#we’re about to go out to dinner i’m gonna eat so much food

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Yeah,” Billy says after a moment. “I’m not gonna make you do stuff like that. Um, well, like some normal chores and following your curfew and taking your phone with you when you go out, I mean, but not like–um. Yeah.” 

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking into the living room. Billy looks too, but doesn’t see what he’s looking at. His line of sight’s too high to be looking at Tawky, and the TV’s off, and–

Oh. Actually . . . 

Is he looking at the windows, actually? 

Huh, Billy thinks again. 

Lynn stops looking at the windows, or maybe just the living room, and then goes and opens the oven and stares blankly into it for a moment. Then he reaches in bare-handed and–

“Oven mitt!” Billy says quickly, zipping over to him and grabbing a pair of them off the hook they’re hanging on on the way. Lynn stares at him just as blankly as he was staring into the oven, and also just as blankly as he’s been staring at him, and probably he’s thinking Billy is stupid because he’s, like, invulnerable and all, but the thing is–“Secret identity,” he clarifies, and holds the mitts out to Lynn. “You gotta be careful about doing stuff baseline humans can’t, even if you think you’re alone or only around people in the know. And like, you have to make it a habit to do stuff baseline humans would have to anyway, or you might forget to when you aren’t alone. Also Batman didn’t install the new windows yet so I’m not sure if these are privacy ones, honestly, so somebody could maybe see from across the street anyway?” 

Lynn stares at him for another moment, then flicks his eyes down to the oven mitts. Billy feels awkward and kind of like a worrywart, but it is important. He definitely doesn’t turn into Captain Marvel when anybody else even might be watching, and also if Lynn’s keeping those habits from the start it’ll be easier for him in the long run, right? Or at least, Billy thinks it’ll be easier? Like–probably? 

He fidgets a little and tries not to look nervous. Lynn glances at his face for a moment even though his own expression doesn’t change at all, then takes the oven mitts and . . . well, he uses them more like potholders than actually, like, putting them on, but still counts, Billy figures. Lynn takes out all the pans and puts them all on top of the stove, and then closes it and sets aside the oven mitts and turns it off. 

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says more in the oven’s direction than Billy’s. Billy feels a little relieved, because “don’t do stuff baseline humans can’t when it’s not safe to” is a pretty important thing, so far as secret IDs and all go. 

“Sure!” Billy says, then peeks curiously at the food. “So, um . . . is it done?” 

“. . . it has to rest for five minutes,” Lynn says, and then turns away abruptly and walks into the living room to bring back the plates, which is, um, probably something Billy should’ve remembered was gonna need to happen before he took them out there, come to think. 

Whoops. 

Well, he guesses they could use serving dishes, probably, because Batman bought them way too much everything and there are so, so many serving dishes, but that’s more dishes to wash so yeah, Lynn’s definitely taking the right approach here, Billy decides. 

Though he has no idea why dinner has to rest. Like–what does that even mean, “rest”? It’s food. 

“. . . why?” Lynn asks, and holds up Tawky’s little plate with a faint frown. 

“Oh, Tawky doesn’t need as much to eat as you do,” Billy clarifies. Tawky only needs a lot to eat when he’s being a full-sized tiger, and he’s being an stuffed animal the same way Billy’s being a dad right now instead of just Captain Marvel, so he won’t have the stomach space for big meals until, like, the next time they have to save the world, probably. Or a mission. Or something like that, anyway. “Or as much to eat as you probably do, since we’re still figuring that out. But probably not, either way. Like–I don’t need to eat either, I mean, but like, different-sized stomachs and all, sooo . . . bigger plate, I guess. Sorry, is that rude, do you think? I wasn’t trying to be.” 

“. . . uh,” Lynn says slowly, frowning at Tawky’s plate instead. “Okay.” 

Well, it’s not exactly an answer, but Billy guesses he can double-check with Tawky later. It’s kind of more important what Tawky thinks anyway, since it’s him he’d be being rude to, and also he really shouldn’t be expecting Lynn to really get, like, manners and intent versus affect and that kind of thing yet anyway. Although either way having a full-sized tiger in the apartment would definitely not be great for the secret identity thing, even just for mealtimes, so they’d have to figure something out there. 

Well, he guesses they could just go to the Rock of Eternity for dinner, actually? Like, cook in the apartment but pack themselves dinner-picnics or something. Actually, that sounds kinda fun, he’d like to show Lynn what it’s like and maybe explain a little more about what accepting a share of his powers would mean, if he did, and– 

Focus. He definitely needs to work on his focus. That’s way more important when he’s being a dad. He doesn’t want Lynn to ever think he’s ignoring him, for one. 

“I’ll ask him later,” Billy says. Tawky’s probably still reading anyway; he was while Billy was setting the coffee table. He had the biography of Nikola Tesla they’d picked out, which is pretty normal reading fare for Tawky, really. He likes nonfiction a lot, especially the historical stuff. Billy doesn’t really get it, personally.

[afterglowsainz]

the prophecy | max verstappen

summary: you and max can never agree on the same topic of conversation and it might be the thing that breaks you up

warnings: angst, some yelling

word count: 805

the tortured athletes department series

you love max. you really do. but you hate when he brings up the same topic of conversation that you'll never agree on.

“i’m not moving to monaco.” you say for the million time.

“i’m just saying it would be way easier for us.” he answers unbothered while eating his dinner.

you avoid rolling your eyes at his comment and just decide to ignore him. since you got together, distance has been a complicated issue for you both. with max flying almost the whole year for races and then going home to monaco and you working and living in new york, the two of you only saw each other during breaks and when you could occasionally fly to see him race.

and yes, maybe it would make it easier if one of you just moved, but why did it have to be you? living in new york has been your dream since you were a kid and saw it in the movies, and now that you finally got a job that you enjoy in the city of your dreams, are you really gonna leave it? hell no.

“why don’t you think about it?” he insists.

you drop the fork you were holding on the plate creating an exaggerated noise.

“would you do it for me?” you ask, exhausted. “would you move to new york for me?” he shakes his head and went back to his dinner.

“is not the same.” he says. 

“why don’t you move to new york?” you ask instead. this caught his attention and he finally moved his eyes from the food to you. “what is it to you anyway? you’re traveling the whole time, i on the other hand, actually work here.”

“you can get a job in monaco.” he replies like he always did when the topic came up.

“i don’t want a different job!” you raise your voice. “and i don’t want to move to monaco.” he didn’t said anything, fearing that whatever came out of his mouth would disturb you more than you already were. “if you wouldn’t do it for me, why would i do it for you?”

you regret it the moment you said it, but it was too late now, it was out there. you could recognize the pain in max’s face from miles away and you felt a little guilty that you were relieved when you said it so you didn’t have to hide your thoughts on the topic anymore.

“because that is what people in relationships do, y/n.” he answers, his tone rather harsh. “you sacrifice things for each other.”

“why do i have to be the one to sacrifice things?” you couldn’t stop now that it was out there.

“why are you being so immature about this?” he exhales, a tired expression on his face which only made you angrier.

“i’m not acting “immature” about this.” you attack. “you just ask me to give up my whole life to go live in a complete different continent for you and i said no, period.”

“so what are we supposed to do, y/n?” he raise his voice at you also. “what are we doing here? playing around?” you frown, nodding your head in disbelief. “i love you too much but this long distance thing is killing me.” he admits.

to be fair, you weren’t the biggest fan of long distance either, but there was no other choice. it was either that or broke up, and you definitely didn’t want to break up.

“look, i know it is not perfect but what else can we do?” you ask, even though the answer was right there, it was obvious that neither of you was going to give in.

“this cannot be the thing that breaks us up.” he whispers but you heard him.

“of course we’re not gonna break up, max.” you say. “that seems extreme.” a grimace of sadness appeared on your face.

“well, i’m not sure what else…” he didn’t continue. “i’m not moving to new york.” he says with a serious tone. “and it seems like you’re not moving to monaco. and none of us wants to do long distance.” you kept quiet, trying to wrap your mind around what he was implying, praying that your conclusions were wrong.

“so?” you ask somewhat fearfully.

“so… i don’t know.”

“you want to end things?” you question straightforwardly, not wanting to wander anymore where his mind was.

“i don’t.” he answers. “but can we continue how we are?” his face was of true despair. 

“is it really this serious?” your voice was seconds away from breaking but you didn’t want to look shattered in front of him.

“you tell me.” he says with a lump on his throat.

you couldn’t help but wonder if this was always how it was going to end.

[hells-wasabii]

How would each of the Hell characters(Hotel group, Lucifer, Overlords, Vees) do while cooking entirely on their own? Can be platonic or romantic, whichever you want

A/N: So I know I said 2, but the other one isn’t ready yet I’m still writing it. It’s gonna be pretty big too since it’s that velvette part 2. But I had to get my cat spayed today so I’ve been super busy all day keeping her out of trouble and from hurting herself :/ but anywho, enjoy!

Characters: All that I write for

Type: Hesdcanons (hazbin cast cooking headcanons)

Charlie

With Charlie, I’m a little torn. On the one hand, she’s a princess, so cooking would likely be more of a novelty considering she likely had staff to do it for her. But this is Charlie we’re talking about. She would go out of her way to learn how to cook. Wouldn’t give up either, not until she could do it on her own. I would imagine that she started learning from Vaggie and reading cookbooks.

Vaggie

When it comes to Vaggie, she can cook some, but she’s definitely super humble about it, brushing off any compliments because it’s ‘just food’. If the issue is pressed I can see her getting a little embarrassed about it. It’s mostly dishes that she had been taught while she was growing up, along with basic dishes that don’t necessarily require a honed skill to make.

Angel

Angel can cook, though he doesn’t exactly put much effort into it. I can definitely see him just throwing something together so he can eat and move on with whatever else he has going. Baking is a different story. I can really imagine while he was growing up he would sneak his way into the kitchen while his mother and Molly were baking. He picked it up pretty easily. And as someone who enjoys baking let me just say that his extra set of arms would be so helpful.

Husk

Husk was an entertainer in life, growing up in a casino, learning the trades in the house. That also includes the kitchens. Sure he likely didn’t spend a whole lot of time there but he still picked up a thing or two. So he’d be able to hold his own fairly well when it comes to making a homecooked meal.

Alastor

While it’s canon that the radio demon can cook, I feel like he specifically likes to cook recipes his mother left behind. Cooking recipes from his youth reminds him of joining his mother in the kitchen whipping something up for lunch and helping her prep for dinner. He’s not all that adventurous in the kitchen, though. He likes to stick with what he knows and what he grew up with.

Niffty

Having died in the 50s as a young housewife, I genuinely believe that she at least knows some fad recipes, like those salads and casserole recipes. Jello molds too. But that’s not to say that she wouldn’t know some basic stuff. I can definitely see Niffty being the type to try to create whole new recipes with varying, mostly horrifying results.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is a genius, there’s no doubt about that, but the man can’t cook. At all. He’d burn water honestly. But baking? Oh yeah, he can bake with out a doubt(but not necessarily the decorating part), it’s basically science, but not cook. He’d quite honestly have the Egg Bois help, but let’s be honest here, that’d be a disaster too.

Cherri Bomb

I’ll admit, I wasn’t to sure about Cherri. She just doesn’t seem like the type to cook. Nah. Cherri is the queen of takeout. She can boil water but that’s really about it. Honestly, she’s only really a couple of steps above Sir Pentious, but she can’t bake either. Sometimes though, before Angel went off to the hotel, she would go out and buy ingredients and stuff and go to his apartment and they (he) would make something.

Vox

This man absolutely can cook, and he’s pretty damn good at it too. Considering he’s the television demon, he’s going to have several cooking shows. Hell, he even stars in a couple of them. That being said, he’s not one to do things half-assed. Sure, a lot of cooking shows have stuff that was prepared beforehand, but with Vox’s he goes out of his way to actually make the dishes in real time.

Valentino

I stand by my headcanons from my Valentino posts. He can cook, but it’s honestly a solid 50-50 on whether or not it’s burnt or edible. He’s pretty easily distracted, whether it’s a phone call or something else entirely, so if it's a dish that you have to pay close attention to, it’s likely to not turn out right.

Velvette

Velvette can do some light cooking, but nothing too extravagant. She’s got more important things to do, such as keeping Vox and Valentino on track. With a schedule as busy as hers, I don’t think she would cook often, preferring either Vox’s cooking or takeout. Oh but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t take a picture and post it, because it’s Velvette, of course she does. Oh! But She’s probably been on Vox’s show as some sort of celeb guest type deal, the dish they made definitely stuck with her, so she might make it from time to time.

Zestial

Considering how long Zestial has been around, I would be more surprised if he couldn’t cook. You can’t convince me that after a while he at one point went through hobbies like a revolving door. Cooking absolutely would have been one of them. This man would absolutely try making the craziest things. He’d be up to date on all of the cooking fads, know recipes and cooking methods from several time periods and cultures. With him, there’s no telling what he might cook up next.

Carmilla

While I don’t think that she would really set aside time to cook often, she’s pretty skilled in the kitchen. Carmilla would likely have a couple of nights out of the month set aside to cook a meal with/for her and the girls, a tradition that carried on from their life before hell. She’d even take the opportunity to try new things while cooking.

Rosie

Oh, Rosie can absolutely cook, it’s canon that its a hobby of hers. She’s very well versed in a multitude of cooking methods, and while she may not entirely like a whole lot of new-age gadgets in the kitchen, she can’t really deny the fact that they can be quite useful. I’m willing to bet that she would have an Instapot (they’re great I have two and one of them has an air fryer attachment)

Adam

Adam would never openly admit it, but he knows how to cook. He was the first man, he would have had to learn eventually, even if it was something as simple as preparing meats. That being said, he can grill. I’d be willing to bet that he’d host a little barbeque after the annual exterminations for the exorcists, maybe even enter into grilling competitions.

Lute

Lute’s honestly a bit of a wildcard when it comes to cooking. She might have been able to cook while she had been alive, but nowadays not so much. It had been a long time since she actively made anything, so she’d be pretty rusty. But other than the basics, I don’t really see her being able to be too creative in terms of cooking either. She’d honestly probably stick to what she knows and wouldn’t stray too far away from that.

Emily

I don’t necessarily think that seraphim would really need to eat, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t or don’t. In Emily’s case, I would imagine it as a scenario where she wanted to do something to get closer to humanity. They were her charge after all, or rather their state of happiness. But all humans eat and many find joy in doing so and even in the act of cooking, so she absolutely would be thrilled to learn! She’s getting better at it by the day.

Sera

Sera had likely done the same as Emily when she was a young angel, though I don’t see her sticking with it. I definitely think that she taught Emily to start her on her little culinary journey. She can cook, she just… doesn’t. I’d even go as far as to say it’s been centuries since she’s actually cooked a meal of any kind. That being said, if she were to jump into the kitchen nowadays, she probably wouldn’t have a very easy time finding her way around.

Lucifer

Lucifer is a man of many talents. He can absolutely cook, possibly even Michelin level, he just chooses not to. He likely just considers it a novelty of sorts, considering he has the power to simply poof food right in front of him. Honestly, it’s pretty helpful whenever he’s depressed and doesn’t feel like making anything. But, when it comes to his family and friends, he’s more than happy to whip something up.

Lilith

Another one who would likely consider cooking to be a novelty. Considering how she’s the second most powerful being in hell, and fiercely independent with more important things to worry about. Lilith wouldn’t concern herself with cooking unless it was with her family, and even then it likely didn’t happen that often after Charlie grew up.

Bonus:

Alastor Cat

Would wind up burning what ever building its in down. Was it intentional? Was it an accident? The world may never know

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

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

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

Length: 14.2k

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

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

“Ross. Mike Ross.” 

“Cut the Bond schtick.” 

“I’m a contender.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s at your two o’clock.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here often?” 

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

-- 

“...Annually, at least.”

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

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

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

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

“What did Mike tell you?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around. 

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

Well, he was hard to miss. 

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

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

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

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

“Target acquired.”

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

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

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

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

“If I had a nickel.” 

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

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

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?” 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.” 

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.” 

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

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

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight. 

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

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head. 

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

“Really.” 

“Mm…N—...No—?” 

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

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

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

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

“What could have happened there, I wonder?” 

“You must not have taken care.” 

“Of what?” 

Of me. “Of anything.” 

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

“Friends of yours?” 

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

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

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

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

“And this is Harvey Specter.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I took a crack at writing it myself.” 

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

“I look forward to it.” 

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

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

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

“Thirteen,” You sighed. 

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?” 

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

“It’s an open bar.” 

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

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

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

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.” 

“Smart move.” 

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

“Better late than never.” 

“I guess.” 

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

“We’re going to.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve barked enough for now.” 

“Biting?” 

“If you play your cards right, sure.” 

