#and we’re basically of a waste of money

[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

[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!

[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

[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 ̑̑

[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.”

[femsolid]

“We’re in 2019. Female hair is CENSORED everywhere. You don’t see it on TV. You don’t see it in magazines or adverts. There is an injunction of society for women to remain 'soft' and completely hairless. Just like a little girl. I don’t believe that’s a coincidence. Young, skinny, hairless girls have been very popular in the media for years and it makes me wonder. Who's behind it all? Who's perpetuating this message about women looking like adolescent girls? It sometimes feels rather paedophilic. It worries me.” – Camille Alexander. Musician (2019)

“Years ago I did think about getting laser hair removal for my navel hair, but then I realised I'd be paying a couple of hundred pounds just to conform to expectations that I don't even care about– I'd much rather use the money for a holiday or circus lessons! I think that's one of the things which annoys me so much about society and the media's expectation for women to be basically hairless– they're pressuring us to invest serious time and money and endure pain. It's a double standard and it's unfair. Being able to accept your body– hair, scars and all– is freeing. I remember seeing my Aunt Glynis dancing to reggae in the 90s with her armpit hair showing– she looked so confident, happy and free. As a child, I couldn't put my finger on 'why', but I can now. On a practical level, it feels pretty darn good when I consider how much time, money and pain I've saved by accepting my body as it is. I like to think that that memory of my aunt being free and totally comfortable in her own skin is one that I can emulate and pass onto other girls and women. It hasn't always been received well though. At Lambeth County Fair one year, a friend of a friend was seriously freaked out when he saw my armpits. He asked me "what's wrong with you? Why would you do that?!", which was pretty amusing but bewildering. It reminded me there will always be people out there who may react and judge me like that. Thankfully, the opinion of people who think like that means very little to me! For me having hair and not caring is a bit like being part of a secret club. When you notice someone else who is resisting society's expectations and staying hairy you feel solidarity and respect. It's nice to be part of that.” – Isabel (2019)

“As a teenager, I remember trying to stuff myself into a box of what a girl should be like. It always felt uncomfortable; padded bras, shoes that hurt and shaving rash. Running, swimming and climbing have helped me to see the strength and resilience in my body and to love it for what it is. Growing my armpit hair has been a recent experiment and the longer it gets, the more I like it! I like the way it looks & feels. It has given me a new respect for myself. So I say, embrace growth & if it pleases you, let it all grow!” – Jess (2018)

“Shaving, epilating or waxing hurts. I was tired of suffering, trying to adapt to the image of a ‘beautiful young woman’ society is selling us. Everybody told me to shave. As a teenager, it’s a huge subject among girls; where do you shave? What method are you using? It takes so much time and costs so much money (the majority of hair removal products are also not recyclable). All of these reasons coming one after another motivated me to stop shaving. I would often have irritated skin after shaving and being a very sporty person, the sweat and the friction of my clothes would cause pain.The worst thing was having sex on the second day after shaving my vulva. I didn't understand why women would suffer and waste so much time on hiding who they really are. By showing my body hair on stage, I would like to stimulate and change people’s point of view. I’d like to motivate women to make their own choices.”

– Darian Koszinski. Circus artist (2018)

“I stopped shaving completely when I was a teenager because of two instances. The first? I got tired of all the time wasted on maintenance and the discomfort that came with it. The second was when I went on a few multiple week-long backpacking trips; it would have been extremely inconvenient to spend hours ripping my hair out, so I let things grow. Being so close to nature let me dive deeper into and re-examine the relationship with myself and the world, acting as a mirror. In nature, there is wild; it is as beautiful as it is untamed. How could it be anything other than that? I felt so relieved and free when I let it grow out. It felt like being able to breathe. It was incredibly comfortable too. I felt a confidence and boldness returning, like I was replenishing some kind of primal power. I will say that a very pleasant side effect of having armpit hair is its ability to ward off rude people whom I wouldn’t care to interact or associate with anyway. Because the people that care about that sort of thing and make it a point to say how disgusted they are, are precisely the kind of people that I don’t want in my life.”

– Kyotocat (2017)

“At this point in life, I feel that the real question shouldn't be 'why did you let your armpit hair grow?' But actually, 'why did you shave in the first place?' Please celebrate your body! Own who you are and be that! Those who celebrate who and what they are, are creating a much open and safer space for those who are struggling to understand who and what they want to be in life. It might be easier said than done but give it a try. We'll then help create a healthier and understanding society with less bullshit than there already is...”

