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thequeer07puss · 8 days ago

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The cosmological functions of Hera

I’ve been thinking a lot about Hera these past few weeks, and while reading “The Hera of Zeus: Intimate Enemy, Ultimate Spouse”, a new thought and association emerged about the goddess, leading me to analyse and interpret her role in the cosmos, both as a standalone goddess, and as the wife of Zeus.

[This analysis might contain UPG]

The gods as personifications: Zeus’s family as an extension of his power

Many of the gods we know and love have specific functions when they are in relation to Zeus. Hermes delivers his messages to gods and heroes, Apollo is his voice in the mortal world, and Athena is the personification of Zeus’s racing mind. Let me explain my thoughts

Athena is born from the head of Zeus himself, from Metis (which we translate as “wisdom” or “craft”) that he has in himself. As such, she would be one of the few beings in the universe to know and understand Zeus’s grand plans. For example, in the Iliad, Zeus’s grand plan is the destruction of Troy, which Athena was in firm favour of, despite the apparent opposition from her father, who had to restrain her from enacting his plan too soon.

“How is it relevant?” One may ask. “And how does that relate to Hera?” Put a pin in that thought dear reader.

Zeus did not create the universe: the cosmological role of Zeus and his marriages

Based on the interpretation above, many of Zeus’s family members are extensions of the reach he has over the universe, but only some of them could claim to be or have been his wife. Hesiod cites 7 goddesses as having been his wives, namely Metis, Themis, Eurynome, Demeter, Mnemosyne, Leto, and finally Hera. Since we have established the notion that Zeus’s family mean something in relation to him, my theory is that older goddesses, such as the Titans and early Olympians Zeus takes as wives are personifications of abstract concepts and concrete principles from which Zeus orders the universe.

[I would like to preface this next part by explaining a bit about the Ancient Greek view of marriage and sexuality. Marriage’s main function was the accomplishment of one’s personhood as well as creating new life who would contribute positively towards society. Additionally, sex was all about power dynamics, making the dominant partner (the man) the one in control of the submissive partner (the woman), making sex a sort of “subduing” of the other person.]

Zeus did not create the universe at all. He merely inherited it. It was established in Hesiod’s Theogony that all elements in the cosmos existed prior to his existence, albeit in a state of disarray and chaos. Zeus, as a god of structure, therefore inherited this disorderly world and created order from its constituents. In order to do so, he would need to be wise or crafty, which is the reason for his marriage to (and subsequent absorption of) Metis. After doing so he would need to determine the functionings and happening of the world, hence why he marries the Titan (natural force) responsible for establishing universal laws, Themis, from whom he creates goddesses who regulate the happenings of nature and human life, the Horae (Seasons or Hours). After establishing the functionings of the world and determining the best course of action for its happenings, Zeus had to think of what the world would look like, hence he took Eurynome, and from her made the Charites to make the world beautiful and full of delight. But the world was rough and unforgiving, yielding nothing of substance to that which Zeus would make, hence he married Demeter for her treasure of bounty and vegetation, and made Persephone. Then, after the world was beatiful, fruitful and plenty, there had to be intelligent creatures to inhabit it, so Zeus married Mnemosyne to create intelligence, learning, art and the delight of music, in the form of the Muses. Next, when intelligence had been created, it was time for the beings to proliferate in colonies, which is why Zeus married the fertile Leto, who produced Apollo and Artemis, representing the divide between civilisation and the savage wilderness. Lastly, when all had been made in good order, Zeus, whose hymn calls the most Excellent and Great, took in a wife, a final wife, the most beautiful goddess in existence, most excellent of birth, power and status: his sister-wife Hera, an equal to He who is Excellent.

The marriages of Zeus therefore represent a sequence of events that allow Zeus to structure the universe according to his will as the Divine Craftsman or Demiurge. His marriage to Hera therefore represents the completion of this ordering, the state of perfection in which all things exist under the order established by Zeus.

Hera the goddess of perfection

In “The Hera of Zeus”, Pirenne-Delforge and Pironti analyse the role of Hera as a goddess who pushes beings to their fullest potential. This is why, she is the mother of Hebe, which is the goddess of youth, a state where one reaches the full potential and power they will ever be capable of in life. This is also why in the story of the daughters of Pandareus, Hera gives the young women beauty and intellect above all other women. Therefore, it might come as no surprise that the goddess who grants perfection and loves excellence would be seen and worshipped as the goddess in charge of determining which deities are suitable to enter Olympus (see here), of initiating young people into greater society, and finding the most excellent match befitting of one’s status in marriage. However, as many of us know, perfection can not be achieved without a certain level of conflict, whether internal (like an artist willing to improve their craft) or external (a teacher giving students tough exercises to test their knowledge), and Hera being a lover of perfect things, thrives in this state of conflict or discomfort, which is exemplified in her relationship with her husband Zeus, with whom she argues quite a bit, with the goal to spur him on to consider and reconsider the way he rules the cosmos, and reestablish his supremacy among the gods. In the Iliad, Zeus seems to be used, or even expect to conflict and opposition from Hera, and even goes to her for advice on whether he should save Sarpedon from the war or not. In another story, Hera creates Typhon as the biggest challenge to Zeus’s reign, a challenge Zeus wins, reinforcing his superiority. Hera, in her role as wife of Zeus, is both a representation of the completion of Zeus’s reshaping of the universe, the goddess that reinforces her husband’s supremacy, as well as the goddess that forces Zeus to stay perfect to keep ruling and ordering the universe by constantly opposing and arguing with him to make him consider and reconsider courses of action to accomplish his plans.

Analysis of the Orphic hymn to Hera: the goddess of essences

Now that it was established that Hera is the goddess of excellence, and that she represents the state of completion that the universe exists in, a little question remains: why is the world so imperfect then?

Well, my friend, let me introduce you to the Platonic concept of “essences”. Plato saw essences as the universal, most basic, most condensed, most recognisable form of a thing or concept. They are essentially the “soul” of things or concepts. What is a cat? What makes a cat a cat? If you have a basic idea of what a cat is, it is because you are using the essence of “Cat” to produce a mental image of “cat”. Plato then proceeds to explain that we can not know these essences or experience them because we live in the material world, which is imperfect, which then alters the perfection of essences to make them appear to us in diverse forms.

“Then where are the essences?” One may ask. I answer: in Hera

The Orphic hymn to Hera calls her ψυχοτρόφους (psūchotróphous), which is translated as mother or nurse of souls, then proceeds to call her παντογένεθλε (pantogénthle), the source of everything, and say that she is in everything. Such a description is befitting of the goddess of essences.

[Here is part of a prayer I have written to Hera after a meditation on that aspect:

“Your hymn calls you the mother of souls, the Ψυχοτρόφος, the nurse of clouds, the source of all, my lady, wife and bedmate of Zeus, whose hymn calls him ἀρχὴ πάντων and πάντων τε τελευτή, the beginning and end of all things. In yourself you have held and mixed all things, and have mingled your essence in them. All things are from you, all things are in you, you are in all things, and in the act of breathing we inhale your essence. You are queen, you are παμβασίλεια, for you are the blessed creator of the universe, who makes all things alongside Zeus, whose head contains the knowledge of all things.”]

Conclusion: tl;dr

In summary, Hera, the final wife of Zeus, does not only represent a simple marriage if you think about it on a cosmological scale. She represents the state of completion our universe exists in after a series of restructuring by Zeus, she is the goddess that makes both people and gods suitable and perfect, and she contains in her the essences of everything in the universe. She is a complex goddess whose interactions with other beings in myth and cult are often brushed off as being “simplistic” or “dramatic”, but reveal a very interesting story once they are given more thought.

Thank you for reading <3

[P.S: please feel free to add any thoughts or opinions to this discussion. It will fuel the voices]

#this one is a doozy #Hera #Lady Hera #helpol #hellenic polytheism #just my thoughts #metaphysics

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aloof-cold-hands · 15 days ago

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Womanly Man (short story- William and Cornelius)

Note- this short story was originally crafted for a college course, which had a very strict page limit. Therefore, many sections were condensed.

Cornelius first met William at the third quarterly meeting of the law firm, in which Cornelius was wedged in an olive green chair with his waist dipped over each arm. His collared shirt stuck to his damp skin, and when he breathed his nose whistled quietly. Cornelius’s forehead was glossy and his eyes were strained into a squint behind thick glasses as he pretended to read over one of his attorney’s cases. Coworkers discussed finances, papers flipped, and Cornelius rubbed the side of his face.

A thin man in a cream colored suit set his file down across from Cornelius. When the man sat in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other, then tucked a piece of silk hair behind his ear. Each arm of his chair was wide on either side of his curved waist, which his suit hugged snuggly. He leaned forward and placed his elbow on the table, then placed his palm on his cheek. He peeled open the file he had set down, skimming it.

His cheekbones were pronounced, almost skeletal, and his sleek nose came to a pointed tip. His eyes were heavy, much like Monroe’s, but this man was missing her birthmark and red lipstick. He was young. He looked up at Cornelius, and Cornelius looked at him. To Cornelius, the man was womanly.

It was the annual office Christmas party when Cornelius met William a second time. Paper reindeer were strewn across the ceiling and tinsel hung off the reception desk. The company’s complimentary “holly jolly” pencil holders were lingering beside every type writer. “Lonely This Christmas” lazily whirred from a record that the manager, Larry, had set up.

Cornelius stood just beside the buffet table holding a paper cup that was stained pink from wine. On his head sat a headband with felt antlers. He was the only legal assistant that had attended, all of the mingling parties around him were attorneys.

He breathed deep and slow through his nose, and he watched the red wine in his cup swivel.