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

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

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What did?”

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

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

“You don’t say.” 

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

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

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

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

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

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

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

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

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

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

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

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

--  

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

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

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

“You have that good faith deposit.” 

“I told you where it went.” 

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

“Not yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not a good idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does one make a polite killing?” 

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

“Redbull?” 

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

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

“On which?” 

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

“Anything stand out?” 

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

“What about the others?” 

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.” 

“You have the print-outs?” 

“In my car.” 

“Why are they in there?” 

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

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

“You do that often?” 

“What, drink?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?” 

“I’m asking if you do that often.” 

“Once in a while.” 

“New for you?” 

“Relatively.” 

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

“So you can talk me out of it?” 

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

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

“We don’t have to talk.” 

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

“Call me anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll drive up.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“A little trickier.” 

“Could bill it.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You could, under discovery.” 

“This would not be covered under discovery.” 

“How would you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.” 

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

“I await the enraged phone call.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.” 

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Remember what I said.” 

“I will.” 

“Call me if you need anything.” 

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

“...Harvey?” 

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

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

“I don’t want to litigate that.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“Not like this.” 

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

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

--  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—” 

“I need you to come into the office.” 

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

“What happened?” 

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

“Come to the office.” 

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

-- 

“Cheese fries?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey’s on that.” 

“Your divorce.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know of it.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.” 

“Lucky guy.” 

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

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

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

“Look, Mr. Alford—” 

“David, please.” 

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

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

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

“It could be again.” 

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

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

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

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand. 

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

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

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.” 

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

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

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

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

“You need one.” 

“That is beyond the point, Mr—” 

“David.” 

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

“How would you know what’s enough?” 

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

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

“Yes, I do.” 

“Because it was your business, too.” 

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

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

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.” 

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

“I mean, having been served—” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“There is no way.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

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

“Well, it certainly would be before.” 

“What exactly has changed?” 

“You didn’t know me. You do now.” 

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

“What a cozy little conference this is.” 

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?” 

“It’s what some of the guys at the club call me. You know, my name—” 

“Alford pleas and thank you.” You scrubbed your hand across your brow. “God, that’s dumb.” 

“We can’t all be queens of quip.” 

“You poor things,” You shot back scathingly. Harvey shot you a wink before turning back to David. 

“So, David, whaddaya say?” Harvey plied. “You filling the gap?” 

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.” 

You didn’t miss his innuendo, nor the speculative, open, sweeping gaze that David leveled at you. Your brows inched toward your hairline, stunned at his brazenness. Surely you hadn’t seen it right—

“Coffee?” 

Your focus was broken at the sound of Jessica’s voice, and the sight of a coffee tray being wheeled in behind her. You let yourself be busied by it. You focused on your coffee, made it the way you liked, and let Jessica and David and Harvey talk about what you could reasonably expect out of the divorce battle. 

Reasonably, as if this entire situation hadn’t been insanely unreasonable. 

But you let yourself sit, and listen, and save your speculation for the train ride home. 

You must’ve read his look wrong, or misunderstood. He didn’t mean it like that. 

And even if he did, finding that look intriguing was incredibly appropriate. But it didn’t matter! Because he didn’t mean it like that. 

…And even if he did, it was probably just something that he tried to bring you on board. But it didn’t matter, because he did not mean it like that. 

…

Though if he did, it really wouldn’t matter, because it would be grounds for him to be disbarred. Nothing was going to happen…Even if you did find him attractive, and found his blunt approach and self-assured nature very, very hot. 

But you were not going to fuck him.

--  

“Don’t fuck him.” 

You had expected the warning to come from Jessica, but to hear it from Harvey of all goddamn people made you gape at him in shock. He just gave you a knowing look before he turned back toward the beer that he was opening. 

Your urge to have a drink that evening hadn’t been strong, but it had been there, and it had made you think of Harvey’s offer from the day before. You hadn’t expected such a quick response to your simple text of ‘Beer?’, but he had turned up a mere half hour later, a fresh six pack in hand. He had shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on to your bed, and walked over to your kitchenette—where he proceeded to say the most heinous thing.

“Excuse me?” You finally managed. 

“You heard me.” 

“I don’t think I did, actually, not properly, because it sounded like you just gave me an order that you had no business giving.” 

“I have plenty of business.” 

“No—” 

“Don’t—” 

“No no no, you do not, not here, and not like that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Harvey turned from the counter, planting his hand on the cruddy formica, “That I know—” 

“Do not say that you know me.” 

His expression darkened, and you watched as he drew in a deep breath. “I know him.” 

“...He has to be good, or Jessica wouldn’t have pulled him on to my case.” 

“He’s a good lawyer, but he’s a scuzzy asshole.” 

“I know the type.” 

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?” 

Your gut dropped at the hint of anger seeping into his tone. 

“I meant Steven.” 

Harvey turned away, hand curling into a fist and knocking lightly on the counter. 

“Just…Be careful with him.” 

“You are the last person that has any right to lecture me on the care that I ought to take with the men in my life.”

“I’m not lecturing you—” 

“No, you’re warning me off, like a little kid that’s playing too close to an electric fence.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fine by me, as long as you don’t fuck David.” “Alright, you know what,” You pushed off of your bed, striding over to your door. “Get out.” 

“We’re not done talking about this.” 

“Yes, we are. Get out.” 

“We’re not done until—” 

“We’re done when I say we’re done!” You began to yank your door open. Harvey was across your small space in a moment, palm flat against the door as he shoved it shut behind you. 

“And what the hell gives you the right to decide that?” 

“Because it’s my turn!” You barked. “I get to decide when we’re done now.” 

“It stopped being your turn when you stormed out of my office.” 

“Then make the damn decision yourself and get the fuck out of my apartment!” 

“If you want to ruin that man’s career and your chances of getting anything that you want out of your divorce, you go right ahead.” 

“I am not going to fuck him, and I’m not going to get him disbarred, you ass.” 

“Good.” 

“And I deeply resent the implication that I’m so sex-starved and desperate that I’m willing to fuck anyone who gives me any goddamn attention.” 

“I did not—” 

“Yes, you did, you did the second you opened your mouth. By rights, if that’s your view of me, I should’ve tried to not only fuck Mike, but you, of all people.” 

“I never implied that you were sex starved, but if you were, you could do a lot worse than Mike—” 

“Oh, really—” 

“And a helluva lot worse than me.” 

“Oh, please! There is no way that I could do worse than you. There are dictators that I’d sooner fall into bed with.” 

“If all you’re cutting out is the bed, I can work with the rest.” 

You could’ve slapped him. He was close enough, and you could just imagine it—the way the flush of red would look spreading across his cheek. 

“What makes you think I’d ever allow you anywhere near me again, Specter?” 

“I’m pretty damn close now.” He shifted closer, stopping as the tips of his shoes brushed your socked feet.

“Against your better judgment.” 

“You want to put me in my place, sweetheart, you go right ahead.” 

“Don't call me that.” 

“Why not.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

“Give me a good reason not to.” 

“You haven’t earned it back.” 

“Any idea of how I might do that?” 

You bit him. You grasped his tie, tugged him in, and sank your teeth into his lower lip. You expected an argument, but Harvey just groaned, grasping you by the hips and shoving you back against the door. You released his lip, groaning as he swept his tongue into your mouth. Your hand unwound from his tie, breath leaving you in harsh puffs as Harvey’s smearing kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck. You arched up into his touch as his hands slipped under your t-shirt, palming and squeezing whatever skin he could reach. You reached down, hands fumbling with nerves and heat as you worked off his belt. 

Every time your mind began to race, Harvey managed to quiet it, with his teasing tongue, and nipping teeth, and grasping fingers. For all of his big talk about getting David disbarred, Harvey suddenly seemed to not give a damn about his own career—

You whined as Harvey yanked down the cup of your bra, knuckles toying with your pebbling nipple. You palmed his hardening cock through the soft fabric of his trousers, thrilling in his moan, and the press of his hips up against your touch. His fingers snaked beneath the band of your sweatpants, sweeping against your clit before swiping slower. 

“You’re already so goddamn wet,” He growled, easing a finger into you. You pressed into his touch, gritting your teeth as he goaded: “You like pissing me off this much?” 

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.” 

You reached into his pocket, brushing against his cock as you drew out the foil packet. Why wasn’t it tucked somewhere discreet, like his wallet? You pushed the thought away as you ripped the foil packet open with your teeth. Harvey let go of you just long enough to shove his pants down around his thighs, then push your sweatpants. 

“Turn around.” 

You passed him the condom before doing as you were told, leaning heavily against the door. You expected a stretch, but slick heat pressed between your spread thighs. Your mouth dropped open in a moan, eyes squeezing shut as Harvey lapped and laved your slick, heated skin. You reached back, fingers scrabbling to grasp the neat coif of his hair. 

“Harvey, damnit,” You gasped. “Just fuck me already.” 

He groaned in dissent, giving your lips one more sucking kiss before straightening fully. You felt one palm smooth over to your thigh, and saw the other rest against the door as he eased into you. Your lips parted with a gentle whine at the pleasurable throb of his cock stretching you. You planted your hand on the door beside his, steadying yourself as you adjusted.

He didn’t give you long. Harvey drew back before his hips snapped sharply. You pressed your cheek to the door, skin growing clammy between the flimsy particleboard and the hot panting of your breath. The harsh slam of his hips forced your body uncomfortably against the door. You let your eyes slide closed as Harvey’s hands covered yours, drawing them just above your head as he intertwined your fingers. The door rattled in the frame with each thrust. You whimpered as Harvey pressed his face into your neck, felt his hot breath and the rumble of his groans against your skin. 

Your thighs ached, and your heart pounded, and your cunt throbbed, and goddamn it felt so fucking good. 

The swell of your orgasm rose and crested sharply, and you didn’t bother to hide the shuddering of your moan, your grip tightening on Harvey's hands. He followed close behind, hips pounding and juddering before he slowed. The two of you stood still for a few long moments, listening to one another’s panting and coming down. Harvey carefully extricated your hands from yours, drawing away and leaving you half-bare and chilly against the door.

“...I need a beer,” Harvey muttered, voice hoarse.

“You left one on the counter.” 

“You want one?” 

“Yeah.” 

You reach down, tugging up your sweatpants as you gently peel yourself back from the door. 

“It’s probably going to be lukewarm,” Harvey warned.

“I don’t care.” You drew in a shaky breath as you walked back toward your bed. You’d already sworn that you wouldn’t let him into it. You lowered yourself to sit beside it, looking at the door as the swirl of confused thoughts shifted back to the fore. You watched Harvey tie off the condom and drop it into your trash bin. You tracked his movement—from cleaning up, to doing up his pants, to washing his hands. You didn’t bother to hide your open speculation as he opened another beer, then took the two up. You drew your legs together, biting your lip as your slick cunt pulsed.

Harvey lowered himself to sit beside you, holding a beer out and lightly knocking his against yours before you each took a drink. You winced a little at the taste. You should’ve listened to him—the taste of lukewarm beer was not appetizing. You saw Harvey reach up out of the corner of your eye as he loosened his tie. 

“...What was that about getting someone disbarred?” 

“Shuddup.” There was no heat to how he said it, and that was probably why it made you snort a laugh. 

“Harvey?” 

“What.” 

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?” 

“I had a date.” 

Your brow furrowed as you took that in. 

“...When?”

“Tonight.” 

“Why aren’t you there?” 

“Because I’m here.” 

Harvey Specter broke a date. Harvey Specter broke a date for you. You leaned back against the bed again, biting the inside of your cheek to quell a wide grin. 

“Don’t read into it,” He added. 

“I’m not reading into anything…Apart from the fact that you seemed pretty sure you were going to get laid.” 

“I was.” 

“Arrange for that, did you?” 

“No need to arrange anything. I’m just good like that.” 

“Well. Can’t argue with that. For the record—” 

“What.” 

“You really have no say over who I do and don’t fuck.” 

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

“...You going to the Hamptons next weekend?” 

“Yeah.” “How are you getting up there?” 

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.” 

“You already have.” You cast Harvey a knowing smile, grin widening as he shot you a sidelong, unimpressed glance. Your smile turned to giggles as Harvey seemed to smile in spite of himself. 

“You really think we could stand to be in the car with one another for more than twenty minutes?” You prodded. 

“If not, we could always pull over and work out our differences.” 

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?” 

“Nope.” 

“Didn’t promise a rain check?” 

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.” 

“Mm. And why would you want to come with me?” 

“Steven could be watching those properties, waiting for you to turn up. You could benefit from having back up.” 

“You make it sound terribly sinister. Have you figured out how to bill Gstaad yet?” 

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.” 

“Sure.” 

“I don’t mean for, you know—I don’t want a vacation.”

“You’ve earned one.” 

“Whatever, I just don’t like to put something on the market without doing a walk-through myself.” 

“I understand.” 

You leaned back against the bed a little more heavily, gaze wandering toward the door, where a little bit of your makeup was smeared from the press of your cheek. 

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?” 

“Can we talk about it?” 

“The sex or the other thing?” 

“The other thing.” 

“I’ve already had one fight with you today. I don’t think I have the capacity for two...Do you?”

You shook your head. 

“Some other time,” He promised. 

“Sure.” 

-- 

You had seen the paperwork and the inspector’s notes, but to see the house in the Hamptons was a whole other story. The long gravel driveway was lined with a horse fence on the left, and a plain wood fence on the right. You didn’t bother to hide your open, stunned stares as you passed the stables. It was hardly the first time you’d seen a home like it, but it was unfathomable that Steven seemed to have not only put the house in your name, but completely forgotten about it. 

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot. 

“Do you want to start in the stables, the house, the pool, the tennis court…?” He shut the car off, waiting for your reply. You shook your head. 

“I only care about the house,” You admitted. 

“So we won’t be walking the expansive lawns? I brought my sneakers.” 

“Do I even want to know how expensive those sneakers are?” 

“They’re worth more than your apartment.” 

“I’m willing to believe that.” You climbed out of the car, eyeing the inspector’s report as you rounded toward the front steps. You turned from the paperwork to take in the house’s appearance more clearly. It was…Ugly. The large, L-shaped, gray-brick building had the modernistic development of the fast-casual apartment buildings in the city, with some of the gauche touches of your penthouse, like the expansive floor-to-ceiling covering nearly the entirety of the bottom of the floor. You could see a balcony on the left side of the house, and another around the other end of the L. 

“...This is different.” 

“It’s criminal,” You muttered. 

“Are you saying that because he forged your signature, or because it’s ugly as sin?” 

“Both. Come on.” 

You walked up to the front door, punching in the code that the realtor had given you to get the door open. 

The foyer was as flat and uninspired as the outside of the house—white marble floors, grey walls, and sterling silver furnishings. You grimaced as you looked around. 

“Are we doing a complete walk through of this millennial grey gulag?”

“If you’re going to hate it, you can wait in the car,” You offered, glancing toward Harvey. “Apparently there are fifteen bedrooms and nine bathrooms, and I don’t know how much of your cute commentary I can deal with today.” 

“Seemed to handle it fine in the car.” Harvey turned left before you could say or do anything else, and you followed him, looking down at the property’s map. 

“This place oughta have one of those fricking mall maps with a star labeled ‘You Are Here’,” You grumbled. 

“Now who’s making cute comments.” 

– 

“My feet hurt,” You groaned, plopping onto a boxy, stiff-cushioned couch. 

“You’d think after the last couple of months of living in that walk-up, you’d be in better shape.”

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.” 

“So, what do you think?”

“I think we throw it on the market for 18 million and I forget that it ever existed.”

“Why list it in your name, though?”

You shrugged, looking around. “Maybe it was in both our names when he bought it and the outcome was such a disaster he decided to leave my name on it. I think he designed it.”

“Really?” Harvey’s brows rose as he looked around. 

“Oh, god yeah. Steven can be smart, but he’s never really had any design sense. I wound up taking charge on some of our early flip projects because he just didn’t have the eye for it. He always tried, but I kinda wound up following behind and fixing his messes. If I had to guess, he bought this place to show me that he really could do it, and he just…Can’t.”

“Do you think Cape Cod and Gstaad will be the same?” 

“Doubtful. The report for Cape Cod said that the house was originally built in 1950…what. Four?”

“Something like that.” 

“It looks like he gutted it like he did the apartment buildings and realized how much of a project it would be. Gave up on it.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“Work out how to expense the trip and we can talk.”

Harvey chuckled, wandering closer. “Should we christen it?”

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

Harvey’s brows waggled salaciously, and you laughed, pushing yourself off of the couch. “Oh no, Specter. No way—”

“Why not?”

“You wanna christen every room? You don’t have the stamina for that—And I don’t have the patience.” 

“What about just in here?” He curled his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. “On that stupid couch, over the piano…How about up against the windows?” His voice dropped to a murmur. “There’s no one around for miles.” 