– Alex Wellburn (2017)

“I never stopped shaving because I never started. I do remember my mother shaving when I was younger and I thought that was pretty unnecessary since she was a strict muslim. I later realised it's a thing women do to look more desirable to men. It really irritated me that the people who reacted negatively to my natural armpit hair were men. Like it was the most disgusting thing in the world. It really gets on my tits. This is just one more reason that I don't shave it off. It belongs to me and I don't make noise about the "ugly"; hair on men which are sometimes pretty painful in the eye... But you've got to get over it and don't let these idiots get under it. I would recommend growing it to any women.”

– Ayan Mohamed. Graduate architecture student (2014)

Natural Beauty Photoshoot

[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

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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?

[sleekervae]

Wicked Games ❅ 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: Sable has a proposition

Warnings: mentions of war, politicians being politicians

Word Count: 4,120

Saying the Hanovers were rich was an understatement. Phillip Hanover, a district resident caught in the crossfire of the First Rebellion, was a desperate bio-engineer determined to protect his family from war. Needing money, he turned to what he knew best: manufacturing medicine. He created topical creams, pain relief pills, antiseptics—anything people needed to heal their battle wounds. Despite his lack of experience, Phillip's experimentation paid off, and his medications became highly sought after for their quick healing properties. Eventually, he moved on to more powerful injections and sedatives, making a name for himself and drawing attention from the Capitol.

Volumnia Gaul believed in keeping enemies close. With Hanover's cutting-edge technology, she knew the Capitol needed him on their side. Backed by Crassus Snow, the Capitol made Hanover an irresistible offer: money, protection, and a legacy. Hanover had a lot to consider, knowing his reputation as a district hero would be destroyed. But in the end, money spoke louder than reputation.

Within six months, Phillip Hanover set up shop in the Capitol. His wife and two children no longer lived in squalor, he had money in his pocket, and he had the sponsorship and support of Panem's superiors. Requests for basic medicines evolved into demands for pushing technological boundaries to extend life expectancy and speed up recovery times. There were even requests for pharmaceutical weapons. Hanover, blinded by dollars and ambition, never paused to question what he was doing. If General Snow had a request, he would do his best to fulfill it.

His empire would continue to expand even after the war: manufacturing warehouses, marketing, and a great reputation for quick and effective results catapulted the Hanover name into Panem infamy. Hanover Pharmaceuticals would draft up different contracts between the districts, delivering the most and effective products to those districts who had the most to offer. And very quickly the Hanover name represented success, entrepreneurship, and respect. It also garnered a traitorous, slimy reputation in the eyes of the districts.

It was no matter to Phillip, though he made sure to remind his two daughters every chance he got of where they came from. From shoes with holes in the soles to satin dresses, from beds with squeaky springs and no heat in the winter to lavish vacations with the best accommodations possible. The eldest sister, Seline, was grounded and empathetic to their past, while her little sister, Sable, was determined to rid herself of any trace of District 3. She was the baby of the family, of course she was spoiled rotten. Though nevertheless, the sisters stayed close as they grew up.

The Hanover estate was quiet, save for the soft clink of china as Sable’s parents sat across from her in the drawing room. Her mother, Eleanor, looked frazzled, her fingers wringing the hem of her floral shawl. Her father, Phillip, sat with a stony expression, his frustration barely concealed.

“Sable, darling,” Eleanor began, her voice tinged with a blend of worry and exasperation, “you know how important it is for us to see you settled. You’re not getting any younger, and we’ve invested so much in your future. We can’t just let all of our fortune go to waste after we’re gone.”

Sable looked up from her book, her gaze indifferent. “I don’t see what the rush is. I’m perfectly content as I am.”

Phillip leaned forward, his voice edged with frustration. “Content? Look at your sister. She’s already engaged to a respectable man, and you—well, you’re still playing the socialite with no real direction. You can’t expect to squander our wealth and remain unbound forever.”

Sable raised an eyebrow, her expression aloof. “Seline’s choices have nothing to do with me. I have my own plans.”

Eleanor’s face crumpled with worry. “But you’re not a child anymore, Sable. We’ve arranged a fine match for you—someone who’s well-suited to continue our legacy. It’s not just about marrying for love; it’s about securing our place and our future.”

