugged. “Have just one ounce of confidence, Claudia. Trust yourself.”

All of whatever I had been reading was swept from my mind as he placed his palm on my knee. I hadn’t realized it was bouncing up and down until he pressed against it to stop its movements. I tried to sit still, but I just started picking at my nails instead. 

“Claudia,” he said in a stern, commanding voice. I stopped my fidgeting, laying my hands flat in my lap. “Good, just relax. Everything will be alright.”

Highly doubtful. He was playing a dangerous game, and we both knew it. But neither of us said anything as he left his hand there the entire car ride. 

____

“After the conclusion of today’s trial, the jury here finds Fulton Dynamic guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering with intent to steal inside information.”

I felt the tension deflate from my body, eyes fluttering shut as the judges whacked the wooden disk on his stand. He said something, but I couldn’t even hear over the roar in my ear. Holy shit we won…

“Claudia,” Harvey shook my shoulder. I snapped my eyes to him. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. 

I rested my head back against the seat, eyes focused on the window outside so I wouldn’t throw up. Man did I hate getting car sick every time I looked at my phone when in a car. The city lights were bright and fierce, unrelenting all hours of the day. Why on god's green earth did I decide to move to New York? Out of all the places I could’ve gone to work as an associate in this state, why did I choose the city? I hate the city. I’ve always hated the-

“Yoo-hoo,” I heard from my side. I lifted my exhausted head and gave Harvey a look. “Did you hear anything I said?”

‘Oh… n-no I’m sorry,” I stiffened, giving him my full attention. “What were you talking about?”

“I was just saying that you did a great job today, Claudia. You kicked ass in there,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Mr. Specter.” I just let out a sigh.

“You don’t think so?”

“Not really.” Anxiety swirled in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes and nose. 

“Why not? Claudia, you gave one of the best cross examinations I think I’ve ever seen. And the way you handled Cayhill? Defended Devlyn from those accusations? It was masterful.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Silence hung between us. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “You did great today.”

“I was a complete idiot when I was defending Devlyn. I was way too animated and let my emotions get the best of me. For Christ's sake Judge Peterson gave me a warning.”

“I want you to take a guess at how many warnings judges give me when I’m the one in there leading the case.”

“You’re Harvey Specter, of course you… get a lot.”

“You right, I do get a lot. But that isn’t a bad thing. And I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you-” “That’s the problem,” I snapped. “You have been doing this for seventeen years and I’ve been doing it for ten days. I’ve barely got my toe in the water and I’ve already shown other lawyers and firms that I can’t keep my cool.”

“Claudia, you are passionate. I don’t see that as a huge problem in the courtroom. There needs to be a level of pushback from attorneys because if you, of all people on someone’s legal team, aren’t going to fight back, then you might as well be fired. Because you are the only person some people have hope for. You have to be aggressive and assertive sometimes to get the job done.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I am going to teach you,” Harvey’s words completely short circuited my brain. 

“What do you mean?”

“Claudia, I think you’re going to be a great lawyer, even without my help. I know you struggle with confidence and that is all I want to help you with. To get some leverage over these other associates so you can climb that ladder.”

“I can’t just magically pull a wagon load of confidence out of my ass overnight,” I shook my head, folding my hands tightly together. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

The car pulled up outside the building and Harvey let out a sigh. Great. Now I’ve pissed him off, too. That’s exactly what I needed to do was piss off Harvey Specter after a great win. In all honesty, it had been a good day. I didn’t fumble the ball like I was going to, but this was completely taking away from them.

My door opened. Harvey looked down at me from outside and extended his hand. When did he get out of the car? I hesitantly took it, getting out and shutting the door behind me.

“Claudia,” Harvey started. “You need to learn to let go. To put the bad moments behind you.” “I can’t.” “Which is why you and I are going to go back up there and have a drink. Get to know each other a little bit so we can start building that trust. I know I intimidate you, and I try like hell to be as calm as I can around you, but one day Louis or Jessica or Donna is going to come into my office and give me some bad news. You might be there and see how I handle it. You might not, but I don’t want you to be afraid of that happening to you.”

“And how can I be sure that if I come up with a plan one day, and it falls through and goes to shit, you won’t flip out on me or fire me or-or-”

“Because I won’t. I give you my word. But I need yours as well.”

“Need my word, why?” “I need to know that you won’t think I’m a monster if you’re in the room and I lose my cool.”

I’ve never thought Harvey was a monster to begin with. I’ve always admired his ability to shut off his feelings and get the dirty work done. Of course I’ve seen that side of him a time or two, but never catastrophic like some of the stories I’ve heard from the third and fourth years.

“You have my word.”

The elevator chime brought me out of my spiraling momentarily to walk to Harvey’s office. The firm was empty, not even Jessica was here. He led me to his office and got to work on the drinks. My eyes wandered from him to the view through the window. This was the only part of the city I might’ve let myself enjoy from time to time. 

“Donna was right, you do have a lot of music,” I noted, taking in the wall filled with vinyl records. She mentioned it when I was caught with my head buried in a book in the library, some random Beatles song blasting so loud she could hear it down the hall. 

“You’re just now noticing that?” “Well, I haven’t exactly been in your office for anything other than to work on this case so… no I guess I never really noticed.”

“You can pick something to listen to, if you’d like.” He was gonna let me touch his records? This place was like a museum; autographed basketballs and baseballs, art hanging on the wall. “Or you can just stare at it.”

I flushed, picking up a record at random and handing it to him. In exchange, he handed me a glass a third full of whisky. I smelled it, it kind of made me scrunch my nose. I didn’t drink often; most of the time I was too tired to even feed myself let alone consume alcohol.

When I took a sip, I actually didn’t mind the taste. It was smooth, simple in flavor and didn’t burn too bad. Quite nice, for all it’s worth. 

There was a couch along the wall of records that I fixed myself on, Harvey taking the time to remove his tie and lay it across his desk before sitting across from me on one of the chairs. I toed off my pumps and set them on the floor beside the table. God damn did my feet hurt. 

“Do you do this with all the new associates?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs while I took up the couch. 

“I mean, when you think they’re ready, do you give them a case and help them get their foot in the door?”

“No, no I don’t,” Harvey admitted. “Louis is in charge of the associates. You know that.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “But I just thought that there was some deal between you guys: you have a mock trial with the new associates, whichever team wins gets to give a case to the best performing associate.”