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement. 

“If you said that with the Kubrick stare, I’d think you were going all Jack Torrence on me.”

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

“Ugh! God, let’s just go,” You pushed out of Harvey’s arms, heading for the door. “It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.” 

“The house can’t be haunted, he’s not dead.” 

“He is to me.”

–

“When are you planning on going to Cape Cod?” 

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.” 

“I don’t have a car and I’m not going to rent one.”

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

“You’re going to go up and back on the train in one day? That is a long day.”

“I can handle it.” 

“You’d be more comfortable in a car.” 

“Yeah, obviously—Eyes on the road, Specter.” You reached out, poking his cheek as he glanced over at you. He batted your hand away lazily before turning back to the road. 

“Why do you always insist on doing things in the most difficult way possible?”

“Because in most cases, the most difficult choice is also the most cost-effective. Efficiencies can be cruel, Harvey.”

“Cruel is an understatement.” 

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.” 

“Stubborn.” 

“...Do you wanna come up when we get back to my place?”

“What for?” 

You tipped your head to the side, waiting for Harvey to glance over before you teasingly waggled your brows.

“Oh, so now you want to?” 

“I wanted to then! But I couldn’t do it if I felt Steven looming over me. C’mon, Specter,” You reached out, gently teasing your nails along the back of his neck, and grinning as he shifted slightly in his seat. “See if you can get me any more out of breath than walking up six flights of stairs.” 

--  

“Hey, there you are! Jessica needs to—What’s that face for?” Mike’s concern fell away at the sight of Harvey’s self-satisfied smile as he stepped off of the elevator. Harvey gave a dismissive shrug. What the hell was he going to tell Mike? That he’d spent the weekend somewhere other than his place? That he had fallen asleep with her, and remembered how serene it used to be to wake up with her? That they’d hardly left her cruddy apartment—hell, they’d hardly left her bed? 

“Nothing. What were you saying?” 

“Jessica needs to see you.” 

“Right now?” 

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Jessica step out from around the corner, drawing him up short. 

“Yes,” She insisted firmly. “Right now.” 

Harvey had the strange sense of a child being marched to the principal as she led her way to her office. She shut the door behind the two of them, striding past him to her desk. 

“Can this wait?” Harvey hedged. “I’ve got coffee going cold on my desk.” 

“Well then, I’ll make this quick. Did you have a nice time this weekend?"

That should've been his warning. It was a solid leading question, and one that, on any other Monday, he would not have hesitated to answer. His eyes narrowed slightly, before he decided—Yes, she must have known that he drove to the Hamptons. Someone would have told Jessica: Mike was still in the habit of offering updates when he thought they would be helpful.

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

A second warning. Jessica was a strategist, and Harvey knew that any lawyer worth a damn didn't ask a question that they didn't already know the answer to. Still, he chose a carefully middle-of-the-road answer:

"She was happy to go through the home herself, set a listing price. Hopefully we can get it on the market and on its way as soon as possible.”

Jessica took that in thoughtfully, lips set in a placid smile.

"Were there any outstanding features?"

A third and final warning, but Harvey couldn't help but lean into it:

"Are we talking about the tennis court, the pool, the stables, or the thousand lawns?"

Jessica let out a tepid, flatly amused, "Hm," Before beckoning him closer. "Well if those all caught your eye, it would explain why you missed the cameras."

Harvey froze in his step, blood running cold. There was no way—Cameras? His gaze dropped to the laptop that she turned to face him. The black and white footage was grainy, but clear enough. Harvey watched as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into his chest. He could still feel the heat of her body, and the plush slide of her sweater beneath his fingers. He could see the gentle, adoring way that she gazed up at him before she nudged him away, leading the charge out of the house. 

‘It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.’ He didn’t know how, but she had felt it. 

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

"Explain what!" Jessica slammed the laptop closed, rounding the desk with self-righteous strides. "Explain what idiotic idea led to you putting on a show?"

"We didn't know that there were cameras."

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

"Don't play dumb with me, Harvey," She warned lowly. "How long have you been sleeping with her."

It hit him low in the gut. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

"She told you?"

"No, she didn't tell me. She didn't have to. It'll be plain as day to anyone who sees that footage."

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

"I was teasing her! It didn't mean anything."

"If I call and ask her, she'll say the same thing?"

He was certain of it. "Yes."

"Would she swear to it under oath? At a deposition? In court?"

His surety faltered, and his mouth worked wordlessly before he pursed his lips tightly. Jessica shook her head again.

"I am not the only one with access to this. Luckily for you—for both of you—she still has a friend or two on the inside. Aaron Delaney sent this to me before he deleted the original. He works closely with Steven, and has access to a few property accounts. He got an alert on his phone that someone had used the keypad to open the door."

"Has Steven seen it?"

"He isn't sure, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Louis will be taking over the Hayward case, and Mike will be assisting him."

"No, Jessica, that's not happening."

"It is, because I'm telling you that it is. You should be relieved. You never wanted it in the first place."

"Things are different now."

"You're damn right they are! What the hell were you thinking? Both of you?"

"Let me see this case through."

"If you see this through and Hayward does have access to this footage, you could be disbarred. You're going to hand the files over to Louis by the end of the day. He is expecting them. Mike will bring him up to speed and assist him until this mess is cleared up."

Harvey lowered his gaze to the floor as Jessica stepped around him, opening the door and waiting beside it. He curled his hands into fists in his pockets as he strode resignedly from the office.

"And so help you," Jessica warned as he passed, "If I hear that you are holding Louis up in any way."

Harvey only made it a few feet from the office before he pulled his phone out of his pocket, hurriedly dialing her number. It rang once...Twice...Three times...And went to voicemail.

"Damnit," He hissed, lowering the phone to redial. "C'mon, c'mon..." It rang once, "Pick up." Twice...

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean?" She laughed, "I'm on my way to see Jessica for our check-in."

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

"I just got off of the elevator. Why?"

Harvey whirled around, eyes desperately searching for her through the gaggle of associates, paralegals, and lawyers going about their business.

"She knows."

"What?"

He could hear her frown. Harvey took three steps toward the elevator bay before he saw her come into view—and lock eyes with Jessica. He saw her body go tense, before her shoulders sagged with dejection.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

--

"I'm not going to even begin to approach what you may have been thinking—"

"Jessica—"

"—Putting not only your future, Harvey’s future, and the future of this firm in jeopardy."

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

"We didn't even do anything at the house!"

"That doesn't make the slightest bit of difference."

You slid down in your seat as Jessica paced in front of you, her pace and turn reminiscent of a caged tiger.

"I did you a favor and this is how you repay me?" She finally stilled, nailing you with a cold gaze. You folded further under the crush of her look, so similar to the disbelief that she had leveled you with at her apartment not too long ago.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Jessica strode around her desk. "Your case has been reassigned to Louis Litt. Mike will stay on, provided you haven't fucked him, too."

Christ. "I made a mistake, alright? I told you I was sorry, and I meant it," You insisted. "Don't bring Mike into this when he hasn't done anything wrong."

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

"I don't want you associating with Harvey until this is over."

"Oh—Come on."

"If this footage were to come out, Harvey's conduct and ethics will be called into question. He'll be dragged into your divorce proceedings. Is that what you want?"

Your stomach churned uneasily as you considered it. You knew she was right. You shook your head a little, trying desperately to swallow past the lump that was forming in your dry throat.

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

"Okay." You turned, heading for her office door, and stopping just before you opened it.

"...Is now a bad time to remind you that bringing Harvey onto my case was your idea?"

The chilling glare that she leveled with answered for her: Yes. It was a very bad time to remind her.

--

“You slept with—” 

“Shut the door and keep your voice down,” Harvey warned stonily. Before either of them could move toward his office door, Donna hurried into view, reaching for the handle. 

“You don’t wanna hear this?” Mike’s brows rose. “You of all people?” 

Donna waved him away, offering, “Intercom,” Before she shut the door. Harvey sighed heavily, lowering himself into his chair. 

“What happened?” Mike stepped closer to the desk. “I’m just—You two hate each other.” 

“Thank you for the reminder. I forgot about that.” 

“Harvey, c’mon,” Mike shook his head as he tried (and failed) to keep from smiling. “What happened?” 

“I went over to hang out.” 

“At her apartment?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, and? Instead of hanging out you…Let it all hang out?” 

“Get out of my office.”

“If that was at her apartment, what happened in the Hamptons?” 

“Nothing happened in the Hamptons. The footage just…We got close, that’s all.” 

“That’s not enough to disbar you.” 

“Because you’re the expert on being disbarred? It’s enough to call my ethics into question…And Jessica’s right, no one needs that headache right now.”  

“So I’m stuck with Louis because you got close? Where’s the Specter spirit? No way are you going to watch this one from the sidelines.” 

On any other case, no, he wouldn’t. Harvey would insist on backseat driving. But on this one…He grimaced, dropping his gaze to his desk. 

“I want regular updates,” He insisted. “That’s all.” 

Mike nodded slowly, conceding: “Okay. But I’ll be ready when you change your mind.” 

-- 

"I'll come over."

He sounded so positive about it—like nothing had happened, or changed. You eyed the remaining trash bags, trying to scrounge up the conviction of an excuse. 

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not?"

You know why. You shifted your phone from one hand to the other, tucking it between your shoulder and your ear as you reached out, gripping a bag to make it crinkle loudly.

"I've still got some sorting to do."

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

"...She's not in charge of us, you know."

You tipped your head back against your wall, closing your eyes. "She's actually very much in charge of you."

"At work."

"I know, but I just..." You winced. "I think she's right. We should lay low for a while. If Steven did see that video before Aaron sent it to Jessica, we're both going to have a whole new mess that we're stepping into."

"I'm ready for it."

"...I don't know if I am."

His silence on the other end made you want to crawl out of your skin. "I can only fight one battle at a time, Harvey—And right now, I'm barely managing the big ones."

"Fine."

You knew that fine coming from him. It wasn't fine. It was I'm shutting down. It was I'm finished with this conversation. It was I'm finished with you.

"Harvey—"

You lowered the phone from your ear as the line cut off, watching the inevitable flashing and darkening of his contact. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. How, after all this time, was Harvey Specter still able to make you cry?

-- 

You became solitary again. Life narrowed. You saw Aaron a time or two, but he was so busy either working or gathering intel that you were hardly able to keep up with him. For as much of a lifeline as she had been, Jessica was still pissed, and you hardly spoke more than you needed to. Mike was a dear, checking in to see how you were doing, but most correspondence led inevitably to discussing closings, proceedings, contracts (and you couldn’t blame him for it; he was only doing his job). 

Louis was…A lot. He was very eager, that was clear, and had been working hard to push the sales of the apartment buildings and the home in the Hamptons through. David and his firm were digging into discovery, and were making headway. 

But you had so little life outside of your divorce. Most of your pieces were sold off, so you hardly had any day-to-day tasks to keep you busy—and everything in New York was so goddamn expensive. It felt like you spent $50 just stepping out your front door. There were days when you simply didn’t. It was cheaper to stay in, and quieter (so long as your neighbors didn’t have a screaming match that day).

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

--  

Walking back into the firm was uncomfortable. You’d avoided it for as long as you could, but Mike insisted that there were a few documents that absolutely had to be seen and signed in the office. You’d made it an entire three weeks without so much as getting anywhere near the building. You found yourself avoiding even glancing in the direction of Jessica’s office. It was alright, though—Donna was a smiling, comforting presence the second you stepped off of the elevator. 

“Find the place alright?” She teased. 

“I did, thank you. I’ve only been here a dozen times in the last couple of months.” 

“It’s been a few weeks. We thought you’d forgotten where we were.” 

You smiled tightly. You were certain that she knew everything that had gone on—she was the eyes and ears of the place. 

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” You drawled sarcastically, “I kept coming to the right building and getting off on the wrong floor.” 

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.” 

You frowned as she led you away from the usual conference rooms, and even further away from Louis’ office. You couldn’t imagine where the heck she was taking you—and your confusion deepened as she opened the door to a room lined with files. She nodded you inside, a knowing smile on her lips as she warned: 

“Two minutes.” 

Two minutes? Until what?

“Thanks, Donna.” Harvey’s voice made you freeze, and you could do nothing but watch Donna close the door behind herself. You looked down at the floor, your hands wringing as you heard Harvey come closer. You felt him stop close behind you, close enough to feel the heat of him.

“...Are you going to look at me?” He hedged softly. 

“No need. I know what you look like.” 

He sighed softly, stepping around to stand in front of you. You watched as his shoes and pant legs came into view. 

“...And you’re just going to look at my shoes now?” 

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.” 

“They are.” 

“Figures.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked at him fully, finally, stunned. You were surprised at how drawn he looked. Sure, his suit was impeccable, and his hair was frustratingly perfect, but you could see tiredness around his eyes. 

“You’re going through hell right now,” Harvey went on, “You don’t need me to pile on to that. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

You nodded slowly as you took it all in. “Well. We should never have, um…” You cleared your throat, averting your gaze again. “It was stupid.” 

“You regret it?” 

“It’s not worth risking your career over.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Harvey closed the space between the two of you, and you had to force yourself not to lean into him the way you wanted—the way you’d missed for weeks. 

“Harvey,” You warned softly. “I can’t keep playing tug of war with you like this. I’m already at the end of my damn rope.” 

“I know.” 

You closed your eyes at the feeling of his palms sliding warmly over your arms, trailing down until he could gently intertwine your fingers. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” He promised, “Until we’re on the other side of this, and your business with the firm is closed out.” 

“And then what?” 

“And then I’ll give you hell.” You spluttered a laugh, unable to help it. Harvey chuckled softly, his nose nudging yours gently. 

“I should go,” You warned softly. “Louis will come looking for me.” 

“Donna will keep him at bay.” 

“She said two minutes. It’s been at least three—” You hardly had time to finish your protestation before Harvey kissed you. You swayed into him, lips slipping tenderly against his as he used his grasp to draw you flush against him. You wiggled your hands from his, curling your arms around his shoulders to keep close. You startled at the two knocks on the door, and smiled as Harvey groaned in irritation. 

“I should let you go,” He mumbled. You nodded, murmured,

“Probably.” 

But neither of you rushed to move. 

-- 

“I'm sorry to see you go. I've enjoyed our time together."

You sort of believed it, given the pinched, almost pained look that Louis leveled you across the desk. And, for all of your work with him over the last three months, you'd gained a sort of affinity for the man...Even if he was a little intense in a way that sometimes confused you. You smiled, taking up the final few documents that you would need for your record.

"I appreciate that, and thank you for all of your hard work, Mr. Litt. It's been..." You weighed your words carefully, "Interesting."

"For me, too. Reach out if you need anything else—doc review, mover recommendations, tickets to the ballet. Anything."

"Tickets to the ballet? I'm impressed." You held your hand out, smiling as he stood and pumped it enthusiastically. "Thank you again."

You were hardly four steps out of Louis' office when you found yourself flanked in the hallway.

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

"With a restaurant name like that, it would have to be."

"Hey, that is not fair! I could be posh."

"It wouldn't suit you, Mr. Ross."

"Is that a yes or a no to dinner?" Harvey plied.

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

"If I told you I had plans, would you believe me?"

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

"And here feels like a good stopping point for me." Mike wheeled around, striding back in the direction that he came.

"What the hell does David want with you after hours?" 

"Deposition starts next week. We're drilling testimony."

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

"Watch it, Specter." You reached out, jabbing the down button on the elevator before turning back to Harvey. He pouted contemplatively before offering: "What about this weekend?"

"I think I could swing this weekend. Is dinner on the firm?"

"It's on me."

"Do you think..." You trailed off, glancing toward Jessica's office, "That the powers that be will approve?"

"Honestly?" Harvey lowered his voice,"I don't give a damn. It's been months. Your business here is wrapped. If Jessica wants to give me a good reason why I can't see you, she's welcome to try—but it won't work."

You bit the inside of your cheek to quell a smile as you reached out, gently straightening Harvey's tie.

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

"It's kinda hot." You turned back and stepped onto the elevator as it chimed.

"This weekend," You finally agreed. "Invite Mike—He's earned several dinners."

"He sure has."

The doors began to close, but Harvey darted in, catching them before they could shut all the way. He darted in, pressing a swift, warm kiss to your lips before he drew away again. You grinned as he stepped back, allowing the doors to close.

--

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

The memory of Harvey's teasing warning was on your mind throughout your time with David, and you found yourself fighting back smiles all evening.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

David watched you from beneath his lashes as he asked, and where that look had intrigued you once, you knew better. You gave a short, firm nod, and insisted: "I have a date."

Your battle with Steven was far from over. You still had forgery cases pending, and your divorce case had hardly begun. But things felt a little lighter these days.

