#and Harvey says: 'it gets Mike to stop talking. It should work on you too'

[thegrandharveyspecter]

Scott: Hey, do you want a lollipop? -whips out a lollipop from nowhere- Look at that! ✨Magic.✨

Harvey: So, what, you're a magician now? God, I have weird...people in my life.

Scott: Dang it. I almost got you to say the f-word.

Harvey: The 'f-word', huh?

Scott: You have to admit you treat friend like it's a swear word.

Harvey: That I do. I won't deny that.

[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. 

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[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader- Revelations

I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the Harvey specter love on my tumblr, it really means a lot! 💛

Thank you to @justah0pelessr0mantic for requesting this story!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

(If anyone wants to be tagged in more Harvey stories let me know in the comments or fill out a tag list form which you can find on my masterlist)

“He’s late,” Y/n mumbled, not with annoyance or frustration in her voice but with an anxiety Harvey knew she was feeling; not only from her voice but by the way her legs were bouncing slightly under the table.

“Sweetheart, relax,” Harvey hummed, turning towards her, placing one of his hands on her back and the other on her thigh that was closest to him, in an attempt to stop the anxious tapping. 

“He’s usually late to most things,” he joked, in another attempt to ease her anxiety, as his thumb rubbed small circles onto her back. 

He knew why she was so anxious, tonight was a big night…and although he was trying his best not to let it show, he was nervous too. 

“Maybe we should leave before he gets here?” Y/n suggested turning slightly so that her eyes met Harvey’s. 

“We can’t, baby,” he answered softly; with a sympathetic smile. 

“I know, I know,” she sighed, knowing that Harvey was right. 

She knew they had to tell Mike; she wanted to, she really did. 

She was just worried about his reaction; Mike had always been protective over her, ever since they were kids, Harvey knew that. 

Neither of them had meant to keep their relationship a secret for this long, at first it made sense, neither of them wanted to make things difficult or complicated for Mike if their relationship didn’t work out. 

There had been times before they had planned to tell Mike…but something always came up, an urgent court case or business at the firm. 

Y/n was brought back to her senses when she could no longer feel Harvey’s comforting touch on her back or thigh. 

“I love you,” he whispered under his breath as Y/n's eyes fixed on her brother who was walking towards their table, a confused look evident on his face.

“Y/n?” He asked, his eyebrows narrowing as he sat down opposite the two of them, “what are you doing here?”

At the moment it was as though every word Y/n had ever learned just vanished from her brain; she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Mike. 

“We…” Harvey began, taking a breath before he intertwined Y/n's fingers with his on the table, “we wanted to talk to you.”

Mike's eyes darted between Harvet and Y/n for a few seconds, before he glanced down at their hands and back up at the two of them.  

“How long?” Mike asked; his tone surprisingly calmer than Y/n had expected.

“Nearly…nearly two years,” she stuttered out; bracing herself for the moment she’d feared the most. 

But Mike said nothing; he just looked at the two of them and smiled, “I’m glad you finally told me.”

“You knew?” Y/n said a little louder than she’d intended to, the shock overwhelming her, however it did end up making some of the nearby diners glance in their direction for a few moments; not that she cared all that much.

“You know I’ve been able to tell when you’re lying to me since you were five,” Mike pointed out; he’d known for a while that Y/n and Harvey had been seeing each other, granted they’d hid it well, for half a year he was completely unaware they were together; he knew she was keeping something from him. 

He just didn’t know what.

And then he saw them together at a coffee shop; they were just talking and laughing and it was then that something clicked. 

The way they looked at each other in that coffee shop was enough for him to know that something was going on between them. 

From that moment on little things that he probably never would’ve noticed became so much clearer. 

He was angry for a while; not because they were together, but because they'd kept this a secret from him; but then he saw how happy his little sister was and he didn’t want to interfere with that. 

“And you’re okay with it?” Y/n continued to question; the tone of her voice expressing the fear of what his answer would be. 

“I would’ve said something by now if i wasn’t,” Mike answered simply; giving Y/n a reassuring smile as she let out a sigh of relief, instantly relaxing into her chair; as Mike turned his attention to Harvey. 

“But if you hurt her, I will have to kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Harvey agreed, another chuckle lacing his voice as he too felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. 

But still one thing lingered…one thing that they hadn’t shared with Mike. 

One thing that made Harveys small smile falter. 

“We…have something else to tell you,” Harvey began, glancing at Y/n before looking back at Mike. 

“I asked Y/n to marry me…”

Harvey was always quite spontaneous and he hadn’t planned to ask Y/n without telling Mike about their relationship first; but he just felt like the time was right and he didn’t want to waste another second without her knowing that, that’s why he asked. 

The words lingered in the air for a few moments as Mike processed what he’d just heard. 

“Well at least you didn’t wait a year and a half to tell me that,” he stated; his eyes going back to Y/n; “I take it you said yes?”

She hadn’t. 

Not yet. 

She couldn’t. 

She couldn’t have said yes to Harveys proposal until Mike knew…that’s why she was so nervous about his reaction; because she wanted to marry Harvey.

“I haven’t given him an answer yet,” Y/n corrected; giving Harveys hand a small squeeze, “I wanted you to know about us before I said yes.”

“Well…I guess I should congratulate you on your engagement.” 

Y/n practically jumped out of her seat to hug her brother; the excitement completely taking control of her body as a beaming smile grew on her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear as he reciprocated her hug. 

“I think you should turn around,” he whispered back, his eyes looking at Harvey, who was now down on one knee, holding open a black box in his hands. 

A small gasp left Y/ns lips as she saw the sight in front of her.

Harvey. On one knee. With the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen in her life.

“Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?” 

The word yes came out of her mouth faster than she could even process it; it was such a surreal experience. 

One minute she saw Harvey down on one knee as now she was wrapped in his arms, she was so lost in his embrace that she could barely even register the applause the other diners in the restaurant were giving.

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

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You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

[penwieldingdreamer]

Caring Makes You Weak - Part 2

Summary: Harvey Specter, best closer in New York City and Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, the man most females in the city want, yet he himself doesn’t want commitment, because caring makes one weak. Enter Elle Howard, a woman he met a long time ago. Will she be the one to break down his walls and make him care?

Thanks again for beta'ing @fortheloveoffanfic

Warnings: Light cursing, an evil stepmother(?)

Words: 1544

Hardman was gone, the merger with Zane pushed away again but now Jessica wanted to merge with Edward Darby and Harvey wanted - needed to stop it one way or another.

And now the one person he'd had worked very hard to forget about waltzed back into his life because his associate had taken her case. He was never the committing type and he should have never agreed to help Mike with that pro Bono. It wasn't even his case to begin with, so what had changed?

Staring out his windows he thought back to the first time he had met her. How could one woman rattle his brain like that? First Dana Scott, then Zoe Lawford and now…now there was Elle Howard.

Harvey had met her while out celebrating a big win with Jessica and Louis. When he walked up to the bar, she stood there, the fabric of her dress tight around her curves as she waited for her drink.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, leaning one arm onto the bar while he looked the redhead up and down.

She turned a smile on her lips and a drink in her hand. "I believe I'm still good, thank you."

"Well, why don't we move on to the next one?" Harvey smirked at her, holding out his hand for introductions. "I'm Harvey Specter."

Rolling her eyes, she emptied her drink and grabbed the clutch laying on the bar top. "And I'm not interested." The redhead nodded her head and moved to walk around him.

The warmth in his belly was replaced by a coldness as if someone had doused him with ice water. It had been some time since a woman had brushed him off with not being interested but he clearly was and he needed to get to know her. "Please, just let me buy you a drink." he said, his hand lightly holding onto her arm.

Sighing, the redhead turned, her blue-green eyes narrowing in on the lawyer. "You don't like a woman saying no, do you?"

"I always win them over, so I'd say you should take my offer." Harvey told her, nodding at Louis and Jessica, who just left the bar.

Moving closer to him, the woman smiled, her eyes shining with mirth. "Well in that case, I expect you to work your magic to win this case Mister Lawyer."

"How did you know I'm a lawyer?" Harvey asked astonished, not that he could have hidden his job in a bar full of businessmen.

The redhead smirked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "It's not so hard to figure out, to be honest. So I'm looking forward to when you've won that case, too."

"Harvey!"

Blinking, the dark haired lawyer turned to face his associate. "What you got, Mike?"

"I've been calling you five minutes straight." the dark blond said, a smile on his face as Donna laughed at her cubicle. "What's got you so occupied?"

Shaking his head, Harvey held out his hand to look over the files. "Did you find some dirt on Tanner we can use?"

"Ah, not yet." Mike scratched the back of his neck, watching his boss carefully. "I wanted to ask Louis to help me with the financials, something doesn't seem right."

"Then get to it, I got something else to take care of." he got up from his chair, buttoning his jacket before he left his office. "I'll be back later, keep my schedule clear."

Donna and Mike looked after their boss before they faced each other. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea Junior, but he's been in a mood ever since you got back from Elle Howard last Friday." the secretary said, taking a sip from the latte Mike had brought her at lunch.

Once outside on the street level, Harvey waited for Ray to drive up. He needed to get a clear answer to the questions circling around his head. The black Lexus stopped in front of him and his driver got out, opening the door for him. "Where to, Harvey?"

"To the past." he sighed, giving his driver the address. The Indian man nodded his head, started the music and drove off.

"You want to talk about it, boss?" Ray had known his employer for nearly three years now and in all that time nothing had rattled him like the case he took on with Mike Ross. Harvey shook his head, watching the city fly by as the car made its way out of Manhattan and over to Williamsburg.

"Elle!"

Elle had to get the cries of her kids out of her head, so she decided to go grocery shopping and enjoy the walk over to the store not far from her apartment. Just when she got back, the redhead saw a black car parked on the street in front of her door. Sighing, she tightened her grip on the bags and ignored the sound of a car door opening.

She would recognize that voice anywhere. "What can I help you with, Harvey? Is there something good happening with the case?"

"Mike is still looking into it, but actually I'm here because I need to ask you something." the lawyer said moving closer to her. "Why did you really leave those years ago?"

Elle knew what he was getting into and she still had her secrets, things she couldn't have told him then and would definitely not tell him now. "You know it didn't work out for us."

"You still believe that?" he argued, pushing one hand into the pockets of his suit pants, clenching it with all his might. "I know that isn't the reason why, so stop that bullshit and tell me what made you rethink everything."

Shaking her head, the redhead walked around him, moving swiftly to the entrance of the apartment building she shared with Mike, but Harvey was faster. His hand held onto her arm, tight enough to stop her, but loose enough to not hurt her. Elle blinked her light eyes at the lawyer as she tried to form words without spilling what she had longed to tell him all those years ago. "We both wanted different things and you know it."

"Is that why you suddenly up and left New York? I asked Lucille and she told me you went to Boston. You didn't even think that you could have talked to me?"

Pulling away from him, she opened her mouth to answer him, but there was no sound coming out. Elle needed to get her head straightened out before she could really talk to Harvey and just when she knew what she would tell him, her phone rang again. The redhead pulled it out of her jeans' back pocket showing Charlie's name on the display. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

"Mum" he sniffled and Elle immediately felt tears come to her own eyes. "Please come and get us. I hate it here."

She could hear his cries and the lawyer in front of her was totally forgotten. "Charlie, baby, what's going on?"

"I want to come back to you. I hate Sarah and she doesn't even want us there. She's mean to Izzy and me. Please, mommy, come and take us home."