Harvey laughed. I didn’t even know he knew how to do that. “Oh, Claudia, you really are that innocent, aren’t you?” My throat collapsed on itself. What did I say?

“Relax,” he set his glass down, swallowing his sip. “Yes, we do a fake trial every year for the first years, but we don’t just give them cases when they win. No one in their right mind would give a first year associate, fresh out of law school, the time of day. Normally they have to prove themself down the line, after years and years of loyalty to this firm to get their first case. And it’s usually pretty easy pro-bono shit.” I had to stop and think for a moment before I could speak. “You keep saying normally, usually… What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Claudia, is that in my decade plus of working here, I’ve never seen an associate who busts their ass quite like you. Who takes every ounce of bullshit from Louis and turns it into the Mona Lisa.”

“I think that everyone does tha-”

“No,” he cut me off. A stern look in his eyes, lips in that crooked line. “No they don’t. Not like you. You put your head down, get into it, and don't come up until you’ve found what you were looking for and thensome. You go above and beyond every time. You don’t go to Louis begging for more work, he brings it to you, and only you, because he knows he can count on you. Which means I know I can count on you, too.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I kind of just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. To make me evaporate and never see the light of day again. 

“Thank you, Mr. Specter. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I am not very good in the spotlight. I don’t do well with… all of this.”

“I know, but I’m glad that you are trying anyway,” his smile was very charming. In a way that made his eyes crinkle. “So, besides giving a hell of a cross examination, what else do you like to do for ‘fun’?” 

“Well, for starters, your definition of fun, and mine, are going to be very different. I am a very solitary person, I don’t need to be around people to have a good time. Most of the time I prefer to go do things by myself because I find when I ask, people already have plans, or they’re faking having plans so they don’t have to hang out with me. I can’t tell what is the truth and what isn’t so I stopped asking… that was totally not what you asked. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“Go ahead, talk about whatever you want. I won’t judge you.”

A small part of me believed that he wouldn’t. A tiny, microscopic part. 

“There is nothing like the feeling of getting lost in a good book. I’m a complete sucker for a cliche rom-com where the bad guy gets the good girl.”

Harvey let out a dramatic puff of air, laughing into the space around us. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” I chuckled. 

“I’m not, it’s just lame. Come on, what do you really like to do for fun?”

“That is what I really like to do for fun,” I let my hand fall to the cushion beside me. “I told you, I am not a very interesting person. I don’t have time for a whole lot of anything other than working here so… Most of my hobbies have been put on the back burner through grad school and working nonstop.”

“If you could be any type of sea creature, what would you be?” 

“What does that literally have anything to do with anything we were just talking about?”

“It doesn’t,” Harvey smiled. “I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know, a jellyfish?”

“Really?” He questioned, one brow rising higher than the other. “I’d be a great white shark.”

“Of course you would,” I snickered. “Harvey Specter, the Great White of New York. If you wanted to be a real predator that no one fucks with, you should be an Orca.” “A whale?” “The killer whale,” I corrected. “They put sharks in the obituary for fun, you know. They sink yachts for fun, too. If you really want to be on top, be an Orca. No one in their right minds fucks with an Orca. They’re intelligent and not afraid of anything.”

“Aww, you think I’m intelligent and not afraid of anything?” Harvey mewled. 

“Well, duh you’re Harvey Specter.” Everyone knew it. Harvey was the baddest cat in the sky, you didn’t approach him without giving him your respect. Cause if you didn’t, a whole boat load of shit will be coming your way. 

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there is more to Harvey Specter than the title my name comes with.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Harvey Specter, badass attorney and the best closer New York has ever seen, killer whale of the corporate world.” Harvey couldn’t keep his laugh inside, sending the rumbling noise into the office. I made Harvey laugh, and I have for the past however many minutes. 

“You left out the part where I’m devastatingly attractive and charming,” his smirk was nothing short of either of those things. Devastating and charming. It cut through me like a hot knife. I knew I blushed because his eyes went to my cheeks and that spot at the base of my throat that always gives it away. 

My fingers tapped away anxiously at the glass in my hands, fingernails rattling against its crystal surface. 

“It’s late I should… I should go.” Great, now I’m flustered and stuttering. As quickly as I could, I threw my heels back on and reached for my coat. 

“Claudia-”

“Thank you for the drink, and for all your help on the case,” I hurried out, trying to not let my voice break and give away all the things I wanted to say. “Have a good night, Mr. Specter.”

“Claudia.” His voice commanded, stopping my movements. I held still on the couch, drinking in his stare. “Stay.”

“Mr. Specter I really should-”

“Harvey,” he bit out a little harshly. “Stop calling me Mr. Specter.”

“I’m sorry. Harvey, it’s late.” He just nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “And?”

“It’s been a long day and I think we should both go and get some much deserved rest,” I spoke quietly, resuming my nail picking from earlier. 

“Do you really want to leave?” 

It was such a loaded question. Yes, absolutely I wanted to fucking leave. But there was something deep in his eyes, deep in his voice that made me want to stay and explore. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I wanted to look away. It was impossible. 

“I don’t think you do,” he answered for me. “I told you I was going to help build your confidence.”

You never told me how, jackass, I thought. I swallowed, nothing going down, but I did it anyway. Harvey threw back what was left of his whisky and sat back, knees far apart, fingers drawing patterns on the arm rests of the chair. 

“Come here, Claudia.” What? “You heard me.”

Shit, I must’ve said it out loud. If I thought my heart was racing before, it sure as hell was halfway around the world now. Legs trembling, I rose. Why the fuck did I stand up? It wasn’t too late to make a beeline for the door and pray he didn’t catch up. Then again, it wasn’t like I could escape him, we worked in the same fucking building. On the same floor. 

When I came to a halt, a few feet in front of him, he held out his hand, palm up. As I put my fingers in his grasp, there was nothing I could do. Harvey yanked me to him, other hand catching my hip as I collapsed into him with a yelp. 

“Straddle my thigh,” he ordered. Something about the way his voice went down my spine made me obey. With extreme hesitance, I moved one leg on each side of his, lowering myself. I didn’t dare put all of my weight down. And he knew it because his hands came up to my hips and forced me all the way. 

“Sir, what are you-”

“Do not call me Sir unless you are ready to deal with those consequences.” His fingers dug into the exposed skin on my thigh, eyes full of his pupils. 