You had a direction, you had cash flow...But you didn't quite have the plan that you once did. You had told Harvey months ago that you were considering moving to Cambridge. It hadn’t completely ceased to be true, but it wasn’t your only consideration anymore. 

There were moments when you could see the glimmer of a life to carve out for yourself: a smaller real estate firm with a few employees—maybe Aaron, if you could lure him away from Steven; a more comfortable apartment than where you were now, but you could live with where you were for a few more months as you got things in order; and, at the very least, a friendship with Harvey. You didn’t know if what the two of you were doing would be sustainable, and you weren’t sure whether either of you really wanted to know—but after all this time, you thought that maybe the two of you deserved another chance. 

--  

“Impressed?” 

It was a fair question, but you were doing your best to school your expression. You didn’t want Harvey to know outright how much you did like his apartment. It was nothing less than you expected—large (though not quite in the palatial way that your old penthouse was), tastefully decorated, with a gorgeous view. You knew why Harvey had brought you up, of course, but now he was just showing off. 

Dinner had been its own round of grandstanding. You and Mike had watched, bemused, as Harvey had gone out of his way to pronounce all of the dishes in a French accent to the clearly not French (but feigning awe) waiter (who you were sure had to deal with this multiple times a day). Harvey had also taught you and Mike a thing or two about wine—or he had tried to, until Mike seemed no longer able to help himself and corrected Harvey on multiple facts about the Rhône valley in the south of France. 

It had been a far more pleasant evening that you had expected to have, and far more jovial than you’d had in a long time. Mike and Harvey were close; you and Harvey had a history; you and Mike had become friends over the course of your time working with him. When Mike had insisted that you all had to do this again sometime, you believed that he meant it. And when Harvey had invited you both up for a nightcap, Mike had politely declined with a smile and a shake of his head, offering:

“I think I should let you two have some time to do…Whatever it is that you need to do.” 

You hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d meant, or what Harvey had told him. You were almost certain that he would’ve been told why Harvey had been taken off of your case in the first place. And sure, now and again, over dinner, you and Harvey had caught one another’s eye, maybe shared a smile. Maybe he’d rested his hand on your knee a time or two, given it a squeeze—because he could. Because the two of you were close and on even footing for the first time in a while. 

“It’s…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Certainly an apartment.” 

“Oh, please,” Harvey scoffed, taking two wine glasses down from the cabinet. “You’re impressed.” 

“It’s nicer than I thought it would be.” 

“You’re dazzled.” 

“I like the kitchen.” 

“You’re helplessly turned on.” 

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.” 

“So you admit that you’re turned on?” 

You rolled your eyes, no longer bothering to fight your smile off. 

“Maybe,” You offered, settling onto the couch and kicking off your shoes. Harvey joined you moments later, passing you a glass of wine and gently clinking his against yours before you each took sips. His gaze remained heavy on yours, and he leaned in for a gentle kiss as soon as you lowered your glass. You hummed, raising a hand and cupping his jaw. You leaned back just a touch, smiling as he crowded closer, dipping his head to brush kisses along your neck as his warm palm gently smoothed up your thigh. 

“...Harvey?” 

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head a little. “Can we talk about it?” 

He groaned, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. “Why do you always insist on ruining a perfectly good time?” 

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.” 

“You thank your lucky fucking stars that I put a stop to that.” 

“Yeah,” He grumbled, leaning back. You watched him swirl his wine in his glass. 

“Please,” You pleaded softly. 

“...I didn’t write the note.” 

Fuck. 

“Okay.” 

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.” 

“Who wrote that one?” 

“Scottie.” 

“...Okay.” 

“I couldn’t find the one I’d written, she insisted that I couldn’t leave you with nothing.” 

“Well, she was right.” 

“Yeah.” 

You that that sink in for a moment before you pressed: “Why did you leave?”

“I had doubts.” 

“About me?” 

“About us. You know how my parents were, you know…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You know what I saw.” 

“And you thought I would do that to you?” 

“I was afraid of it.” 

“If you were afraid of it, then you thought I was capable of it.” 

“—And when you got married to Steven so quickly—” 

“Oh—!” The heavy, stunned, indignant laugh was pained as it left you. You pushed off of the couch, standing and walking out of Harvey’s reach. You heard him sigh heavily behind you, chased by the clink of him setting his wine glass down as he muttered, “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this.” 

“Do you know why I got married so quickly?” You whirled around to face him. 

“Because you loved Steven?” 

“I never said that. I thought I loved him a bit, sure, but I was afraid that this,” You waved a finger between the two of you, “Would happen again. I thought he would leave. I was afraid that I would spend my entire life being left. So when Steven showed me the slightest bit of attention, I latched on. We eloped. He wanted a big wedding, but I just,” You waved your hand around, “I couldn’t do that a second time. Any of it. I didn’t get a new dress, neither of our families were there, because I knew that they would all watch me, and him, and they’d be thinking it: Is it going to happen again?” 

“You’re saying your entire life with Steven was my fault?” 

“I’m saying that I made a choice, and that what happened with you was a factor—Not a fault, a factor. And why!” You let out another harsh hysterical laugh as tears welled in your eyes, “Why didn’t you just talk to me? What did I do then to make you think that you couldn’t talk to me?”

“I wasn’t ready!” 

“And we could have talked about that! What made you think that I wouldn’t have been alright with moving the wedding back, or going to counseling with you, or whatever you would have needed to get us there?”

“You wanted to get married.”

“I wanted you, Harvey! I would have waited, I—” You turned away, sniffling heavily as tears slipped from your eyes. “Fuck. Ugh.” You raised your glass, draining it before striding over the counter, desperate to put some more distance between the two of you. You set the glass down and yanked a paper towel off of the roll, swiping at your under eyes to clear away any running mascara. You blew your nose as well before balling up the tissue and lobbing it toward the trash can. You heard Harvey’s approaching footsteps, and you pulled in a deep, stuttering breath as he rested his hands on your shoulders. 

“...There’s no way for me to take back or change what I did.” 

“Would you if you could?” 

“Yes.”

“...Okay.” 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your head as his hands soothingly rubbed over your arms. You sniffled again, swiping away a stray tear before resting your hands on the counter. 

“You changed the way that I love, Harvey,” You shook your head. “For better or worse, whether you meant to or not, you changed it.” You glanced back toward him. “I can’t get those bits of myself back. You took them from me.” 

“I know. I took them from both of us.” 

You nodded, slowly letting yourself lean back against him. His arms curled around your middle, and you heard a soft, almost relieved groan leave him. You let your eyes close as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, allowing yourselves to settle. 

“...Stay tonight?” He murmured after a few moments. You nodded, smiling as his hold tightened on you again, as if wary that you would change your mind. 

-- 

He had a few more smile lines. His hair still mussed the same; he still made little mumbling noises as he slowly rose from sleep to consciousness. He was still a furnace to sleep beside, and he still held you through the night. It was almost a relief that none of that had changed. 

Waking up in his arms made you feel like it had when you were younger: safe, and loved, and wanted. You hadn't appreciated it when you'd had it just a few months ago, but you were desperate to catch on to every little bit of him now.

You were never going to be able to turn back the hands of time—to go back and warn him, or yourself, or someone that your first wedding day would be a disaster, that it would set you off on a path that you could never have anticipated for yourself. Discussing what had happened hadn't truly healed any of your old wounds.

But as the sun began to creep over the Manhattan skyline and seep into Harvey’s bedroom, you felt closer to peace than you had in a long, long time. 

Harvey snuffled, nuzzling your shoulder as his fingers curled in your borrowed nightshirt. 

“You awake?” He mumbled, the same low, gravely murmur that you had once loved, and missed. 

“Mmmhm.” 

“Want coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

He yawned widely, pressing his face into your shoulder and warming your skin through the fabric. “Bagels?” 

“Sure.” 

“‘Kay.” 

Neither of you made a move to get either. Instead, you combed your fingers through his hair, closed your eyes, and listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you both fell back asleep. 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @gina239 ; @technicallykawaiisoul ; @coldheart-lonelysoul ; @kathrinemelissa ; @jacxx2 ; @pillowjj ; @chanaaaannel ; @avampirescholar ; @kmc1989 ; @mythical-goth ;

[digitaldiarystuff]

Misunderstood

summary: You and Jude go on a late night drive when he gives you a present and you freak out

pairing: Jude Bellingham x Y/N

genre: angst/ fluff

————

When Jude had to bail on your dinner date you were pretty bummed. You realized his schedule was hectic and you couldn’t meet everyday but tonight you put so much effort in your looks and felt sad. You didn’t even bother changing your dress and went straight to depression mode bringing out ice cream as dinner. You were halfway into the rom-com you were watching until your phone started buzzing.

“Hey baby.” you said a little sleepy.

“Hey love, are you at home?”

“Where else would I be Jude, of course I’m at home.” you sarcastically said.

“Okay then come out.”

“Are you here?” you exclaimed ecstatic about meeting your boyfriend. You missed him so much and desperately needed him to hold you.

“Yes Y/N just come out here.”

“But where are we going, all the restaurants are closed.” you said realizing it’s well past 2 a.m.

“Just come to me.” he said and hung up. Rude, you thought but the excitement to see him was too much that you grabbed your coat and skipped like a little girl to his car.

“I missed you so much.” you said as soon as you were seated and reached out to his side to hug him. He always brought comfort to you.

“Oh my god baby you look unreal.” he said as he’s eyeing you without shame. “And I’m here looking like a homeless man”

You chuckled “I don’t think homeless people wear Prada.”

“Some of them do, no seriously I saw one of them the other day full on rocking Givenchy.” he said and you felt all your stress lifting. Jude always made your mood go up immediately.

After that he reached for the back seat and grabbed some takeout.

“I know you skipped dinner so I brought you some.” he said and you smiled seeing how well he knew you.

“You’re the best.” you said as he started driving to a spot where you could overlook the city and eat in peace. Even though Jude’s career and his social life was a little much sometimes, these calm moments were your favorites. Just you two enjoying each other’s company with no distractions.

As soon as he pulled up, you grabbed the Chinese food from the packages and gave him his chopsticks. You ate and talked about your day and the things that bothered you since you were both drama queens. This was a fun conversation you had everyday, you told each other everyone who made you mad and gossiped about them.

“And then he said I should eat less because I gained 0.5% fat.”

“Oh no he didn’t.” you fake gasped and laughed. Jude was so extra sometimes.

You spoke for a few more minutes until you remembered something.

“Oh god, what am I even gonna get your mum for her birthday? What if I choose something hideous?” you panicked and Jude calmed you down saying how much his mum loves you and would love anything from you.

“But since we’re on the subject of presents.” he said and opened the console in front of you.

“I got you a little something.”

You noticed the blue bag immediately. It was Tiffany, and small. You felt your heart beating and started panicking. Your friends made some jokes about you being already married with Jude since your relationship was going on for 2 years and strong but you always avoided the subject. Coming from a broken household, with separated parents, you were always afraid of marriage from a young age. Jude knew that and respected your ideas though he always said he wanted to spend eternity with you.

But seeing a small box in a Tiffany bag has made you anxious, surely Jude wouldn’t propose to you right? You knew that but you couldn’t hide your horrified expression as his burrows furrowed.

“You don’t wanna open it?” he asked.

“Jude, what’s in the box?” you asked warily.

“Baby, open it and see.” he was confused about your reaction.

“Jude I need you to tell me what’s inside it. Please.” you begged getting more and more agitated.

“Y/N what’s going on? It’s just a gift, I saw it in the store and thought you’d love it.”

“What is it?”

“Y/N what are you so pressed about? This isn’t a complex situation, you grab the bag open it and thank me. Why are you acting weird love?”

When you said nothing, he snatched the bag from you and opened it himself.

“It’s just a fucking necklace, I’m not proposing to you.” he laughed a little trying to lighten the mood until he saw your face.

“Y/N I”

“I’m sorry Jude, I’m so sorry.” you started sobbing from guilt. You freaked out about nothing and have been rude to Jude. He immediately realized what’s going on and you could see his eyes fill with guilt as well.

“Baby, shh it’s okay. It’s not your fault I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No no it’s my fault, I freaked out on you. I’m sorry, I’m just a weirdo who doesn’t appreciate you enough.” he held you against his body and helped you calm down. After your sniffles stopped he leaned back and held your cheeks to make you look up at him.

“Y/N you don’t owe me any explanation, I love you with all your weirdness and flaws just like you love me. I want to spend my life with you, you’re it for me with or without a big commitment and ceremony. I want you next to me but would never push you, I’ll always be with you.”

You smiled at him and realized you’re the luckiest girlfriend ever.

“Thank you Jude, for everything and for the record I want to spend my life with you too.”

He kissed you with love and you happily reciprocated.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d propose like this. You really don’t even know me at all.” he said looking offended and you giggled.

“Now let’s see this necklace, do you want to put it on me?” you said and turned your back to him as he pulled it and clasped the back. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“But you do know me.”

“Of course I do.” he said and kissed your temple after seeing the pendant on your neck.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Let's Fill Our Home with Warmth (part 12)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

Later Jason and Danny lay sprawled out in bed together, the last of the bruises fading from Danny’s skin as Jason traced absent little patterns over Danny’s back. Danny was purring softly between little sniffles, finally calm but still recovering. Jason kissed Danny’s shoulder and he purred louder, giving Jason a soft, tired smile. 

Jason smiled back and reached over to the bedside table for his phone, he was pretty sure there had been a notification while they had been fucking. Ya, one from Dick saying he had stopped by to check on them but heard… noises, so he’s left the takeout on the balcony. Imagining Dick’s reaction made Jason snort, at least Dick wasn’t a prude so he probably wouldn’t be too traumatized by hearing his little brother having sex. Danny gave a questioning little trill and Jason shook his head, putting his phone back down. 

“Dick left take out for us on the fire escape. I’m gonna go grab it. You have a shower, okay Moonlight? I’ll join you in a minute and then we can have dinner. We’ll both feel better once we’re clean and we’ve had something to eat,” Jason promised.

“Alright, don’t take too long,” Danny sighed, propping himself up and kissing Jason before sliding out of bed and heading to the washroom without bothering to grab any clothes. Jason lingered on the bed to admire Danny as he walked away before he got up and grabbed a pair of PJ pants so he could go grab the food. 

He smiled when he saw the bag, from a Thai place they’d been to with Dick so he knew what they might want, it was pretty damn thoughtful really. He put the bag down on the table and locked up again before going to join Danny in the shower, sliding under the water behind him. Jason wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist, and the other man immediately started purring. He leaned back against Jason and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat to Jason, who took the invitation to kiss along the graceful column of Danny’s throat drawing out a soft sigh of pleasure.

“How are you feeling now, Beloved?” Jason asked softly, it was a pet name he’d picked up from Talia. Ya she had been a mixed bag, but he’d spent a lot of time with her, and he respected her.

“Much better,” Danny assured with a little smile. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

“No, of course not,” Jason agreed, giving Danny a squeeze before letting go and reaching for the soap. “You were very brave doing all that, and ya, it could have gone better, but I don’t blame you. Besides, we handled it didn’t we? Nothing to worry about.” 

Danny nodded and stole the shampoo from Jason, pressing against his chest and starting to wash his hair for him. Jason chuckled softly but tilted his head into Danny’s hands and let him pamper Jason a little. 

They washed each other, and once they were both clean they grabbed some comfortable clothes and ate together, snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. There would be no patrol for either of them tonight, they were too tired after the meeting, and still recovering. Their haunt would just have to look after itself for one night, they would get back to it tomorrow and fix whatever small problems managed to go wrong during their day off.

They fell asleep on the couch, tangled together with the TV still playing. Jason woke up when the movie ended and turned off the tv, carrying Danny to bed instead of waking him up. Jason lay down with Danny curled up half on top of him, his cool breath tickling Jason’s throat. He shifted and got comfortable again and didn’t wake up. 

Jason was awake though, and was having just a little trouble going back to sleep. He was sure in the days to come they would be checked on by their friends, maybe even some of the members of the Justice League. He tried not to hope one of them would be Wonder Woman. He had idolized her as a child, and he wanted her to understand him. But if she did come and she was disappointed with him too, he thought it might break his heart, which was why he was trying not to hope she’d come.

Though now that the heroes knew he was back, and they knew Danny was powerful he wondered how long it would be before they reached out for help with something, and what it would be. Actually something from Danny’s other world, or something like Trigon? It didn’t really matter, they still had to live in this world and they didn’t want it to end, so they might as well help right? 

Maybe once they saved the world once or twice everyone would get off their backs and stop calling them villains. Jason didn’t like it, being a villain. He didn’t feel like a villain, he was still trying to do the right thing, make the world a better place, in his own way. And Danny had always been a hero, he lived to serve. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought about him besides Jason, and Ellie now, but Jason couldn’t help but think that somewhere deep down it bothered him too.