Sable’s gaze turned cold, her lips curling slightly. “And what if I’m not interested in your arrangements? I don’t see why I should settle for a life I don’t want just to please you.”

Phillip’s frustration boiled over. “This isn’t just about you, Sable. It’s about our family’s standing, our name. You can’t just live frivolously and expect everything to be handed to you. If you don’t take this opportunity, you risk throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”

Sable closed her book with deliberate slowness, standing up and smoothing her dress with practiced elegance. “I’m aware of my duties, but I refuse to be coerced into a life I have no interest in.”

Eleanor’s voice trembled as she tried one last time. “Sable, please, consider what we’re asking. We only want what’s best for you.”

Sable’s eyes were steely as she met her mother’s gaze. “You haven't known what's best for me since I was a child; when we came to this god-forsaken city in search of a better life.”

Phillip’s face was a mask of frustration as he glanced at his wife. “And that better life put that dress on you, as well as made sure you had food and --”

"And warm bed and a roof over our heads and never had to want for anything again," she started out of the room, her book clenched under her arm as she turned her back on her parents, "I'm well aware,"

The weight of their expectations felt distant to her, overshadowed by her own desires and independence. They were right about one thing: she couldn't keep up with the socialite game for the rest of her life. She needed stability, a plan to make sure she came out on the other side.

Sable grew up with the understanding that if you wanted something bad enough, you would work for it by any means necessary. Any means. And being the daughter of one of the richest families in the Capitol brought her a lot of attention. She embodied birth-of-Hollywood glamour, sophisticated and beautiful beyond debate. She thrived on the attention, after all. Because of her looks and her background, people didn't give her much credit for her brain.

To the blight of businessmen, rich kids, and even a few Hunger Games victors, Sable had a rare talent for listening and remembering. Whether it was over martinis or during intimate pillow talk, men found themselves spilling their thoughts, their secrets, to her. She made them feel comfortable and safe. Though if she had to use that information to her advantage, so be it. Why else would she have been invited to Senator Reed's gala event?

Allister, after one too many drinks, had confided in her about his numerous affairs. If that information ever got out, it would lead to a massive scandal and the destruction of his supposedly "happy" home life. Sable didn't mind holding onto such secrets. In fact, she relished the power they gave her. Very quickly her societal position was pushed and pushed, right until it brought her to the presidential candidates themselves.

To Coriolanus Snow.

His name kept surfacing after the 10th Hunger Games, lingering in whispers and headlines even after he graduated and vanished for a while. He re-emerged only a year ago, launching a campaign and preaching about his run for office.

Sable watched him on her television late one night, utterly fascinated. He was so well-spoken, his charm radiating through the screen. But it was his eyes that captivated her the most. Icy blue, sharp, and intense—they held your attention, convincing you of anything he said. And there was no denying how handsome he was.

As she watched, a distinct feeling washed over her. She was staring at her next big fish, her ticket to more power than she could ever dream of.

Coriolanus stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting the knot of his tie when Garrison stormed into the room, his face flushed with frustration.

“Snow, you’re slipping,” Garrison snapped, slamming a folder down on the vanity. “You’re falling behind in the polls, and it’s not because of policy. It’s because people don’t like you. They don’t trust you.”

Coriolanus’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze on his reflection. “They don’t need to like me, Garrison. They need to respect me.”

Garrison shook his head, exasperation clear in his voice. “Respect isn’t enough! You're your father's son! You need to have the connection with the people that he didn't, show them you’re one of them—or at least pretend to be. Your charm alone won’t win this. You need to be likable, Coriolanus, or this entire campaign will be for nothing.”

Coriolanus turned to face him, eyes cold and calculating. “And how exactly do you propose I do that, Garrison?” His voice was sharp, laced with impatience. “You want me to throw on a fake smile and kiss babies? I already have to attend every tedious social event and pretend to care about their trivial concerns. How do you imagine I can possibly ‘up my appeal’?”

Garrison met his gaze, refusing to back down. “It’s not about faking it—it’s about showing a side of yourself that the public hasn’t seen. You need to humanize yourself, Coriolanus. Show them you’re more than just a politician with a thirst for power. They need to see you care about more than winning.”

Coriolanus arched an eyebrow, skepticism plain on his face. “And where do you suggest I find this hidden reservoir of charm and relatability? What am I supposed to do, stroll into the garden party tonight and start mingling with the common folk, asking about their families and hobbies?”