Clasping a hand to her lips, Elle fought the urge to break down when she listened to her sweet boy cry because of her ex husband's new wife. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't come and take you home. You know that we still have to wait a bit."

"No! I wanna go home now. Izzy doesn't like it here, too." the young mother could hear her youngest crying next to her son and she knew she had to put an end to it.

Closing her eyes, Elle took a deep breath. "Charlie listen to me, I'm going to come over and we'll talk, okay."

"Okay, I guess." She knew her son wasn't satisfied with her answer, but there was no way she was giving Travis more power over her, than he already had.

Harvey had listened to the conversation and was trying to come up with possible scenarios to fight against Tanner, just so he didn't have to listen to the kids crying for their mother. "I'm coming with you, Tanner isn't going to be happy with you showing up at his house."

"I can do that on my own, I know Travis." Elle tried to argue with the lawyer but from the look he shot her, she knew she'd have to fight him tooth and nails. "I don't need your help to make sure my kids are fine."

Shaking his head, he took a step back from her. "It's either me or I'm sending Mike to Tanner's house and you know it's not going to be pretty." Harvey held up his phone, ready to dial his associate so he could make sure nothing was going wrong and would destroy the case.

"Okay." the redhead muttered, lowering her head in defeat, she trusted Mike, but not around her ex-husband, he could be petty and it would end up in bloodshed if something went wrong. Rolling her blue eyes, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But at least let me get the shopping inside."

[statusquoergo]

hey, to balance the angst how about marvey 16 :) and hopefully you find your muse again, thank you

To uh, balance the angst, you say? I can certainly…see how you would expect this prompt to elicit something…steamy, probably, but…uh. Well. I’m sorry about this. But it’s a happy ending, I promise!

Oh! Also, this is the last of these prompts that I received, and I want to thank everyone again for sending them to me! This series has been a lot of fun to write!

Things you said with no space between us

[Read on AO3]

They sentence him to two years in prison. The prosecutors tell him it could’ve been worse, the judge tells him he should be grateful; he knows they’re right. Mike doesn’t complain.

Harvey does. Harvey does, and Rachel does. They argue at his hearing, and Rachel wants to appeal, but there’s no real standing for that, and it’ll be tossed before it gets to a higher court. She knows it will. Mike knows it too, and he doesn’t complain. It’s all been building to this, after all, everything they’ve done up to now. Everything they’ve gotten away with that they shouldn’t have.

Rachel tries to visit him on his very first day, but she’s not on his visitation list, and they turn her away with a weary sort of irritation and not much sympathy. They start the registration process immediately after she gets back to New York, she and Harvey do, and it’s supposed to be easy, but these things always seem to take more time than they should, somehow. They do what they can.

Mike doesn’t complain. It takes a little more than three weeks, the whole process from start to finish, but Mike waits.

Not much else to do these days.

---

Mike walks into the visitation room with a smile on his face that brightens as he nears the plexiglass, that widens as he sits on the rickety stool in front of the long table and reaches across himself to pick up the telephone in his non-dominant hand so that he can press it to the unbruised side of his face.

“Hi,” he says. “Thanks for coming.”

On the other side of the glass, Rachel raises her hand to her mouth, and Harvey picks up the telephone.

“Mike,” he says. “What happened?”

Mike sits on his free hand to keep from touching his face.

“Oh this?” He raises his eyebrows like this is some kind of joke, because come on now, what a silly question that is. “I met some guy in here named Frank Gallo, I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Harvey’s face pales, and Rachel raises her other hand to cover her mouth, too.

“I put him away for racketeering,” Harvey says. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Mike grins. “Search me.”

Harvey frowns.

“I’m going to tell the warden,” he says. Rachel looks at him with some alarm, dropping her hands to the table, and Mike’s smile vanishes at once.

“Don’t do that.”

Harvey shakes his head. “I’m going to tell him,” he repeats. “I’m going to tell him the whole story.”

“Harvey.” Mike points at his mottled skin. “Harvey, if you tell the warden, Gallo is going to find out, and this’ll be nothing compared to what he’s gonna do to me.”

Harvey’s knuckles turn white as he clutches the phone, pressing it to his ear, and Rachel looks between them, their one-sided conversation, and bites her lip.

These visits have a time limit, don’t they? They must, surely.

Mike smiles wide.

“So tell me about the firm.”

Harvey lowers his head, tapping his nail against the plastic receiver. After a moment, Rachel begins to cry.

Mike looks away.

---

Prison happens on a learning curve.

After that first meeting, the one that left him feeling so hollow and cold, and so angry at himself for feeling that way, for being ungrateful, for being an entitled piece of shit— After that first meeting, Rachel promised to come visit him every day, even if she had to come alone, even if she didn’t have any news to bring him, even if there was no reason for her to be there. It was a stupid thing to promise, and she shouldn’t have done it, but she did, and Mike should have known better, and he should have warned her, but he didn’t, and that’s two hours now that she’s wasted driving out here, and two more she’ll waste driving back.

“It’s a points system,” his cellmate Kevin explains. “Beginning of the month you get twelve points, and every visit costs one. Two on weekends and holidays. Then next month you start over.”

Mike crosses his arms over his chest and tucks himself into the corner of his threadbare mattress, the matching blanket wadded up between his lower back and the dirty wall.

“That’s stupid,” he says.

“Yeah,” Kevin says. “What’re you gonna do.”

Not a goddamn thing.

---

“Mike, you’re bleeding.”

Mike touches his lip gently, curving his wrist to hide the swelling around the joint as Harvey narrows his eyes.

“What happened?”

Mike smiles and tries not to wince when it pulls at the split.

“Gallo and I got in a little argument in the day room,” he says. “Guess I’m still not used to the pecking order around here.”

I hope I die before I figure it out. I hope that day is too far away for me to see it clearly. I hope I never learn how to live here, I hope I never learn how to make this place my home.

Harvey’s shoulders sag forward, his furrowed brow drawing his eyes down to the cracked paint and scratched aluminum holding up the plexiglass pane between them.

“Hey,” Mike says, rapping his knuckles against the window. “I’m fine.”

“No banging on the glass,” a guard rumbles behind him.

Mike winces, and Harvey presses his lips together tight.

“I tried to get you leave,” he says clumsily, forcing the words out one by one. “The warden owes me a favor, I thought— I thought he might go for it.”

“‘Leave’?” Mike repeats. “Harvey, I’m not in the army.”

Fighting for my life every minute of every day, I can see how you would make that mistake.

Harvey smiles, even though it wasn’t funny. He knows it wasn’t. Mike does, too.

“I tried,” he says anyway. “I thought he’d let you out for a day, or, or a couple of hours, I wanted to take you home, just for a little while, so you could see Rachel. So you could talk, I… I thought it might help.”

I thought it might help to give you a taste of everything you’ve lost. I thought it might make you happy for a minute or two.

Mike smiles again, pulling at the split.

“Tell her I said hi,” he says.

Tell her I understand why she’s stopped coming here. Tell her I forgive her. Tell her everything’s going to be okay.

Tell her I’ll always love her, and for both our sakes, I hope we never see each other again.

Harvey kneads his finger into the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mike presses his palm to the plexiglass.

“Harvey. Harvey, Harvey, hey, stop it.”

Harvey laughs into his chest, and Mike bites his bloody lip.

“You! Hands off the glass!”

Mike flinches. Maybe he will get used to it, sooner or later, maybe it’ll all become second nature before too long.

Not today.

---

Harvey isn’t the only one who cares about him. About what happens to him, about how he’s doing. About whether he lives or dies. Mike knows he isn’t. Even Harvey tells him as much, all the time, reminding him that he’s got people out there waiting for him, that he’ll be welcomed back at the firm with open arms when he gets out, that people ask about him sometimes, how he’s holding up and things. Harvey doesn’t have some kind of monopoly on giving him time and attention. Mike knows.

When he trudges out into the visitor’s room, when he picks up the phone and looks through the plexiglass, when Donna picks up the other receiver and looks back at him with a sad little smile on her face, he thinks maybe instead of sitting here, having some kind of conversation, maybe he’s going to go back to his cell and throw up.

“Hi Mike,” she says.

He swallows.

“Where’s Harvey?”

“Harvey’s fine.”

Mike narrows his eyes. That’s not what I asked.

“Where is he?”

Donna looks at him steadily, holding her shoulders back too tight.

“He’s in the hospital.”

So you’re a fucking liar, then. You lied to me.

“That doesn’t sound ‘fine.’”

No, no. Don’t be mean, Michael. It’s good of her to come and tell you in person.

“He has a stomach ulcer,” Donna says. “He’s going to be fine.”

Mike scowls.

“He doesn’t sound fine.”

Donna shakes her head.

“He is,” she says. “He will be. He needs to make sure he takes care of himself, that’s all. They gave him antibiotics, and he just needs some rest. He wanted me to come tell you what happened, he didn’t want you to worry.”

He’s looking out for you in your time of need. He only wants what’s best for you. He’s doing everything he can to help you. He’s working himself to death for you. Don’t worry about it. Everything is going to be fine.

Mike tangles the telephone cord in his fist and pulls it taut.

“God dammit,” he mutters.

Donna’s face goes sort of flat.

“How are you doing?” she asks after a minute.

Mike bangs his elbow on the edge of the table when he reaches to touch his black eye.

Oh, that’s right. These things happen, I suppose. There’s so much to keep track of, I forget about this and that.

“Don’t tell Harvey,” he says.

She sighs a sad little sigh.

Don’t worry about a thing.

---

Harvey shouldn’t be here. Harvey has a stomach ulcer, and he needs to rest. He should be at home, he should be in bed taking a nap, he should be curled up on the couch with a bowl of soup, he should be taking his antibiotics and relaxing and getting better.

Mike picks up the phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Harvey smiles.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Harvey.”

Harvey rests his hand on his lapel, a little too close to his heart. “I’m okay,” he says. “These things happen all the time, it’s no big deal.”

That’s a lie. You’re a fucking liar, you’re fucking lying to me. You’re lying to me to make me feel better, you’re lying to me because you don’t want me to feel useless even though I am, even though I know it, and so do you.

Mike clenches his fist in his lap and accidentally pinches a bit of skin between his fingers.

Hands off the glass, you little shit.

“Harvey,” he says, “why did you come?”

Harvey shrugs.

“I couldn’t leave you here all alone.”

Of course you could. Of course you should.

“Thank you,” he says anyway. “Thanks.”

You shouldn’t have done it, though. You shouldn’t have made this mistake. I hate that you’re making yourself sick over me, I hate that you’re putting me first. I hate myself for being grateful that you’re here.

Harvey smiles.

---

Fresh air hits different when it’s not blowing through a chain link fence.

Mike steps out through the prison door and takes a deep breath. Has the sun always been this bright? Has the light always felt so warm, the wind so soft through his hair? This big, wild stretch of nothing, of nobody, of the whole world spread out before him to go wherever he wants, do whatever he wants, be…whoever he is. This whole life stretching out before him, just waiting for him to take it.

“Hey.”

Nothing and nobody except for you and me.

He opens his eyes, narrowed against the glare, and there’s Harvey, standing in the parking lot. There’s Harvey, waiting for him to come through the gate. There’s Harvey, waiting to drive him home.

Harvey, who’s always been there.

And now it’s over, and there he is.

And here we are.

“You look good.”