For the fourth time that night, Cornelius gripped the cold neck of the bottle and tipped the lip over his cup. The wine poured in glugs till the cup became weighted again. After he set the bottle down, he wiped his hands on the side of his pants.

Slim fingers slid across his back, and Cornelius stepped to the side.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cornelius said.

“Pardon me.”

The blonde man from the quarterly meeting gave Cornelius a close mouthed smile. The man poured himself a cup of water from the dispenser on the table, and Cornelius removed his felt antlers.

“I don’t believe we’ve met properly,” The man said.

“No, uhm…,” Cornelius replied.

“May I ask for your name?”

“Cornelius.”

“Hello, Cornelius.”

Cornelius took a sip of his wine, and the man took a sip of water.

“Yours?”

“Call me William.”

William offered Cornelius his hand, and Cornelius accepted. His palm was damp, warm, and calloused. William’s hand was cold.

“You’re an intern, is that right?” Cornelius asked.

“I handle criminal cases,” William replied. Cornelius flushed. “And you?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m a legal assistant.”

“Mm, you work divorces for Tom?” “Usually, yes.”

“I see,” William said, then glanced down at Cornelius’s left hand. Cornelius put it in his pocket. He slid his wedding ring off with the pad of his thumb.

The record played, the yellow lights buzzed, and Cornelius felt his shirt sticking to his back. He parted his lips to say something, but so did William.

“How long have you been married?” William asked.

“Oh. Too long,” Cornelius said, then chuckled. William didn’t laugh. “Twenty eight years now.”

“That's lovely,” William said.

“Oh, thank you,” Cornelius replied.

“May I take you for drinks?” William asked.

“Now?”

“Would you like that?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, really.”

William said nothing, he only smiled. Cornelius’s thick glasses slowly slid down the bridge of his nose from sweat.

“I have to be home before twelve,” Cornelius said.

“Would you prefer that I drive?” William asked.

“Well- which bar?”

“Do you have a favorite?”

William and Cornelius slipped out of the building together into the chill of winter. William’s work shoes clicked like heels on glossy winter pavement, and Cornelius studied his legs. The car was a flat ford pinto with white rimmed wheels and a mustard yellow finish. William opened the door for Cornelius.

William turned the heaters in the car on as he drove, and Cornelius talked about war.

“Drafts don’t happen as much as kids think. My boy James is old enough but they don’t want him in Vietnam, haha.”

“Have you been in war, my friend?” William asked.

“No, no but my father was,” Cornelius replied.

“Hmm. Do you fear being drafted?” William asked.

“No, no we’re too old to be drafted,” Cornelius said.

William did not respond. Cornelius looked at him.

“Could you be?” he asked, watching William’s face.

“I don’t believe I will be,” William responded.

Cornelius’s brows furrowed. He thought about that.

When the men arrived at the bar, William led the older man to the very back where they could hide in a booth together. The floor was checkered, the walls were pastel yellow with orange and brown stripes, and the jukebox on the other side of the bar played “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” by Doris Day.

Cornelius had seven rounds of bourbon, and three of vodka. William had one lemonade, which he swirled with a straw while he watched Cornelius’s face get red and his mouth get lazy.

“I like bourbon a lot, but I can only afford beer in large amounts. My father liked beer though,” Cornelius said, slurring. “You’re not gonna drink?”

“Mm. I find that it gives me passion but takes away my performance,” William replied, to which Cornelius chuckled.

“Oh yea? Have you disappointed a date before?”

William smiled, and took a sip of his drink.

“Do you take girls out often, not being married? I bet you do, looking so young. And blonde, you look like Maralyn Monroe actually.”

“I see,” William said, reaching out for his cigarette back.

“Do you take out girls a lot?”

“I find women to be incredibly beautiful.”

“Yea, I’m sure with the type of women you must get. I never had that, not even when I was your age.”

“No?”

“Look at me,” Cornelius said.

“I am,” William replied.

William was stroking his fingers up and down his left collar bone, his shirt was three buttons open revealing his smooth skin and much-exposed neck. It was long and pale, and Cornelius could picture a double string of pearls strewn across it.

“You’re like a woman,” Cornelius said aloud. William grinned.

“Thank you,” William said.

“You look like a woman.”

“Thank you.”

Cornelius stared at William and breathed heavily through his nose. William stared at Cornelius and traced his collarbone.

William paid the bill and steadied Cornelius on the way to the car. Snow specks stuck to the windows as William drove the drunk man home. Cornelius’s gut was extended and his face was heated. He breathed slowly, and he needed several reminders to give directions.

William’s ford pinto rolled up to the curb, coming to a stop at a two story house with lightless windows. Cornelius looked up at the master bedroom. It was then that he felt a hand on his knee.

“What a wonderful evening, Cornelius,” William said. “Will I have the privilege of taking you out again?”

The thumb against his knee began to rub back and forth, and for a long time Cornelius did nothing. Then, sobered by his own excitement, he pulled his leg away.

“No, no I’ve uhm, spent enough of your money. You don’t have to do that.

“You’re so thoughtful,” William said, smiling. “Goodnight, Cornelius.”

“Goodnight, William.”

After staring at William for a long time, Cornelius opened the car door and lifted his body into the cold.

Cornelius kicked off his shoes at the front door and began to unbutton his shirt as he walked up the stairs. He removed his belt at the opening of the master bedroom, which jingled as it dropped to the carpet. When he shifted into bed, the king sized mattress dipped and creaked under his weight. He neglected to brush his dry, liquor coated mouth, or shower off the sweat from the night. Linda was turned away from him with curlers in her hair.

“Where were you?” she asked.

Cornelius said nothing. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, then began to rub his palm up and down her skin. Linda rolled his hand off and pulled the sheets tighter around her body. Cornelius stared at the back of her head, studying the coils of blonde hair wrapped in mint green plastic curlers. He wondered, to himself, if William ever curled his hair. He then turned away from her.

Husband and wife laid quietly with one another in the dark bedroom, and Cornelius wished he had slept on the couch.

A week later, William took Cornelius for another round of drinks. Cornelius collected bottles and talked, and William listened. A shoe touched an ankle or a hand would brush against an arm. They discussed Elvis, The Beatles, and Charlie Chaplin, who William didn’t know.

“Really? You don't know him?” Cornelius asked.

William just smiled.

“He’s been in talkies, some of the first actually.”

“A talkie?” William asked.

Cornelius thought about that for a while, staring at William’s smooth face.

“Come home with me,” William said.

To which Cornelius replied while hot faced;

“Okay.”

William’s car rolled into a flat driveway. One beam of light became two as the headlights neared the garage door, then shut off. The home was single story and older, like the kind that were built when Cornelius was newly married. The exterior was pastel yellow and the steep roof was mahogany brown. The lights on either side of the front door were lit.

Cornelius watched William open the door without unlocking it. William then began the process of lighting lamps and closing curtains while Cornelius removed his coat. The home was quiet and smelled heavily of smoke.

The couch in front of the TV was custard yellow with several textured blankets sprawled across the top. Crocheted, wool, and faux fur. There were throw pillows, a bean bag, a shag rug, and a coffee table with a completely full ashtray in the center.

The kitchen still carried the trends of the 50s. Mint green cabinets and counters, Vinyl flooring, and a round breakfast table.

From the hallway emerged a black cat. She bobbed over to the door to greet them with her tail up in the air. She neglected William and pressed her head into Cornelius’s calf, then dragged her body against his leg. She meowed frequently, looking up at Cornelius while circling his shoes.

“Hello, Cynthia,” William said as he removed Cornelius’s coat for him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to wait in my room while I feed her?”

“Oh, uhm…” Cornelius said. The beat in his chest became heavier.

“I’ll only be a moment.”

“Okay.”

Cornelius slid his hands into his pockets and stepped out from Cynthia, who followed him down the hallway until she heard the peel of a cat food can in the kitchen. There were no portraits on the walls, nor were there paintings. After studying the bathroom and the guest room, Cornelius opened the last door down the hallway and tugged at the pull chain on the floor lamp beside him.

The room was soft blues and cream. William owned a canopy with sheer curtains that hung over the bed. His bedsheets were glossy, probably silk. He had two yellow dressers with colognes, a record player, and a jewelry box sitting on top. And most noticeably, William owned a spacious vanity mirror. To Cornelius, this room belonged to a woman.

“Would you like to take your shoes off, dear?” William asked, and a hand slid onto Cornelius’s shoulder.

Cornelius said nothing, and William waited. He stepped around to look at Cornelius’s face. His eyes were peaceful and half lidded, and his collarbones were more exposed to Cornelius than he had ever noticed before. William’s thin fingers plucked Cornelius’s glasses from his face and closed them.

“I’m not a queer, William.” Cornelius said.

“I didn’t think you were, dear,” William replied.

For a very long time Cornelius said nothing, and William said nothing. Then, Cornelius kissed William.

William’s body was sleek, and thin, and young. His skin was milky and smooth against moist, nervous, veiny hands. His chest hair was frail and sparse, and his waist slim. His delicate fingers slid against sun spots and coarse stomach hair, then a hairy breast. William’s ribs cupped the older man's rotund stomach, and when Cornelius couldn't last the way William could, William did not laugh. The curtains were closed, it was dark, and Cornelius was handsome.

“I’m sorry,” Cornelius said. A drop of sweat left his forehead.

William kissed his cheek, and then the corner of his mouth.

“My darling,” he replied.

Cornelius was guided to lay down, and he obeyed. He placed his head on William’s chest and curled his body against him. William cradled his wide, damp body. Both men breathed together and thought together, naked on top of silk sheets. William whispered kindly to him, and Cornelius began to weep. William stroked his head and pulled him close.