“Harvey, what are you doing? We shouldn’t be doing… whatever this is,” I tried to defuse the situation as best I could, but there was such a seriousness written in his features I wasn’t sure I could sway him. Maybe I didn’t want to, either. 

“How does it feel?” He asked.

I blinked, “H-How does what feel, Harvey?”

He smiled at the use of his name on my tongue. I hadn’t really ever called him by his first name.

“To have one of the most powerful men in the city underneath you, bent to your will?”

When I did look away from his face, to where I was seated on his lap, I felt my stomach start to twist and mold into something new. I did have Harvey Specter underneath me. Granted, at his own command, but still…

“And before you even think about it, no. I don’t do this with all the other associates.”

“Then why me?” My voice was a barely there whisper, gaze averted from his until his thumb caught my chin and made me look into his eyes. 

“Because I see something else in you that I don’t think anyone realizes. And I know the world will never see it unless you start believing in yourself and take control of the cards you’ve been dealt.”

I took a moment to steady my breath, and my uncontrollable thoughts. “And you think that whatever this is… you think this is going to help with that?”

Harvey shrugged, “I am in no way forcing you to be here, am I?”

My blush came creeping back. Of course he wasn’t forcing me to be here. I shook my head, my face just inches from his. I felt oddly relaxed under his touch.

“And I am not stopping you from getting up and leaving right now. It’s your choice, Claudia, but I think you want to be here, on my lap. Because if you didn’t, you would’ve already left.”

God dammit I hated this cocky son of a bitch. Was he right? Yes. Of fucking course he was. But the way his mouth curled up was dangerous. This was dangerous, and utterly a horrible idea. Was I really about to sit here, on one of my bosses thighs? He did look pretty good under me, shirt unbuttoned the top three, cologne wafting into the air every time he moved his head. 

Harvey’s hands came back to my hips as he leaned up.

“So, are you going to get up and leave? Or, are you going to ride my thigh while I tell you how pretty you look?” His breath tickled my ear, his lips trailing the space just below. I couldn’t help the shudder that went through my whole body, and I knew Harvey felt it because he cooed.

As I adjusted myself, I couldn’t help the movement, his breath on my skin was making me flutter, Harvey moved my hips back and forth. I felt the air take from my throat. The material of his pants against my core wracked through me. So unexpectedly I found myself pressing closer to him so I wouldn’t fall off. 

“That’s it, Claudia…” His voice was sickly sweet with praise. Harvey moved to fiddle with the front of his pants, and when I went to look, he caught my chin. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Harvey this… this isn’t the best idea,” I kept trying to reason. Not necessarily with him, but with myself. Obviously he wanted it, so why was I trying to convince myself to go?

“So?”

“This could have some serious implications if we don’t-”

He laughed against my neck, placing a few kisses right over where I always blushed. “Claudia, Claudia, Claudia. This is exactly what I have been talking about. You are wound far too tightly with concern. You need to let go, need to be out of control with something in your life.”

“Let me guess, that something is going to be you?”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said. “Look Claudia, I know we don’t exactly always see eye to eye on things, and we sure as hell haven’t really worked together, but that doesn’t make me less sure about this. About you. If you are having doubts, and this isn’t what you want, then walk away and we never have to talk about it ever again. But I think there is a part of you that really likes seeing me under you. That likes knowing you can make me this way.”

“And what if I do?” Harvey was right. God dammit he was right and he knew it. I looked and saw just what I had been doing to him. 

“Then just let yourself enjoy it because I know I want to.”

Man, he was quite the smooth talker. My resolve crumbled and I gave in. No, I didn’t give in, I made the choice to let this happen. Harvey wanted this too, for some reason known only to the great mother and beyond. This was not going to end well, I don’t know why I thought so, but I just know this is going to cause a problem down the road. Maybe it’ll be a good one, maybe it won’t– Jesus I need to get out of my head before I start thinking into oblivion. 

Harvey rolled his eyes, hand cupping the side of my face before his lips met mine. The gasp I let out… I could feel his smile. He guided my hand into the front of his pants, but did nothing else. Just left it there. 

When I tried to pull away, he bit my lip and pulled me right back in. Finger pressing into the front of my throat. In a commanding, possessive way that made my stomach burn with desire. 

I slowly traced around the outline of him. My fingers were trembling so fiercely that I wasn’t sure they were moving at all. As best I could control them, I made my way up to the waistband of his briefs, just… testing the waters. 

“You’re so close to where I need you,” Harvey purred, eyes looking at my surly swollen lips. “Go on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.”

I guess there really was no turning back. As my hand ventured further, I ducked down and swept my tongue into his mouth. He approved very enthusiastically. Harvey continued to guide my hips back and forth and back and forth across his thigh. All too gently, all too slowly. One of his hands kept working my hip, the other camp up around my throat.

How could he know that was one of my weakest sides? It didn’t prevent any air, but it was a firm reminder. 

His breath broke our searing lips when I moved my thumb over the tip of his cock. Harvey’s grip tightened on my throat and a noise slipped through my mouth. There was little I could do to keep my eyes from lulling back, head going with it. He made an effort to weave his fingers between my locks and pulled. A lot harder than I think he actually meant to. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured against my ear, sending goosebumps down my neck and arms. “I can’t help myself when you make such pretty noises. I’ll be gentle.”

I huffed out a laugh, as best I could with the straight against my neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Those are dangerous words, Claudia,” he warned, bringing my head back up. His eyes were dark in a way I couldn’t process in that moment. His lips were red and his hair was a mess from my fingers. 

I tugged at him as emphasis for my earlier words. “I don’t mind you being rough with me.”

His eyes closed, and his jaw clenched. I continued my motions, slow and long, drawing divine noises from him. Even with his hands away from my hips, I still moved them, picking up pace with my hand. I took the liberty to occupy his mouth with my own, hopefully filling him with euphoria. It was fast, and quite messy. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck with sweat, and I could taste it on his skin when I couldn’t help but trail my tongue up his throat. 

Harvey murmured my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t now, not with the constant moans and praise from his tongue. ‘Just like that sweetheart’, ‘I know that pretty mouth of yours will feel so much better wrapped around my cock’, ‘Can’t wait to take you apart’.

With his release, warm and wet over the back of my hand, he stilled my hips. Fingers digging in. At some point my skirt rode up, or he tugged it over my ass, and his nails left long lines of scratches. I hissed, and Harvey was breathing deep.

Harvey’s grin was nothing short of animalistic as he looked at where my hand still connected us. “Look at that, sweetheart. Look how well you’ve done.”