You fucking liar.

Mike walks through the gate, out into the parking lot, and grabs Harvey as tight as he can and doesn’t let go.

After all this time, all these days and weeks and months, all we have is this. For a moment, for now, all I want is this.

Harvey lifts his arms and wraps them around Mike’s shoulders, and holds on. He holds on when Mike tucks his chin into the crook of his neck, and he holds on when Mike’s breath shudders like he might start crying, and he holds on when the tears almost fall, and he holds on when they don’t.

This is what I’ve been missing.

Mike presses in close and holds on tight, and Harvey doesn’t let him go.

“Mike,” Harvey murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mike grabs Harvey’s coat in his fist and presses his face against his shoulder, and Harvey rubs his hand down Mike’s back.

“You did good.”

Mike sniffles, and Harvey sighs into his hair.

“I’ve got you.”

And I always, always will.

[austennerdita2533]

ooh can you do those same top three questions but for suits and tvd :)

Sure can, nonnie! xx

*Just as a general disclaimer for anyone else who happens to read this: my ship preferences are what they are. I’m simply stating my opinion/preference and am in no way encouraging hate or fights. Discussion is always welcome, of course, but happy vibes here only!

*2020 sucks enough as it is without bringing ship drama into it, you know?

TVD

Top 3 seasons:

-1, 2, and 3 without an ounce of hesitation. This was when the show was at its peak in storytelling, characterization, ship development, magic/mythology etc.

Top 3 romantic ships:

-Klaroline. One of my highest echelon ships for reasons I do not need to enumerate; however, I will say what I love about them most is they challenge as well as complement each other in beautifully rich, convoluted ways. Their back and forth is ridiculously entertaining, too!

-Kalijah. They have spice, and angst, and forbidden love, and 500+ years of cat-and-mouse chasing and I will be over here bitter about them for eternity! 

-Forwood. *excuse me while I cry over “until we find a way” for a few hours* These two went through so much to be together! Their progressive arc in s2-s3 is still one of my favorites.

*I’m Swiss neutral when it comes to Stelena and Delena, I vacillate between both ships at different times so they’re not included in my top 3. I’m an anomalous TVD shipper, a true outlier, what can I say?

Top 3 platonic ships:

-Klelijah. Klaus and Elijah have an incredibly dense, fraught brotherly dynamic. Something about their ancient ties and 1,000-year bond is gripping. There’s so much spoken and unspoken subtext between them. So many unresolved “somethings.” Plus, it’s no secret that I adore the Originals and all they add to the TVD-verse.

-Klebekah. Klaus and Rebekah sparkle, they sizzle, any time they’re on-screen together. Just the sheer depth of feeling and betrayal and angst they emanate is so entertaining to watch. Don’t get me started on the whole “I loved you more than anyone and you didn’t even care” scene because I get emotional.

-Defan. Stefan and Damon are another complex sibling relationship on the show. Throw into the mix that they find themselves in love with same woman, not once, but twice, and whew! I love the flashbacks we get of them throughout history as well.

*Gotta give shoutouts to my other favorite, though moderately less well-developed, brotps here: Carenzo, Katholine, Rebekoline, and Baroline. *chef’s kiss*

Top 3 characters:

-Caroline Forbes

-Klaus Mikaelson

-Katherine Pierce

Top 3 plotlines you’d change/erase if you could:

-THE BABY PLOTS ! ! ! BOTH OF THEM!!!!!!!!! (I’m talking Klaus/Haley and their tribrid baby and Caroline’s surrogacy/pregnancy with the Gemini twins.) I apologize for my overemphasized caps + exclamation points here, but I loathe these storylines with every fiber of my being. I can’t help it. More often than not, I like to pretend they don’t exist lololol.

-How they handled the beginning of Stefan and Caroline’s romantic relationship was...icky. Like, while Liz was dying? Really? Then she turns off her humanity because he “rejects” her. Again, REALLY? I have major issues with the overall portrayal of them as a couple - particularly with the relationship imbalances as well as the insecurities they heightened instead of tamped out in each other - but the inception of it all is what kills me. Especially because I am a huge proponent of friends-to-lovers ships...and the writers really dropped the ball with them, imo. I’m a multishipper at heart so the disappointment I harbor is PALATABLE. 

-The Cure storyline and the Travelers storyline. Didn’t like either of them. They have equal “could’ve been loads better” billing.

Top 3 episodes you’d take to a deserted island:

-3x14, Dangerous Liaisons. LISTEN. This is my favorite episode of the entire series. There’s a ball, there’s blood-tinged champagne, there’s duplicity and romance and drama. All the Mikaelsons are under the same roof, for crying out loud! It’s gold!

-2x07, Masquerade. This one because of my girl, Katherine Pierce, the biggest, baddest bitch of all. She’s a saucy little minx the entire masquerade only to end up locked in the tomb. I just...love it.

-The Klaroliner in me is screaming 4x23, Graduation because being on a deserted island without having access to Klaus’s iconic “however long it takes” declaration would be insupportable. However, a case could be made for either 3x20, Do Not Go Gentle because I am trash for the decade dances, and that one’s my favorite, OR 3x22, The Departed because that is one hell of a season finale!

Suits

Top 3 seasons:

-Season 2. Mike’s secret out of the bag? Them all working together to fight against the merger? Donna shredding evidence to protect Harvey? Daniel fucking Hardman? *thumbs up*

-Season 5. FIREWORKS. Donna’s working for Louis, Harvey’s in therapy, Mike gets arrested/goes on trial, Zane family drama. Exquisite stuff

-Season 3 or Season 1. Don’t make me choose between them, please. 🙏🏻

Top 3 romantic ships:

-Darvey. I mean, OBVIOUSLY. These two idiots had me from the pilot. I knew the moment Donna said “I also took care of that. we’ve been married for the last 7 years” that I was on the precipice of falling into another long, beautiful, up-to-their-chins-in-pining, slow sloooooow burn ships. Granted, I didn’t think it’d take 8 seasons for them to get together lololol but I don’t regret a damn thing!

-Mike and Rachel. They’re adorable together, they truly love each other. Also, can we talk about how they’re a steady couple for most-ish of the show?  They have drama, sure, but they work through most of it together. As a unit. THAT’S A BIG DEAL. It’s like going through the canon drive thru and actually getting (most) of what you ordered.

-Louis and Sheila. This is a couple who makes me laugh uproariously AND feel all the emotions. I mean, will I ever forget Louis dropping to one knee in the hospital with his ass cheeks hanging out? NO. Will I ever get over Shelia’s pregnant feet being too fat to fit into her Cinderella glass slippers? NOT ON YOUR LIFE. Will I blubber like an emo sap whenever they finally reconcile/get their happy ending? YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT.

Top 3 platonic ships:

-Mike and Harvey. They have a connection from the beginning but I love seeing how much they rub off on one another, how much deeper their bond grows over the course of the show. Their movie references are always a delight, too. *cries: it’s so beautiful*

-Donna and Louis. Their relationship is so important to me. Like?!?!?!? They have so many fantastic one-on-one moments together - some that make your sides ache with laughter, others that prick your eyes with emotion and tears. Even though it kills me when Donna leaves Harvey to work for Louis, I can’t help but love it too because he fanboys all over her. GIVE DONNA ALL THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION SHE DESERVES. 

-Harvey and Louis because they have a formative and/or impactful dynamic. They mostly respect each other but there’s a lot of animosity between them. Makes for such good TV!

Top 3 characters:

-Donna Paulsen aka Fashion Goddess of NYC (can I have all of her outfits? for real) and the Reigning Queen of Sass (who also happens to be the reigning queen of my heart as well). The entire firm would have fallen into collapse without her, FULL STOP.

-Harvey Specter. I have a penchant for stoic, inscrutable, emotionally constipated, on-the-borderline-of-asshole characters and boy did I hit the jackpot with this one! 

-This one was hard, but I’m going to go with Louis Litt because his character evolution is amazing! He’s so unlikable at times, what with his competitive streak and anger/jealousy issues, but then there’s this whole other side to him that’s sensitive and vulnerable and sweet. You can’t help but root for him, you know? (Even when you want to punch him right in the nose lol.)

Top 3 plotlines you’d change/erase if you could:

-Harvey giving Paula the credit for why he reconciled with his mother, when it was actually because of Donna. They retcon/fix this in the narrative in s9 but it still bugs me in the moment. I can’t let it go. So sue me.

-Pearson Hardman’s “Harvard Only” hiring law. Not only is it ridiculous and discriminatory but no way in hell would you even be able to implement such a thing in today’s world. Nor should you be able to do so. Diversity is important!

-I wasn’t crazy about the Mike prison storyline but, at the same time, he had to serve out penance for the whole fraud business??? So yeah.

Top 3 episodes you’d take to a deserted island:

-2x07, Sucker Punch. THE MOCK TRIAL, AHHHHHHH. Louis grills Donna about Harvey within an inch of her life. I can hear his inflection during his stream of “do you love Harvey Specter, do you love Harvey Specter” in my head. It is so effing tense in that conference room, I DIE. 

3x06, The Other Time. I am all about this flashback episode, okay? It opens Pandora’s box on all things past!Darvey and also shows us how Mike gets thrown out of school.

-8x16, Harvey. If you think I’d willingly retreat to a deserted island without having access to that Darvey love epiphany/love actualization scene then you are kidding yourself! I still blast “Love is Mystical” on full volume just to daydream about that swooping-through-the-apartment-door smooch sometimes. *fans self*

[cinematicnomad]

20 and 22!

020. tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?) oh no. do i have any?? i’ll talk about taste your beating heart bc i worked on it the longest and i have a SIXTY-FOUR page outline that i can look through if needed (it starts off with like...3 bullet points under chapter one and then 10 pages of bullet points for the epilogue). 

okay so there’s a lot about that fic i’m proud of, but probably i’m proudest of the development of scott and stiles’ friendship over the course of the fic? bc, look, scott as a character doesn’t interest me (characters who are presented as inherently morally good with only external conflicts Do Not Interest me), and when i started the fic it was definitely just supposed to be a sterek-centric fic. but it had a lot to do with stiles’ isolation after their sacrifice in s3A and i had to write about why he was dealing with it alone when scott and allison went through the same thing. and at first i was like, whatever i’ll just mention that they don’t know what’s happening and be done with it, but then over the years (bc again...this fic took me SEVEN YEARS to write!!) i got interested in writing about how their relationship evolved and how scott felt about what was happening with stiles and derek etc. 

so i went back and edited in a bunch of scenes and dialogue and asides that weren’t there originally to really explore how distressing it can be to have your relationship change? and how sometimes you can objectively know something is an intention-neutral action and still feel hurt by it, etc etc. and i wound up writing a lot of scenes of stiles being very aware of his own mistakes and to portray how scott is genuinely trying to be there for stiles and how sometimes you just can’t ... stop things from changing? bc that’s just inherent to life? 

so like, the fic on it’s face is about derek and stiles falling in love and becoming a pack with the sheriff while solving the central mystery in beacon hills, but it’s also about scott and stiles’ friendship changing and evolving and maturing. 

and every now and then i get a comment from someone who thinks i should tag the fic with ‘bad friend scott mccall’ but i’ve resisted that advice bc i don’t think scott is a bad friend in this fic, and i don’t think i wrote him as a bad friend. they’re just taking different paths and learning how to grow together. and my FAVORITE comments are when people recognize that and say how much they appreciated or loved or enjoyed seeing how scott and stiles’ dynamic matures over the course of the fic. 