The next morning, William helped Cornelius dress, made him breakfast, then smoked with him. Cornelius didn’t say much to William.

After breakfast, William drove Cornelius home. When the ford pinto came to a stop, Cornelius did not leave the car. He watched the window on the second floor to the master bedroom, then sighed through his nose. Linda would be dressing herself for church at this time, and she would want him to attend. Cornelius knew this.

“My dear, may I walk you to the door?” William asked.

“Oh, no William. Uhm, thank you, no.”

William placed a hand on Cornelius’s knee and rubbed his thumb back and forth.

“I understand. The evening was a delight, Cornelius. Will I have the privilege of seeing you again?” William asked.

“Uhm, I don’t know.”

William nodded, then gave Cornelius’s knee a squeeze. William leaned in close and Cornelius worried that William wanted to kiss him. Instead William reached to open the glovebox and withdrew a white sliver from it. It was then offered to Cornelius. The business card read; Bill Clement - Criminal lawyer. In the middle of the card was a phone number.

“Thank you,” Cornelius said.

“Goodbye, dear.

Cornelius watched William’s car drive away.

He pressed the front door open, which tended to get stuck in the frame, and stepped inside. Dishes clanked in the kitchen and the news man was giving the weather on the television in the living room. There were footsteps upstairs in Cornelius’s daughter's room.

Cornelius rubbed his face in his hands. The white light coming into the home was glaring, the noise was sharp, and the pressure of a headache swelled against his skull. He wandered deeper, rounding the corner to the kitchen where Linda stood in front of the sink in a floral sunday dress. Her blonde hair with streaks of gray was done up in a beehive.

“Linda,” Cornelius said.

Linda turned her head to look at him, and Cornelius felt her eyes scan his body. She scowled, then put her plate down to fully face Cornelius. She crossed her arms, and stared at him. Cornelius stared at the kitchen tile.

“Where were you?” She asked.

“I’m sorry, Linda.”

“Where were you.”

“I got drunk, I was going to call.” “You didn’t.”

“I know.”

Cornelius swallowed thickly, and Linda waited.

“I went drinking with uhm, Bill from the firm. I slept at his place.”

“Cornelius,” Linda said, leaning back against the counter. “When I asked you not to drink on a church night, you said that you wouldn't.”

“I know-”

“You promised.”

The television discussed the upcoming election, their daughter’s footsteps came down the stairs, and the neighbors dog barked in the yard.

“This is the one thing I get, we go to church as a family, Cornelius. We are a family that goes to church every single Sunday. You cannot do this again.”

“Okay.”

“Get ready and show up late,” Linda said.

“Alright.”

“Did you lose your glasses?”

Cornelius reached up to feel the bridge of his nose where his glasses were not perched. He pictured them waiting for him on William’s nightstand.

“Oh, I guess,” he said as Linda walked past him to the front door. He suddenly became aware that he smelt of liquor and tangy sweat.

Both his wife and his daughter stepped onto the front porch, then closed the front door behind them. Linda had to tug the door to get it into the frame properly.

Cornelius swayed in the kitchen for a minute, then sat down on the couch and watched the news.

That very night, while Cornelius sat in the kitchen alone, William was intertwined with Gene, a good friend, on his silk sheets. They were both incredibly beautiful, and both incredibly skilled with their mouths. Just as they had begun to kiss, the phone in the kitchen rang. William tilted his head to the side for Gene to trail warm pecks down his neck to his collarbone. But after the third ring, the well-built man stopped.

“Aye,” Gene said.

“Hmm?” William replied.

“Phones ringing.”

“If it’s urgent, they will call again my dear.”

Moments later, William was wrapped in a sheer robe walking to the kitchen. The tile was cold under his bare feet, and he nearly tripped over Cynthia as she curled around his ankle mid step. He plucked the phone from the wall and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?” He said, leaning against the counter. He toyed with the custard colored coil from the phone.

“William?” Cornelius asked across the line. He was drunk.

“Cornelius, hello dear.”

“William, hello. How are you? I’m sorry, uhm, did I wake you up?” he asked.

“Not at all. Are you well?” William asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. I just wanted to call.”

“I see.”

Cornelius went silent, and so did William. William could hear him breathing.

“I need to-... when can I see you again?”

William smiled.

“Aww, my darling. Are you unwell?”

Cornelius said nothing.

“May I take you for drinks tomorrow?” William asked.

“Yes, please.” Cornelius said. “Thank you.”

“No need to-”

“Thank you. I love you.”

William’s smile dropped into a neutral line and he stopped toying at the phone coil.

“I’m sorry. I don't mean- I’m not that way. You know that, I’m not like that.”

“I know, dear.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, my darling,” William said.

“Goodnight,” Cornelius replied. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you're interested in more writing, consider looking into my patreon!

#70 #short story #writing #original character #William Clement #Cornelius Hornwell

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hb-writes · 1 year ago

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Another Time, Another Place

Summary: Harvey's wife (Reader) gets stuck while working on a case and she requires his assistance to get unstuck.

Prompt: “What? Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader/OFC (3rd person, she/ her)

Content Warning: Nothing much, really. Implied spice, but no explicit spice.

She pulled her gaze from her laptop, rubbing at her eyes as she glanced around the room after sending an email. Most of the partners—both the senior and junior designees—stayed far away from the law firm’s library. They had little need for the space, what with being granted their own resplendent offices, complete with the comforts of their own design—furniture and decor and views that reflected their status and clout at the firm…

So it was rare to find department heads there, excepting for the odd instances when they deigned to stretch their legs, drifting down to the library to follow up with an associate or paralegal assigned to their case in person rather than sending an email, but she had always liked the library. She often preferred its special brand of quiet, the near-silence imbued with the tense buzz of people working on their own time-sensitive assignments, almost like the parallel play of toddlers. Almost like they were all still students studying for exams and writing papers.

The room was empty now though, the hour too late for even the most diligent of associates, the most hungry of them, but it had always reminded her of her days back in school…her days as a novice associate. Even now, she sometimes preferred the space to her own office the same way she’d once preferred the space to her little cubicle in the bullpen. Back when she was an associate, there had been no hour too late, no hour that she wouldn’t spend in the library with a pile of books and her mind wound tightly throughout the intricacies of a case, trying to craft a win for herself. For her mentor. For her clients.

It wasn’t often these days that she needed to keep such late hours. And somewhere along the line, she’d become the one mentoring novice attorneys. She’d sent her own associate home hours ago, preferring to work through this particularly rough bit of research on her own. Once in a while, she liked that sort of challenge. Liked revisiting the grueling all nighters she’d once lived on a daily basis.

And she could feel she was close now, the puzzle pieces in her mind’s eye nearly falling into place. Nearly…but there was something she was missing. Something blocked that she couldn’t quite work through. In a library containing thousands of volumes and a whole internet of answers, she just couldn’t find what she needed.

Or, more likely, she couldn’t access it, her mind not making the right connections.

She probably just needed to get some sleep, to look at things with a fresh mind, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with an impending deadline.

A short break would have to do. She just needed an influx of energy, a slight bit of distraction to pull her mind away from the issue just enough to give perspective.

Pushing back from her laptop, she turned the volume on her wireless headphones up, letting the club hits she used to dance to during undergrad house parties soothe some part of her soul, almost as if the familiar beats unlocked something in her, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. Not that it was a surprise. She’d been hunched over the table for hours, not even bothering to stop for dinner, taking only a few obligatory bites of the sushi Harvey had ordered for her while her eyes remained glued to her computer.

She let her focus slip away now though, slipping off her heels and closing her eyes as she sang along to the song in her headphones. She imagined she was in another time, another place—far away from the library and the case, the music easily carrying her away.

She started, eyes flying open as she danced into something solid, the scent of a familiar cologne tickling her senses as she stumbled. Harvey’s hand closed around her back, steadying her as she pulled her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck.

Harvey smirked at the noise still blaring through the silent library from the headphones, a song he knew just as well as she did, the sound of it dredging up at least half a dozen memories—images of his own college days, images of the two of them on road trips, images of her cleaning the apartment, images of their wedding, images of a handful of other times he’d come across her in the firm’s library late at night…

“Hey fruitcake, what are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes at the reference as she turned down the volume, allowing the memories and the music to fall away, her mind temporarily focused on finding the right retort, her mind gratefully sifting through Dirty Harry quotes rather than case law research.

Harvey watched her, letting the quiet stretch between them, some part of him gratified at the sight of her slightly disheveled appearance. Harvey liked something about the juxtaposition, of seeing her just slightly less put together than she usually was in the hallowed halls of their law firm, her blazer discarded on a chair, her shirt sleeves rolled, her feet bare, bright red toenails stark against the dark carpets.

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing her like that. She was the type of girl who was almost always in sweats just minutes after arriving home. She’d actually been dressed that way when they first met, years and years ago in a different law library, in a different set of hallowed halls.

Sometimes, especially times like this, it felt like it was just yesterday.

Harvey pulled his eyes back to her face to find her studying him, a certain eagerness lighting her eyes. His lips formed a fond smile again.

“I thought you were hard at work down here?” he taunted, eyebrows raising.

“Well…” she started, leaning a bit of weight onto the arm that still lay snaked around her back, “for the past three-quarters of an hour, I’ve been sitting on my ass waiting for you.”

Harvey smirked. It was one of the things he loved about her: that she could go toe to toe with him with most things—movie references, the law, a few choice other things…

Nevermind the fact that she’d emailed him requesting his ‘assistance’ mere minutes ago…

Harvey gently massaged her lower back with the fingers he still had splayed there before shifting his arm away, abstaining from letting his hand drift down to the aforementioned ass, another thing he loved about her.