I could do nothing to keep my blood from rushing to my face. When I moved my hand– not entirely sure if I should get up and clean it off– Harvey snatched my wrist. 

“Open.”

I was going to question him, but I watched his eyes flick over my surely swollen lips. I flushed deeper. And deeper again as he moved them into my mouth. Bitter, but not in a bad way. And If I had been thoroughly fucked, I’d undoubtably find it irresistible. 

“Good girl, Claudia.”

There would be no way to recover from hearing that. I shuddered, so hard I clamped his thigh between my own, and whimpered. Like I had never before. And his stare… the way his eyes watched my tongue circle over my fingers. As they watched me swallow him down. 

“I bet you didn’t even realize,” he tilted his head, tucking hair behind my ear, flopping it behind my shoulder. 

“Realize…what?”

“How you took control. How confident you were with your hand… with that wicked tongue of yours. It was like it was second nature for you, wasn’t it? I didn’t even have to tell you to keep moving your hips. You just did it.”

I didn’t even know I was doing most of it… It all just happened. At some point or another. 

“I wouldn’t say that I was confi-”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You were. And that feeling, of being in control, is what you need to feel when you are in the courtroom. You were able to do it here, with me, to me. It was the most powerful and direct I’ve ever seen you.”

“Sex and being a lawyer aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“No, but you were able to feel safe and let yourself go. To release all that potential and work miracles.”

“You’d consider me giving you an orgasm a miracle?”

He chuckled, leaning so his lips brushed against mine. “Your hands do miraculous things to me, Claudia. I don’t normally give myself to someone the way I did with you. I didn’t have any second thoughts about it because I knew how willing you’d be to please me. And god damn do I love watching you pleasure yourself for me.”

In the minutes that followed, Harvey stood me up and straightened out my skirt. He did give me some hand sanitizer until I could go to the bathroom. I watched as he tucked in his shirt, buttoning his pants and rolling the sleeves back up his arms. 

“Harvey?”

“Yes, Claudia?” His voice was much more mellow. 

“How often is this… you know. Gonna happen?”

He smirked, “Why, already picturing yourself on your knees for me?”

I wasn’t, but I sure as hell was now. One thing that I needed to learn to do was control my facial reactions because judging by the way his stepped closer, he could see that I was, in fact, picturing his hand in my hair while he forced me to take it down my-

“Oh sweet sweet Claudia,” he chuckled, tilting up my chin. “You really are that eager to please me.”

“I was just wondering when you were going to return the favor.”

Harvey seized my throat, tighter than he had before. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I will have my name dripping from your tongue for so long you will forget it completely and beg for mercy. And when you beg for it, just know that you won’t get it until I say you do.”

[leclsrc]

a charles drabble with love language/s pls.... its all i want its all i have ever wanted

real love baby – cl16

You express love differently, but it’s love all the same.

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy it! this is a scheduled post – my brain is so wonky and i absolutely needed to get back into writing before my hands atrophied and i wasted away into dust …. so i worked on a months-old req that i previously scrapped. am i happy w this? well i’ll answer that honestly and say

It happens first when you’re still friends.

Charles gets off a late meeting that’s wormed its way into the late hours of night, costing him hours of rest or training, and the paddock is empty save for staff members setting up for Sunday. He’s still got Sauber merch slung over his arm when he clicks on his car keys—when the lights flash, he notices a shadow by an adjacent car. “Hello?” He calls out, apprehensive. They let anyone into the area these days.

“It’s me,” says your voice, amused at the clear nerves his voice exhibits. “Why’re you leaving so late?”

“I couldn’t leave without making sure everything was set for tomorrow.” There are circles under your eyes, obscured by the lens of your glasses, the ones you wear when you’ve been staring at text or a screen for hours too long. You work a lot in the crux of a season, coordinating investors for Mercedes and making sure money is where it’s supposed to be every single day. “We’re getting budget breach accusations.”

“I planted them,” he jokes half-heartedly, leaning his side against the trunk of your car. You laugh, rolling your eyes. It’s not the funniest joke in the world—it wouldn’t pass at all if he did that at an open mic—but something makes it easy to do so, to throw your head back and affirm his attempt at comedy. 

Charles is so tired—from driving in the morning and results in the afternoon to a meeting that lasted hours and discussed basically his entire fucking future—but he enjoys having you laugh at something he’s said. He doesn’t really know why, just savors the way your necklace glints in the dim light of the parking lot and the leftover lighting from the paddock several metres away. 

“Funniest joke I’ve heard in a while,” you say mutely, sarcastic. Your car is on but you’re not getting in.

“Does Henry not entertain you with jokes of his own?” He asks lightly, smiling. “Henry? Harry? Or is he busy with… what was it, an online rap career?”

“Harvey.” You’re not laughing, and in fact displaying some expression that’s half amusement/disappointment, but he can spot the beginnings of a smile on your lips. “You knew that. And he’s not an online rapper.” Anymore, you leave out.

“Oh, that’s good. Was worried he was out to get Drake’s career.” You raise a hand to threaten him playfully, a genuine laugh escaping your lips. Your teeth flash and your eyes crinkle and his head doesn’t hurt so much anymore. “Appreciate the jokes while you still can,” he says anyway. “My migraines lately have made me very sluggish.”

You blink, reaching into your patterned handbag and producing a tiny bottle of Advil. “Take it,” you tell him, lips pursed. “Can’t have this year’s best rookie having chronic headaches.” You push it into his hand and smile tightly.

“Thanks,” he stutters, his throat dry. “I’ll see you around. With Harvey, maybe. You could introduce us.”

“Hah. Not sure that’s something I’d… I’d really want,” you dismiss quietly, watching him round the space to open his car. Louder, you add, “Let me know when you’re okay.”

He looks at you then downward. Then at you again, smile on his face. “I will.” He raises the Advil and gives it a shake. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you say, grinning. 

—

The next time it happens (the next time you can both remember well, at least) you’re in the sweet little in-between of being friends and something else. He calls it his courting stage; you, your begrudgingly allowing it stage. At that point things had gone awry with Harvey, since he’d decided to jump back into his pursuit of Soundcloud fame.

“Hey.” You duck into the gym room, your head just in between the door and the frame. Seb sees you, bumps his teammate to catch his attention further; Charles jogs to you and leans against the wall, crossing his arms to hear you continue. “I’m leaving early today. No money issues.” You nod squarely. “Parce que I stole the funds.”