like one of my favorite comments on the fic came from someone who said:

I loved how the story stressed about no one being the real culprit of anything...no one really being the bad. Isaac wasn't a bad guy for stepping in between Stiles and Scott's time, Allison either. Scott wasn't a bad guy for paying attention to other people and Stiles wasn't a bad guy for wanting to approach things on his own. Everything was just circumstantial. They were teenagers who made mistakes but they weren't inherently bad. And I found it like a fresh gulp of air, something new from the usual approach this kind of situation have in other fics.

basically this was just a long rant of me explaining why i refuse to tag TYBH w/ the bad friend tag lol 

022. do you reread your old works? how do you feel about them? umm i re-read them sometimes. usually not all of it, but like, snippets that i remember liking? like for taste your beating heart i’ve re-read chapter 17 a couple times bc it’s the big climax where everything finally came together like i planned so it feels like proof that i accomplished something lol. 

and i’ve LISTENED to my jessica pearson POV fic about harvey and mike, smoke and mirrors, a lot over the years bc TheArcher on AO3 recorded it as a podfic!! she’s so talented and sometimes i listen to it and can’t believe i wrote that. (for real: if anyone ever, ever, EVER wants to make a podfic of one of my fics PLEASE YOU ARE WELCOME I WILL WELCOME IT)

but i can’t re-read my work until i’ve given myself some time and space after writing it. if i try to go back and re-read it too soon after writing it i’m mostly just...totally mortified by myself and find everything embarrassing. there was a like a week between me finishing up my draft of take my hand (take my everything) and when @crazyassmurdererwall beta’d it and i finally re-read it to edit before posting. every time i tried to go back and read it during that week i got like a paragraph in before i switched tabs. 

fun meta asks for writers

[jaawriter]

Inevitable - a Darvey fanfic

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. If I did I would have more money. 

__________________

“Do you want to come in?”

“Not tonight.”

There is a question that she only just swallows back, that he saw on her face before she shut the door.

Not tonight. Which night then?

He can’t do that thing, that thing she does, where she conjures truth and meaning from seemingly nowhere - but he does know her as well as possibly anyone else, and it’s not clairvoyance but it could be. He knows what it means when she looks at him quietly, instead of spelling out the reality of what’s going on for him. He knows what she’s thinking when she gives that slight shake of her head, breaks eye contact, and then that pause, that silence. It’s the loudest quiet he ever feels, the loudness of her withdrawing from him because she knows if she says, out loud, what she feels and what she wants to say, she would break him - because as much as he knows her, she knows him.

She sees who he is. His fear, his clumsiness, his pretence. She sees all of it. She knows his bones and how they’re always primed, waiting for the next betrayal. She can predict the flashes of brilliance and greatness that peek out from time to time, when the chips are down and he finds himself in situations where the only thing that can happen is that who you really are punches through the noise. She knows the tension under his skin, knows he’s never truly relaxed, knows he’s waiting for the next one to leave.  Knows there’s a part of him that believes they all leave. That one day, she will leave.

She knows him. Knows him like nobody else in the world.

But he also knows every fibre of her, her radiance and light and goodness, all her fabric, seen and unseen, and it’s not really fair on either of them. Because he hates the idea of letting anyone else know her the way he does, hates the idea that anybody would know her fabric so well they could unravel it with a few words if they wanted. Like he does, sometimes. Like he did a few days ago, in public no less.

He almost winces at the memory. He’d been so ugly to her.

If anyone knows about selfish, it’s you.

Your judgement sucks.

She had messed up, and they both knew it. But so had he, more times than he could remember, and where she would guide him back to something resembling goodness, he was just… cruel.

If he was being less honest he would have called it an out of body experience, claimed he was out of control, that he only watched himself tear her to shreds. Except he wasn’t out of control. It was methodical, and calculated, and shitty.

He hates that he did it, that he turned that coldness, the icy soul of a closer on her, on purpose.  Because he doesn’t want anyone to hurt her. Because he doesn’t want to hurt her. But also because there’s a darkness in him he can’t quite cut out of him that whispers you can hold on to her. Because he’s fucked up and he is his mother’s son. And he knows that one day she will leave, but if it’s his fault she does, then he can still love her.

Piece of shit.  

“Harvey.”

He blinks, and he’s been staring at the painting in her hallway, and she’s leaning against the door, and he’s not sure if he’s been standing there for three seconds or three hours.

“Sorry,” he says, a slight shake of his head to bring him back to reality.

She studies him for a second, then reaches out, takes his hand, loosely tugs him towards her, and says, “Just come in. You need a drink.”

———

They’ve been sitting in tense silence for half an hour, matching each other shot for shot, chasing a bottle of whisky to the bottom.

Donna only keeps whisky in case he comes over.

The only other times he’s been here have always been gentle, caring, safe. Donna’s place is a refuge, a place of peace, where Donna and Harvey don’t pretend what they are or aren’t and they can just be together, laughing and unguarded in their not-quite-together and not-quite-single conversations. They flirt, they laugh, they play as close to the line as possible before Harvey shies away and calls Ray to pick him up, and goes home to collapse in his own empty bed, palming himself under the covers until visions of red hair dance behind his eyelids and he falls asleep with her name hidden in his mind.

Donna’s apartment is a refuge and a fantasy. But this, tonight, is not that. The air between them is heated and ready for a spark. He feels the pressure of it in his gut, wonders if she feels the same.

“You’re angry.” She’s the first to break the silence. It’s not a question.

He knocks back his glass in one gulp and pours another even as the burn down his throat makes him grimace. It’s heavily peated, he hates heavily peated, hates whisky you’re meant to sip when he just wants to inhale the whole bottle and disappear into the haze for a while. “I came in, I never said I’d talk about it, Donna.”

“You got put in a position to choose between myself and Paula.” Her words are careful and measured; she is trying hard to keep the peace. She feels the tinder box as well, then. He takes the tiniest amount of perverse pleasure in that. “I’m sorry. I wish that was different.” She takes a sip and he thinks he can taste her gathering her courage, and says the next into her glass. “Even if I don’t want to take back what I did, I’m sorry for what it’s caused, Harvey.”

“I said don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, raising his glass to his lips.

“Harvey -“

“You once asked me not to fall on my sword for Mike.” He interrupts her harshly, head snapping to pierce her eyes with his.

She can’t hold his gaze. “I know.”

“Well, you’re asking me to do that now and why the fuck is this different.” It’s not a question, not really, because they both know why.  

“Because that was about you having faith in yourself and this is about you having faith in me.”

“Bullshit.”

“I -“

“You really didn’t know about us. About me and Paula.”

A pause. “No.”

That word triggers off some absurd buried offence that he’s had locked away in his chest since she wrapped her arms and the taste of her around him, slid into his being and his dreams again. He’s not sure why he’s mad at her for this admission. Maybe one day she’ll explain it to him.

Fuck, he’s such an asshole, and chants don’t do it don’t do this to himself even as he launches off the couch, his palms spreading and his anger finding her - unrestrained, unfair, unsurprising.

“What the hell, Donna, how could you not know? You know everything! It’s what you said made you a good COO. It’s what you tell everyone. And you’re meant to know me, and you. Missed this.”

She looks up at him, battle wearied. “I don’t know everything, Harvey. I know you don’t like to think so, but I am actually human. I don’t think I wanted to know. Maybe the signs were there, but I ignored them.” She shakes her head, murmurs, “I think I wanted to be wrong.”

He’s not willing to have the tension in the room defused by her gentle admission. He wants a fight. It might be rage, or it might be the coil of desire sitting low in his belly that the whisky always seems to unleash in him, but whatever it is, he wants a fight. He’s going to get one, and he stabs his glass at the ground as he turns the force of his whatever the fuck he’s feeling on her.  

“So you wanted more, and you came after partner and asked me to put you above the firm, and you told me you could hold the firm together because you know people better than they know themselves, and you told me this wasn’t about us, but clearly there’s something more going on, Donna, because if it wasn’t about us, why the hell did you kiss me? And then after you put me in the position where you made me cheat on Paula, you made me choose between you and her! Everything was finally starting to work again after Jessica and you just yanked the rug out from under me. Did you even think about what that would do to me, Donna?”

Unfair this is so unfair you asshole

“I didn’t make you choose, Harvey.” She’s keeping her voice calm, but he can hear the waver underneath the words and he hates it. “I should never have kissed you and I’m sorry, I really am, but Paula gave you an ultimatum, not me.”

“And Paula wouldn’t have had to give you an ultimatum if you hadn’t done that. Face it, you fucked up, and now you’re blaming me for having to fix your shit!”

“Oh my god, Harvey, listen to yourself,” Donna finally snaps. She’s standing now as well, jabbing the glass of whisky at him like a weapon.  “You didn’t ‘fix’ anything. You ran, like you always do. Would you have ever done this to Mike? Snuck behind his back to get him a job and not had the balls to talk to him about before sending him out of the firm and his family because you found a girlfriend?” Harvey begins to open his mouth at that, and Donna raises her hand to stop him. “I know you care about her. I know she’s important to you. And I know it was me that put your relationship at risk. But Mike put us all at risk for years. You still never would have done that to him.”

“Are you kidding, I would have fired him.”

“Yeah, well, firing me would have at least taken a split second of courage, Harvey.” She wheels away from him, maybe because they’re too near to each other, too loud, too close to happening upon something sitting too close to the surface. She pours another drink and that bottle is a lot emptier than it should be considering the thin ice they’re both tap dancing across. He feels every inch of empty glass in the back of his throat and in the way the floor isn’t quite as rock solid as it should be.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said you’re a coward, Harvey.” Her voice is wobbling but she looks at him, looks right into his soul, and her eyes are clear and furious. “You couldn’t fire me, because that would have meant actually making a decision for once, instead of manipulating people to get them to make your decisions for you.” He winces at that, because she’s right. Ever since Jessica left, he’s been veering wildly between making no decisions and making bad ones. He thought he’d been able to hide his panic. But, of course, he hadn’t really. Not from Donna.

But she’s still going, her voice gaining strength as she lays out in front of him everything he should have heard from her months ago. “You demand so much from me, Harvey. From all of us. But God forbid anybody puts you in a difficult position. You’ve always said loyalty is a two way street, but you’re letting your fear get the better of you. This isn’t you, Harvey. You used to be better than this.” She swallows and her voice breaks, just a little. “You used to be braver than this.”

She runs out of steam, and there’s a too-long silence between them. He’s out of breath, somehow, and he heaves for breath. She folds her arms and looks at his feet.

Well, goddamn it, if she wants courage she can have it.

“You know why I could never fire you, Donna,” he says. “You’re not Mike. You know you’re not Mike. Just like you know if it came down to it, it was never a choice for me. Not ever. Paula … I was never going to choose her. Because we… this -“ he waves his hand between them - “makes no sense half the time, and the other half of the time… Donna …”

She’s turned back to him now, her eyes wide. It’s so close, they’re so close to it, and she looks at him like she can’t quite believe it’s him, of all people, that’s going to say it.

“What?” she breaths.

At the same time all the fight goes out of her voice, all the fight goes out of his chest, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding onto. His glass drops to his side, sloshing whisky over his fingers, and something stings his eyes.