Her lips pursed at the sudden absence of Harvey’s touch and she pulled her arms up to fold over her chest.

“I brought that help you wanted.”

She refrained from smiling as she read the title of the paperback he pushed into the space between them—Law for Dummies—even as he smirked, giddy as a school child. She had gifted the book to him upon his law school graduation, and it had occupied a shelf in his various cubicles and offices ever since.

She doubted it had ever been much help, but it gave them a good laugh from time to time, something which was like a balm to the harshness of life sometimes, a healing salve for the seemingly chronic stress of their lives.

“Very clever, Harvey.”

“What?” he asked, gaze drifting from her unimpressed face down to the black and yellow front cover. “Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Harvey’s voice sounded so innocent—so sincere—that she almost laughed. Christ, he was good. If law hadn’t worked out, he could’ve given acting a shot. Comedy, maybe.

“Did my email say anything about a book, Mr. Specter?” she asked, taking the tome from his hands and tossing it on a nearby table with a thump.

Harvey hummed. “Come to think of it, your email was a little…vague. Left a lot to the imagination.”

“Mhmm…” She nodded. “The details of the specific type of assistance I require of you is something I suspect neither one of us would want in writing. Wouldn’t want it read aloud in a court of law…” Her eyes traveled Harvey’s face, clocking the light in his eyes and the tug of his smile. “Or by the IT department,” she added as an afterthought, the briefest bit of alarm washing over her features at the idea.

“You think Benjamin is reading our email exchanges?” Harvey asked. “That’s kind of—”

She pushed at his chest before he could get the word out—kinky.

“Harvey,” she groaned, not because she didn’t enjoy the childish side of him. She did. She loved it, actually, but she had asked him down here for a reason…

“Yes, Mrs. Specter?”

To most of the world, both here at the office and in the eyes of the U.S. government, she went by her maiden name. She had kept her own name, both professionally and legally, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that she was not a man’s property, not even if Harvey Specter was the man in question. But between the two of them, it still thrilled her when he called her that, made her feel so thoroughly his—and him so thoroughly hers—that her toes curled into the carpet, a movement that Harvey clocked as he stepped closer, one arm wrapping around her as he used the other to guide her face up to him with a hand under her chin.

“What specific type of assistance is it that you require of me?”

Whatever she asked for…whatever she needed…Harvey would readily give her the world if she wanted it. If it would make her happy. If she needed it. He’d do anything.

It was a truth they both knew. And it was reciprocal. She’d do the same for him.

But all she wanted—all she needed—just now was him.

This.

Well, this…and a way to win her case, but as she kissed her husband’s lips, allowing him to guide them both back towards the stacks, thoughts of the case fell away until all that existed in the world was two people alone in a library, each of them falling a bit further in love, as they had once done long ago in another time, another place.

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #harvey specter fanfic #suits fanfic #suits usa #suits tv #suits #suits netflix #lovefest2024

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nina-ya · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Like Honey

A/N: Hi!! Two sanji posts in a row?? Im just a fake Law lover someone needs to revoke my card Pairing: Sanji x reader CW: Oral sex (reader receiving), AFAB reader, vaginal fingering, noseblood mention poorly translated french WC: 1.2k • masterlist • ko-fi •discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sanji’s devotion to you was evident in every languid motion as he was nestled between your thighs, his newest happy place. His lips, the ones that usually curled into charming smiles or crafted complements to throw your way, were now occupied with giving you unrelenting pleasure. His tongue caressed and danced over your folds with a desperate urgency, determined to show you just how much he loves you.

His eyes were half-lidded, the cerulean orbs glazed over with a hunger and desire that made him nearly unrecognizable. Soft, needy noises escaped his throat alongside gentle slurps, breathless sighs, and the occasional groan. He was fully consumed by the task before him, finding complete pleasure in giving you yours.

The mess he was making didn’t phase him. If anything, the whole ordeal just spurred him on. Your own essence, mixed with the maroon of his nosebleed, painted his face and dripped onto the surface below you, but he seemed unaware of the world beyond the taste of you, not that either of you minded.

"Mon trésor," Sanji murmured between breaths, his voice vibrating against your most sensitive spots. "Tu as le goût du paradis." you taste like heaven.

His hands moved to adjust your position as he draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled you flush against his face, the new angle allowing him to delve deeper into you. Each flick of his tongue was a masterstroke, each and every cell in your body alight with euphoria. He sucked on your clit gently, each pass over the sensitive bundle of nerves drawing choked gasps and mewls of pleasure from your lips.

Sanji’s mouth worked tirelessly to draw out moans, sighs, shaky breaths, and twitches from you. Each beautiful sound that spilled from your lips filled the air, mixing with his own hums and groans of satisfaction Every drop of your essence was like liquid gold, thick and sweet like honey, driving him mad.

His hips moved with an almost animalistic rhythm as he rutted into the mattress beneath you. His neediness was palpable, his body aching for any kind of friction, any form of relief from the intense tightness building in his pants. Each thrust against the fabric felt like he was pleading in any way to get some sort of reprieve. His cock straining painfully against the confines, the precum that seeped through the fabric of his pants only adding to the mounting frustration.

Sanji’s devotion wasn’t just in his touch– it was in the reverence with which he worshipped every part of you. His movements were purposeful and unhurried, he was savoring his perfect dish and indulging in every taste of you. His tongue was a brush that painted you in sensations that were far too profound to name, his lips being the softest silk as they molded to the curves of your body.

Your legs trembled where they rested on his shoulders, his grip on your thighs tightening as if he feared you may slip away. He buried his face deeper into you and with each slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, your body arched instinctively toward him, desperate for more.

“Mon amour,” he murmured against you. “Je ne pourrais jamais en avoir assez de ton miel.” I could never get enough of your honey.

The words dripped with a longing, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through you like a current. His hands slid up your waist, warm and firm, before one crept higher, cupping your breast as his thumb circled your hardened nipple. He couldn’t get enough of you. He couldn’t stop at just tasting you, he needed to feel you– needed to feel you come udone under his touch.

“S’il te plaît… i want to hear you,” he groaned against you, almost pleading.

The plea sent a crackle of electricity down your spine at his plea, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to hold on and steady yourself against the sensations that had your mind whipped into a frenzy. His lips latched onto your clit once more, sucking gently before his tongue lashed against it, every suck and flick driving you mad until you were teetering, breathless, at the point of no return.

Sanji’s gaze was molten, his lust-darkened eyes glued to the sight of you unraveling beneath him. Each movement you made was committed to memory– the arch of your back, the trembling rise of your chest, the way your lips parted with each desperate gasp. His hands, warm and steady, slid down your stomach before joining the slick mess between your thighs.

The first touch of his fingers were teasing, as if testing the waters. The wetness that greeted him made his cock twitch in his pants as he spread your slick across his fingertips. The scent of you was intoxicating. Earthy, sweet, and unmistakably you. It filled his senses and made him dizzy with need.

When he finally slid a finger inside, the warmth of you wrapped around him, tight and inviting, and he couldn’t stop the groan that slipped past his lips. He slowly pumped his finger, letting you adjust to the sensation, and then he added another. His fingers curled just so, pressing into that spot that had you seeing stars. The thrust of his fingers soon quickened, matching the movements of his tongue and soon the obscene sound of his fingers plunging into you filled the air, mixing with the desperate moans spilling from your lips.

That unbearable tightness coiled in your lower belly, like a spring ready to snap. Your breath hitched in sharp shallow gasps and your legs trembled against him, toes curling as the tension in your core grew tighter, tighter still, until you thought you might break from it.

Then, the first tremor hit, and it was like you were struck by lightning, a shock violently sending a jolt down your body that made your entire body arch off the bed. Your eyes clamped shut, brows furrowing as your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the intensity of it all stealing your breath. Every muscle in your body was taut, straining with the force of your orgasm as it tore through you wave after wave.

Sanji groaned against your clit, feeling you clench around his fingers and he couldn’t help but continue his pace, coaxing every last shudder, every spasm of pleasure from your trembling form. The muscles in your thighs quivered uncontrollably as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, your chest heaving as you gasped for air and your heart thumped against your ribcage.

Your hands grasped helplessly at the sheets, knuckles turning white as you rode out the aftershocks. You could feel every throb, every pulse in your core as you tensed up again and again, pulling in Sanji’s fingers with each contraction.

Your legs, once tense, began to fall limp, muscles weak and trembling from the exertion. That furrow in your brow softened, and your lips formed a soft, contented smile.

Sanji’s fingers withdrew gently, his lips placing soft kisses on your skin, murmuring sweet praises that you barely heard through the fog of your pleasure still clouding your mind. He savored the taste of your honey, pulling back just enough to watch the effects of his efforts. If you weren’t in such a daze, you would have noticed that look in his eyes telling you that he is far from done.

#nina writes~✦#sanji x reader #black leg sanji #one piece x reader #black leg sanji x reader #x reader

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egcdeath · 1 month ago

Text

just what the doctor ordered

pairing: harvey x reader

summary: as a successful lawyer in the city, you’re almost certain that nothing can throw you for a loop. that is, until a visit to your sister’s farm brings you to the small town’s doctor.

chapter summary: a minor injury on your sister’s farm brings you to dr. harvey’s clinic.

words: 5.6k

warnings: fluff, slowww burn, mentions of blood, medical examination, unnamed original sister character, love at first sight vibes, mutual pining, friends to lovers

author’s note: full disclaimer i am not a lawyer OR a doctor so please forgive me if i get some things wrong. i also haven’t written creatively in a minute, so my writing’s a little rusty. please bear with me as i find my footing again!