“I warned you. If you keep talking about embezzlement I’m going to have to kiss you,” he whisper-jokes, smiling.

He watches you hide a laugh, visibly flustered and stuttery, and he swears his chest hurts from how much it affects him, how strong his attraction is to you. He’s almost terrified of it, comforted only when you open your mouth to respond: “Are you gonna be in early tonight?”

“I, uh—” He turns to Seb. “We’ll be done in an hour, but I’m driving so I’ll wait around ’til later. Just… I’ve been too sore to properly get these moving for long so I need to rest for a bit.” He wiggles his arms and fingers. “It’s, well. The price you pay for being very muscular.”

“Jokes write themselves with you,” you scoff, cocking your head. “Okay, then. Um—I’ll see you.”

An hour later he leaves to take a piss and dick around while waiting for the dull ache at the nape of his neck to relax, and instead finds you in the Ferrari motorhome, close to sleeping. Your eyes snap open when they hear the pad of his sneakers against the floor. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” He smiles, his heartstrings tugging. “What’s… what are you doing here?”

“Waiting.” You mirror his expression with quiet grace. “I can drive you back, Charles. It’s—you shouldn’t be driving yourself in this condition. I got Andrea to drive your car to your hotel.” 

Despite his protests, he does end up becoming the passenger, and by extension the navigator and deejay, queuing up songs for you both to sing along to. In the unfamiliarity of the city and the dull exhaustion seeping into his bones, though, he’s asleep to a Police song before long. His hand rests softly on the centre console.

At the red light right before the hotel, you interlock your pinkies to wake him up. “Mmmff?”

“We’re near,” you notify, smiling at his sleepy expression.

“Thank you,” he yawns. Then for good measure, “Didn’t know I was in such good hands.”

“You ever gonna stop with the jokes?” You ask amusedly, turning right.

“Not if they make you laugh.”

“They do,” you murmur, fond. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he says quietly, holding your hand fully.

—

Life became a blur of little moments like those after that night.

Sure touches, words of assurance from Charles; little deeds from you. Whispered in French or Italian or English while he wrapped you in an embrace on bad days. A spout of cheers on the better ones. A water bottle with a Post-it: Finish before noon!!! when he’d gone to bed mouthing off about being thirsty. A cup of coffee on the counter the way he liked it on days you both had the time.

Sometimes it would switch: that time you were sick and he showed up to the Mercedes motorhome, Evian and meds in hand every six hours to make sure you were up to sched with your cold medication. That time you wrote him a letter for your third anniversary and watched him wipe tears off his face before he even made it halfway. Another time he organised your flat’s entire bookshelf according to all your standards (only to ask you to move in a week later and redoing the organisation at his place). And another time you gave a speech on Charles at a gala and he accepted the award, again, tearily.

But every action, every word, every joke, every hug, has always been motivated by love. The kind of tender love, that was unfamiliar in the same way it felt so much like home. The kind of love you read about or your parents would send you off to sleep talking about. Love so foolish, but so sure—neither of you have ever needed to doubt for a second. The kind of love so big it should be confusing, but you’ve both come to find it’s anything but, that you always seem to be on the same page, or at least capable of getting there. Closeness, intimacy, friendship—that’s all it’s ever been.

And everything, punctuated with the same sentiment, the same words, ever since the first time:

“Thank you,” he says in one breath, his voice heavy with love, with overwhelm. “Thank you, thank you.” He finds your ring finger and slides the diamond atop it. 

“Anything,” you say, smiling in-between kisses, “anything for you.”

[arielleslipgloss]

Lessons I��ve Learned On Finding Peace!!

“There are gonna be phases throughout your life, good and bad, and that’s just simply the human condition.” - Emma Chamberlain

Life is not a race. You don’t need to rush everything in your life. Life should be fun, exciting, and nerve-wracking in a good way. The world is already moving fast itself. So, take your time to slow down. Look around at nature. Take a moment to reflect and breathe. Get off your phone for a bit. Read a book or just stare at the celling. Do things that make your inner child happy. Just feel.

2. Discover who you are again! A lot of the times we get really influenced from social media. We waste time & money on trends. We get so obsessed. Until we’re brain dead. Now, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. However, maybe take some time to learn who you REALLY are. 99% of people don’t know who they are. They base who they are off of trends. I, as well do this at times too. Seriously though, is your favorite color actually pink? Is it really green? Is it really purple? Or is it just because that color was/is a trend? Take some time to think.

3. Let go. If you really want peace, you gotta let go. This may mean letting go of people. It may mean letting go of gossiping. It may mean letting go of someone you admire. The list could go on and on! Ofc I can’t list everything you need to let go of. So, think for yourself. “What is getting in the way of me finding peace.”

4. Protect your heart!! Proverbs 4:23 (KJV) says, “Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.” Another translation (NIV) for better understanding, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Basically, protect your precious heart. Protect it from evil or negativity. Don’t let anyone (even yourself) hurt your heart.

5. Live in the moment!! Stare out the car window and look at nature. Twirl around in the wind. Just live in the moment, no stress, no drama, just you. You, silence, peace, and happiness.

6. Learn to love yourself!! Like genuine love for yourself. That’s when you find peace within yourself. Now, I can’t tell you exactly how to love yourself. However I’ll tell you this, spend time with yourself. Those we love, we want to spend lots of time with. So spend lots of time with yourself!!

“And I’m so happy now that you’re gone.” - Lana Del Rey (Happy Birthday Lizzy 💗)

Love ya dolls!! Remember to stay hydrated and pretty 💋🎀

Xoxo, Arielleslipgloss 🤭

Pinterest:

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 4 Eng Sub

VS SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS and VS SCHOOL FESTIVAL

For downloading instructions and where to find the raw files, please check our masterpost.

[Subs link]

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translation notes:

about “konpuraiansu” (4:28)

This was a tricky situation because Japanese uses an English loan word, compliance/konpurainsu, in a way that has a really different connotation from the way that word is usually used in English. It usually makes sense to translate Japanese words that are loan words from English as the same English word in a subtitle. But in this case, it didn’t really mean the same thing. 

Personally, when I think of the meaning of “compliance,” I think about bureaucratic systems of rules. Before grad school, I worked for a number of years in admin positions at a large university. Every year we would have to do “compliance training,” which mostly involved reading interminable powerpoint presentations and answering quiz questions about them. They were about things like using a strong password or not accepting gifts worth more than a certain amount of money. Not exactly the same type of thing Mob alludes to here. 