“God dammit Donna, I just…” And he knows, suddenly, why he’s never said it - there aren’t any words that fit. So he shakes his head, helpless, his arms spread out to his sides, and says “you’re everything,” and he barely gets the words out before her hands have wrapped around him under his suit jacket and she’s sliding her mouth over his in a kiss that jolts all the air out of his lungs.

He doesn’t even have a chance to consciously process this change of events as anger does a hard left turn into passion and his stomach flips. He drops his glass, his hands tangling up into her hair. She slides her tongue into his mouth, and he feels that deep in the core of his being.  The world spins, and it’s only partly the drink, and she tastes like whisky. She nudges his bottom lip with her own, sliding her tongue across his in that lazy, loose, half-drunk way he loves, and fuck. His stomach hollows out with want and he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her tight against him. He can’t quite believe it; can’t quite believe they’d just agreed they didn’t want each other a couple of days ago, Donna telling him she didn’t feel anything - and here she’s kissing him like the world’s ending. He has shoes on and she’s barefoot and when she presses her body against his and wraps her arms around his neck to make up the height difference he thinks he might actually die.

His hands find their way up under her shirt and the touch of her skin under his hands makes his cock twitch. She’s beautiful and he feels like he can feel the colour of her skin, feel the light dusting of freckles up her back. He remembers. He’s fallen asleep more than once with his hand stretched out across a blank space in his bed where she was meant to be. Those nights always felt like regret, but he’s here now and so is she and she’s perfect. He drops his mouth to the gap where her neck and shoulder meet, tasting her, one hand scratching up to the base of her skull. His other hand skates across her waist, dipping into the waistband of her pants. He kisses sloppily up the side of her neck, over her ear, and she turns her head to capture his mouth with hers again, her hands tugging his shirt out of his waistband under his suit jacket so she can hook her fingers into his pants and pull him closer.

She presses her body against him, instinctively grinding her hips to his through their clothes, and a guttural moan escapes him. He mumbles “fuck” against her mouth, and he remembers she likes when he talks because she groans in response. He’s too overwhelmed to take control, which works for Donna as she walks him backwards towards her bed, one hand on his chest to guide him and the other deftly unbuttoning his shirt as she does.

By the time the back of his legs hit the bed and he falls back onto his ass, she has his shirt open under his suit jacket, his shoes off, his belt open and his pants unbuttoned and he thinks she might be a magician. She climbs onto the bed after him, straddles his lap, and kisses him in the way only she can - all at once slow, longing, urgent, sensual but sweet as fuck and how the hell does she do that anyway? He grabs her waist, pushes her shirt up and over her head, dropping it behind her. Her skin is flushed and warm under his fingers, and she’s not wearing a bra so he slides his hands over her breasts, massaging and then tweaking her nipples as she settles herself on top of his cock, rolling her hips against him through his pants. She has sensitive breasts, he remembers, and she moans into his mouth as he teases her nipples into taut buds. She feels amazing, and the sounds she makes fills his frame with something akin to awe. He doesn’t quite know what he’s managed to do to deserve this, having Donna under his hands, rubbing herself against him as he flicks and teases her nipples. She’s remembered too, though. Harvey’s never been too proud in bed - he’s not self conscious about showing women he’s with what he enjoys, and she’s not the only one that finds this maddening. So she drops her head to his chest, outlining his nipple with her tongue, circling lightly, teasing, before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently and holy shit. Harvey drops his forehead to the back of her head, trying to get his breathing under control, but that goes out the window when she palms his cock through his pants and he gasps her name.

He’s straining against his pants but can’t do anything about it as he’s holding onto Donna for dear life.  But Donna knows, she always knows, and quickly tugs his pants down past his thighs. In the same movement, she sheds her own pants, and climbs back over his body, pushing him, pressing his back into the mattress, and he gives in completely - he’s hers, all of him is hers, and nothing has meaning outside of her guidance and desire anymore. He lays back, pants on the floor somewhere, shirt and jacket open at the chest, and somewhere dimly he knows he must look utterly helpless, and he doesn’t care.

She follows him, covering his body with hers, covers her nipple with her mouth again, teeth teasing gently, and immediately takes him in her hand, stroking his length slowly. His head drops back and he moans towards the ceiling, tangling his hands through her hair. The feeling of her sucking on his nipple while she squeezes his head is too much and he has to focus hard to avoid embarrassing himself. Harvey runs one hand down her back blindly, nudging her body up further. As she brings her mouth to his, he runs his hands down her skin, sliding down her belly and to her pussy, and Donna must be as on edge as he is if that guttural ‘Harvey’ that escapes her lips is anything to go by. His fingers and thumb already slick from her, he finds her clit with two fingers and draws lazy circles over it. She huffs shallow breaths into his mouth and it’s messy and wanton and she’s gorgeous and how could he have ever wanted anything other than this, anything other than her.

And then she has him in hand, guiding the head of his cock to her entrance, taking a moment to rub the head of his cock over her clit. He holds her thigh, staring, lost, not just with how damn good she feels but how damn good she is. She is his better in every possible way and she has somehow found her way to him. It’s inconceivable, and when she sinks down on him, lights explode behind his eyes and everything in his world slots into place.

She sets the pace, slow and deliberate, rolling over him and pushing her hips against him, and he moans with every thrust and she almost looks smug about it. She’s gorgeous, utterly gorgeous, the dark tan of his hands contrasting with alabaster and freckles as he slides his fingers over her waist. “Harvey,” she says, mixing with his gasping recitation of her name, and she braces her hands against his chest and she strokes him in and out of her, feeling him stretch her out with each push.

It’s exquisite, its torture, it’s not quite making love and it’s not quite fucking, it’s unreal and it’s every dream he’s ever had about her wrapped up in one. She’s building, searching out her orgasm, speeding up, her thrusts needy and deep. He just hopes she finds it before he loses the last shreds of his own control. He can feel his cock stretching her with each movement and it’s too much. He slides one hand from her waist back to her clit, rubbing in tight circles in time with her thrusts, and Donna’s moans become guttural. “Fuck, Donna,” Harvey murmurs. “Holy fuck.”

She comes with a heaving sigh, her stomach muscles fluttering under his hands, and he’s right behind her, the unconscious squeezing of her orgasm wrapping around him, pushing him off the edge.

———

She’s still on top of him, a leg wrapped around his waist as she pushes her face into the crook of his neck and he can feel her smile against his skin, and he drifts, thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad to just stay here forever.

He wants to say I love you but that feels awfully like a cliche’d moment, something out of a movie, and quoting movies is not what he and Donna do.

“Well,” he murmurs instead.

“Well.”

He pushes a hand up into her hair. He thinks he maybe has a fixation with her hair. He’s okay with that.

“Hi.”

He smiles. “Hi.”

“Stay?”

He nods, and she holds him a little tighter.

end

[mobius-prime]

34. Special - Sonic & Knuckles

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Is everyone ready for the Kenders-est issue yet? Not only did he have a hand in writing every story in this special, but he did the pencils for one of the stories for the first time. He's back to writing about his favorite character in the universe, Knuckles, and for the first time we're gonna be getting some backstory for him.

The issue begins with another intro page, characteristic of Penders-headed stories, which gives us a little more info on this canon's version of the Floating Island (not yet referred to as Angel Island). As mentioned before, the island is held aloft not by the Master Emerald but by a Chaos Emerald. The island is mentioned to be one of the very last places on Mobius to be untouched by the war raging below on the surface. The page also mentions that Knuckles' role as the island's guardian is passed down from generation to generation, a claim that I don't recall any other canons ever making (the games just refer to him as having this role with no knowledge of how he ended up with it), a detail which will be expanded upon later on, thanks to Kenders' neverending obsession with the echidnas.

Panic in the Sky!

Writers: Mike Kanterovich and Ken Penders Pencils: Art Mawhinney and Dave Manak Colors: Barry Grossman

The Floating Island, which apparently has always floated somewhere on the other side of the ocean, has started flying wildly off course, terrifying local Mobians and alerting the Freedom Fighters. No one has apparently ever heard of this thing before, but it's headed for Knothole, and considering all other massive things that head for Knothole tend to be deadly, that's not a good sign.

Of course, Sonic and Tails recognize this thing from their excursion onto it not that long ago, and fill everyone in, though why they didn't tell everyone all about their adventure and entanglement with Knuckles before now is beyond me (well, I know logically why - they needed an excuse to recap for the readers). Sonic and Tails decide to fly in to investigate, and thus we have our first showcase of Antoine being an accomplished pilot, which essentially makes half the entire cast pilots at this point. Also, the Floating Island has machine guns now!

Antoine flies them above the horizon line and out of danger, and they airdrop in only to immediately be attacked by several different bots, which the story is very unclear on whether they are from Robotnik or like, automated defense systems for the island or something. Sonic ends up going tumbling off a cliff, only for Knuckles to make his appearance and immediately try to murder him by stepping on his hand. What the hell, Knuckles?

Luckily, Tails is there to distract him, and after some brief fighting, Sonic is able to stop Knuckles from swinging his fists long enough to point out that the island has flown wildly off course, and that Knuckles is basically being a giant reactionary idiot. Seriously, Knuckles, how the hell did you somehow not notice your entire island being retrofitted into a giant fortress despite being its guardian? Talk about not doing your job.

Knuckles leads Sonic and Tails to the Chaos Chamber, where the Chaos Emerald sits. Interestingly, unlike the games where the Master Emerald need merely sit on the island to magically provide the lift to make it float, in the comics the Chaos Emerald actually provides literal power to a system that allows the island to defy gravity. However, an energy siphon has been installed to draw power towards Robotnik's guns and engines instead, so he can use the island as a method of obliterating Knothole. Again, despite being the island's guardian, Knuckles somehow noticed none of this. Robotnik's face appears and explains his plan to them over a screen, and then he makes an absolutely incredible facial expression on a backdrop of the ashes of civilization.

He doesn't even look like he's evilly laughing, he looks like he's taking an extremely painful dump or something. What the hell happened here, pencillers?

Anyway, Knuckles, ashamed by his failure, takes the emerald and shatters it, removing both Robotnik's power source and the source of the power keeping the island afloat. Robotnik chooses to abort rather than fall with it, thinking that he may still win the day after all.

I have to halt everything for a moment to discuss his claim right here, that the island is eight miles high. Now perhaps this is just a reference to the song Eight Miles High (I wasn't aware of it before now, but it popped up a lot while I was Googling information for this), but let's take him at his word and assume that the Floating Island really does hover at an altitude of eight miles (that's about thirteen kilometers for my non-American readers). That's approximately 42,000 feet in the air, which is the absolute maximum limit for modern commercial aircraft before the engines are no longer able to maintain lift. At that altitude, our planet's atmosphere is far too thin to breathe, and most people will suffer from hypoxia within seconds, and probably suffocate within a few minutes at most (for reference, Mt. Everest's peak is 29,000 feet above sea level, and even trained and prepared mountain climbers have to bring bottled oxygen and are at great risk of hypoxia and death at that kind of altitude). Now if we assume that Mobians have similar oxygen requirements to humans, and that Mobius' atmospheric conditions are similar to Earth's (two assumptions that are reasonable to make as later issues will reveal), absolutely no life should even exist on the Floating Island at all. Sonic and Tails would have suffocated within seconds of ever setting foot on it, and Knuckles wouldn't even be alive to watch them die, let alone attack them.