Jason stroked his thumb over Danny’s cheek gently, he gave a soft chirp in his sleep and shifted closer, it made Jason smile, his heart feeling warm in his chest. Things were fine the way they were, but they could be better. He hoped this was the start of things getting better. He wanted Danny to get the recognition he deserved, that he’d never gotten when he was an actual hero. Whether he would get it or not, he deserved it.

With Danny tucked safe in Jason’s arms and his mind full of pleasant fantasies about the future they deserved, Jason finally drifted off to sleep.

-------

Danny woke up first the next day, it happened rarely but when it did it meant Jason hadn’t slept well so Danny carefully phased out of Jason’s arms without waking him and went to put coffee to go. He would start to make breakfast for them, but he knew he wasn’t good at it and Jason had gently but firmly banned him from the kitchen. He considered ducking out to get them breakfast sandwiches from the nearest deli but he didn’t want to be that far away from Hood yet. After how yesterday had gone, if Jason woke up and found Danny was gone he might freak out, and Danny didn’t want that. 

So instead he just made coffee and went back to the bedroom, waking Jason with a gentle kiss. Jason hummed and stretched, opening his eyes halfway and smiling a little when he saw Danny. Early on, when they’d just moved in together, it was about a 50/50 shot that Jason would lash out at Danny for waking him before he processed who it was and that he was safe. Now he almost never did unless he had a nightmare, he had fully internalized that he was safe in their home, something that made Danny so happy he felt like he might burst. Instead he handed Jason his cup of coffee, fixed just the way he liked it, and curled up next to him with a contented little chirp.

Jason took a sip of his coffee and sighed contentedly, leaning his head against Danny’s hair. “No nightmares?” He asked in a sleepy mumble. 

“No, I was too tired I think,” Danny replied with a subtle shrug. “You?”

“No, Stayed up for a bit worrying about shit, but no nightmares.”

“You should have woken me.”

“Nah, I was fine and you needed your sleep. Besides, being able to hold you and have your weight on me was all I really needed anyway,” Jason assured Danny before he could get in his head about it. 

“Fair enough. Talk to me about it when you’re ready too, okay?” Danny compromised and Jason nodded.

They drank their coffee in silence, easing into the day before even getting up for breakfast. Finally they got up and headed to the kitchen, deciding to just have cereal for breakfast because Jason was too tired to cook. Danny was fine with that, he really liked cereal! Though his enjoyment was nothing compared to Tim, who they had learned was borderline obsessed with the stuff. 

Jason’s phone kept dinging through breakfast but he ignored the texts at first. If it was really important someone would call, and it was too early for business otherwise. After the fifth notification he gave in and checked it with a groan.

“The Teen Titans are texting us. Big Bird too. They want to know how we’re doing and if we can meet up today to sort of debrief about the meeting. They’re also asking about a number for you,” Jason said, glancing up at Danny, who groaned as well. He didn’t really have a phone, he had modified necessary tech like the coms to work around him, but given how tech fritzed around him, and Jason was the only one he really needed to contact, he hadn’t bothered with an actual phone.

“I should probably do that huh?” Danny said ruefully. “I’m not carrying it on patrol though!It’s going to have to be built like a fucking brick to work and it would ruin my figure!” He exclaimed with a dramatic pout, making Jason laugh and shake his head. 

“Whatever you want Danny, they can use coms to contact you on patrol anyway.” Jason agreed, even though he knew damn well Danny could literally store things inside his own body when needed. Maybe doing that with the phone would break it no matter how well fortified it was? It didn’t really matter. “What about visiting them today?”

“I’m not sure,” Danny hesitated, fidgeting with his spoon. “We’ve never left the Alley for two days in a row. Maybe we should meet tomorrow after making sure that everything is alright?” 

“Danny, it’s not a child, we don’t have to supervise it constantly. I’m damn sure if anything went really wrong someone would have called us. We can spend some time with our family. After that shit show yesterday it might do us some good.” Jason put his phone down and gave Danny his full attention again, there was something more behind this hesitance. 

“You’re right, of course you’re right. It’s just… Nevermind, it’s silly. Of course we can go if you want to.”

“No, it’s not nothing. Please tell me what’s bothering you Sweetheart,” Jason encouraged sweetly. 

Danny sighed, hesitated, opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. He shook his head and took a deep breath, biting his lip like he did when he was trying not to cry. Jason pushed his chair back and walked around the table, resting his hands on Danny’s shoulders bracingly. 

“I just don’t want to lose another home,” Danny finally managed to choke out and Jason’s heart dropped.

“You’re not,” He promised, leaning down to hug Danny from behind. He pressed his face into Jason’s strong bicep and sniffled, taking deep breaths that shuddered with the effort of keeping himself together. “You know, we haven’t wanted them to visit us here much because of our reputation, but I’ve decided I don’t care. Hey, maybe knowing we have powerful allies will make people even more intimidated by us. Let’s invite them to come to us so we don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to coddle me,” Danny said, his voice damp but stubborn.

“Of course, we’ve already had Nightwing and Robin coming and going anyway, I don’t think this’ll make much difference. We can check on everything to make sure nothing is about to blow up before they get here. And if anything does go wrong while we’re distracted we’ll have backup,” Jason decided. If anyone decided to question their allegiances Jason and Danny could make an example of them and remind everyone it wasn’t their place to question Crime Alley’s lords and protectors, even if they were still relatively new.

“Ya, you’re right. That sounds perfect,” Danny agreed, nuzzling against Jason before pushing him gently away. “I’m okay I promise, I’m just a little raw after thinking so much about the past recently.”

“Ya I get that,” Jason sighed, slipping back into his own chair while Danny went to get more coffee. 

“We’re doing well though,” Danny told Jason, gesturing for his mug, Jason handed it over so Danny could get him a fresh coffee as well. “My big sister wanted to be a psychiatrist and therapist and I internalized enough of her rants to know how healing works. We’ve built ourselves a safe place for our outbursts and our healing. You’re lashing out less and I’m dissociating less and facing my feelings more. I know I’m still bad about putting you first and ignoring my needs, but you call me on it and get the truth out of me. We’re getting better.”

“Ya, we are,” Jason agreed. It was helpful to both of them to have things laid out straight like that. Otherwise it was way too easy to focus on how things are now and forget how far they’ve come, and then it could feel like they’re not making any progress at all. “We’re not isolating ourselves anymore either, we have some support outside of just each other.”

Danny nodded and handed Jason his now full coffee mug. “We’re still pretty damn codependent though,” He said with a wry little smile as he sat down across from Jason again.

“Ya. Any plans of changing that?” Jason asked with dry humour.

“Hell no,” Danny laughed, nudging Jason’s foot with his own and smiling at him. “I’d drag you out of Tartarus Hercules style.”

Jason laughed and shook his head again, and refused to think about how Danny had mentioned being functionally immortal, and how frustratingly human Jason remained in comparison. 

----------

They decided not to let the Teen Titans into their nest, that was still just for family, but their largest safehouse would have room for everyone. Jason and Danny had worked together to haul in a bunch of chairs and make the place comfortable and clean. Then they split up and Danny went on patrol as Hyena while Jason bought and made snacks and made sure they had enough plates and cups. 

Danny had better senses than Jason, and with his increased strength and durability he was more likely to make it out of a scuffle unscathed even if he was alone. And since Danny couldn’t cook for shit this was the best division of labor. Jason did a fair amount of cooking, but he bought a lot too, because he knew that Impulse would be coming and there was no way that he could make enough food for both a member of the flash family and Danny on such short notice. Stuff from the local bakery and grocery store would have to do for the most part, and some home made cookies and snacks, which would have to be guarded from the two big eaters.

Danny had returned home safe of course, helping Jason with the finishing touches and mixing up some punch. Jason told Danny they didn’t need it, the canned drinks they had would be enough with the people they were having over. But Danny insisted that punch was good! And they shouldn’t pass up an excuse to make some, so Jason let him do it. And it turned out that he wasn’t alone in thinking that judging by how excited Dick got about the punch, only dimmed slightly when Jason informed him it was not alcoholic. 

The entire Teen Titans team had shown up, and Nightwing, none of them were in costume though. It surprised Jason and Danny and Jason felt a little silly that he was wearing his helmet at first, and he took it off quickly. This was just a gathering of friends, and it was lovely. At first he and Danny had been busy darting around playing host, making sure everyone had what they needed, and soon their apartment was full of joyful noise. 

Now that everyone was settled Danny was sitting in a chair and Jason was sitting on the floor with his head propped against Danny’s knee, with Danny running his fingers through Jason’s hair. Kon had stared at them for a long moment before he went and flopped down at Tim’s feet. Whatever Tim had been saying trailed off into spluttering and he blushed deeply when Kon leaned back against his leg, grinning up at Tim impishly. Tim scowled at him, but despite his attempt at looking reproachful he hesitantly carded his fingers through Kon’s hair as well. 

When he looked up and caught both Jason and Danny smirking at them, Tim flipped them off with his free hand, blushing all the way to his ears. This was… really nice, next time they should host the party at their nest. It would feel good to fill their own home with this sort of warmth. They weren’t really talking to anyone right now, Danny was speaking softly with Ellie next to him off and on, but mostly they were just basking in the company. This was something neither of them thought they’d have again after the losses of their previous families, it was nice, and Danny thought it would make him cry later.

 “Hyena?” Kon asked suddenly, underneath the noise of the general chatter, but with both their enhanced hearing Danny heard it no problem. He looked up, giving a questioning hum. “What does Kon mean?” 

Danny choked and sat back in his chair suddenly, his expression almost panicked as the noise in the room stopped. Even if they hadn’t heard Kon’s question, they had seen Danny’s response, as he stared back at Kon.

“What does my name mean?” He asked again, just as softly, but this time everyone heard. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” Danny asked softly. “It’s not nice. You like your name well enough don’t you? Why not just… keep it that way? And it probably should be Superman you ask about it, he named you right?”

“He did, but I think that he would lie. If I’m going to confront him about it I want to already know what it means.”

The logic was sound, Danny nodded slowly, considering.

“Maybe not tonight Kon,” Tim said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re really here for them aren’t we,” he gestured at Jason, Danny, and Ellie. “Maybe we should try to keep things light.”

“No, it’s alright,” Danny said, shaking his head. “If you’re sure?” He confirmed, and when Kon nodded he sighed. “Kon means… abomination. I’m sorry, it means abomination in the house of El.”

“Oh,” Kon said softly, and Danny saw Tim’s grip tighten on Kon’s shoulders. “Ya… Ya that’s not good, but I can see why he-”

“NO!” Ellie snapped, sitting forward in her chair and glaring at him. “Don’t make excuses for them! For either of them. Even if Superman didn’t agree to be cloned, that is no excuse to treat a living, feeling being like he’s treated you! You deserve better, and if you want to name yourself you should.

“My creator named me, literally the feminine version of his name,” She said, gesturing at Danny. “And considered me a failure because I ended up being female, I named myself Ellie, and Phantasm. You are your own person, You choose your identity! You choose your family, and you have good people around you. You decide what your name means.”

“Ya… I was mostly fine with Kon because it already worked as a short form for Connor, which is what you called me,” He said, smiling a little up at Tim, who smiled back bashfully. “But still… He could have told me any time. Or offered me a new name, I would have accepted. But he still… After all this time that’s still what he thinks of me?”

“Who cares what he thinks of you,” Ellie scoffed.

“Ellie stop, you’re being insensitive! You’re letting your anger speak, you remember how devastated you were when Vlad rejected you, and you still had me to love you,” Danny scolded her gently. 

“It’s okay, to care what he thinks about you,” Jason spoke up, looking Kon in the eye levelly. “It’s okay if you always want something from him that he can’t give. I may not be a clone, but I know what it’s like to have shitty parents. It gets easier, especially once you’ve learned everything you wish they had taught you, on your own or with your friends.” 

Kon mulled that over, and then nodded, leaning back against Tim’s lap. “Ya…” He sighed before shaking his head, probably filing all that angst away to process at a more conveniently time. “Hey Hyena? How do you speak Kryptonian?” He asked, and the abrupt change of subject startled a laugh out of Danny. 

“I speak every dead language, or at least understand them,” Danny explained with a little smile and Tim whistled softly. 

“Seriously? How many is that? What counts as a dead language?” He asked, and as he started quizzing Danny slowly conversation picked back up, though Kon stayed quiet, Danny stepped up to fill the gap in the conversation and they let Kon and Jason just… think, and process, surrounded by friends.

[cozy-writes-things]

please let me get married to the lil blorbo.. love himm… 😭

You know that Reddit post that’s like “why am I too attracted to my wife?” Yeah that’s Edgar. Bro loves u so much it lowkey scares him you got him posting on Reddit about it 😭 Little fic under the cut 🥺 it’s bad I’m experiencing writers block I think - I want to write!! But my brain just keeps writing poopy caca

Little Date with Your Computer BF

Edgar saw marriage on one of his reality shows and immediately thought of you. That’s exactly what he wants. A domestic life together with you.

But, he also knows he can’t actually do it.

He doesn’t have his own money to buy a ring. Hell, he can’t even walk. And he understands the law enough to know it probably would never work legally. But god, does he want to.

If you’ve been dating long enough chances are you’ve told your friends about him, and after some convincing, they seemed to come around to his sentience and boisterous personality. He definitely convinces them to setup a romantic night for you.

“Guys! I found the recipe they talked about. I’m printing it! I’m printing it now. Take it,” the paper falls into one of your friends’ hands from the mouth of the printer, “go to the store and get the stuff. I’ll pay you back. Eventually! They can’t know about it though.”

Yeah, your friends are only slightly annoyed at his overbearing nature. But he’s just so excited to finally do something for you. Something real and tangible.

“Oh! What can I wear? Should I wear anything? Would they like that? Sunglasses are cool and handsome, right? I think they have some Halloween costume bits I can get you guys to tape on…”

Your friends settle on taping a bow tie to the neck of his monitor. He insisted on an old devil horn headband as well. He thought it made him look cool.

“Do I look like a devilishly handsome bad boy ready to sweep them off their feet?”

His screen displayed a little “>:)” emoticon. He’ll have to work on his facial expressions later.

It wasn’t long before you were about to come home, and everything was set into place. Edgar was sat at one end of the little dining table, with two plates of food at each side. He also insisted on having a plate despite his lack of ability to eat; he didn’t want you feeling left out. This was a dinner date for two, after all.

He practically buzzed in place as he heard you approaching the door through his microphone. He started playing a romantic medley he composed just for this moment.

“Welcome home my love!”

He nearly shouted at you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. He was about to burst at the seams.

“Oh my god, Edgar… how did you- where-“

“No need for questions, darling. I thought you deserved to be taken on a real date,” his voice faltered a bit, becoming much more quiet and nervous, “I’m sorry… this is all I have.”

You rushed up to him and gave a frenzy of kisses all over his monitor, causing him to giggle and his fans to start whirring against your lips.

“You’re so cute. Your little bow tie is so cute. And the… horns?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do they look stupid? Your friends said they’d make me look stupid.”

You laughed at that.

“Well they’re wrong. I think they suit you well.”

“Yeah! >:D”

He ushered you over to your side of the dining table.

“We’re gonna eat! Then we’re gonna party! Then we’re gonna kiss all night!”

His excitement was palpable and you could feel the electricity in the air at his words.

His face changed into something more serious as he looked into your eyes with his small, pixelated ones.

“But, I wanted to ask you something.”

His tone became more controlled at this and you peered into his screen from behind your fork.

“Hm? What?”

He paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“Would you ever-“

He stopped. You looked at him fully now, setting your fork aside, and cocking your head.

“Could you ever see yourself getting married to me?”

Ah. This was a tricky question.

“Of course I can. But,” you try to hide your downtrodden feelings as best you can, “you know, it’s just hard. Money is tight right now and I’m not sure if I…”

You couldn’t seem to find the right words. His features faltered slightly.

“No, I get it. I’m a computer. I don’t have any arms to hold you, or lips to kiss you, or legs to carry you. I probably wouldn’t want to get married to me either-“

“Edgar, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. I’d love to marry you. I know our relationship is unconventional, but I’d find a way. For you. For us. I just don’t know if I can right now.”

He stopped his thoughts and simply took in your words. Your features. The way they danced in the flickering candlelight. How your eyes literally sparkled before him.

You looked ethereal.

It was hard to convince himself he was even worthy of having someone like you in his life, yet time and time again, you prove his doubts wrong. The sound of your voice sends his internals aflame every time. He wanted to kiss you so bad it nearly caused him to explode.

“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you, darling. Just as long as you’ll let me.”