From what I gather, in Japanese “compliance” means something more like acting in accordance with social mores. English really doesn’t have a word that gets this idea across, as far as I’m aware. Thankfully, we do have a number of ways of talking about social norms. 

Another factor that complicated the task of translating Mob’s observation about contemporary teenagers is that the literal translation was that they are “too conscious of compliance.” This also wouldn’t be a typical way to use “conscious” in English. So I ran some replacement word options past Snow that described various ways in which a person might be too aware of or focused on something, and we landed on “preoccupied.” The line then became, “Aren’t high schoolers these days too preoccupied with social expectations?” (Correspondingly, the title of the segment became "Vs Social Expectations.")

In my conversation with Snow about this line, I also learned about some cultural context for this line that I hadn’t been aware of before. She explained that it was related to the Japanese word seishun, which basically means “the spring of youth.” Apparently, the literal meaning is “blue spring.” Part of the idea of seishun is that when you’re young, you can act in an impulsive, passionate way that flouts societal rules because you aren’t as aware of the rules and/or as concerned with the approval of others as a proper adult would be. Thus, if adolescents are excessively worried about adhering to social norms, it’s like they’re wasting the opportunity to enjoy a kind of freedom that won’t be available to them later in life. 

This theme continues when Mob chases after Hatano and his parents see them running from below. Not recognizing Mob, his mother comments on the “energetic young men” they see. When they each mention “the spring of youth” (starting at the 5:46 mark), they’re saying “seishun.”–Towel

about “when I’m 20” (4:39)

You might think, from this line, that Hatano is saying he’ll confess to Mob again when he’s 20 because that’s when they’ll be legally able to date. That’s what I presumed when I first heard it. But there’s actually no legal reason why Mob couldn’t date Hatano if he wanted to. Hatano’s dramatic daydream about Mob being handcuffed in a jail cell aside, it’s actually not illegal for someone in their early 20s–or any adult, for that matter–to date or have sex with a 17-year-old in Japan. Actually, when I looked up age of consent laws in Japan I was surprised to learn that the age of consent was only raised to 16 a year ago and that prior to that, it was 13! But of course, laws are one thing and social norms are another. If Hatano wants to date Mob openly without fear of being judged, criticized, or snubbed–or, perhaps more importantly, without fear of inflicting that sort of treatment on his beloved Mob–he’ll have to wait until he’s an adult in a social sense. Snow explained to me that traditionally, this happens when a person turns 20. Apparently 20 was also the legal age of adulthood for a long time, and it remains in place for some purposes (for example, the legal drinking age in Japan is 20). But even though many laws have changed, the idea that 20 is the age when someone becomes an adult in a social sense remains.–Towel  

about “if I keep on believing” (9:09)

Here’s a little Easter egg. I was finalizing the lines Haruhiko speaks here when I noticed something–they were already very close to the lyrics of a song from the Disney movie version of Cinderella called “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes.” I haven’t seen Disney’s Cinderella very many times, but my sister sang this song at a school recital in fourth grade, so the lyrics got burned into my brain. The part in question goes like this: 

No matter how your heart is grieving If you keep on believing The dream that you wish will come true

This part of Haruhiko’s dialogue was already really close to these lyrics, so I exchanged a few words (no change to the meaning, just switching out synonyms) to get it even closer. Here’s what his lines look like if I arrange them to match up with the song lyrics:

No matter how sad I feel now If I keep on believing My dream will definitely come true someday

Not the same, but kind of a remarkable resemblance, all things considered.–Towel 

blackboard writing (16:44 and 18:20)

At a couple of points during the scene in Mob's university classroom, there's writing on the blackboard at the front of the room. Snow translated what was written there, but there was no way to fit that translation in the subtitles. The information given there wasn't so crucial that this posed a big problem. But it's interesting enough to be worth including here.

At 16:44, the writing on the blackboard says:

School festival play: Momotaro Cinderella - 26 votes King Lear Yotsuya Kaidan Prison Break - 1 vote 101 Dalmatians Toyama no Kin san Planet of the Apes 24 - 1 vote

This is clearly a list of ideas for what story to base the class play on, along with the number of votes each idea received.

At 18:20, it says:

Cinderella: Cinderella Prince - Ouji Stepmother Stepsister 1 Stepsister 2

This is clearly a list of roles, only one of which has been assigned so far--the role of the Prince, given to Ouji.

about Mob’s horse sounds (19:24)

This might be a bit excessive, and it’s certainly an example of my perfectionism. But when I got to the part of this episode where Mob starts making horse sounds, it didn’t seem sufficient to just caption it “horse sounds.” I knew there were some specific terms for the sounds horses make, and I had heard of some of them, but I didn’t know their exact meanings. I went looking around for resources and finally found a really good youtube video that explained a bunch of different noises horses make and what they mean. In the end, the only new term I needed was “nickering.” When he’s not neighing or saying “gallop gallop,” Mob is nickering. The person who made the horse sounds video had an amazing quote about this type of horse sound–they described nickering as “a melodic symphony in the equine lexicon.” I’m guessing that other people watching the show with our subtitles mostly won’t already know the exact meaning of “nickering” either, so maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. But I like getting the specifics of things right. And who knows, maybe a horse enthusiast or two will watch this and appreciate the accuracy.–Towel 

If you'd like to hear some examples of real horses nickering, or hear the narrator of this video wax rhapsodic about horse vocalizations, here's the video I mentioned:

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[wingdingery]

ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings. 

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort. 

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it. 

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.”

He hangs up before Dick can respond. 

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Opening Ceremony

@wolfstarmicrofic August 1, word count 732

Because I am an absolute nutter, it looks like I'm swapping the two series I did last month over so now we have part two of the Apple Core series that was a Jegulus story but now it's following on as a Wolfstar. I'll link the pervious Jegulus series if any one wants to read that first. Hope you enjoy.

Previous Jegulus part First Jegulus part

“Come on Remus, get the banner higher, like James’s side. Yes, that’s better. Perfect.” Sirius directed from the floor while James and Remus balanced precariously on chairs outside the café. Sirius and Remus had just bought it for a relatively good price. He’d sunk everything he had into it, well what he had left after getting them the nice flat. It was just typical that this place went on the market with a perfectly adequate flat above it the day after they exchanged contracts for their flat. Sirius had made a fuss about it at the time, but he believed everything happened for a reason. He had this niggling feeling that he and Remus were not meant to live in the flat above the café, so he put it out of his mind and got to work.