But whatever, it's a comic. We are dealing with a world where portals to alternate universes open and close on the regular, after all. Knuckles, once he's sure that Robotnik is gone, pulls out… another Chaos Emerald! Turns out he simply made a switch with a fake to fool Robotnik and then destroyed the fake, and thus replaces the real, unharmed emerald to halt the island's descent. Another quick bit of math - if we assume that the island's terminal velocity takes a little longer to reach than a human's (I have no idea how to calculate how fast something of that much mass would be able to fall, so I'm working on a lot of assumptions here) then we can say it would probably have taken nearly three and a half minutes to crash to earth had it been allowed to fall, yet the next panel shows it halting at what seems like a mere few hundred feet above the village - again, probably just for the dramatic effect, but I find it amusing that Knuckles might have waited almost three minutes playing chicken with Robotnik until he bailed, before replacing the real emerald.

With the day saved, Knuckles rejects Sonic's offer to join the Freedom Fighters, because he needs to pretend to be a lone wolf for a little while longer. Sonic and Tails return to tell the others what happened, and wonder what Knuckles will do in the future…

Fire Drill

Writer/Pencils: Ken Penders Colors: Freddy Mendez

…luckily, we don't need to wait long to find out, because every story in this issue is about Knuckles! This is the first story penciled by Penders himself, which is noteworthy, especially as he becomes a more frequent artist in later issues. Also to note is that Barry Grossman no longer has a monopoly on the coloring - we finally have someone new for the first time since the third freaking issue! Welcome to the party, Freddy!

While there's not a lot of plot to this story, it does contain some interesting tidbits. Knuckles is chilling on his island as normal, when a loud explosion startles him. He traces the explosion from the beach and follows footprints into the Sandopolis Zone ruins, believing the troublemaker to be Sonic and ready to throw hands once more. He faces several traps within the ruins, such as falling rocks, a tripwire-activated axe, and a sand trap, but things don't really get interesting until these few panels:

He mentions family for the first time - a father - which not even the games hint at. The way he speaks, we can assume his father hasn't been around for some time. However, this seems to follow what the intro page said about this duty being passed on between generations - clearly, his father was a guardian before him, but for whatever reason, he and the rest of the echidnas have disappeared…

Anyway, after facing a few more traps and trials, Knuckles emerges from the ruins to find that the footprints seem to lead off the edge of the island, and assumes that Sonic has had his fun and vacated the island. However, we the readers can see that that's not the case - a mysterious silhouette is the real troublemaker, and apparently, they were the one testing Knuckles… but why?

Lord of the Floating Island

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Harvey Mercadoocasio Colors: Freddy Mendez

This is really just a plot meant to establish what exactly Knuckles tends to do on an average day on his island. Knuckles is flying around - because he can just do that in the comics, I know he can usually glide in other media but he just straight up flies here - when the wind buffets him around and he spots a young kangaroo hopping around in fear. Unlike in other canons, the Floating Island is actually quite populated - Knuckles isn't alone there but acts as guardian of not only the Chaos Emerald, but all the island's Mobian inhabitants. He swoops down to pick the kangaroo up to protect it, and while they wait out the storm they spot what's causing it - a solar eclipse, because that's how eclipses work.

Interestingly, Knuckles refers to "the moon" rather than "one of the moons." I can't remember at this point whether Mobius having one hundred moons was retconned in later issues, but either this issue acts as the retcon, or else Knuckles is merely referring to only one moon that regularly causes the eclipse or something. In addition, we get to see the first appearance of the dingoes, which become regulars in later issues but for now are treated like some kind of mindless stampeding mob, despite them clearly being Mobians as well with shoes and gloves.

Anyway, in the end, the eclipse ends, the winds die down, and the kangaroo's mother finds him again, thanking Knuckles for his role as guardian. It really kind of acts like he's a one-man police force for the entire island, which I suppose isn't entirely inaccurate for this canon.

[imthejokercard]

STRANGER THINGS 3 SPOILERS READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

So as I watched the newest season of Stranger things I jotted down the things I took note of and loved and just felt. In order as they happened

Here they are

MOM STEVE

“Hey dingus, your children are here” ITS CANON

“Oh really?” *continues flipping the light switch harder* *lights come back on* “let there be light”

Will’s PTSD😢

The cat bobble head in the car and Dustin’s mom looks longingly at it💕💕 RIP

Hopper getting parenting advice from Joyce

Robin giving Steve a strike out board with girls

“Maybe I’ll just kill Mike, I’m chief of police I can cover it up”

ELEVEN’S OUTFITS AND HAIR💕😍

Billy and Mrs. Wheeler🤮🤮

STEVE AND DUSTIN ASDFGHJKL I WILL DIE

“How many children are you friends with?”

MAX AND EL, MAX AND EL, MAX AND EL

MAX AND EL SHOPPING, MAX AND EL SHOPPING

Oh my days just let Will play D&D

“And I only have $3.50 so it’s hard” big mood

“I’m the chief of police”

Just. Let. Will. Play. D. &. D.

Will is the most precious I cannot

Hopper Hangover™

Hopper didn’t even get dried off before he started getting dressed and I’m upset

Dustin’s believes all evil Russians are tall, blonde, and don’t smile

Steve deserves the best (not Nancy) and I believe that Robin is the best

YOU IDIOTS JUST STOP BEING MEAN TO WILL HES TRYING TO HELP YOU

WILL DESERVES THE WORLD

Get it Robin, you go girl crack that code

As much as I hate Nancy these work men of hers realllllly suck

Joyce and Hopper’s friendship is amazing and it needs to stay a friendship that’s the tea

Will struggling with loosing the only friends and the closest friends he has is hard and hits my heart. I love that boy

These poor deputies never have a clue what is going on and they probably think that they are crazy

Are there any managers at the Scoop Ahoy? Or anyone else who actually works there??

Why does everyone always say that someone is schizophrenic when something crazy happens

What is Hopper wearing🤦🏻‍♀️

I love that Hopper picks up the Mayors name plate when he talks to him

HOPPER BLACK MAILS THE MAYOR

also the mayor did cocaine

AND THE MAYOR BLACK MAILS BACK

“Who ya callin? The police?” THE SASS JOYCE💕

Is Hopper seriously about to cut the mayors finger off?!

“I think Tom was on drugs”

“No color bones remember?”

“Oh yeah he’s got some disease .... cryo -cry- something he’s missing bones and stuff he can bend like gumbo”

“TOUCH MY BUTT I DONT CARE”

Lucas’s sister is so so so annoying

These kids are seriously too mature they are going through too much at this age ugh the need a childhood

Steve being completely relieved when Erica made it to the place safely ♥️ I’m soft

“If you die, I die” 🖤🖤AHHHHH

Nancy sees this lady’s heart rate going up so fast but does nothing???????????

Billy. Is. A. Psycho.

Therefore....^^...Dacre Kayd Montgomery-Harvey deserves an Oscar for this (or Emmy or whatever)

SHE THREW HIM THROUGH A BRICK WALL

“My groin, I fell on my groin, DUSTIN!”

Poor Hopper did not need this Russian man to beat the living daylights out of him (again) but alas

AND POOR JOYCE a machine gun?! Really?!

MAX AND EL, MAX AND EL, MAX AND EL

“Redirect your stream please“

“Seatbelts” *puts two kids in the trunk*

Dude I am loving Alexi

Alexi is just sippin his slushy😊🥤

JOYCE IS A QUEEN

STEVE DID THAT. HE WON HIS FIGHT! AGAINST A RUSSIAN SOLDIER NO LESS! Go big or go home

All these fight scenes are awesome

I just love how the Steve and Robin team are just pushing Russian guards out of their way as they are running

This receptionist lady is a mood!

This flesh monster reminds me of Hubert Cumberdale The Real Live Flesh Boy

DANG EL

Dustin and Erica’s nerd conversation

She spit in his face I REPEAT she SPIT in his FACE

“Brain damage isn’t real Mike made it up”

“Look to your right” *looks to his left* big mood

*faced with a large dangerous looking needle* “DID YOU EVEN CLEAN THAT THING?”

Robin and Steve calling scary Russians morons

Ohmydays Steve’s little I told you so shrug ugh I’m dead

I stan High!Steve and High!Robin

Okay so Murray just telling them to pull over and rip their clothes off to get it over with ...A+

Max skateboards so she is an expert in deep gauging wounds

Robin trying to explain the title of Back to the Future to High!Steve

I’m calling it now, Lucas’s fireworks plan is what saves the day

Okay the talking in the bathroom....Steve isn’t talking about Robin and I’m scared

Okay he was, phew

Dang it, I liked them together

ALEXI NO

I love watching with subtitles *men groan* *carnival music plays*

YOU KNEE THAT MAYOR IN THE BALLS

😂that guy in the background after Joyce punches the mayor “yeah, lady!”

HOPPER GOING DOWN THE SLIDE🤣

Suzie is going to be a Russian just wait

DEM BULLET PROOF VESTS AINT GONNA STOP A CAR

Murray can’t handle the fact that these kids are smarter than him

If Joyce feeping dies I’m going to lose it

“A solid B, which is laudable, given the situation and time constraints” is my new excuse for anything (especially school)

Scoops Troop😍😍

El is pushing herself too hard. Baby we know you CAN do it but that doesn’t mean you should

I love it, they are sending their only Russian speaker away, real smart

Joyce’s Hopper impression is spot on

I stan Detective Byers

YES STEVE ! YAS HIT THAT CAR FIGHT THAT BILLY

SuZiE

FIREWORKS 💥 CALLED IT

BILLY NO

El did NOT just lose her father

Joyce just can’t catch a break

Oh NOW the Calvary arrives

They showed a picture of Barb!

They aren’t bad singers

El doesn’t have powers anymore?

He just called himself her dad I’m going to cry

[writehardwhumpharder]

Suits fic.

So this ended up pretty long, I got a little carried away. I’m not even sure if tumblr will let me post it. I hope you guys like suits as much as I do. Prompt: Okay can I see, like, early Mike just started working at the firm and he's trying to keep up with Harvey's almost non-stop schedule and ends up sick but tries to keep going? Cue "annoyed" (but actually worried) Harvey?

Mike eyed himself in the mirror subconsciously wearing his too-cheap suit, and too-skinny tie. His first couple days had gone well enough, but now he knew what was expected of him and boy was he out of his depth. Sure he could recite the Harvard law book by memory, but that didn’t help much with all the little nuanced details each draft needed. He slipped his files into his bag and slung it over his shoulder then grabbed his bike to lug down the stairs over his head.

By the time he reached the Pearson Hardman building his heart was racing, and not from the 3 miles he just biked through traffic. What the actual hell did I get myself into? he wondered. Mike had made sure to get to the office 40 minutes early in hopes that he’d have time to review the files Louis requested to be done by this morning, but when he got to the office every other associate was already at their cubicles. Only the senior partners weren’t there yet and even they got there a fashionable 15 minutes early. Mike had hardly sat down when Donna came bustling past the cubicles.

“Harvey wants these by lunch but if you’re pressed for time, do this one first. He needs it for a client meeting at 1:15pm which you should attend by the way.” She was gone before he could say good morning. She winked at him as she walked away, making him feel a little better about the cut and dry work of a major law firm. Thank god Louis had taken one good look at him and deemed him capable of only the simplest of cases. He meant it as an insult but on a day like this, he took it with a genuine smile. Before getting buried in his work, Mike opted to take a quick trip to the coffee machine, knowing that for the next few hours he’d be glued to his work station.