Growing up, you and your sister were like night and day. Where she liked to play outside in the mud and get her hands dirty, you preferred to stay inside, occupying your clean hands with arts and crafts. Where you were precise and careful with your words, she preferred to be crude and speak her mind. You were anxious when she was carefree, and while your nose was always in a book, her head was always in the clouds.

She also happened to be your grandfather’s favorite—so it came as no surprise that she was the grandchild he asked to inherit the farm. It came as even less of a surprise that she happily accepted the property, always flexible and ready to pivot to the next opportunity. You weren’t particularly mad about it, after all, he passed while you’d been fighting tooth and nail for promotion to a senior associate at the law firm you worked at in Zuzu City, and you weren’t exactly interested in giving everything you worked so hard for up to play in the mud professionally.

While it might not have made sense for you to live in Stardew Valley as a career, it certainly made sense as a safe haven for you to visit when you needed some time away from the city, and with the week you just had, you desperately needed time away from the city.

The train ride into town was a quiet one, your head pressed against the glass as you dozed off and thought about the town. Though you visited the farm a few times throughout your childhood, you never felt completely at home there. Still, it would be good to see your sister and get away from the hustle of living in the city, even if you were only taking a break from it all for a few days.

After getting off the train, you barely had a moment to collect yourself before you were immediately greeted by your sister. She hugged you tightly, as if she hadn’t seen you in years—despite visiting your apartment in the city only a few months ago.

Even if you didn’t show it as outwardly as your younger sibling, you were just as excited to be seeing her. You did your best not to dwell on it too much, but you often worried about her. You worried about her from the second she was born, and you would surely be worrying about her until the moment you were six-feet under. Despite the fact that she was coming up on her third year on the farm, you couldn’t help but feel concerned about her being so alone.

During your weekly phone calls and her less frequent visits to the city, you resisted the urge to interrogate her on if she’d made any new friends or was enjoying the life she was carving out for herself. Knowing that you had a bit of an anxious streak, she set the boundary that you could only discuss these types of things if she were the one to bring it up first, and you did your best to respect that.

Like when you realized you hadn’t visited your sister’s farm since her housewarming party a few years ago, or that you somehow had managed to spend every single major holiday together in the city. You kept your desire to see your sister where she lived quiet, not wanting to stir the pot, until she suggested that you come to visit. Immediately, you put everything down to come see her.

You weren’t sure if the invitation was extended because of how stressed you were at work, or because she genuinely wanted to see you, but it didn't particularly matter to you. You wanted to come and visit your sister to make sure that she was okay—that she wasn’t just spending her time rotting in the old farmhouse away from society and living off of jars of pickles your grandparents preserved years ago.

The two of you walked back to the farm, the path you’d walked so many times growing up feeling somewhat familiar, but in a distant and blurry way. On some level, returning back to the location as you walked side by side with your chatty sister made you feel a bit like a kid again.

As her farm came into sight, you were immediately taken aback by the decorated exterior and the stretch of crops growing on the land. Apparently, you had no reason to be worried at all. Your sister appeared to genuinely be flourishing in her new life as a farmer.

You made sure to compliment her on this as the two of you went inside, making light small talk as she showed you up to your room.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and chat, I still have some things I need to finish on my to-do list today. Feel free to tag along, but you should also explore the town,” she explained.

“You? To-do list? Who are you!” the two of you shared a laugh before you began once more. “I’d love to help you out.”

That was how you ended up in her kitchen, helping her jar up cranberry preserves. It was going pretty well once the two of you found your rhythm, but like anything that required coordinated teamwork between the two of you, it didn’t last long. As you went to grab a jar lid, multiple lids collapsed and threatened to fall off the countertop. Using both of your hands, you attempted to collect the falling lids–which proved to be a mistake, as one lid very suddenly sliced the palm of your hand. As any reasonable person would, you yelped out in pain.

“Oh shit, what happened?” your sister turned to look at you as you clutched your hand, which was becoming bloodier by the second.

“I think I cut myself,” you said through gritted teeth, more put off by the sight of blood than the actual pain you were feeling.

“Can I see? I can probably clean it up,” she was already up and off to grab her first aid kit before you could even show her the damage. Once she got back to the kitchen, you presented your bloody palm to her and she attempted to dress the wound.

“Hmm. Okay, this looks way above my pay grade. You might’ve severed an artery or gotten tetanus or some shit.”

“What!?” you knew you shouldn’t exactly be taking medical advice from your sibling who had absolutely no medical background at all, but her words still alarmed you as a fellow person with no medical background.

“Umm, okay, there’s a doctor in town that can fix this.”

“A doctor?” you questioned, still leaning over the sink as you did your best not to look at the cloth on your hand that was beginning to be splotched with crimson.

“A doctor and a nurse. Well, clinic assistant, to be more precise.”

“That can’t possibly be all you have here,” she shrugged dismissively at your statement. “Man, this town sounds like my own personal hell. Whatever. Fuck it. Let’s go.”

The two of you moved swiftly to get to the clinic after your sister informed you of their hours and the fact that you only had thirty minutes to get there before they closed. The two of you marched into town like the women on a mission that you were, before your sister stopped in front of a small building and threw the door open for you.

“Oh, hey,” a woman in the front of the clinic greeted your sister familiarly. Her bright, friendly demeanor and the fact that your sister knew the hours by heart made you wonder what exactly was the extent of her connection with the clinic. “You okay?”

“Would you believe that it’s not me for once?” she laughed, a little too hard to be an average laugh. You stored that little bit of knowledge away to be used at a later date. “Maru, this is my sister,” she lifted up your hand in a supported wave, displaying the bandage that was now much darker than it was in your sister’s kitchen.

“Oh! Nice to meet you. I’ll grab the doctor. Feel free to take a seat, but he won’t be too long,” she explained before exiting the room, before peeking her head back out the door once more. “Maru, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, though the low current of pain in your hand made you want to do anything but smile. She returned the expression before leaving to presumably alert the doctor that he had a patient waiting for him.

“You’re way too calm about this,” you said to your sister as she led you to a chair.

“I’m a regular here, so I know you’re in good hands,” she said casually, wearing her ‘Regular At The Doctor’s Office’ Badge like it was one of honor. “No pun intended.”

“Ha ha. Are you sure we shouldn’t be going to an emergency room or something?” you tried your best to seem like you were keeping cool, but you weren’t fully convinced that you could trust a small practice family doctor with all of your medical needs.

“Oh please, they’ve seen much worse,” her tone was cool and casual, and if you didn’t know her so well, you might even think she was posturing to sound cooler than she was.

“What the hell could you even do here that would require medical attention so frequently? Do you have a terminal illness I don’t know about?”

She simply laughed at you instead of responding as if you were missing something, like you were missing the most obvious thing in the world. You had a feeling that if Maru and the mysterious doctor were in the room, they’d be laughing right along with her.

“Besides, I could have tetanus or something. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad thing to cut yourself on metal.”

“The metal was sterilized, you big baby,” she rolled her eyes incredulously, as if she wasn’t the one who suggested that you might get seriously ill from the cut on your hand in the first place.

“Okay, well you’re the one who put the word tetanus into my head,” you huffed just as the main door swung open, and a man who looked like he just stepped off the cover of a children’s book about a personified mouse appeared from behind it. He clutched a clipboard tightly and his glasses slipped down his nose. It was oddly endearing. And also a little concerning. You weren’t fully convinced that the town didn’t just grab their nerdiest looking guy and declared that he was now a healthcare provider.

In a town with a population greater than twenty, you were sure that he would’ve called your name out to grab your attention, but given that your sister was living in a ghost town, the two of you were the only ones in the room who possibly could’ve needed medical assistance.

“Hi there,” he began, the depth and smoothness of his tone in the one word taking you by surprise. “Would you like to head on back?”

You wouldn’t like to, really, but you were sure that with every passing minute, your likelihood of getting tetanus, or some other obscure metal-transferred pathogen grew. And there was simply no way that you would ever make partner if you fell victim to tetanus now. Glancing at your sibling, then at the doctor leaning against the door, you stood up.

“Are you coming with me?” you asked your sister, your voice only slightly above a whisper.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a violation of HIPAA,” she dismissed you with ease. Somehow, you felt like her lack of enthusiasm at being your emotional support during your appointment felt connected to the too-hard laugh she let out at the nurse. You frowned at her excuse, which somehow prompted her to tell you the truth. “Sorry. I actually just need to talk to Maru about something.”

“Fine. I’ll just get my life-altering medical treatment on my own,” you teased before heading towards the door.

“That’s not actually a HIPAA violation, by the way,” he informed you both. Oddly, the small comment gave you the slightest hint of more confidence in the doctor to know that at the very least, the small-town doctor knew a few of the rules and regulations his job required. After his interjection, the two of you began your trek down the hallway to the exam room, with you following a few paces behind the doctor.

He turned and extended his hand to you, and you shook his hand the same way you shook everyone’s: with a confidence and self-assuredness that said I’m going to demolish you in court. Though, you had to shake with your non-dominant hand, and you were a little nervous by the whole ordeal, and maybe you just needed your eyes checked, but up close the doctor was kinda cute. All of which played a role in your handshake coming across less like unspoken coldhearted intimidation, and more small town politeness.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Harvey,” he greeted you with a smile that tilted his mustache just the slightest bit upward. Again, you were struck by how cute the doctor was, but you reminded yourself that you were there for treatment and not eye candy.

Regardless, you introduced yourself, ditching the typical qualifications that fell behind your name for the simple explanation of being the local farmer’s sister. Surely, that meant more to this guy than knowing what law firm you worked for. Besides, he hadn’t even introduced himself as a doctor, despite the time, blood, sweat, and tears that he’d surely put into getting in the field. Clearly, people in this town didn’t care about titles.