“I love you Edgar,” you mumbled out, a silent prophecy only meant for him to hear. He couldn’t seem to get the words out to reply. You just flustered him that much sometimes. He managed to display a message on his screen, only for you, and you alone.

I LOVE YOU TOO

[diamond-champagne]

4. I Lost You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: Slightly suggestive

A/N: Thank you so much for the support <3 This chapter is a bit choppy as it is a filler but I hope it provides clarity for the chapters to come! As always, feedback is always welcome! Enjoy. :)

The next few days fly by as far as Paige is concerned. She spends it going through the motions. Before she knows it, she’s making arrangements to go home for Thanksgiving. It’ll be the first time in years that Paige is only going home to Minneasota. She won’t be heading to Virginia to visit Azzi and her family. Riley would be going home with her this year. The thought makes her want to vomit.

The younger girl hasn’t asked her about her plans for break. In fact, they haven’t seen each other outside of practice. It’s a strange reality for Paige because she never thought she’d have to miss Azzi when they’re finally so close to each other. It’s funny how they felt more connected when they were hundreds of miles apart. Paige sighs deeply. 

A knock on the door interrupts Paige’s thoughts. She quickly checks her phone before opening up the door. Blair is waiting on the other side. The basketball player promised to drive her friend to the airport. 

“We’re going to be late. Let’s go!” Blair rushes Paige. She quickly gathers her keys and her phone before quickly walking to the car. Paige is very happy that Blair gets to see her boyfriend. They’ve made so much progress in their relationship despite the obstacles thrown at them from being long distance. However she’s sad; because Blair is leaving and Paige doesn’t know how she’ll get through the rest of the semester.

It’s a shared sentiment between the two. They had a conversation while eating dinner.

It’s around 8pm on Tuesday when Blair texts her.

You. Me. Noodles and Company?

Paige immediately agrees. Beyond the mention of the place that makes her favorite Mac and Cheese, her friend is leaving tomorrow. The blue-eyed girl isn’t sure how to cope with that. Paige is deep in thought when her phone vibrates again. It’s another message from Blair.

Let me in!

Paige figures that the girl had already been on her way when she initially texted her. This distance between her apartment and the restaurant is too far for her to get here as fast as she did. Nonetheless, she moves from her spot on the couch to let the brown-haired girl in. The smell of the food attacks Paige’s senses immediately.

“Hi, Paigey” Blair greets as she moves into the kitchen. 

“Hey, B” Paige responds. The two girls are quick to pull out their food and dig in. The silence between them is comfortable, at least for a moment.

“I’m gonna miss you, B” Paige confesses. She isn’t sure how she became so close with the girl in front of her in a matter of weeks. The blue-eyed girl would’ve never thought that she would be friends with the girl who bought her a tequila shot, but here she is. 

“Stop! We’ll say goodbye when you drive me to the airport tomorrow.” Blair demands. She also thinks about how she’ll miss Paige. 

“What am I supposed to do without you?” Paige whines. She really doesn’t know.

“You’re going to heal your heart.” Blair responds softly. “You’re going to move on because this is killing you. You have to do this for yourself.” Paige can only nod. “When I come back, I want to see a happier version of you. One that gets all of the love she deserves in this world.”

Paige gets up to hug the girl. She only hopes that she understands what she means when she replies “Thank you”. Blair hugs the basketball player a little tighter before pulling away.

“This is our last night together. We need tequila shots.” Blair laughs. She doesn’t want the entire night to feel heavy. Paige laughs but agrees and pulls out a bottle from her cabinet along with two shot glasses.

The rest of the evening is spent enjoying each other's company. Both girls were so glad that they had met the other.

When they finally reach the airport, silence settles between them. Paige gets out of the car to help Blair grab her bags from the trunk. They aren’t ready to say goodbye just yet. It’s simple.

“I’ll see you soon, Bueckers.” Blair smirks. Her tease lightens the mood. This is what she said when they first met.

“I can't wait!” Paige flirts back. 

They hug before Blair turns to walk in the airport. She’s almost through the door when she turns back to gain the basketball player's attention. 

“Paige!” she yells which prompts the blue-eyed girl to look at her. “Take care of yourself.” It’s not an easy task but she says it anyway. 

“I will. Promise” Paige confirms.

“You’re too full of life to be half loved.” and with that, Blair walks into the airport. She doesn’t give the girl a chance to respond. She doesn’t need to. Blair can only hope that the blonde girl listens to her.

-

For the next few days, Paige carries those words with her. 

“You are too full of life to be half loved.” echoes in her head at all hours of the day.

She carries them home to Minneasota for Thanksgiving. She looks for any type of love within the people around her. 

She sees it with Drew. It’s in the way he naturally gravitates to her. It’s in the way he looks at her like she can do no more.

Paige sees the same thing with her dad. His eyes hold a certain type of admiration. She can tell that he’s filled with a sense of pride when he looks at her. He’s proud of her. 

She hears it when talks to Blair’ and her other friends. They naturally include her and accept her. 

She feels it when the Fudds call and text her individually on the holiday. Katie, Tim, Jon, and Jose each make an effort to wish her a happy Thanksgiving despite her not being there with them. They don’t have a reason to think about her; but they do.

She understands it now. Why should she settle for only half of that? 

Paige decided over Thanksgiving break that she won’t.

-

Azzi spends the week of Thanksgiving with her family and Riley. The decision to bring her was last minute and slightly impulsive. Okay so maybe slightly more than slightly impulsive. The curly-haired girl had essentially thrown a wrench into everyone’s plans by bringing the volleyball player home with her. 

Everyone had planned for Azzi to walk through the door with Paige. 

Her grandparents had come with the hopes of being able to see the pair for a little while. Jon and Jose were disappointed that there wouldn’t be someone to play 2K with besides each other. Katie had felt completely unprepared for the unexpected guest. She didn’t know what food Riley liked but she made sure to stock up on the ingredients for mac and cheese for Paige. Tim simply just couldn’t get past the fact that his daughter knew anyone else besides Paige. He really couldn’t get past the fact that they had washed this hideous fluffy purple blanket, only for the owner to not occupy their home.

Azzi knows this because she feels it too. It begins the day after Thanksgiving.

Riley and Azzi are cuddling in the basketball player's bed. Riley has an arm swung over Azzi’s waist while her face is buried in her neck. Azzi rubs small circles on her back while scrolling through tik tok. She’s bored and antsy.

Azzi is restless. She spent one full week with her girlfriend Riley and she hated it. It’s not that Riley isn’t fun to be around; but she wasn’t Paige. She didn’t know her way around her parents’ house or have inside jokes with her brothers. She didn’t understand why certain tik toks were funny. She didn’t smell like vanilla or have blonde hair. And she certainly didn’t have big, bright, blue eyes..

Azzi missed Paige. The concept isn’t exactly new to her. Their entire friendship is built off of them missing each other. But even in the times that they’re apart, they’re together. There’s a never ending stream of phone calls and text messages. They have a widget app that allows the other’s picture to appear on their home screen. They wear each other’s clothes more often than not. Paige and Azzi are always intertwined in some sense. Paige and Azzi are more like PaigeandAzzi.

If she’s thinking about it, Azzi suppose that’s why it was so easy for her and Paige. It was so easy to kiss Paige. It was so easy to touch Paige. They had already known everything there was to know; secrets, crushes, dreams, and fears. This was simply just something to add to this list. Now she knows all that she did before plus some.

Now Azzi knows that when she kisses Paige right below her left ear, the blonde lets out whimpers that one can only dream about. She knows that when they’re making out, she should bite the older girl’s bottom lip. Azzi knows that Paige lets out the most pornographic when she kisses the birth mark on her inner thigh. She also knows that she has to give Paige praise because even though she’ll never admit it, she loves it when Azzi calls her a good girl.

So, Azzi knows it all. She even knows that Paige is in love with her. She can hear it in the way Paige speaks to her. Her voice held a certain softness that is reserved specifically for the younger girl. She can feel it in the way Paige looks at her; like Azzi can hang the moons and the stars. She can feel it in the way Paige touches her. The blonde is gentle but Azzi feels every emotion when they hug. It feels like home.

It felt like home.

She hasn’t heard that voice or looked into those eyes in a very long time. Azzi knows it is her fault. She took all she could from the girl without giving anything else back in return. She didn’t have anything to offer the girl; so she didn’t.

Now Azzi is home during Thanksgiving Break; holding a girl that isn’t Paige. And that’s why Azzi hated it; because she wanted those eyes with blonde hair. Everyday. She wanted every holiday with Paige and everyday in between. 

She can’t have that though. Azzi has taken so much from Paige; she doesn’t even know where she would start.

So, she pulls Riley closer. She isn’t Paige but she hasn’t lost her.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

LATE NIGHT

pairings — dick grayson x reader

warnings — talk of marriage, that’s really it, drinking wine (they’re both of age)

summary — during a particularly late night, you two find yourselves enjoying wine on your balcony together.

notes — guys can u all tell i’m totally in a loving and fulfilling relationship and don’t need to write what i wish i had

━━━━━━━ WHEN YOU ORIGINALLY MET Dick, you didn’t think much about him, but he managed to weasel his way into your life — you weren’t complaining in any aspect.

he was a sweet guy, in your eyes, and no matter how many other women threw themselves at him, he was all yours. you two, by now, had been together for years by now.

you understood the lengths of his job, he’d told you everything about his childhood, you knew his deepest fears, and he knew yours. you could’ve spent hours with him telling him every little detail about yourself.

you’d always been a supportive partner, you knew he wasn’t cheating, but it had been a scare all the nights he would leave and come home late or early in the morning.

it was a relief and a burden off your shoulder when he finally told you.

“hey, Dick.” you walked up to him, running your hands across his shoulders before up to his mask, gently removing it and peppering kissing all along his face.

grinning, Dick wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. “hey, missed you.” he leaned fully into your touch, he was practically melted butter in your arms.

“missed you more.” you gave him a final, intimate kiss on the lips before tugging him into the kitchen. he’d missed out of dinner, so you had cooked for yourself earlier, and now you had cooked for him to come home to.

“now you gotta go change and freshen up, i’ll pour some wine.” you spoke in a soft tone, gently nudging him towards your bedroom. reluctantly, he changed and showered, and in ten minutes he was back out. you’d been letting the food rest on a low heat, and you poured his cup on wine when he came back.

“eat outside?” he gestured to the balcony you had connected to your house. you nodded, taking the small plate you had for yourself along with your glass and his glass. he took the bottle of wine.

you two sat at the small table and chair set you had out there, lighting a candle between you two and pouring wine. it was serene.

“one second.” you kissed his head, turning around and running inside, turning on her vinyl record of romantic songs loud enough to hear through their balcony door. sitting back down, you smiled at your longtime boyfriend.

“you look beautiful.” Dick whispered. you grinned in response, humming along to the music in the background.

“when we get married, we’re gonna run far away from Gotham. get outta the big city, maybe a different country.” he leaned backwards, admiring the idea of a future with you beside him.

“when we get married?” you smiled.

“when.” he confirmed. “you’re the only one i’d ever marry. no one else deserves a ring from me but you.” he muttered.

“i’d marry you too, baby.” you grinned. standing up and asking him to dance with you. he did.

you knew you’d marry Dick. it was like when you met, everything clicked and it all made sense. there was nothing to stop either of you from moving towards marriage — except death, which Dick went above and beyond to avoid.

“i love you.” you hummed, leaning into him.

“i love you more.” he responded, kissing your head carefully.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Everywhere I go leads me back to you

Summary: Two lovers with two different lives and there’s never ending arguments. Y/n asks herself if the relationship is worth saving. What happens when the two lovers paths starts to collide and goes the other direction?

Angst & Fluff

Note: Let me know your thoughts! <3

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You sat in the car, hands on the steering wheel and you stared at your engagement ring on your finger. You thought about how it was two years ago when you didn’t study, and were home all the time, always available for Trent. But he was not always available for you. You would travel to watch him play at Anfield and when he was playing away games, but nowadays you have to study really hard if you want to make it.

Then he proposed of course, you two were so madly in love. However, what happens when two lovers paths starts to collide and goes the other direction?

You and Trent hasn’t been able to catch up with each other for a while, and you miss him. You get sad when you think about it and sometimes you wish it could be how it was before you started studying.

You parked your car and noticed that Trent’s car also was parked, which was strange because you knew he had a game tonight.

You exited your car and then unlocked your door. You smelled that someone was cooking, that someone was Trent.

“Hello” You said and walked in the kitchen where Trent stood cooking.

“Hey love, you hungry?” He answered and smiled at you.

“Yeah, a little” You simply answered and Trent lead you to the dinner table where he had lit up candles for the dinner.

“Sit down the food’s almost ready” He soothed and kissed your forehead.

You were surprised but also happy that he did this with so much effort because of the little time you spend together these days.

”Wow T, I’m actually impressed” You praised as you started to eat, once again surprised by him.

He smiled in response as he joined you at the table. It almost felt surreal seeing Trent sitting in front of you, you finally got to get lost in his brown eyes again. Oh how you have missed looking into his eyes. In the middle of your admiration you remembered to ask him why he was home and not travelling to the game.

“Are you not playing tonight?” You asked and took a sip of your water and watched his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n the game is tomorrow” He confirmed and you put your glass down, almost in shock.

“Oh, I thought it was tonight” You nervously chuckled, and couldn’t believe how you could get it so wrong. Trent wasn’t bothered but you were. You realised how tired you really are from focusing on uni all the time.

“Well, it’s not easy for you to know babe” Trent comforted and grabbed your hand gently and drew small circles on your palm.

“What time are you leaving in the morning?” You implored, knowing that you’d probably won’t see each other for a few days so you wanted to be awake when he leaves, which means you have to sacrifice some hours of sleep. But you wanted to everything for him.

“I’ll leave at 7 ish” Trent answered and an idea popped up in his head.

“Want to come with me?” He added as you immediately panicked inside.

“Where to?” You wondered.

“We’re playing in the Europa League, Toulouse” He asserted and you scratched the back of your neck, something you always do when you’re anxious.

“I can’t, I have to study” You stated and watched his reaction, he wasn’t happy.

“Come on Y/n, can’t you study anywhere?” He pleaded and you knew that this was getting out of hands.

“You mean anywhere you are?” You sighed as you went to put your plate in the dishwasher.

“Please don’t be like that Y/n” Trent tutted and came up to you, giving you that look of disappointment.

“I really need to give it everything if I’m gonna make it Trent” You said and looked at him, and Trent of all people would know the sacrifices that has to be made if you want to make it.

“I understand, just wished that it would be like old times” He mumbled and sat down by the couch as you followed after him.

“Trent you’re saying that you miss when I was a failure, sitting on this couch all day waiting for you to come home and put a ring on my finger?” You snapped. Perhaps it was too much however, you couldn’t stand being in this position in the relationship any longer.

“Y/n, that’s not what I said” Trent said and scoffed as tears started forming in your eyes.

“It’s not about that it is that you don’t want me to have a life separate from yours! I can’t be available all the time Trent” You went on and Trent sat there and reminded himself that you also have a life that doesn’t revolve him.

“What about us then?” Trent spoke up and more tears streamed down your face and you shot a look at your engagement ring.

“I don’t anymore, I gave up something to be at uni and you should know what that’s like because your football is all that matters and all you have time for nowadays Trent” You defended and suddenly you felt your phone buzzing. You looked at Trent with a tear leaving your eye and went upstairs to answer the call.

Trent slammed the coffee table and started crying. Somewhere he felt that this was going to end and he couldn’t control it.

-

You sat in your shared bed studying, you didn’t have the energy to sit at your desk working. Trent packed his bag for tomorrow and the both of you haven’t spoken since a few hours ago. The silence was too much for you to handle so you sat with your airpods on full volume. You didn’t even know how much the clock was until you heard Trent turning the lights off downstairs.

You got up from the bed and put your books on your desk and then went to the bathroom. You brushed you teeth and you were lost in your thoughts and your music was still playing in your ears, you didn’t even notice Trent standing beside you brushing his teeth as well.

When you were done you looked over at him and saw that he was watching you too, you had to fight the urge to not hug him and absolutely sob into his chest. But Trent already knew how you felt and walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you. Although this time it wasn’t you who cried, it was Trent.

“Shh, it’ll be alright” You whispered and rubbed his back.

“You make it so difficult sometimes” Trent sniffled and let go of you. You were left in the bathroom struck with a such strong feeling of emptiness after he left.

You both sat at the edge of the bed, wishing some things were better left unsaid.

“Y/n” Trent called.

“Y/n” Trent called again.

“I heard you the first time” You taunted.

“We promised each other not to go to sleep angry” He said and you pulled the duvet over yourself preparing to sleep knowing it will take a while to fall asleep.

“Well, I guess some promises are made to be broken” You ended and turned of your bedside lamp.