The morning went by quickly but Mike managed to finish the file Harvey needed and the easy cases Louis gave him. Despite a few things he had to do for Harvey, he was pretty proud of what he’d been able to finish. It was 1pm the next time Mike looked up from his work, almost time to go meet Harvey. Reading the small print for hours on end was starting to make his eyes sore so Mike was grateful for a short break from it, even if it is just to talk to a client. Mike rubbed his eyes as he crossed the room holding the stack of papers he had prepared. Harvey emerged from his office and wasted no time flipping through the papers.

“Um, good morning. Or afternoon…” Mike mumbled.

“Yeah okay, these are fine but they could be a little cleaner.” Harvey commented, clearly distracted. Mike felt his shoulders sag in mild defeat. For his first week of work “fine” was pretty damn good, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was slaving over files only to stay invisible. Harvey looked up long enough to read his associate’s face. “You know you’re doing really well competing against a bunch of people who actually went to law school.” Harvey teased in a low voice so no one might overhear them. Mike trailed after him towards the conference room already rehearsing in his head what he would say to the client if he had to speak.

Turns out he didn’t. Harvey introduced them both and Mike shook the man’s hand but apart from that he was mostly there to observe and supply information. Mike would hand Harvey a paper with the most important details highlighted every so often as they discussed legal concerns over a faulty product.

“Don’t worry Dave, we’ll stay on top of this. We’ll find a way to cover this long before anyone can file against your company. It’s not my area of expertise but I would suggest issuing a press release with this information as soon as possible.” Harvey said, handing the man a summary of what their plan was in simpler terms. Mike flexed his aching fingers under the table, trying to rub away hours or rather days of hard work. As much of a relief as it was to be able to sit for 30 mins and do next to nothing, he caught himself glancing at his watch multiple times, anxious about every second he didn’t spend working.

After the meeting, Mike dropped off Louis’s files and got to work on the other things Harvey had left him. These would take some research, great, off to the file room it is then. He gathered his things and sat on the floor, scanning through bins of information. If his eyes didn’t hurt before they certainly did now. Words were starting to blur together and he kept sagging more and more out of tiredness until he was basically laying on the ground, propped up on his elbows just enough to be able to read the paper.

—-

At first he wasn’t sure what woke him, a sharp knock, maybe someone was calling his name? He blinked slowly and looked up to see Rachel staring down at him disapprovingly.

“Odd time for a nap don’t you think?” she said.

“Oh my god, Rachel, what time is it?” Mike asked suddenly alert.

“Almost 4pm.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Harvey wants these by the end of the day.” Mike stammered combing through the files to see just how much trouble he was in. If Harvey stayed late today he had a chance of finishing them but he probably had more work for him to do by now anyway. Rachel gave him a sympathetic look.

“Fine,” she huffed, “I’ll help you.” Mike grouped up the documents for her, pairing the papers he was going to use to prove precedent to the sloppy drafts he’d started. Luckily for him she didn’t comment on how bad they were and got to work on rewriting them entirely. Having her there was a welcome distraction to how run down he was. He crossed his fingers hoping that these hellish past few days were some kind of trial by fire and things would settle down soon.

“Okay, these two are done. But that’s all I can help with. You better hurry if you want to catch Harvey on his way out.”

“Mhmm.” Mike responded without looking up, “thank you for the help.” Rachel paused by the door.

“Don’t get used to it.” She said in a tone that was both serious and lighthearted. When Mike finished a few minutes later and leapt to his feet to go find Harvey, he found that both his legs had fallen asleep and fell rather ungracefully back down to the floor. He banged his elbow on the shelf on his way down.

“God damn it.” Mike cursed to himself before trying again, much more successful this time. Harvey’s office was empty but it was just past 5pm so with any luck he’d still be in the lobby. Mike took the stairs for lack of time and scrambled down each floor to the building’s main lobby. Despite going downhill the trip sapped up a surprising amount of energy and he was left panting, one hand leaning on the wall before exiting the stairwell.

Yes! Harvey was still here, he probably only stopped to flirt with the receptionist.

“Ha- Harvey.” he said still a little out of breath, “I’ve got those files you wanted.” Mike said. Harvey took them and shoved them in his briefcase, only to pull out an equally large stack for him.

“Thanks Mike, I was going to give these to you earlier but Donna said you weren’t at your cubicle. I need these by 9am at the latest. And do get some sleep Mike, you look like shit, and we have court tomorrow.” Harvey replied. Mike had completely forgotten about their hearing tomorrow. He ran a hand through his messed up hair and straightened his tie in an attempt to look more professional.

“Sure, Harvey, no problem.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Harvey said before taking off, leaving Mike standing stupidly by the receptionist’s desk. He offered the girl a sheepish smile before heading back up to the office to grab his things in addition to the new assignments Harvey just gave him, this time taking the elevator.

—-

When Mike’s alarm dragged him out of a restless sleep he felt.. bad. Not in any particular way, just bad. And he had a feeling this was the kind of tired coffee couldn’t fix. He’d been up all night, getting only about 2 hours of sleep, which on second thought was more like a glorified nap. After a few more minutes of sulking Mike dragged himself out of bed, hoping a cold shower could perk him up. He grabbed a dull, dark grey suit from his closet and a crisp white shirt, he had to be in court later so now wasn’t the time to be taking fashion risks. He picked up the navy blue tie his grandma got for him when she heard about his fancy new job. The thought put him a little more at ease despite the worsening headache he had. Mike took one glance at his bike on his way out before deciding to just take a taxi. He’d probably puke his guts out trying to bike to work when he felt so crappy.

Mike threw a $20 at the taxi driver before jogging up to the building, he hadn’t planned for the extra time he’d spent stuck in traffic so now he was borderline late. It was clear Harvey was in no mood to deal with his associates lateness. He tried to go easy on the kid but with his schedule, lightening his workload just wasn’t an option. Jessica was already skeptical of his choice so when Mike showed up to his office looking pale and sweaty he had his lecture already planned out, for appearances at the very least.

“Shut the door, Mike.” Harvey said in a clipped voice. “Want to tell me why you’re 15 minutes late and look like you just ran a marathon?” Mike adjusted his tie subconsciously.

“I rode my bike, it’s pretty warm out today.” Mike lied. Harvey was tempted to make a remark about how if he can’t afford a taxi maybe he doesn’t belong here but he knew better. Mike didn’t belong there, and that’s exactly why he chose him.

“Sorry Harvey, I’ve been working really hard to finish these and it’s still before 9am, I- I hope that’s okay.” Mike said. Harvey sighed visibly, looking reminiscent of a disappointed father.

“It’s fine, Mike. Just plan better next time. Be back here in twenty minutes, Ray will drive us to the courthouse and for the love of god, do something to make yourself presentable.”

Mike took that as his cue to leave. At first he headed towards his cubicle but a sinking feeling in his stomach had him walking towards the bathrooms instead. He almost felt hungover, the ache spreading through his body from lack of sleep gave him the distinct feeling of being poisoned. Mike barely managed to keep his composure until he got to the men’s room where he ran the last few feet and collapsed on his knees in front of the toilet. He dry-heaved for a moment, using his brief second of relief to lock the stall door behind him. This time he actually brought up the small bit of breakfast he had. It’s just nerves right? Mike rationalized to himself. He just had to get it together. He didn’t want Harvey to regret hiring him, after all he did try to fire him once already.

As soon as Mike was confident that he was done, he exited the stall and made for the mirror to “make himself presentable” per Harvey’s request. Though Mike had to agree with him, his skin was a dull almost greyish color, which his glistening layer of sweat only helped make more visible. His cheeks were flushed a sickly pink. There wasn’t much he could do besides take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water in his face.

When he met back up with Harvey, he looked and felt worse than he did when he came in.

“Mike I thought I told you to do something about-“ he made a vague gesture to Mike, “that.” Harvey scolded, though Mike thought he detected the slightest hint of concern.

“I did…” Mike said, lacking the energy to make a better argument for himself.

“You know that? Why don’t you sit this one out. It’s not that important, I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff for you to do here.” Harvey said. This was his chance to back out, but Mike was too stubborn to quit just like that.

“No, I’m fine. I want to go, really,” he insisted. Harvey gave him a disbelieving look but he didn’t have time to argue with the kid.

“Fine, let’s go. Ray is waiting outside.” Harvey grabbed his briefcase and walked ahead, leaving Mike to try to keep up with him. He couldn’t help but notice the way his associate leaned heavily against the elevator wall, lacking the youthful energy he always had. He should have his earbuds in right now, listening to some ridiculous playlist to psych himself up. The doors opened before he had a chance to comment on it.

Mike felt truly awful at this point. He was starting to doubt whether or not he’d make it through the hearing. As long as he could stay sitting, everything would be fine. He all but fell into the seat next to Harvey and lazily reached up to grab his seatbelt. Harvey saw his minor struggle and opted to just grab the seatbelt and click it for him.

“Get it together, Mike. I’m serious. ‘Cause if you can’t, I’ll have Ray drop you off at home.” Harvey said.

“No!” Mike whined, “I’ve got it.” he said. They continued the rest of the ride in silence, luckily the courthouse wasn’t very far away.

Harvey strode into the courtroom with his usual confidence and grace. Mike on the other hand stumbled a bit, gripping the edges of the rows of chairs to steady himself. No turning back now. It was a simple case, all they were doing was filing a motion to allow them access to a rival companies records, but you could hardly call any case of Harvey’s simple. He was representing some of the wealthiest businessmen in New York. They quickly took their seats and waited for the judge. Mike could practically feel the sweat seeping through his shirt, he was uncomfortably hot now and the nausea was coming back despite his stomach being completely empty from earlier. He stared down at the desk in front of him and tried to focus on breathing.

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked, no longer trying to hide his concern. Mike just nodded in response, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He started shaking his leg impatiently until Harvey told him to knock it off.

“All rise.” A woman said as the judge entered. Mike forced himself to stand but he kept his hands firmly planted on the table. Harvey walked up to the stand and started talking. Okay Mike, just relax, everything is gonna fine, you’re- oh god. The dizziness was pressing in on him from all directions and his vision started to tunnel. He looked up to watch Harvey, though he couldn’t hear much of anything. He pressed a hand to his stomach and closed his eyes as the dizziness and fatigue made his stomach churn. He was pretty sure he was dangerously dehydrated at this point as well since he’s been running on coffee the last few days. Without Harvey next to him to stop him, he started tapping his foot again and used his other hand to rest his head. Mike knew how he must look but nothing could distract him from of primary goal of not throwing up right there in the middle of the courtroom. Harvey kept looking back to him anxiously but couldn’t disrespect the judge by interrupting him to go check on Mike. Turns out, he didn’t have to. Mike swayed slightly in his chair, his head was too foggy to know up from down and before he knew it he was sliding towards the floor, helpless to stop it.

Harvey heard a thud and whipped his head around to see Mike in the floor, struggling to get on his knees.

“Mike!” he called out to him. He knew he should have sent him home, but Mike was trying so hard to impress him he worked himself to his absolute breaking point. “What’s going on?” He asked, trying to sound calm as he moved the chairs out of the way so he could get to him.

“I- I’m fine.” Mike muttered weakly.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Harvey said as he grabbed Mike and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“But… but the case.”

“Already taken care of.” Harvey said. Which turned out to be true when the judge’s assistant ran up to them with the signed documents on their way out.