“It’s great to finally put a face to the name. Your sister talks about you a lot,” he explained, pushing the door to the exam room open and holding it for you.

“Good things, I hope?” you asked as you stepped inside.

“Mmm, sometimes,” he replied after a moment of fake-pondering the question. Something about his shtick felt very endearing to you—but that was a thought you’d unpack at a later date. “You can go ahead and sit in the chair with the paper, then we can talk about what brought you in today.”

Thankfully, you were good at following directions and it was pretty difficult to miss the massive, sterile looking chair in front of you. “Well, Little Ms. Farmer was showing me how to make preserves and I cut my hand on the lid of a jar.”

You watched from your vantage point as Harvey sat down on a nifty looking stool, complete with wheels to let him get around the room easily. He turned his back to you to grab medical equipment from the countertop and listened to you as he worked.

“Ah! That sounds painful,” he turned back around to look at you and scooted his stool towards you. “I’m just gonna get a few of your vitals before I take a look at it. Does that sound okay?”

You couldn’t exactly say that a random family practice doctor checking you out was your first preference, or that it sounded okay but it wasn’t like you really had another option, so it would have to suffice.

“Go ahead,” you hummed, looking up at the tiled ceiling, then back at the man in front of you. You went through the motions as he ran through standard tests and asked you a few questions about your medical history. What caught you off guard was when the cool metal of a stethoscope pressed against your chest.

With the man now close enough to you that you could feel his breaths blow softly on your skin, you felt like you were observing the doctor in a whole new light. Sure, you thought that he was cute before, but now you could see the flecks of brown in his otherwise green eyes as they were fixed on the ground intently while he listened to the sound of your heart. You noted his brows furrowed in concentration and the soft curl at the tips of his hair. The cherry on top of his proximity to you was the near-intoxicating scent of the man. You swore that you could smell the shampoo that had been in his hair that morning and the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the man in front of you, and he hadn’t even done anything—and clearly would not do anything. He was doing his job, after all. But that didn’t stop your traitorous body from telling on you.

“Your heart rate is really elevated,” he commented and looked up at you in a way that certainly wasn’t helping your already climbing heart rate. “Are you on any medication? Had any caffeine today?”

“I’m on birth control, if that matters at all to you,” you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Your subconscious thoughts must’ve materialized into words, and your sentence came out as oddly suggestive, making you cringe internally. Maybe you were just overthinking, but you didn’t want it to seem like you were hitting on the poor man you just met, just trying to do his job and provide you medical care.

Ever the professional, Harvey didn’t even flinch at your sentence, instead nodding understandably. “Have you had any cardiac concerns with it before?”

You wordlessly shook your head at his question. You appreciated his professionalism, but part of you hoped that he stored this knowledge away for some other point in time. You internally scolded yourself for thinking this, but didn’t do much to stop that particular train of thought.

“I must just be nervous,” you laughed awkwardly, all regular attorney confidence out the window. It was all so unlike you—you were usually so precise and thought through every word that came out of your mouth. The effect he was having on you was starting to worry you. Maybe it was just the small-town charm rubbing off on you. Maybe it was something else.

“My sister put this stupid idea in my head that I somehow gave myself tetanus. It’s been bothering me the whole time.” You had to applaud yourself for that save. You thanked whatever was out there for the ability to think quickly on your feet, only developed after formative years of cold calls.

He hummed aloud as he pondered your statement, a new expression of thought on his face. Unfortunately, you could feel the pace of your heartbeat somehow increase even more. In the back of your mind, you began to prepare an excuse for why your heart was beating so fast. Surely, you could lie about spotting a bug on the ground or forgetting about drinking an energy drink that morning.

“When did you have your last tetanus shot?” the doctor asked.

“Uh, a few years ago?”

“Less than five?”

“Mhm.”

“You should be in the clear. Unless you cut your hand on something rusty?”

You shook your head once more, thoroughly impressed with this knowledge off the top of his head. You distantly wondered if people in this small town often stepped on rusty nails.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assured you, voice soft and sweet. Unfortunately for you, his kind reassurance and his quietly confident competence was doing nothing for your steadily climbing heartbeat.

Ever the attentive doctor, Harvey finally commented on your racing heart. “Hey, you’ll be alright. I know it’s scary that your hand was bleeding so much, but there are just a bunch of blood vessels in your hand, so it probably looks much worse than it actually is. The fact that you’re still coherent and not lightheaded tells me that there really isn’t anything to worry about.”

You swallowed once more, looking at him like a deer in headlights. “Sorry,” was all you got out. He might want to reassess that whole ‘coherent’ thing.

“No need to be sorry,” he assured you before taking the stethoscope out of his ears and resting it on his shoulders. “Mind if I take a look at your hand?”

When you nodded, he took your hand and took a look at the gash. You tried to ignore the way that butterflies swarmed in your stomach. It had been a while since anyone touched you in any way, but it was a little pathetic that you were getting butterflies and a racing heart from the man who was about to give you stitches.

Holding your hand gently in his own, he took a look at your palm before pouring alcohol on a cotton ball. “This might hurt a little. Let me know if you need me to take a break.”

You couldn’t help but imagine his words being spoken to you elsewhere, voice thick and laden with lust. You thanked every single one of the gods that he wasn’t still listening to your rapidly beating heart.

Your hand stung as the man in front of you focused on disinfecting the gash, but all you could manage to focus on was the concerned on his face as he tried to get a better look at your hand. Internally, you chastised yourself for thinking about a stranger like this, but it certainly didn’t deter you from doing so. Maybe you just needed to bite the bullet and redownload Tinder when you returned to Zuzu City.

“Well, the good news is that it’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” he looked up at you from where he was sitting. For a moment, you imagined him looking up at you while—you stopped that train of thought. Man, were you touch-starved. “A bit of bandaging and being extra careful should do the trick.”

“Oh good,” you sighed out your relief, partially at being okay, and partially at knowing your shameful appointment was coming to a close. “I apologize for wasting your time. If I knew all it would need is a little gauze, we wouldn’t have come in, especially right before you close.”

Harvey gently uncurled your fingers, which had subconsciously tensed while you spoke, then began to work a bandage around your hand. “It’s really no problem at all. In fact, I’m glad you came in. Like I said, it was good to finally be able to meet you after hearing so much about you. And it’s always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to your health. You’re welcome here any time, even outside of my hours.”

He glanced up at you in between words, still steadily and diligently treating your wound. As he spoke, a soft dusting of pink appeared on his face that you couldn’t exactly read. For a second, you humored the thought that maybe, just maybe he’d felt the same tension you were feeling. Though, you were sure that a smart, sweet, and gentle guy like Harvey was surely off the market.

“Thank you, doctor. That’s really kind of you,” you tried to ignore how your own cheeks felt warm. It had been a long time since anyone had treated you so tenderly, even if it was Harvey’s literal job to do so. “But what about your work-life balance? Are you just constantly on call?”

“In a way, yeah. But it’s for the greater good of the community,” he dismissed with the wave of a hand, using his other to secure the bandage on your hand.

“What about the good of Dr. Harvey?” you couldn’t help but question, and were met with a look of slight surprise on his face. “Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything. I mean, I’m sure you take good care of everyone in town. You definitely took good care of me today, and of course, I’m really grateful that you take care of my little sister. But you should take care of yourself too.”

Part of you worried how your words would be received, knowing that it was coming from a somewhat hypocritical place—after all, lawyers weren’t exactly known for their ability to balance their personal and professional lives. Still, you felt like the sweet, cute doctor needed someone to tell him about boundaries, and a stranger he might never see again felt like the right person to deliver the message.

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, then paused and shrugged, “I guess you’re right.” He set the equipment he was using down, then announced: “All done. Thanks for chatting with me and giving me a fresh perspective.”

You followed him out of the room, unsure of how you felt. At least you knew you didn’t have tetanus and that your hand wasn’t too badly injured, although you felt like you were leaving the clinic with something far worse than a physical ailment.

A crush.

Which felt ridiculous, considering you’d only just met this man, and that you basically knew nothing about him aside from how soft he was with you, and how much he clearly cared about his community.

Luckily, the doctor didn’t seem to pick up on this—and if he did, he maintained professionalism by not commenting on it—leaving you two to make small talk as you walked down the hall.

“So, how long will you be in town?” he asked, glancing back at you as he walked a few paces ahead of you.

“Just for the weekend,” you hummed, training your mind on thoughts of eating freshly harvested fruits and laying on the beach, rather than sitting in an office sifting through novels of paperwork. “Then it’s back to work.”

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

“I am,” you were impressed by his ability to recall information that your sister surely shared about you to him. You weren’t sure who you should be more flattered by—Harvey, for remembering information about you before he even met you, or your sister, for talking about you fondly to people who didn’t even know you.

“I could never do what you do,” he said almost dreamily. “Any sort of public speaking is a nightmare for me.”

“Really? You don’t go to medical conferences or anything like that?” Harvey opened the door to the waiting room and held it for you as you walked through. You tried not to let his gentlemanliness derail your words. “It seems like there’s always some sort of doctor gathering happening in Zuzu. I live in an apartment near the Joja Convention Center, so I see a lot of people come to town for things like that.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the door as he spoke to you. “There are, but it’s not for me. I work here for a reason.”

“Well, this seems like a good fit for you, if today was any indicator,” you tried not to lay it on too thick, but you were genuinely quite impressed by the medical treatment you received.

“Thank you. I’m sure if I ever saw you in a courtroom, I’d be saying the same,” he smiled at you, and you somehow knew that he was being completely honest. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you lunch at work, then offer you a massage at home while you told him about your day, all while telling you about how much of a great job you were doing–but you were getting ahead of yourself.