The café had been a disaster. They’d had to rip everything out to the studs and start again, but that meant they could use the space however they wanted. They did as much as they could themselves to keep costs down, which basically meant telling James what they wanted and pointing him in the right direction. 

But today was opening day and Sirius was nervous. What if nobody came? What if this was a colossal waste of money, and he was just a waster like his parents had told him over and over as he was growing up? His thoughts turned to his brother for a second. He hadn’t seen him in 5 years and had no idea what he was doing. As far as he knew, Regulus still lived in that house with them. He quickly put an end to that train of thought. He highly doubted he’d see or hear from Regulus any time soon. 

He stood back to appraise their handiwork. He grinned a face-spitting smile. The banner proclaiming Open for Business proudly hung under the shimmering blue-tinged white letterings of their shop’s name, Howlin’ at the Moon. He just needed to add the finishing touches, and they’d be ready for the grand opening ceremony. He ran back inside and began to drag out the piece of rolled-up red carpet, the velvet ropes and the big red ribbon. When he was done, he jumped around with glee and checked his watch for the time. They still had two hours.   

Effie and Monty turned up to help make all the samples. He and Remus had kept it simple. Shots of their signature coffee blend and miniature cheese toasties, which were normal cheese toasties artfully cut up by Monty himself. 

“Sirius look,” Remus physically spun him around to face the glass front of the shop. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Already there was a huge crowd waiting patiently for the doors to open. 

“Mum!” He called into the back, “We’re going to need more cheese toasties, a lot more,” Effie came round to see what was going on and gave him a big squeeze. 

“You’re going to be amazing darling,” She whispered into his ear as she planted a big wet kiss only a mother could give on his cheek. “And don’t think you can sneak away Mr, you’re just as much a part of this family as the others are,” Effie wrapped her arms around Remus, who’d been trying to avoid her kisses, and held him there while she covered his face with red lipstick. 

“How many times do we have to tell you, Moony,” James snickered from the other side of the counter. “You can’t run away from her, it’s best just to accept her love and be done with it,” Remus grumbled at him and made rude gestures when Effie’s back was turned as he tried to wipe the red stains off his face. The clock chimed and it was time to go.

Sirius swallowed nervously as he took in the crowd. He was standing with an oversized pair of scissors in front of the door, preparing to make a speech. He took a deep steadying breath and felt his body tremble. Remus came and stood beside him, and together they introduced themselves and welcomed everyone to their café. Holding the scissors between them, they cut the ribbon and watched it fall to the floor as the local paper took a photo of the event. They opened the door and the crowd surged forward. Howlin’ at the Moon was officially open.

Next part

[blissfullyecho]

more harsh truths about life that will prob hurt your feelings and get me cancelled lol

1. scripting, visualizing, using crystals, affirming, etc. all don’t work in the real world. do the work. we’re not anime characters or superheroes— using your “brain powers” while you sit there doing nothing to get what you want is a delusion. script, visualize, do whatever you wanna do but thinking that’s the secret sauce to what is gonna solve all your problems is insanity

2. no one is responsible for your triggers. getting mad at someone because they forgot to put “tw” in the title next to the LITERAL EXACT TOPIC that they’re going to discuss is your own fault that you read it. you knew what it was gonna be about. if you know you’ll be triggered, move on. getting mad at people for talking about things that they had no idea you’re having a hard time with is no one’s fault either. you’re never captive to stay somewhere. if it’s triggering, you make the decision and the choice to move on and get away.

3. attractive people have the advantage of making anything look cool. for example (and no offense because my brother loves this stuff) but if you like anime, a lot of people think it’s weird. but if you’re an attractive person that likes anime, then it becomes cool because an attractive person likes it. looks = status and anyone with status could make anything look cool and be a trend.

4. girls, it’s better not having hairy legs and armpits. sorry but someone had to say it and i’ll be that person. you’re not creating a movement, you’re not proving anything to anyone. everyone grows hair, we get it. but if your body hair makes a statement and expresses yourself, then maybe you need to develop a personality.

5. speaking of personality; some of you are too nice. the nice guy finishes last. always. they seek validation, temporary satisfaction, and it reeks desperation. being too nice makes you look weak and a target to manipulation and weirdness.

6. models, actors/actresses, singers, anyone in the public eye are MEANT to look good and MEANT to look like a fantasy/dream. these people are not meant to be role models and they didn’t sign up to be role models. they were good at their craft and all of you as regular everyday people forced them to be role models because they had a public image. these people are contracted to always look good, set trends, and stay relevant in the media. then you guys started pressing for “inclusivity” and ruined brands like victoria’s secret, hollister, abercrombie, etc. because it got your feelings hurt. those brands sell stories and fantasies. those models sold those brands. STOP TRYING TO MAKE HIGH STATUS PEOPLE INTO EVERYDAY PEOPLE. work on yourself if it bothers you. it’s show biz, baby.

7. if you want anything in life fast, then you either have to have money, good looks, or great manipulation/bribery/communication/people skills. being skilled is a good thing, but don’t expect results overnight like you would if you had money, looks, or people skills. again, this is if you want something FAST.

8. listening to subliminals is a waste of time. wanna change your subconscious mind? get your mind used to living and acting the way you wanna be. do that for 3-6 months and boom, you’re a new person. *high five*

9. it’s cool to gatekeep. why are we telling everyone our beauty secrets and where we bought our clothes? i’m not trying to have anyoneeeeee have anything i have because when people catch on to something, it becomes a trend, then it becomes basic. so no, i’m not telling you what perfume i’m wearing. “i forgot” or “it was a gift”. let me be me.

10. ladies, men want to do things for you. no, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the capability to do it yourself. stop with the equality mess because a man wanted to hold the door open for you. JUST BECAUSE A MAN OFFERS TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU, DOES NOT MEAN YOU LACK THE MENTAL OR PHYSICAL CAPABILITY TO DO SO.

[againstme]

idk man i’m just thinking about against me! and transness, especially cause we’re coming up on ten fucking years of transgender dysphoria blues, on the 21st.

lyrics have been swimming in my head lately.

“what god doesnt give to you, you’ve got to go and get for yourself.”

“if i could’ve chosen, i would’ve been born a woman. my mother once told me she would’ve named me laura. i’d grow up to be strong and beautiful like her.”