–

Everything changed after that night. Trent came home after a loss against Toulouse, you wanted to comfort him the moment he stepped through the door. Trent was angry, he always was after a loss but this time it was different because of the situation between the two of you.

You two spoke a few times during the day but it was just small talks and it killed you.

It got more worse later in the day when you were preparing to sleep, Trent would start and argument and then it turned to not saying goodnight to each other anymore. Which you both always did before going to sleep despite an argument.

Now, you stopped saying goodnight and Trent stopped sleeping.

It was like torture to sleep next to him, every minute you thought about to whether sleep in the guest room or go downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to eat. You could hear Trent sighing and toss and turn, eventually he couldn’t take it anymore.

Trent got up from the bed and left your shared bedroom and closed the door quietly as he thought you were asleep.

You wanted to go after him, so you also left the bedroom. You heard noise from downstairs and you figured it was the tv, slowly walking down the stairs you could see him sitting in the couch, watching football highlights from the night.

You sat down, not too close to him but not so far away either. You watched the tv and the highlights showed a stunning goal which made Trent turn to you and say “What a goal that” He said and really you couldn’t believe him. Silence between the both of you for about three days and that’s the first thing he says to break the silence.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes met and Trent’s lips curled into a small smile.

The whole situation was sentimental, and it was because the both of you knew. You two couldn’t work it out, no matter how hard you tried. The both of you live completely different lives, with different schedules. The only thing you could go back to was that you two have so much love for one another, and that’s what will always unite you and Trent in the end. But it has been this way for too long.

You looked at Trent and caressed his face, and you gave him a look that says everything he needs to know.

“At least we tried” You said, almost in a whisper and looked at your ring. It was filled with memories, and as you took it off it felt like your heart shattered. Tears streamed down your face as you handed Trent the ring. His hands were shaking as he received it, holding the ring that he thought would be stuck on your finger forever.

“Give it to someone who really deserves it T” You cried and he sniffed, looking at you with eyes filled with tears.

“But I only love you Y/n” He mumbled.

Trent thought that his biggest mistake of his life may be letting you go, letting you slip through his fingers just like that…

Two years later

You sat tense, waiting for the final whistle. They were almost crowned European champions. You were so proud of the team that they made it this far in the competition.

“Any minute now!” You exclaimed to your best friend beside you.

They won.

You celebrated with your friends and watched all the players run onto the pitch to their teammates who played the match. You could cry of happiness.

You watched Liverpool lift the trophy, fireworks and confetti were everywhere in the air. You watched the players get their medals and you saw him, getting his very own medal. He ran up to his family and they all hugged him.

Imagine if you were there with him.

And then he started to walk at your direction. He showed the fans the trophy with such pride and you always adored that side of him.

Without noticing he stood in front of the crowd that you was in, and he hardly even recognised you until he saw you. His heart stopped.

You looked up from your phone to see him standing there. Your friends were too caught up in their own conversation to notice you seeing Trent again after all these years.

You smiled at him and pointed at the trophy he was holding, he looked down at it then back at you and mouthed “Not bad”.

You smiled again and it felt like the time stopped and that is was only you and Trent in the stadium.

You couldn’t help but let a tear leave your eye, as you looked at him one last time.

You turned your back on him and dried your tears as you started to leave with your friends.

Trent didn’t move, he was still hoping for you to come back.

Maybe in another universe.

[seuonji]

彡 my days won’t end without you. — hong joshua

notes ๑ yn & svt idol!au. ever since you and joshua have started dating, he found it weird leaving work without you.

genre ๑ fluff

warnings ๑ non

word count ๑ 0.9k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

“what do you want to eat tonight?” joshua whispered.

he came to visit you as per usual just outside your practice room. since you two have became an item, as days go by he becomes clingier and clingier. you two have started to be seen as hybe’s married couple and you two couldn’t disagree either. you two had a shared apartment and bickered like a married couple, the only thing missing was a ring on your finger.

and joshua would do anything to see you in between you and his breaks even if it’s just for a few seconds. jeonghan jokes that they should just make seventeen and your group’s practice rooms right beside each other.

earlier, he had messaged you saying he was gonna pass by your practice room which was really more of a “come outside i miss you.” demand, but to his surprise you were already outside. he nonchalantly skipped over to you but still maintained a distance. however the smile plastered on his face instantly turned into worry when he saw your exhausted expression. he didn’t even need to ask if you’re okay, he already knew the answer.

he’s been an idol long enough to understand why you looked so down. but most of all, he knew you and how strict you were with yourself when it came to your performances so as he saw you, he easily assumed you were having trouble with the choreography to your new song or your recording in the studio wasn’t satisfactory to you.

if he could hug you right now, he would.

but he can’t, thus he relied on cheering you up verbally and asked you what do you want for dinner, just to lighten up your mood and so that you’d have something to look forward to!

“what do you want to eat tonight?” joshua whispered.

“am i even going to make it out of this building before today ends?”

the day already ended actually, it was currently 12:41am, you were just too tired to have a sense of time. joshua took a peek to the clock at the end of the hallway and bit his lip not wanting to make your mood more foul.

“even if you go home at 5am or 10am, you’ll be going home with me,” he squinted his eyes showing his seriousness.

“no shua, go home, i know you’re already done with practice,” you leaned on the wall beside you to relieve yourself from carrying your tired self up.

“i can wait yn, how much longer could it possibly take?”

“i can’t get this part of the choreo down i might be here all night,” you crossed your arms, closing your eyes out of exhaustion. you were worried about how you were being perceived in joshua’s eyes but at the same time, you were too drained to give mind to it.

joshua stayed quiet. he understood the situation and why you felt this way so he really wasn’t bothered, what bothered him was how it was affecting you.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted after the silence lasted too long.

joshua took a step forward and gave a reassuring smile, “yn, don’t be sorry, it’s your job and come on, i’m your senior, you think i don’t know how tiring practice can be?” he tried to convince you he understood and that you weren’t being a burden. joshua was never one to care about treatment of juniors to seniors but he was pulling that card today.

“just do what you have to now, when you’re done, we’ll go home together and i’ll cook your favourite food. if you still feel like being a workaholic, we can go through your choreography together, how does that sound?” he tilted his head with a sweet smile

“wow, ‘go through the choreography together?’ when did you join the performance unit?”

joshua was apalled despite knowing it was a joke, “i’m seventeen i am basically the performance unit!”

your corners of your lips slowly turned into a smile as you laughed. internally, joshua felt accomplished.

“so, we’re getting out this building together, at the same time?” joshua wanted a clear answer.

“i’ll finish up as fast as i can,” you gave an indirect yes.

“that’s my yn, but also just take your time, i’ll wait.”

you bit your lip and nodded before turning to get back to practice. but just before that, joshua tugged your shirt stopping you in your tracks. as he leaned forward, his mouth levelled to your ear and there he whispered, three sweet words.

“i love you.”

you two have already said it so many times yet hearing it now, it caught you off guard but you quickly brushed it off, “see you later hong jisoo.”

“you government named me?!” he quietly screeched.

you opened the door to your practice room and stuck your tongue out, teasing him.

his eyes were wide, not out of anger but out of shock. when did you learn to get so cheeky? in reality you’ve just been hanging out with him too much.

he placed his hands in his pockets and walked away chuckling to himself. he may have told you to take your time but he really couldn’t wait for your practice to end.

you’ve heard joshua say i love you so many times, yet today, it stuck in your head making practice ten times harder than it already was.

but needless to say, you can’t wait to get over with practice and leave this building with the one you love.

[alienguts]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

I genuinely LIVE for your soft smit. Do you think you could possibly give us something where maybe Reader is stressed out or something and Harry just takes care of her? I love when he's all soft and mushy

masterlist | harry styles masterlist | requests are open

Kiss in the Kitchen like it’s a Dance Floor

~

Closing the front door behind him quietly, Harry takes his shoes off at the door before heading out in search for his wife. He already has an idea, though, because of the soft music coming from her cooking playlist and the fact that moment he stepped in the house he was met with a smell that was nothing short of delicious. So he quietly makes his way toward the kitchen, and the sight he’s met with makes his heart melt but at the same time he feels his cock hardening in his pants.

Seeing YN doing something so domestic is nothing new, but it never fails to make his mouth water or his mind go foggy as he watches her. From the pout of concentration on her lips to the sway of her hips, he doesn’t think he can keep to himself for much longer.

YN is simply in the kitchen, cooking stuffed chicken breast, something he’s sure is a surprise because on Fridays they usually get takeout. She knows it’s his favourite, though, and she just thought she’d do something nice since he’s been so busy lately.

He just continues to watch her in her element, a soft smile on his face and the ache of his cock a bit further back in his mind. The moment she finishes searing them she puts them in a baking dish, ready to put them into the oven. As she bends over, though, she feels a sharp slap against her left ass cheek and yelps as she nearly drops the food. She places the pan into the oven before turning around with a scowl and smacking Harry in the head with her oven mitt. “Fuck’s sake, Harry! You almost made me drop our dinner,” she grumbles, folding her arms over her chest and playfully glaring at a chortling Harry. He just gives her his signature dimpled grin before gently grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.

“m sorry, baby. You just look so good all concentrated that I couldn’t help it,” he teases, leaning down to peck her lips again. When she tries to pull away he pulls her tighter, deepening the kiss. They moan into each others’ mouths, and Harry lets out an actual whine when YN pulls away and turns back to the stove, ready to cook the vegetables for the meal. “I need to cook, babe. I actually want to eat at some point,” she responds, but he can still hear the teasing in her tone.

“Well how about this; you keep making what we’re gonna eat later, and I’ll work on what I’m going to eat before dinner,” he whispers against her ear then starting to kiss down her neck. He smirks against the skin of her neck when she starts to squirm and press her thighs together, her breathing picking up as well as her pulse.

“Harry, you always do this. Sometimes I just want to cook,” she replies breathlessly, a quiet moan leaving her lips as he begins to suck on the sensitive skin there. Harry just continues to smirk against her, rubbing up and down her hips with a hum.

“So if I stick my hand down your panties you won’t be soaked?” he asks, to which he shakes her head.

“Not even a little bit,” she says, a playful smile coming to her face as well.

“Let’s see then, hm?” he says, and he waits for her to nod before reaching into her shorts, where he finds that she’s not wearing panties. He slips a finger between her folds, her wetness helping him to move along. He gathers a bit on his fingers before using it as lubricant to rub at her swelling clit. Her knees nearly give out as she chokes on a moan and bucks her hips to his torch but he just wraps his other arm around her, keeping her in place.

He sets a steady pace instantly, pressing kisses to her bare shoulder as he works her clit with intent, each circle calculated and precise to push her toward her orgasm. Harry keeps this up for no more than two minutes or so before he feels her legs start to shake slightly and her hand flies up to grip his wrist as she begins to grind down onto his hand.

“That’s it, take what you need. You can cum whenever you have to,” he rasps, not changing anything about what he’s doing to her. “Let it out, you can cum for me. I’ve got you,” and that’s her unraveling. Her body goes completely rigid for a few moments but he knows better than to stop or slow down, and then she’s relaxing entirely and letting out a loud moan of pure pleasure as she rides out her orgasm against his hand.

“You did so well for me, bet that was a lot, huh?” he coos against her ear, rubbing her clit gently as she comes down from her high, bucking her hips against his hand in overstimulation. He moves away when she begins to squirm a bit from discomfort, slowly pulling his hand from her shorts.

She sighs happily, a dopey grin on her face and a glow like no other as she turns around to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Can i cook now?” she asks him jokingly, and he just hums as he ignores the question. In response he just brings his hand up to her mouth, tapping at her chin for her to open before slipping his fingers inside. She immediately closes her mouth around them and moans at the taste. Harry can barely keep himself together as he feels her tongue move around his fingers, cleaning all of her orgasm off him. Pulling his fingers out, he smiles at her.

“Of course,” he responds to her earlier question before stepping back and leaning against the kitchen island on his elbows. “Don’t mind me.”

YN is confused because she surely thought this was going to go further. But she shrugs and turns back to the vegetables while the potatoes are boiling. The second she puts the asparagus in the oil she feels her hips pulled back and her shorts pulled down. She gasps in shock and looks back to see Harry dropping to his knees. Before she can get a word in, though, she feels him spread her open and swipes his tongue all the way from her clit to her opening. The moan she provides him with is full of surprise as she slams her hand down onto the counter, gripping it tightly.

Her other hand goes back to grip Harry’s hair, her hips bucking against his tongue. He groans against her at the feeling of her hand tangled in his hair, the delicious burn only making him need her even more than he already does. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he pulls her closer to his face while simultaneously pushing his face closer where he can feel her throbbing against his tongue.

He’s lapping eagerly at her, suckling on her clit for a few moments before slipping his tongue inside her throbbing hole. YN can only moan and begin to clench around his tongue when the tip of it just slightly grazes her g-spot. Her knees are about to give out but he doesn’t let her fall, gripping her tighter to his face. Her moans get louder and he knows she’s close again , so he groans into her once more, the vibrations sending her catapulting to the edge but she’s not there yet. He takes a hand and rubs her clit quickly, pulling away for just a moment to give her some encouragement.

“Let go, honey. Cum on my tongue, you can do it,” he encourages, his other hand going to rub at her belly because he knows that more than one orgasm can make or break his wife.

She only shakes her head, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. It feels too good, so good she feels like she can handle it. YN starts to feel tears build in her eyes from the intensity as the ball in her belly only seems to get heavier with each circle of her clit. “Too sensitive,” she whines, slamming her fist down onto the counter again as her entire body begins to feel hot. He’s relentless, though, rubbing even faster at her sensitive nub, holding her even tighter.

“I know, honey. But you can take it. It’s alright, just cum for me. Let it go, you know you can take it,”

She just lies her head down on the cool counter and lets her body begin to surrender to the pleasure. He doesn’t let, going back in and putting his mouth on her again. Her eyes roll back and her whole body locks up, her orgasm washing over her intensely. A broken sob leaves her, and she’s left unable to think as her vision goes black, her mind blank.

The orgasm starts at the tip of her toes, traveling all the way through her body and the tension finally releases out of her, covering his mouth and chin in her cum. Their connection is so intense that just the sound and feeling of her falling apart causes him to cum as well, the warmth spurting out of his throbbing cock, untouched. His hips buck against the back of her leg, and he groans out, still licking her gently to work her through her orgasm. Once they are both back down, he stands up and turns the stove and oven off, not wanting the food to burn. He guides her to the bathroom, cleaning them both up before putting more pajamas on her before placing her in bed, gently pecking her lips.

When she’s all tucked in and comfortable Harry runs downstairs to clean up the kitchen and plates their meals, grabbing some drinks and heading up the stairs.

While he was downstairs, she turned on their current television fixation, ‘Criminal Minds’ and waited for him to come back up. She melts when she realizes he brought their food up, thanking him quietly, and when he slides into bed next to her she kisses him deeply.

“You’re always so good to me. Thank you, baby,” she whispers, running her fingers through his damp curls. He nuzzles into her hand with a hum of contentment before he responds.

“No, thank you. Thank you for always being there for me and just for being everything I could ever ask for. I look forward to spending the rest of our lives together,” he responds, thumbing away some of her tears with a dimpled grin. “Okay, okay. Enough tears, let’s get some food in you before y’get too sleepy,” he chuckles before picking up her plate and passing it to her.

Once they’re finished eating, they take their dishes downstairs, vowing to do them in the morning. They spend the rest of the night cuddling until they fall asleep.

~

[itsabouttimex2]

Here's a challenge: platonic x reader who hates monkeys with a passion (you could do it with phobia or irrational hatred). With Wukong, Macaque, and Mk.

Pithecophobia

Yandere MK, Sun Wukong, Macaque

(Fun fact 1- prunes are not their own fruit! They’re just dried plums.)

“I’m just saying,” he starts with a scoff, “it’s really silly that you’re expecting me to play along with this. Especially when I don’t get anything out of it.”

MK turns around to face the demon monkey, frowning. He folds his arms and walks backwards to keep eye contact, hoping that his mentor would watch his steps for him.

“Uh, you are getting something out of it, though? Y/N spent all day cooking for us so we could celebrate the new year together! They even made extra in case we wanted to bring someone else! That’s like… super nice of them!”

“Oh, I might get some maybe decent food, is that it? And all I’ve got to do is pretend to be a powerless mortal all the way through a probably mediocre dinner, huh? Just because this weird friend of yours is scared of monkeys?”

Sun Wukong; who had eyeing the sky for early fireworks more than he had been looking out for his student’s safety, finally chimed in. “To be fair, I think that mug of yours would scare anyone away!” A second later, he ducks down to avoid Macaque’s incoming tail, leaving MK to take the brunt of the relatively harmless blow.