“You’re too kind,” you felt heat rise to your cheeks once more. Between the flush of your face and your heart rate, you truly couldn’t catch a break. You just hoped that Harvey didn’t catch on to how pathetic you were being. “Well, I‘ve already taken a lot of your time. I don’t want to steal any more of your evening.”

“Oh no, it’s been a pleasure. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Well, not again like in the clinic, but around town,” once again, a red blush appeared on his face. Maybe you weren’t alone in your delusion after all. “But feel free to stop by. It feels like your sister’s always coming in to talk with Maru, so you’re always welcome to tag along. Wait, that sounded bad. We love when she visits- you know what, I’m just gonna stop talking.”

It was cute to watch him be as outwardly flustered as you were on the inside. You couldn’t help but to giggle to yourself, though you were sure you sounded like a schoolgirl.

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you said once you’d finished giggling.

“Just Harvey is fine,” he gently corrected you, seeming to prefer the familiarity of just his name.

“Thanks, Just Harvey,” you unashamedly laughed at your own dad joke, and Harvey joined you with laughter of his own. You were sure he’d heard it a million times, but he still laughed like it was his first time hearing it. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sounds good.”

Despite you and Harvey being in your own little world, that did little to change the fact that your sister and Maru were both in the waiting room, wordlessly and unabashedly observing the two of you.

“Give it to me straight, Doc. Is she gonna live?” your sister asked dramatically before theatrically clutching her chest.

“Fortunately. It was looking a little dicey there for a moment, but I think you’ll pull through,” he looked at you and smiled. You returned the gesture and laughed a little too hard, much like your sister had done with Maru not all that long ago. “Take care of yourself, okay? Feel free to come back if you need your hand re-wrapped.”

You nodded and your sister leaned over the desk where she was currently standing next to the nurse. “How much are we paying today?” she asked the two medical professionals in the room.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” Harvey dismissed, glancing at you, then at your sister.

“So my sister gets free appointments, but I have to foot the bill when I get a little tired and fall asleep in the town square. I see how it is.”

It was now Maru’s turn to laugh like it was her first time hearing a joke. “That’s such an understatement. Just enjoy the free medical treatment today.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you stepped closer to the exit, and your sister took the cue to leave. “It was nice meeting you guys,” you waved as you left.

“What was that!” your sister laughed out the moment you stepped outside of the clinic.

“What was what?”

“‘Thanks, Just Harvey,’” she mocked incredulously as the two of you walked towards her farm. “Is that seriously how you flirt?”

“No! Obviously I have more game than that.”

“But you think he’s cute?” your sister laughed and you felt your face warm.

“I did not say that,” you argued.

“I know you well enough to know that you’re thinking it,” she hummed, content with her observation. “It tracks. You would like him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means that you’re both each other’s type.”

“His type? Is he not, like, married with kids?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she kicked a pebble.

“How is that possible? He seems like such a sweetie,” you sighed dreamily, momentarily imagining him with a child that oddly looked like a combination of the two of you.

“You got all of that from him patching up your hand?” she peered at you skeptically. For a moment, it felt like she was reading your mind, her look a reflection of her disbelief that you were seriously fantasizing about a man you just met.

“You should’ve seen how tender he was being,” you gushed, not even caring that you sounded like a lovesick puppy. You thought about how softly he cradled your hand and unfurled your curled fingers and the pink across his cheeks as he told you that you were welcome in his clinic whenever.

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” your sister agreed, unmoved by your enthusiasm.

“Nice guy like, a nice guy? Or nice guy like nice guy?”

“Ew, definitely the first one. But there are definitely some nice guys in this town. Just wait until you meet Clint.”

“No thank you,” you laughed. “Not like it matters anyway. I’m really just passing through.”

“Fair. Besides, aren’t you still seeing Adam?”

“Eh,” you shrugged at the mention of your ex. “Not really.”

Your sister laughed at you once again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that. “Not really? What does that mean?”

“It means that…” you gave up on explaining before you could even begin. “It means that it’s none of your business.”

“Ah, I forgot. You lawyers don’t believe in giving real answers.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whined, pushing her gently.

“You fuck off!” she laughed, pushing you right back. “Don’t forget, I’m the one giving you a place to sleep tonight. Although, I’m sure Harvey wouldn’t mind taking you in as a guest when I inevitably kick you out.”

“Please, please stop,” you begged, rubbing your temples.

“Should we go back and ask him?” she asked, turning on her heel.

“I will literally kill you.”

“Why does that sound like another excuse to go to the clinic and see your cute doctor?”

“Shut up! Like you weren’t giving the nurse heart eyes and laughing like she was a comedian every time she spoke.”

That gave her pause, making her turn around to look at you. She stared at you wordlessly for a minute, clearly trying to come up with something witty to say.

“Too far?”

“Kinda.”

“How about this: if you shut up about Harvey, I’ll shut up about Maru.”

“Deal. No more meddling in each other’s love lives.”

“Deal,” you agreed quickly—though, something told you that it would be a difficult promise for both of you to follow through on.

next chapter

#harvey sdv #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #harvey x reader #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic

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hctsummernights · 3 months ago

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my smart girl

in which...stay at home husband!chris sends lawyer!reader off to her very first day at the law firm with a little motivation<3

fluffy making out, part of the tortured poets department au

648 words...enjoy!

You let out a shaky sigh as you screwed the applicator back on your lip gloss. Today was your first official day at the law firm you’d been hired at, and you were still having a hard time believing that you were a lawyer and that there was a JD next to your name. It seemed impossible that undergrad, taking the LSAT, law school, and taking the bar exam had already flown by. No longer did you have to worry about sleepless nights cramming for tests. Instead, you now had to worry about the fact that you would be someone’s lawyer.

You placed the tube of lip gloss into the inner pocket of your blazer, switching the light off in the bathroom and heading down the stairs of your home to the kitchen. Despite the fact that it was only 7 am, you could hear your husband, Chris, puttering around in the kitchen. Your heart absolutely melted when you walked into the room and saw a plate of heart shaped pancakes sat next to your briefcase and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Baby, you didn’t have to.” You smiled, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him gently.

“But I wanted to.” Chris fired back, sipping his own cup of coffee.

Your and your husband’s dynamic was rather unconventional, seeing as how you went to work and he stayed at home, despite the fact that you two didn’t have any children yet. But you knew that Chris loved being a homemaker. You could see it in his eyes when he tried out a new recipe or tended to the small garden you had in the backyard, or spent hours scrolling on Pinterest when it came time to decorate for Christmas.

“I’m nervous,” You admitted softly as you dug into the pancakes. “What if I do something wrong?”

“Babe. You earned this,” Chris reassured you as he began to pile dishes into the sink for later. “You aced the bar.”

“I know…I just. Imposter syndrome, I guess. I don’t feel like or look like a real lawyer.” You sighed, rinsing your plate and setting it in the dishwasher.

“I think you do,” Chris smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as his eyes roamed over your body in your blazer and skirt combo. You being powerful and intelligent turned your husband on beyond belief. Seeing you fulfill the dream that you’d had since you were a little girl was sexy. Before you knew, his hands were snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. “Y’think a lil good luck kiss would calm your nerves?”

“Yeah.” You breathed softly.

Chris pushed some hair away from your face, careful of the style you’d so meticulously crafted for your first day at your new job. At first, his kisses were gentle, soft pecks to calm your nerves. But as you reciprocated, the kisses became more powerful, claiming you as his wife. His smart, sexy, wife that now had a JD next to her name.

The brunette pushed your back against the granite of the kitchen island, hands roaming your body, but remaining mindful of your work outfit as you made out. No matter how long you had been together, making out with Chris was never a dull moment. The feelings were passionate and intense as his tongue slid alongside your own, leaving you desperate for more.

As the feelings plateaued, your husband planted one more kiss on your cheek before pulling back. “I guess I gotta let ya go, huh?”

You nodded shyly, still feeling like the same jittery girl that he had first met. “I guess so…here I go.”

Your husband handed you your to-go cup of coffee and briefcase, giving you one last glance over before patting your ass softly. “Kill ‘em, baby.”

“I expect a full five course meal when I get home tonight.” You joked.

“You betcha.”

a/n: where is MY stay at home husband!chris

tags ♡: @emely9274 @tyummyz @55sturn @pr3ttyf4wn @quinnysnursery @nicksbestie @watercolorskyy

#© sturniolocafe #the tortured poets department 🗞#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets

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haerenven · 6 months ago

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⏦ﾟI GOTCHA୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Pairings. Trafalgar law x reader Summary. Your captain is in love with you, but he is He is afraid of getting attached to you, he don’t wanna feel the same pain he used to feel it, what you gonna do ?

BTW: inspired by, (I GOT YOU-bebe rexha)

“Refuse me if you want—but don’t you dare avoid me like this.” Her voice cut through the silence, firm yet laced with an edge of frustration. Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she stood her ground, her unwavering stare fixed on her captain.

Law exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as he turned away from her. “Y/n, just go,” he muttered, his voice tight, restrained—like he was holding something back. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his usual composure fraying at the edges.

“No.”

The single word rang out, quiet yet absolute.

Law’s head snapped up. His golden eyes darkened as they met hers, searching, questioning—almost daring her to repeat herself. A muscle in his jaw tightened.

“What did you just say to me?” His voice was low, measured, but there was something dangerous beneath it. Not anger. Not irritation. Something else.

And yet, she didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, steady and unshaken, as if she had just thrown a dagger at his feet and was waiting to see if he’d pick it up.

She swallowed hard, steadying herself as the weight of his gaze bore down on her. A deep breath filled her lungs, anchoring her, giving her the strength to meet his eyes with unwavering resolve.