“Yes,” Garrison replied firmly. “Exactly that. Start tonight. You have to show them you’re one of them—someone they can relate to, someone they might actually like. Engage with them, listen to their concerns, show a little humility. It’s not about pandering to senators; it’s about making them feel like you’re on the people's side.”

Coriolanus’s expression darkened as he considered Garrison’s words. The very idea of lowering himself to appease the masses made his stomach turn, but the stakes were too high to ignore the advice. He knew Garrison was right. Like it or not, he needed the people’s support if he was going to win this campaign.

“Fine,” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth, turning back to the mirror. “I’ll play along. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Garrison sighed, relief mingled with exasperation. “Just remember, Coriolanus: power isn’t worth much if no one’s willing to follow you. Tonight, give them a reason to believe in you.”

Coriolanus finished adjusting his tie, his reflection staring back at him with a steely resolve. He wasn’t about to let something as trivial as public appeal stand between him and the presidency. If he had to charm the Capitol’s common folk, he would—at least for tonight.

As he smoothed his maroon jacket and headed for the door, his mind was already working out how to play this new role, how to bend it to his advantage. Because in the end, it didn’t matter what mask he wore, as long as he won.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Capitol's most exquisite garden, where flowers from every district bloomed in a riot of color. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the murmur of idle chatter, punctuated by the clink of crystal glasses. Coriolanus Snow stood near a marble fountain, engaged in a measured conversation with Senator Gallis, a man whose support he desperately needed for his campaign.

As Coriolanus spoke, his eyes occasionally flickered over the senator’s shoulder, scanning the crowd. He was alert, focused, but there was a simmering tension just beneath the surface. He felt it keenly, the way the garden's soft light brushed against the evening’s most beautiful attendee. And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, she appeared.

Sable Hanover glided across the grass, her tweed ensemble a cozy cascade of baby blue that seemed to catch the last rays of sunlight. She moved with the effortless grace of someone who knew all eyes were on her and relished in it. Her gaze locked onto Coriolanus, a smile curving her lips as she approached.

“Senator Gallis,” she said smoothly, her voice honeyed and warm, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

The senator turned to her, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her. “Not at all, Miss Hanover. It’s always a pleasure.”

Coriolanus felt the slightest pull at the corner of his mouth, an involuntary reaction to her presence. He kept his composure, but his eyes lingered on her, taking in the curve of her neck, the way the light caught the gleam of her pixie hair. There was something about her—something that had him tensing with interest and a vague unease, like he was playing a game where she already knew the outcome.

Sable’s gaze flicked to him, and he saw the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Mr. Snow, you’ve been monopolizing the senator’s time all evening,” she teased lightly. “I was hoping you might save a moment for me. I have something I’d like to discuss—privately.”

The senator raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the exchange. “I suppose that’s my cue to mingle,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But don’t think you’re off the hook, Snow. We’ll continue our discussion later. Be kind to him, Sable.”

She smiled back innocently, "Always,"

Coriolanus nodded, watching the senator slip away into the crowd, but his thoughts were already on Sable. She stepped closer, her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and something darker—filling the air between them.

“Let me guess,” he said, a hint of dry amusement in his voice, “You’re going to make me regret letting the senator go.”

“Maybe,” she replied, tilting her head as she considered him. “But then again, maybe I’ll make it worth your while.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn to her, his gaze tracing the line of her collarbone, the way her lips parted slightly as she spoke. The garden, with all its splendor, seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the blooms.

“Would you get me a drink?” Sable asked, her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent to her words that made it feel like more.

Coriolanus studied her, the way she didn’t fidget, didn’t rush. She simply waited, confident in her request, her eyes never leaving his. There was something almost thrilling in her boldness, in the way she so easily pulled him into her orbit. He was no stranger to charm, but hers was different—it was dangerous, intoxicating, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could resist it.

“Of course,” he said, his voice low as he offered her his arm. She took it without hesitation, her fingers light on his sleeve, and they walked together toward the bar set beneath a pergola draped in ivy.

As they moved through the garden, whispers trailed in their wake, but neither of them seemed to care. Coriolanus couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit at his side, as if she belonged there. His mind, usually sharp and calculating, was dulled by her proximity, by the brush of her arm against his as they walked.

When they reached the bar, he signaled the bartender and ordered them both a drink. As they waited, Sable turned to him, her expression more serious now, though the spark in her eyes remained.