“you wouldn’t think something like gender identity would complicate something like asking for some company.”

“she spent the last few years of her life running from the boy she used to be.”

“standing naked in front of that hotel bathroom mirror, in her dysphoria’s reflection, she still saw her mother’s son.”

“agitated states of amazement, never quite the woman that she wanted to be.”

“you want them to see you like they see every other girl, they just see a faggot, they hold their breath not to catch the sick.”

“chipped nail polish and a barbed wire dress. is your mother proud of your eyelashes? silicone chest, and collagen lips. how would you even recognize me?”

“no more troubled sleep, there’s a brave new world that’s raging inside of me.”

“all my life, wishing i was one of them. there will always be a difference between me and you.”

“what’s the best end you can hope for? pity fucks and table scraps?”

“all the young graves filled, don’t the best all burn out so bright and so fast?”

“sometimes at night, i pray to wake a different person in a different place.”

“i don’t want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back. i know you think you’ve got one up on me, that you can see something i can’t.”

“i wanna be so real, you can see the difference.”

“dig up your bones, early graves are not homes.”

“come on, shape shift with me! what’ve you got to lose? fuck it!”

“confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women’s clothes, compulsions you never knew the reasons to.”

“i’m sick of feeling like i’m losing my mind. sick of doing the same things most nights after night. sick of self loathing and self absorption, self destructive narcissism.”

some of these are directly referencing transness, some just alluding to it. some are just ones that i relate to as i’ve grown up struggling with my gender and sexuality and accepting my own transness and dealing with self harm and self destruction and relying too much on drugs.

finding myself buying baggies of coke and just stuffing them in my wallet while i walked downtown, feeling this immense guilt at the bottom of my stomach for essentially just wasting 25 dollars on a drug that wasn’t doing much for me besides making me feel like i was feeling something different than what my life was. getting scared shitless while in the line at the convenience store after picking up, seeing cops come into the store, and the small tied up bag filled with what was more baby powder than coke in my back pocket felt like the the heaviest and most obvious thing in the world.

and then i’d find myself on calls with my friends, with my camera turned off or pointing at the ceiling, suddenly muting my mic holding a cut up piece of a straw in my teeth as i crushed shit up with my library card from a city i wasn’t planning on living in again. just having them talk while i was racking baby lines, tilting my head back and rubbing it on my gums after. i was sniffling all the time. sometimes my nose would bleed when i would wake up. and i wasn’t even really feeling much; i didn’t know at the time that this would be because of having adhd and just basically spending money on overpriced shit that was just like taking an adderall, but it was a drug in front of me, that gave me the idea or the false hope of running away from my life during the short lived high.

“before you know it, here i am again, fucking 6 o’clock in the morning, rolled up dollar bill in my hand.”

“what the fuck are you cutting this with, anyway?”

“how low can you go before you can’t turn around?”

i don’t think that when i was 14 and getting into against me! that i would ever actually get to a point of fully relating to those lyrics. of running away from such a huge part of yourself or your problems, trying to fill the void with drugs that you’d plow through so quickly, faster than you thought you would every time.

the thing is, was that at this point, i had already started my transition. i was already “passing.” but i never got to the root of it. sure, i’m trans, but who am i? and i didn’t know how to answer that question. so i just pushed it away, pushed it under the rug.

“you can pray all night and day, but you’ll still wake up the same person in the same fucking place.”

against me! has been there for me for ten years. throughout so many transformations of myself, so much shape shifting, so much dysphoria, so many late nights wishing i was a different person in a different place.

i found solace in their lyrics. it gave me some small bit of hope, some realization that i didn’t know that i needed; that trans people always have been and always will be here, that being able to be trans and be alive is possible, and that i don’t have to be digging my own grave, spending late nights staring at the mirror and seeing the girl who i used to be.

against me! gave me the courage to be alive.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for leaving my roommate to “fend for himself”?

🍙 - to find this later

i’ve been living with my roommate and boyfriend in an apartment for 2 years (all men in our mid 20s). when we first started living together we would cook, but recently i personally haven’t had the energy to cook much, and it’s a rare occurrence for the other two as well so we end up ordering food a lot (i know, waste of money but we’re all employed adults).

we usually order our meals together & rotate who pays when we do order food. in the last year bf has been working the graveyard shift so he sleeps during the day. roommate has a job that begins early in the morning so he goes to sleep early, around the time bf has to get up for work. i work a hybrid desk job and have been starting up my meds again which make me sleepy, so i usually take a nap in bed with my boyfriend after work if i’m home.

all this to say that recently our mealtimes have been disjointed and we end up missing each other more than not.

the part where me & my boyfriend may be be assholes is: if we wake up and roommate is sleeping, we’ll order in food for ourselves (usually bf has to either take it with him to work or he’ll eat it when he gets back from work). roommate will sometimes order in food for himself when this happens (and sometimes will do so even if it doesn’t) and thats fine with us, but recently he made a comment about us basically “leaving him to fend for himself” when this happens.

to be clear- the shared meals is a courtesy thing bc i didn’t want to feel guilty if we ordered food in as a couple & my roommate had to fend for himself (i’ve mostly gotten over this since he’s a grown man who can take care of himself, but some guilt is still there ngl) we are all aware of this mutual agreement.

for add. context, before he got this current job few months ago, roommate worked an hour a week min wage and was on disability that covered his base living expenses, so he was pretty broke all the time (now he works 4-5 days a week for 6-10 hour days).

during this time bf and i would cover most of the meals (5-6/7 days a week) and have never asked to be paid back since we just considered the times he’s provided meals as equal payment (usually cheaper meals like pizza, when bf and i order in meals that are a bit more substantial).

when he made the fending for himself comment, he also mentioned that he was pretty broke lately because he had to get his dog groomed (but also left out that he spent $200 on trading cards at the beginning of the month, (he’s a grown adult that can spend his money on what he wants (but that also means that his financial state is not my responsibility))

that recent comment put a bad taste in my mouth, and i’m feeling a bit petty so i’m just waiting for him to go to bed before ordering dinner today. (i feel like im at least JAH for this).

bf and i are moving out soon due to misc issues with the apartment so this won’t matter soon but i just wanna know:

AITA?

(also usually when i see super long aita submissions im like damn u can’t condense this a bit?? but now i’ve fallen victim to the very thing i criticized, sorry ppl i unfairly judged)

What are these acronyms?