“I said no.” Her voice was calm, but firm—like a tide rising with quiet inevitability. “I won’t go anywhere until I know what’s wrong with you, Captain. And you know nothing will stop me from getting answers.”

Her words hung between them, sharp and unrelenting, but as she stepped closer to his desk, something in her softened. The tension in her posture eased, her expression no longer demanding, but pleading—gentle yet insistent.

“Please, Captain…” Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Why have you been avoiding me?” She exhaled, eyes searching his face, looking for a crack in the walls he had built so meticulously. “I get it if you don’t want me,” she admitted, the confession slipping from her lips like something fragile, something she was terrified to let go of. “But don’t push me away. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t be… uncomfortable.”

And there it was—the truth, laid bare between them.

But let’s be honest.

Loving Trafalgar Law was never something unexpected.

How could it be?

A man like him—tall, devastatingly handsome, sculpted by battle and burden, his body inked with intricate tattoos that only added to the lethal allure he carried so effortlessly. A man whose every movement, every glance, carried the weight of a legend in the making. The Captain of one of the most formidable crews to sail these seas. A man who once stood among the Warlords of the Sea, a Shichibukai, feared and revered, with a bounty of 3,000,000,000 berries to his name. The infamous Surgeon of Death.

And yet—beneath all of that, beneath the reputation, the power, the carefully crafted walls—he was still just a man. Still just Law.

And she loved him.

She always had.

Even if you tried to hide it, the truth was painfully obvious.

You were always acting like a lovesick puppy around him—melting at the smallest glance, your eyes shimmering with that unmistakable, starry-eyed daze. And if you were feeling particularly hopeless, you’d start batting your lashes without even realizing it, cheeks warming to that soft, telltale shade of pink.

It was embarrassing.

It was undeniable.

Half the crew had pointed it out at some point, asking if you had a crush on your captain. And you—foolishly, hopelessly—never really denied it. You never outright said yes, either, but your silence, your hesitations, your flustered reactions spoke louder than words.

Penguin, Shachi, Ikkaku, and, of course, Bepo—they knew. No doubts, no second-guessing. The rest of the crew? They weren’t oblivious, just waiting for you to confirm what they already suspected.

But the truth was, you hadn’t given it much thought—not in the way they all made it seem.

Not until you finally confessed.

And it hadn’t gone the way you wanted.

He had stood there, his face unreadable, his golden eyes giving nothing away. No flicker of surprise, no sign of hesitation—just that same calm, impassive expression that had always made him impossible to read. And then, after a painfully long silence, he had given you some excuse—some carefully crafted line—before walking away.

Leaving you behind.

And now… he was avoiding you.

And that—that—was what you hated most.

You could accept rejection. You could handle the sting of unreturned feelings. But the way he started avoiding you after that? The way he refused to even face you?

That was what truly hurt.

“Y/n, it’s not—”

“Then tell me!”

Her voice cut through the air, raw and insistent, shaking with the weight of frustration, of longing.

Law’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, startled by her sudden outburst. But then, just as quickly, his expression cooled. He sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair, gaze shifting away as if searching for the right words.

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then—softly, hesitantly—he exhaled, and when his eyes finally met hers again, there was something unguarded in them. Something real.

His gaze lingered, tracing the delicate features of her face, the way the dim light caught in the strands of her thick, silken hair. It was maddening how effortlessly beautiful she was—how effortlessly she had made her way into his guarded heart.

“I like you too.” His voice was quiet, almost careful. “In that… way.”

Her breath hitched. Her eyes went wide, searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

“…Wait. What?”

Law let out a small, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I like you,” he said again, this time with more weight, more certainty. “But…” His voice faltered for a brief moment. “I don’t want to hurt myself.”

There it was.

Not rejection. Not indifference.

Fear.

And that was somehow more painful than anything else.

She blinked at him, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “Ouch,” she murmured, forcing a hollow chuckle. “Is that how you turn someone down?”

Law sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before inhaling deeply, as if trying to steady himself. When he finally met her gaze again, his storm-gray eyes held something raw—something that made her chest tighten.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he murmured. “It’s just…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to his hands as he exhaled slowly, as if the words were heavier than he could carry.

“I like you, Y/n.” The confession was quiet, unpolished—almost reluctant, as if saying it aloud made it real in a way he wasn’t ready for. “I really do. But… I don’t want to like anyone anymore.” His fingers curled slightly against the desk, as if grasping onto something unseen. “I’ve had enough of pain. And I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart ached.

So that was why.

Why he had avoided her. Why he had pulled away even when there was something between them, something neither of them could ignore.

“Captain…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

She took a step closer, her fingers brushing the edge of his desk, bridging the space between them.

Because she knew. She knew everything about his past. Every scar, every loss, every wound he had carried alone since childhood.

Law deserved better.

No.

He deserved the best.

He had been just a child when the world had shown him its cruelest side—when pain became his shadow, when loss became a part of him. And now, after everything, he was still bracing for the inevitable heartbreak, still expecting love to come with an expiration date.

But she wasn’t going to let him believe that.

Not anymore.

Law swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he tried to look away. “Y/n… it’s just—”

“Look at me.”

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was something in it—something sweet, certain, unwavering—that left him no choice but to obey. Slowly, reluctantly, his gaze lifted to meet hers.

And there they were.

Those eyes.

The ones he had spent too long avoiding, too long pretending didn’t affect him. But the truth was, he never just liked them. He was obsessed with them.

Before he could even think, she stepped around the desk, closing the space between them. He stiffened slightly, but she moved gently—deliberate yet delicate, like she knew he was the type to run if she pushed too hard.

And then, she reached for him.

Her fingers, soft and impossibly warm, slid over his tattooed hand, wrapping around it with a tenderness he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle. Her touch was light, feather-soft, yet it grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

When she spoke again, her voice was even softer, a quiet melody made just for him.

“I can see your pain,” she murmured, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over the back of his hand. “I know what it’s like to carry it alone.”

His breath hitched.

Her gaze—gorgeous, dreamlike, shimmering with something he had spent years convincing himself he didn’t deserve—held him captive.

“You don’t have to anymore,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath caught.

For the first time in a long time, his guarded gray eyes softened—not with hesitation, not with fear, but with hope. A flicker of something he thought he had lost long ago sparked in his chest, spreading warmth beneath his skin. His heartbeat stuttered, a sudden, unfamiliar rhythm throwing him off balance.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure but desperate to believe her.

A small, knowing smile graced her lips—stunning, certain, unwavering.

“I’d stand by you,” she murmured. “I’d fight for you, lie for you if I had to. Walk through fire for you. Because I have you. And I always will.”

Her voice was soft yet strong, filled with a conviction that left no room for doubt. And that was what broke him.

Not just the words, but the way she said them.

Like a promise. Like a vow.

Like she had already decided she would never let him bear his burdens alone.

His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. Not out of fear—but because he wanted to hold on this time. To her.

She called him baby.

The word sent a slow, aching warmth through his chest, melting away the walls he had spent years building. It wasn’t just devotion—it wasn’t just blind faith.

She loved him. And she wasn’t afraid to show it.

His gaze found hers again, deeper this time, something unspoken but undeniable passing between them.

“Since you got me…” His voice was low, intimate, barely more than a whisper.

A pause. A quiet inhale. A heartbeat suspended in the air.

“…Then I’ll let you love me.”

A radiant smile bloomed across her face, soft and breathtaking, as she nodded.

“Deal, then!”

Law let out a quiet chuckle, low and warm, and just like that—she was gone.

Her heart melted.

His smile, his laugh—it was rare, too rare, and now that she had it, she never wanted to let it go. Her expression turned hopelessly lovesick, eyes shimmering with pure adoration, a small, silly smile curving her lips as her cheeks dusted over with baby pink warmth.

He noticed. Of course, he did.

His fingers tapped idly against the back of her hand, his touch light, teasing. A soft smirk played on his lips as he tilted his head slightly, observing her with quiet amusement.

“You’re obvious…” he murmured.

And then, just as effortlessly, he dropped the words that destroyed her.

“I like you. No—” He paused, his smirk fading into something softer, something real. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched.

Oh. Oh no.

She was melting—no, dissolving.

She barely managed to get the words out, voice high, flustered, and betrayed by her own emotions.

“Okay, that’s enough—!”

Before she could even process what was happening, his hands—strong, tattooed, and impossibly warm—found her cheeks, cradling them with a gentleness that made her breath hitch.

And then, in one swift motion, he pulled her in.

His lips crashed against hers, deep, passionate, and utterly consuming. Every emotion he had ever buried, every feeling he had ever denied, spilled into this kiss—raw, unfiltered, real.

Her arms moved on instinct, crossing over his shoulders before wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing against him as though there was no space left between them. One of his hands slid from her cheek to her waist, fingers pressing into the curve of her body, holding her like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breath was uneven, his gaze heavy with love.

“You got me,” he murmured, voice hushed yet filled with certainty. Then, softer, like a confession meant only for her— “But I want you.”

Her heart stuttered, warmth blooming in her chest, her breath still catching up to the moment.

“And I love you in a way you don’t yet understand.

When I speak to you, my eyes brighten, and my heart flutters like a bird in the open sky.

How lucky I am to have you in my life—

I am endlessly grateful.

Even your simplest words bring me joy.

Everything you do is precious in my eyes, no matter how small.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and warm, as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her skin.

“Then let’s finish what we started,” he murmured, voice dropping into a husky whisper. “Since that’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

And this time, when his lips met hers, it was slower, deeper. A kiss that spoke not of urgency, but of love, devotion, and the quiet, unshakable promise that they would never again be apart.

That night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they carved their love into eternity. Unforgettable. Unbreakable. Infinite.

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