“You've really captured my interest,” she said, her voice soft enough that it was only for him. “I believe you’re going to win this campaign, you know.”

Coriolanus met her gaze, his curiosity piqued. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I know how badly you want it,” she replied, leaning in just a fraction closer. “And because I know how badly I want to see you win.”

"Really?" he cocked his head.

"Really," she nodded, "Look back through history, you'll find a plethora of decrepit, fuddy-duddy leaders who just continue to enforce the old rules that ran when they were our age. Modern problems require modern solutions after all... and modern leaders, too,"

"I couldn't agree with you more," he replied, "I take it your family will be donating to my campaign?"

Sable chuckled harmoniously, "No, my father has no interest in your campaign. Again -- old, decrepit, fuddy-duddy," she shrugged.

Coriolanus' interest continued to peak, "Then, why are you here?" he asked, "You'll pardon my rudeness, but I doubt you have enough funds to supplement in this election,"

"Well, obviously not," she shook her head nonchalantly, "I have something better. Me,"

"You?"

"Yes,"

The bartender placed two perfectly chilled martinis before them, none the wiser to their hushed conversation. Coriolanus meanwhile wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing, surely there had to be a gag.

"I don't understand," he said, "What exactly are you offering, Ms. Hanover?"

"Myself," she replied simply, "You're lacking in the polls on account of public appeal, are you not? What better way to shake that icy cold exterior than by having one of the Capitol's most eligible women on your arm?"

She appeared completely unfazed by her proposition as she sipped her martini. Her words sent a thrill through him, a rush of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Desire, yes, but also something more—something that told him this woman, with all her beauty and cunning, could be more than just another admirer. To put simply, he was intrigued.

Coriolanus took a brief look around, establishing that for once the attention was well off of him,"Let's speak in private,"

Grabbing his drink, they snaked around the perimeter of the party until they could come to a quieter area of the garden, not well populated and out of view from the party guests.

"You seem at a loss for words, Mr. Snow," Sable grinned.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around this, Ms. Hanover," Coriolanus grumbled back, "You're proposing that you... and I... date?" it sounded so drawl and simple when he put it like that.

She nodded, however, "Yes. Well -- not actually. Think of it as something a little more... transactional. Essentially, we pretend we're dating."

Coriolanus still thought she was joking, "You must be really bored, or pulling one over me real good," he said.

"Of course not," Sable replied, "I have a reputation of my own in this city. If the public see you with me, you're bound to earn yourself some brownie points. More brownie points means more numbers in the polls in your favour,"

Coriolanus’s eyes narrowed as Sable’s words lingered in the air, her voice smooth and calculated. The way she leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and allure, set his mind racing. The conversation with Garrison echoed in his thoughts—you need to be likable, Coriolanus…show them you’re one of them. He’d dismissed the idea at first, but now, as Sable stood before him, offering something more than just flirtation, he began to connect the dots.

Here she was, a woman who could help him bridge that gap, who understood the Capitol’s social landscape better than anyone. Sable wasn't just another pretty face; she was someone who could navigate the intricacies of high society with ease, someone who knew how to charm, manipulate, and command attention. She had the kind of influence that could be incredibly useful—if he played his cards right.

Coriolanus could see it now, the path forming in his mind: a partnership of sorts, where Sable's social prowess would complement his strategic mind. She could help him soften his image, make him more palatable to the Capitol's elite, and by extension, to the broader public. If she was willing to throw her support behind him, it could be the key to turning things around in the polls. Likability, after all, was just another form of power.

He leaned in slightly, mirroring her movement, his voice low and measured. “And what’s in it for you, Sable? Why align yourself with me?”

A slow smile spread across her lips, her eyes flicking to his as if she could see the gears turning in his head. “Because, Coriolanus,” she said softly, “you and I are cut from the same cloth. We both know what it means to want something so badly that we’ll do whatever it takes to get it. And I happen to think you’re the best bet for what’s coming next in Panem.”

Coriolanus studied her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer, voice dropping even lower, “Fascinating pitch. Now, what’s your real reason, Sable?”

"Excuse me?"

"Nobody takes their hobby that seriously, especially not national affairs," he told her, "So tell me, what's your reason?"