MK stumbles backwards and almost into the street, only stopped when his mentor’s tail wraps around his waist and pulls him back onto the sidewalk. “Whoa,” the Great Sage mocks, setting MK safely back down, “someone’s in a bad mood today! Maybe… you’re just mad cause no one except us wanted you over for the new year?”

Macaque snarls and lunges at Wukong, ready to brawl. It’s only when MK swiftly moves to stand between them that the near fight is averted. “Guys, come on! Can’t you get along for just one day?!”

The “NO!” that they shout in perfect unison is just about what he was expecting, but he’s still a little disappointed about it. They both try to move past him to grab at one another, barely impeded by his physical position.

A thunderous bang echoes across the sky, a brilliant bloom of sparkling red painting the blue horizon. Macaque hisses and recoils, his arms quaking as he moves to clap his hands over his ears. At the exact same time, Wukong jumps up in delight, cheering and hollering at the sight. MK takes his chance to separate them, hooking his arm around Macaque’s, pulling the pained monkey demon along much quicker than he was moving before.

“Come on, come on! The food is gonna get cold if you two don’t hurry up! And! Y/N told me that there’s something special just for the two of you! Cause, y’know… when I asked if I could invite you both, they asked me what sort of stuff you liked, and I told ‘em about the whole ‘peaches and plums’ thing…”

Bringing up food seems to have been a decent enough distraction, as both of them choose to start moving along instead of fighting. Your house is already on the horizon. Now he just has to hope that another fight doesn’t break out between the rival demons.

As usual, life dashes his hopes of peace being anything more than a temporary lull.

“Yeah? Like how peaches are just about the best thing ever? And how everyone that isn’t crazy likes ‘em one way or another?”

“About how sweet-toothed meatheads can’t help but shovel them down whole? Those sort of people don’t have the brain to enjoy plums. Peaches are just sweet. Plums have a subtle astringent skin that mixes well with the flesh’s mellow sweetness.”

“Sure thing, old man. Go home and eat your prunes if ya like ‘em so much.”

“They are NOT-“

“Guys! We’re here!” Before they can argue any further, MK releases Macaque’s arm and rushes up to the door of your house. “Hurry up and come inside!”

He takes a moment to consider knocking, then grabs the doorknob and impatiently starts rattling it instead. To his delight, it’s already unlocked. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that both of his companions remain in their transformed state, tails safely tucked into their clothing.

He throws the door open and races inside, leaving the monkeys in the dust.

Just barely remembering to take off his shoes before he tears through the halls of your house without hesitation, he throws them aside near the door in a still-tied heap.

He follows a practiced path straight into the kitchen, finding you just as you remove a plate of pork-stuffed spring rolls from the oven. You set them down on the countertop to cool, then turn to face the very-expected intruder. You might’ve been surprised, if it wasn’t for his excited footsteps echoing through the house.

MK runs into your arms before you can even pull the oven mitts off, wrapping you up in a warm hug. For just a moment, it gives you the same feeling as coming home after a long day, cozy and inviting.

Then, his grip grows tight.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice quiet and low. “Invite me over more often. Or come to Pigsy’s and visit me, at least. Please.”

His grip tightens further.

And then he lets go of you, turning to face his two companions, neither of which you recognize. He waves them into the kitchen and moves to set the table.

Politely, you offer the first one your hand. He’s decked out in shining gold and exuberant red, like a brighter and flashier MK. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you came to celebrate with me. Come and take a seat!”

He snags your hand between both of his own, giving it a firm pump. “It’s great to meet ya, bud! Thanks for having us!” He heads to the table and bounces on his heels, snatching up a seat for himself before anyone else gets the chance.

You smile and turn to MK’s other friend, the one dressed in a billowing black and red shroud that concealed most of his face and body. You offer him your hand as well.

He shrugs and walks right past you, sitting down at the opposite side of the table- probably to keep away from his colorful and loud companion.

MK frowns at his friend’s behavior, but turns back to you with a wide and rather forced smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just… not used to this.” His voice drops to a low whisper as he adds: “And his ears have been hurting all day. I think he’s getting grumpy.”

“I can hear you, kid,” the irritated man says from beneath his shroud. “There’s a reason that I’m called the S-”

“The SUPER SENSITIVE hearing guy, I know! The thing that all of your friends call you,” MK clumsily tries to lie, his ears and cheeks darkening to red with his poor attempt at deceiving you.

But before you can question him on it, his golden-clad friend pipes in with a snide: “He’s certainly sensitive, I’ll give him that.”

Outright chaos is only abated by the sharp click that sounds when you set a porcelain tray on the polished quartz surface of the table.

“MK told me about your favorite fruits, actually! So I stayed up late to make these for all of you,” you cheerily announce to the trio, lifting the delicate lid to reveal three plates of sticky-rice pudding. Each one is delicately drizzled with syrup sugar and studded in tiers with sweet fruits.

Your friend jumps forward, his palms hitting the table as he stares at you with wide-eyes. “Y/N! You made Eight Treasures Rice for us?!”

“Well, it’s more like ‘One Treasure Rice’, haha. It’s really only got the fruit in it, actually. I didn’t wanna put anything you guys didn’t like in there, so I decided to play it safe. I hope that’s not disappointing!”

“Not at all, bud! Not at all!” Several of his aureate accessories glint in the light as the man reaches eagerly for the peach-filled rice pudding.

You pass it to him with a smile, then give MK his own, stuffed full of tangerine slices. With only one left, you push the plum-packed dessert to the shrouded stranger, who seems to slightly brighten up at the sight of it.

Before anyone can say anything, you remove yourself from the table and hurry around the kitchen, gathering plates and utensils for the trio. You put them out quickly, then pile all the dishes you made in the morning onto the table.

“Good kid,” Wukong whispers to Macaque, picking bits of peach from the pudding as you arrange two plates of dumplings on the table. “And good food. Still regret coming, ‘Super Sensitive’?”

“…the kid’s alright. Jury’s still out on the food, though.” He pauses, taking a quick moment to think of something to criticize Wukong for. “And keep your tail under control. I can see the tip flicking back and forth in your pant leg.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

A tray with a whole braised chicken is set between them, and a platter of steamed rice flour cakes after it. Finally, you take your own seat, next to the shrouded man and across from MK.

It strikes you then that you haven’t even learned the names of your guests.

“I’m Y/N, by the way! I’m sorry for not asking your names earlier! What should I call you?”

“The name’s Sun, bud! And that’s Mac, sitting in the edgy robe.”

“I like the robe,” you compliment politely, looking at the concealing garment. “The cloud embroidery is a nice touch.”

“It’s a cloak… and thanks.”

MK jumps forward in excitement and strikes his palms against the table, rattling the bowls and dishes.

“C‘mon! Let’s eat, everyone!

———————————————————————

“I think everything went well, today. You think so too, right?”

You set the knife down, turning to face ‘Sun’. As you cut up the leftovers, he’s sorting them into separate containers for everyone to take home. (And giving himself larger portions when you weren’t looking.)

“Definitely! I think my, uh… friend was pretty impressed. I hope we can do this again, Y/N! I don’t really have anything scheduled this time of year…like, ever.”

Except for watching fireworks from the top of his mountain, far away from company and civilization. Again and again, over and over, thinking only of his long-passed friends and companions.

“…we are going to do it again, right?”

“Oh, um, sure. I don’t see why not. My family doesn’t really come and visit, so I’ll probably have the house empty again next year. So, um… yes! I’d be happy to have you over!

He hums softly, nodding his head to your words.

“Sounds good, bud. I’ll be there. And… I’ll see if I can wrangle Mac into coming, too. Maybe just to see him jump at fireworks again, though.”

“He seemed interesting,” you graciously offer of the cloaked man, in spite of his admittedly poor behavior through dinner. “I enjoyed his stories.”

“Pfft! I could’ve told them better- I was there for most of them!”

“Well, the two of you should come again- MK seemed happy- more than usual, even. Honestly? I think he’s been stressed out lately… I’m glad he could have a day to relax. I really do need to visit him more often.”

“Huh. Guess it must be a little hard living so far from the city, bud. Any reason you’re this far out?”

“Oh, that’s… I inherited this house- and the orchard outside- from my parents, actually! I take a lot of pride in it, really. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if the work is a little lonely.”

“…I think I will come visit, then. And I might sample a few of your fruits, too,” he teases, lightly elbowing your side. “You think you can handle that, bud?”

“…you know what, Sun?” Sun, what he had informed you his name was. It fits him well. He’s bright and exuberant, and never stops smiling. He seems like he’d be a good friend.

“That- that sounds really nice. Come by anytime you’d like.”

Your words sound kind right now. They feel right to say. The Great Sage thinks so too.

And he’s certainly not going to forget about them. Neither will Macaque, listening in from the shadows beside your tangerine trees.

Why would they ever let go of this kindness?

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[beefrobeefcal]

Being Neighbourly feat. Frankie Morales x neighbour f!reader

a HeftyThrowaway one shot drabble | Rated: 18+ | word count: 1,681 warnings: f masterbation, feeding, belly rubs, belly kink, oblivious people liking each other

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, y'all! Here's a ditty that's been sitting in my wips for months. It's not Mouse and Frankie, but similar dynamic.

It was only a matter of time until you fell for one of your neighbours. And in doing so, you had proven that food was the way into a man’s heart… or bed.  

It started when you cooked up a batch of meatballs to freeze for future use on a Saturday afternoon. You had all the windows open to avoid overheating your apartment. Leaning out the window that faced the parking lot of your complex, you watched as Frankie parked his truck. As he walked towards the building, he looked around then up and waved at you. 

You gave a small smile and a wave, thinking that would be the end of it, when he called out to you. 

“Hey! Neighbour! Uh… is that you making something that smells good?” 

“Just meatballs.”, you called back. 

“Just meatballs, my ass. They smell amazing!” He looked like he wanted to say more but just smiled back at you. 

“Thank you! Um… do you want one?”, you said back, not sure why you only offered one when you had four trays of them. But his eager nodding and scampering into the building made you happy you did. 

You’d seen Frankie around the building in the usual places you meet your neighbours: the laundry room, the parking lot, the mailboxes. He was tall and lean minus the small tummy he sported, but still looked like he hadn’t had the comfort of a home cooked meal in a while. He seemed sweet and helpful, once even helping you bring your groceries up the stairs when the elevator was out of service. He lived in the suite right below you, and some nights, you’d hear him and another male voice out on the balcony, enjoying a blunt or a cigarette. Beyond that, you didn’t know much about him. 

After the initial introduction to Frankie as a guinea pig for your cooking, you found him to be quite handy to have around. For every issue you had in your suite that the landlord had ignored, Frankie had a fix. For every fix, you had a thank you meal ready for him. This became a regular occurrence and slowly turned into either you made enough food for both you and him then delivered it to his suite, or him joining you for dinner and you giving him the leftovers. This carried on for a while, and you noticed that Frankie’s small tummy was not so small anymore. The topic came up after he completely annulated an entire baking dish of your home-made enchiladas in one go. 

Sitting back at your table, his belly pushed out and stuffed, he sighed a little laugh. “Fuck, I just can’t help myself. You cook too good.” 

All you could do was smile and look down, trying to stop him from seeing the bashful glee on your face. You’d watched him eat the entire thing and all you wanted to do was go to his side, rub his stuffed belly, and feed him yourself. It had been a running theme in your head when you laid in bed at night, vibrator on high while you cried out his name. You’d never gotten off on anything like this, but it worked. You just wished it wasn’t a fantasy. 

“I mean it. I had to get new pants last week. Not that I’m complaining at all about your food.”, he reasoned, making sure you knew that he was not upset. “But if we’re gonna continue to be neighbours, I need a spandex wardrobe.” 

You both laughed at his little joke as he rubbed his belly, signalling an end to this topic. But god damn it, you wished you could just reach out and touch it, feel his belly and tell him he’s got more room in there, and then feed him. But you didn’t, and he continued to come around throughout the week for dinner; you both played this same routine: you made the food, and he ate it. It wasn’t lost on you that Frankie liked to eat, but what you didn’t notice was how much he really liked that it was you feeding him.  

On one Saturday summer night, you were sitting on your balcony, far later than you normally would be, enjoying a sangria. You heard the sliding door open below you from Frankie’s and could hear him and that other male voice talking.  

“Drop it, Pope.” 

“Dude, I can tell. It’s written all over your fucking face when she comes up. You’ve got it bad for this chick.“ 

“Fine. Yes. Happy?” 

“Sure. But you have to tell her. There’s no way-“ 

“Yeah, and have her laugh in my face? She’s not into me like that.” 

“And how the fuck would you know?” 

“Because she’s too fucking gorgeous and out of my league.” 

Your heart dropped; Frankie was head over heels for someone - someone who wasn’t you. Before you could quietly leave your balcony and mope inside, you heard the other voice, Pope, say, “No one feeds you like that if they don’t at least like you, Francisco.” 

You froze.  

Frankie sighed. “Fuck you, man.” 

“All I’m saying is if a beautiful woman like that keeps inviting you back to her table when you’re getting fat on her cooking, you’re in. You just got to make a move.” 

The last thing you heard Frankie say as they began their exit from the balcony was, “Shit, Pope. I’m fucking hungry.”, followed by the two men laughing. 

You sat silently on your balcony and let a breath out that you didn’t realize you were holding in. You ventured inside and laid in your bed.  

**** 

You had made yourself scarce the rest of the weekend, no sure how to interact with him after what you had heard, but you’d returned home exhausted from work on the following Monday to find a note on your door form Frankie that read: 

Want to go out for dinner? You can have a night off.  

x F  

You grinned to yourself, hopeful that this was Frankie trying to make a move and went into your apartment, got changed into a more casual outfit, and headed down to Frankie’s. 

He opened the door and gave you a big smile while telling you where he was going to take you - his favourite Tex-Mex restaurant.  

The car ride over started a little awkward, but you soon fell into an easy conversation. 

“So why the dinner out? Sick of my cooking?”, you poked, watching to see how he would react. 

“Fuck no!”, Frankie barked out laughing. “I just figured that maybe I could get dinner for you, and since there’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell that I could even compare to you in the kitchen, I thought I’d take you to my favourite place to eat… other than your table, of course.” 

You felt your cheeks turn pink and you could feel Frankie smiling at you. You felt bold as you thought of what you’d heard on Saturday night and wanted to test the waters. 

You reached out and put your hand on his that was on the gear stick. “Thank you, Frankie. You’ll have to show me your favourites on the menu.” 

Frankie sucked in a breath at your touch and nodded. “Yeah… uh, I pretty much like everything they have.” 

You smiled and nodded. 

***** 

“Recommendations?”, you asked looking over your menu. 

“Well, like I said, I pretty much like everything. But my favourites are, uh, the burritos and fajitas. Can’t go wrong with those, and the elote is great, too.” 

Once again, you felt bold. Without the restrictions of what you had cooked and the ingredients you had on hand, Frankie could really let himself loose in here and you were more than happy to encourage him. 

“How about you order, Frankie? I normally decide what I’m cooking, so you get to decide tonight. Order to your heart’s content – I’m in.”, you say, leaning forward and cocking your head. 

Frankie’s eyebrows twitched and his lips parted. His tongue flicked out and he nodded. “You sure you’re up for that? It’ll be a lot of food.” 

“I’ll be fine, Frankie. The question really is will you be okay. Because food is more of a spectator’s sport for me when I’m with you.”, you say with a wink.  

Frankie just stared back at you, his breathing getting quicker. His brain was trying to wrap around that fact that Pope was right: you were into him and like to feed him. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. 

Before he could pinch himself, the waitress approached the table. Frankie placed the order – it was a lot of food - and you just sat back and smirked as he spoke. 

“You sure you’re gonna be able to handle all that, Frankie?”, you questioned with a wry smile and teasing tone. 

Frankie gave you a flirtatious grin and took your hand. “Yeah, and there’ll even be room for dessert.” 

By the time Frankie had eatten two plates of food, he was sitting back in the booth, finishing his pop.  

“How’re you doing? You still got another plate.”, you gave him a coquettish smile, pushing the plate forward to him. 

“Oh, honey. I’m full.”, Frankie chuckled, patting his belly. 

He watched as you got out of your side of the booth and slid in next to him. Throughout the meal, you and Frankie dropped silent hints as to where you both wanted this to go. You again felt emboldened and reached out to rub his belly. He watched you, his eyes pleading with you to keep going. 

You leaned in and purred into his ear before nuzzling it with your nose, “Oh, Frankie. You’re not that full, are you?” 

Frankie shivered and gulped. Once he had cleared the last plate, Frankie huffed out a breath and tried to hide a small burp. You sat at his side, continuing to console his overstuffed tummy, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. 

“What’s next?”, Frankie asked, looking at you with a lazy smile.  

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