For a moment, she said nothing, just tilted her head and regarded him with a quiet intensity. Then, as if the idea had always been there, waiting for the perfect moment to surface, her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Alright,” she began, her tone casual, as if discussing the weather, “I’ll tell you, but you're not going to like it,”

He raised a brow, intrigued, "Try me,"

“My parents,” she said, leaning back slightly, fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass, “have been on my back for years about settling down, being a good little house wife. They want me to marry into another high-ranking family, cement my position in Capitol society, yada-yada-yada. You know the drill,”

Coriolanus gave a small nod, already sensing where this was going, but he waited.

“And you, Coriolanus,” she said, her voice dipping into something close to amusement, “are the perfect solution to that problem. You’re on the rise, you’re ambitious, easy on the eyes, and marrying you would get them off my back for good. Plus, it would strengthen your image. A solid union—two powerhouses joined together,”

He blinked, processing her words, but before he could speak, she raised a hand.

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” she continued, eyes meeting his squarely, “I have no interest in you romantically. Behind closed doors, you can do whatever you please. I’m not here for that. This would be a marriage of convenience, nothing more. A partnership—one that benefits us both,”

Coriolanus sat back, his fingers steepled in thought. “You want me to marry you,” he said, slowly, testing the words on his tongue.

“Not immediately, of course. But over time. Think about it,” she said, leaning forward again, her smile turning sharper, “It’s a win-win. We get the Capitol’s attention. We silence anyone who doubts our ambitions. And most importantly, we get what we both want—power, respect, and control over our own lives,”

He could see the calculation in her eyes, the cold pragmatism. She wasn’t lying. For Sable, this was business. Nothing more, nothing less. And that, in some strange way, made the proposal almost… enticing.

“You’d really go through with it?” he asked, still weighing the possibilities.

“Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “And trust me, you’ll never have a more loyal partner in this game. Just as long as we keep everything… business,”

Coriolanus felt a flicker of satisfaction at her words. She was offering more than just flirtation or manipulation; she was offering an alliance. One that could give him the edge he needed in a campaign that was rapidly slipping out of his control.

Hell, what did he have to lose?

He allowed himself a small, calculated smile. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. “But if we’re going to do this, I need to know you’re all in, Sable. No half-measures.”

Her smile widened, a flash of something darker, more determined, passing through her eyes. “Oh, I’m all in. But only if you promise me one thing.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, curiosity piqued.

“That when you win,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you remember who helped you get there.”

Coriolanus held her gaze, the implications clear. This was more than just a casual encounter—it was the beginning of something far more strategic. “Consider it a deal,” he replied, his tone laced with intent.

Sable’s smile was triumphant as she took a step back, giving him a final, lingering look. “Then why don’t we return to the party, we can chat more over dinner?”

As he led her away from the crowd, Coriolanus felt a renewed sense of purpose. Garrison’s words still echoed in his mind, but now they felt less like a burden and more like an opportunity. With Sable by his side, he could craft the image he needed, win the support he lacked—and ultimately, secure the power he craved.

[smittywing]

WIP Wednesday - Marriage 101

This incredibly flimsy premise was brought to you by a post on this site that I can no longer find. It basically said you get more FAFSA money if you're married, so I picked the two characters least likely to ever use FAFSA and married them. I have no regrets.

The aroma of pizza rolls and popcorn notwithstanding, for a minute Tim had forgotten whose safehouse he was actually in.

Damian’s safehouses tended to have the video games. Tim’s were full of prototype gadgets, and Dick’s usually had fuzzy blankets and squishy pillows. Jason’s had the food.

Jason’s apparently also had a FAFSA application.

“Hey,” he said, picking it up. “Are you going back to school?”

Three things happened at once. (1) Jason vaulted off the sofa, overturning a bowl of popcorn onto Dick’s lap, (2) Damian grabbed Jason’s abandoned controller, and murdered Dick’s player, and (3) Dick grabbed Damian and mashed his face into the cushions.

“What’s this?” Dick asked as Tim turned away from Jason’s flailing hands to read the notes Jason had made in the margins. “Is my Little Wing going to be a college man?”

“No, fuckit, Timmers - no.” Jason was bigger and had a longer reach but Tim was extremely adept at dodging and weaving. He’d had a lot of practice. “Just a class or two. Dammit, Tim!”

It wasn’t a class or two. It was a full semester under the name Jason Peterson.

“Let me see,” Dick said, blocking Jason’s swipe and taking the papers from Tim. “You need money?” he asked, scanning the pages.

Jason made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Tuition’s fucking expensive, okay?” he said. “Now fuck off and give me that. That’s personal information.”

“Personal information for someone who isn’t you,” Dick commented, stepping just out of reach.

“Father would gladly pay for your tuition,” Damian piped up unwelcomely from the couch. “Why do you waste your time with tedious paperwork?”

“I am *not* taking money from Bruce.” Jason’s voice resonated with certainty.

“Didn’t you have like, some...passive income?” Tim asked, not sure if bringing up Jason’s time as a drug lord was a faux pas these days. Jason had a hair trigger temper and Tim really didn’t feel like being on the pointy side of his knife. Again.

“If you’re talking about the blood money, I donated it to some of the rehab places,” Jason mumbled. “Clearly I hadn’t come up with this brilliant plan at the time.”

“Why not take Father’s money?” Damian asked. “He enjoys spending it on philanthropic pursuits and you are clearly destitute.”

“No more pizza rolls for you,” Jason said, picking Damian up by his collar as he was peeking over Dick’s arm at Jason Peterson’s income. Damian kicked but Jason’s forearm was steady, as he levered Damian away from the paperwork. Tim quietly watched the tensed muscles running from the edge of Jason’s sleeve to his wrist.

“We’re going to have a little talk later about independence,” Dick told Damian.

“Independence is a worthy outcome,” Damian argued. “But many scholars and artists subsist under the patronage of a sponsor without shame.”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Dick conceded, glancing at Jason. “But look, we’ll talk about it later, okay Dami?” He turned back to Jason. “I think it’s great,” he continued, squeezing Jason’s bicep. Tim waited for violence, but the fight seemed to leak out of Jason as Dick handed him back the paperwork. “And I understand why you want to do this on your own. But if I can help, in any way, let me know, okay? Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jason muttered, color high on his cheeks. “Get Cosimo de Medici out of here, will you?”

Dick grinned. “It’s past his bedtime anyway.”

Tim lingered after Dick and Damian left. “Sorry I didn’t think before I said something,” he offered. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into such a big deal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine, whatever.” He opened the fridge and considered the shelves for a minute before pulling out two beers. Tim would have preferred coffee but he knew Jason was offering an olive branch so he took the bottle.

“Are you thinking about Gotham U?” Tim ventured, twisting off the cap and taking a sip of his beer.

“If I can get in,” Jason said, playing with his bottle cap. “If not, then Gotham State. I took the GED just to see if I could pass.”

“Of course you could,” Tim said automatically. “You were always better at school than Dick.”

Jason looked at him oddly. “Yeah but I quit at 15.”

Tim didn’t correct him. Quitting actually did sound better than getting murdered by the Joker.

“What do you want to study?” he asked instead.

It might have been a cliche, but Jason’s face literally lit from within at the question.

“I want to minor in English lit,” he said, which was a weird place to start, but Tim was too fascinated by the change in his demeanor to comment on it. “For a major, criminal justice would be the obvious choice but the background checks for law enforcement would be too comprehensive to make a career of it. I wouldn’t want to be a cop anyway. I was thinking maybe education but I don’t know for sure. It might make more sense to study something I can use in day-to-day life, you know? This is the most solid cover I have but it could use some backstopping if I’m going to use it in the real world, you know?”

“I could, um,” Tim said, transfixed by the animation in Jason’s voice and face. He had *never* seen Jason this happy or excited, *ever* and the truth was that he would do anything, *anything* to keep seeing it. “I could build out some - you’re really, you’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all, but Jason’s rueful grin tugged at his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, if I can swing it. It takes more than a few Pell grants to keep me in helmets. Obviously this wouldn’t be a full time thing.”

“Yeah,” Tim found himself saying. “I know. I mean, I’m enrolled in a few classes next semester and I don’t know how I’m going to juggle those and regular patrol and the Titans.”

“You’ll do it,” Jason said immediately. “Isn’t your IQ like a million? It’ll be cakewalk.”

“Yeah,” Tim echoed, conviction solidifying. He and Jason would be starting at Gotham U in the fall, together. “Cakewalk.”

$

The concept of Jason happily studying English Lit (English Lit? Really? Jason?) at Gotham University started building itself into a happy fantasy by 4am. Tim Googled “how to pay for college” on his phone when he probably should have been trying to catch a few hours of sleep and 36 hours later, he was crawling in Jason’s window.

“Ugh, you too?” Jason greeted him.

“Hey Tim,” Dick said, looking up from his bowl of cereal.

“Hi, yeah,” Tim said, replying to both of them at once. “I uh, I had some ideas.”

Jason picked up the coffee pot and upended it into a mug. The toasty-burnt aroma hit Tim’s nostrils like a big cuddly freight train and reminded him of just how long he’d been awake. “Thanks,” he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows and lifted the mug to his own mouth. Tim felt its loss acutely. “All right,” Jason said with a sigh. “What’s your idea?”

“Ideas,” Tim clarified. “Plural.” He pulled his convertible laptop out of his backpack and rotated it into tablet mode.

“You didn’t,” Jason groaned.

“Of course he did,” Dick said. “PowerPoint was baby bird’s first computer game.”

“Scholarships,” Tim announced, drowning out the negativity.

“On my stellar GED score?” Jason asked sardonically.

“There are scholarships for non-traditional students,” Tim said, bringing up a selection of postings he had found when anticipating this exact argument.

Jason made a face. “Home-schooled?”

“Which you basically were,” Dick pointed out.

“Don’t help,” Jason told him.

“Granted, you’re probably not looking at full-tuition level scholarships,” Tim said, “but a few thousand dollars to pay for your books will help out a lot.”

Jason nodded grudgingly.

“Work-share!” Tim announced, flipping to the next slide.

“You would make a great lunch lady,” Dick suggested.

Jason glared sideways at him. “No.”

“I was thinking the library myself,” Tim offered, because who liked the library better than an English Lit major? Or minor. Or whatever. “Plus you’d have time to do your homework.”

Jason groaned, but it sounded acquiescing. “Okay,” he said. “What else ya got?”

“Income Share Agreements,” Tim went on. “GC has a program or you can apply through a private matching program for someone to front you the money and commit to paying back a percentage of your income once you graduate.”

“No,” Jason said.

“It’s like a loan,” Tim told him. “Just zero interest. And a zero balance. It doesn’t matter how much you make.”

“I’m doing this because I want to do it,” Jason said. “Not to be a nine-to-five, tax-paying drone, or to be stiffing some jerk on his investment. Next?”

“So, you’re probably not going to be a fan of this one,” Tim cautioned. “But you could get a job. And a company with tuition assistance.”

“Oh, really,” Jason drawled, narrowing his eyes and Tim knew Jason was on to him. “And would this job just happen to be at Wayne Enterprises?”

“I mean, I have an in,” Tim offered weakly.

“Or you could just get married,” Dick said.

“What?” Tim asked.

“What?” Jason asked.

“I mean, if pissing off Bruce is a prerequisite,” Dick said, in the same maddeningly casual tone, “you could just get married.” He held up the FAFSA information booklet. “You’d get double the housing money and some other stuff.”

“I’m in,” Jason said immediately.

“Wait,” Tim said, hating that he was going to be the one to throw a wrench in this extraordinarily *amazing* plan of *marrying Jason*. “Wouldn’t getting married to me fuck up his expected family contribution?”

“Um,” Dick said.

“No.” Jason had clearly been all over this paperwork. “When you file as married, you file as independent so your family isn’t expected to contribute. So our combined income would be the four thou Jason Peterson made at Bat-Burger last year and whatever your summer internship at WE paid.”

“Okay, let me see that worksheet,” Tim said, grabbing it out of Dick’s hand. He did some quick math in his head. “Yeah,” he said, the blood rush of a plan coming together hitting him full force. “I’m using the Nest as a permanent address anyway. You could do the same. I’ll work up a lease between us and Drake Industries. I don’t have legal access to my trust until I turn twenty-one, though Bruce has pretty much signed off on whatever, remind me to check and make sure there’s no marriage clause.”

“Um,” Dick said.

“Gotham has a 48-hour waiting period and blood test required for marriage licenses,” Jason said, scrolling rapidly through his phone. “But after that, we can go down to the courthouse and have the Justice of the Peace do the deed.”

“Figures,” Tim said. “Two days gives the press time to jump on this. Let’s apply on a Friday afternoon. Hopefully, whatever intern they have looking will miss it.”

“I didn’t mean you had to marry *each other*,” Dick said.

The room went silent.

“Who else are we gonna marry?” Jason sneered, clear in his opinion of Dick’s idiocy, and then turned back to the matter at hand. “Your marital status is as of the FAFSA submission date,” he said. “So we need to hook up before I submit.”

Tim shrugged. “Deal.”