“Feel better.” she smiled. If Mike wasn’t so out of it he would be absolutely mortified right now. The last thing he remembered before drifting to sleep was Harvey helping him up the stairs to his apartment, taking off his jacket and shoes before letting Mike sleep this off. Despite how terribly the day had gone, Harvey knew he made the right choice.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #22: It All Begins Again

Mar 14, 2019 at 1:01am MNB, FSW, and 5 more like thisPost by bishopchurch on Mar 14, 2019 at 1:01am The setting was absolutely magnificent. It was a warm early spring day. The sky was blue with the occasional wisp of cloud, seeming to exist more for aesthetics than any threat of rain. The afternoon sun provided a refreshing warmth, welcome after a long winter chill. This glorious sky was reflected in the small lake, but still, this enchanting sight paled in comparison to the loveliness at its shores. This was Shinjuku Gyonen National Gardens in Tokyo, and Japan’s cherished sakura were in bloom. At the lakeside, and in fact, throughout the large garden park, stately cherry trees bore full, lush displays of sweetly fragrant pale pink blossoms. Several groups of people walked over the bridges and shady paths to see them, to fully appreciate their beauty while it was there to enjoy. And sitting on a picnic blanket under one of these beautiful trees, nibbling on a snack of mochi and amazake, were the EWC Tag Team Champions. Leaning back on the heel of one palm, Mike McGuire polished off her piece of red bean mochi, licked her fingers clean, and grinned at the camera. “Sorry if it’s a little rude to be chowing down on camera, Faithful. See, me and Church are partaking in a Japanese spring tradition. When the cherry blossoms start blooming like this, people from all walks of life like to have picnics and parties under them. Y’know, have something good to eat, enjoy each other’s company, and savor what I gotta admit are some really fuckin’ gorgeous flowers. They call it hanami, and the people here’ve been doing some variation of it for centuries.” A sudden breeze jarred a blossom loose from its mooring, and the flower drifted slowly downward. Reaching up a small cup, Mike managed to catch it. “This stuff’s amazake, by the way. All the tradition of sake without the booze. It ain’t half bad. But anyway. The cherry blossoms. They got meaning here. Cherry blossoms- sakura, as the people here say it- are a beautiful flower, but they don’t last very long. About two weeks, tops, then they rain down all their petals and they’re gone. They say that the short, beautiful life of the sakura is a metaphor for life and death, but since they come back every spring to blossom again, they’re also a symbol of renewal.” Looking down into her cup, Mike’s smile grew a bit wistful. “So, it’s been a whole year since these flowers’ve shown up. And y’know, it’s been a whole year almost since something else showed up, too.” John set his cup down in front of him. “The biggest show of the year.” “Stranglemania. The Grandaddy of ‘em all, like they say. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited as all hell. There’s something about this time of year. It’s kind of like a fuckin’ electrical current and I think everybody can feel it buzzing in their spines and teeth and tingling all over their skin. Everybody wants to make their best just a little better, reach a little higher, fight a little harder. Pull themselves… heh. A little higher up the ladder.” Sipping at the amazake around the blossom, Mike followed her partner’s suit and set her cup aside as well. “Let’s talk about one year ago.” John reached behind, just around the dark wood trunk of the cherry tree. He retrieved the prize of this upcoming bout: the EWC Tag Team Championships. He set them in front of Mike and himself. “One year ago, these were an afterthought.” And he let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “And the team that held them? They considered them secondary to their greater aspirations. Harvey Yorke. Toni Gunn. The Moors Murders held these titles for just about a year. And they talked a big game but at the end of the day, they were champions of an anemic division consisting of long defunct ‘teams’ and random pairings. And then for nearly six months, they were held hostage by one man. Then, transferred to a team that we knew…” John tapped the front plate of the championship. “We KNEW wouldn’t last. Mike and I? We liberated these and piece by piece we have rebuilt this division to something that is actually worth supporting. All of these new teams? They want these. And it’s because they want to face us.” Mike nodded, shouldering her belt. “Despite what some chumps may say, these two little golden beauties have, in the course of a year, become everybody’s darling. You got tag teams popping up like rabbits all wanting to get their paws on these karats. We watched them all line up and one by one, they all got knocked out, till we’re left with just one. One team that through sheer fucking mettle earned the right to face us and try their luck. But despite a juggernaut showing in the #1 Contender tournament, Shock and Awe are still new. So maybe we ought to fill them in on what they’re dealing with, y’know, just in case they haven’t done their due fuckin’ dilligence.” She leaned forward, fingers drumming over one of the sideplates on the leather strap. “You see, you two, Stranglemania ain’t the only thing that’s been a year in the making. This year, you’re the new kids in town. But a year ago? So were we. Shit, when we first met I wasn’t even a wrestler anymore.” “And me? I had just debuted. Killjoy Ito had just shown me in my debut that I was far from being in ring shape. And my contribution at last year’s big show was being attacked from behind by Dominic Sanders.” John shook his head. “Some things never change.” Mike tisked. “Hindsight’s 20/20. I shoulda thought of that before I got chummy with the fucker in the first place, but hey, at least I got a friend out of it. Just not him. But I digress. It wasn’t long after last year’s show that we debuted as a tag team. And after an early stumble that I can barely even remember? We took off running and never stopped. We ran all the way to my hometown, grabbed the gold, and we’re still running, stride for stride.” “And now we’re here. Lots of unknowns swirling together for a seemingly perfect storm to upend our reign. Last time we were in Tokyo, we ended up flat on our backs due to the aforementioned villain. And a ladder match? Never been in one of those before. You?” “Not that I can remember.” Mike shrugged. “But you know, I never really tagged before this and it seems to be working out pretty good so far. And heights don’t bother me much. So what the hell, they say you should try new shit while travelling abroad, and I’m willing to expand that to the business as well as the local culture.” “The biggest unknown to us out of all of this? Our opponents. Curtis Mars. Freya Hobs.” Mike tapped at her chin a bit, looking up through the pink blossoms in thought. “Yeah, our own due diligence has been a little lacking. I mean, you guys did just get here and all. But there’s some things that are plain to see- you just may be the only team we’ve faced so far that can come close to matching our synch. We’ve watched the matches you’ve had here. We see the way you communicate without even saying nothin’, the way you take each other’s direction by instinct. We’ve got that too. I mean, we don’t have the ‘pawing all over each other to the point of dry humping on camera’ thing going on, but hey, we ain’t gonna judge. You kids do you. But what it comes down to is, our synch alone ain’t gonna be enough to get us through this one- but neither is yours.” John gave Mike a quick look. It was shared. “To paraphrase the Stones: can’t always get what you want but you get what you need. Mike and I wanted The Limit. We wanted the culmination of our greatest rivalry on the biggest stage possible. But all of that talk about unlimiting themselves?” His shoulders slumped, showing his disappointment. “Just talk. And then we could have went another round with Criterion. We could have used another laugh. But Mars, Hobs, here you are. Our challengers. And after some deliberation, you two will probably be our toughest opponents to date.” “And that’s just fine with us. You two, you seem to thrive off pain. I can get that, kinda- the adrenaline rush, the taste of blood in your mouth, everything hurting but only wanting to get up and keep fucking pounding. But that ain’t what we thrive off of. What drives us in that ring is challenge. Competition. And to be frank, we’ve been disappointed in that regard by a couple’a Vikings before, but I got the idea in this head of mine that you’re gonna be different. I talked before about a fight that you can talk about in Valhalla. I have the feeling in my bones that this just might be it. But make no mistake. You’re gonna push us to that limit, that orange and green line that we’ve drawn out. But you’re not going to pass it.” Suddenly, John stood up, taking his half of the belts and putting it over his right shoulder. Mike’s last words hovered for effect as John took in his surroundings. “That’s cliche, I know. Anything could happen. But here’s why. We can’t let you. Curtis, Freya. Husband and wife. Tag team. You may move like us. You may speak like us. You may even win like us. But Shock and Awe is a pale imitation at best. Coming up from behind us, running through what we’ve already conquered. You two do your homework well enough. And maybe we could attribute all of this to how great minds think alike but that would be a lie. We are nothing alike except for what you take from us. But certainly not these.” Mike rose up as well, taking a slight step to the side to stand closer to her partner. “Remember what I said about the sakura blossoms? Life, death, and renewal. Both Church and I…” She breathed in. Exhaled. “We’ve had lives full of promise, and then both hit very different events that could’ve killed us literally and did kill us in different ways. Ways we lived through, but took something from us. The kind of pain I doubt even you couple’a masochists would get a kick out of. You talk about pain and brutality all the time, but I have a feeling even you would’ve squirmed at the stuff we’ve lived through. But then there’s that third factor. We came here a year ago as near strangers, and together? We fucking rose. Everything fell away, and here we are now. Alive again. Renewed.” “Thanks to Mike, I feel like I’ve discovered who I am.” There was a hitch in his words as he qualified his words directly to the camera. “In this profession.” Mike, for once, didn’t respond verbally, but gave a sage sort of nod. “But why can’t we let you take these from us? In the physical sense - these are what? Metal plates screwed into leather? They represent a status in this company. Champions. The standard-bearers. I wish I could explain it better but it’s more to us.” The Bronx Brawler nodded along with that, affirming her partner’s words. “You either get it or you don’t. The great champions in history, in any division, understood that. It’s an understanding that made any strap that you won through the sweat of your brow and the blood in your veins worth defending with all your fucking heart. Even the ones that seem beneath everyone else’s time and effort.” “So what would these mean to Shock and Awe? Apparently very little to Mars. Curtis, you admitted as much before relieving Xavier Reid of his. And to Freya and yourself, it’s just a means to an end. That’s why. That is why. These aren’t to be just had. We are THE premier tag team in this company. And that is because we give this division and these championships the respect that they deserve. That is why if we could we’d defend them every night we stepped into the ring. Shock and Awe as tag team champions returns us to where we were all before this.” As if on a subtle cue, the camera angle began to change, lowering and tilting upward into a distinct Dutch angle- from here, the already giant Church looked impossibly massive, and even the smaller McGuire looked distinctly more imposing. “That’s why we can’t let you take these. You don’t really care. We care more than you could possibly imagine. No. We need to hold on to these because with every defense, the Tag Team Championships become more synonymous with us. That fuckin’ synonymy solidifies our future spot in the Hall of Fame every single time we walk away with these. Not as two singles competitors, but as the very best pure tag team that the EWC has ever seen or will see again. The once, present, and future kings.” “Curtis, Freya, you two seem to know a lot about everyone. How much they weigh. What they call their moves. What they ate for breakfast. None of that matters. Those are the details you learn - not regurgitate into soundbytes. We know who you are and that is a return to the status quo. You shouldn’t worry much about that, though. You’ll have your singles careers to fall back on just in case things don’t work out. Ask Carlos Ruiz that. Iggy Swango, too. Great champions in their own right but unable to hang in a division where individual aspirations take a backseat. They’ve found their calling now. And so has Curtis with his nicknames and penchant for cruelty. Freya, as well, just within reach of her own opportunity that will certainly come in some other form another day.” “The slaughterhouse FSW is turning into seems right up her alley. So go. Curtis, you have a great run as X Division champion, make yourself the true Warden of Extreme. Freya, claw your way to the FSW Championship, if things don’t become so warped down there that any sort of victory is fucking impossible. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours. But don’t think you can just hold hands, decide just because you’re both married and nuttier than squirrel turds that you make a tag team worthy of carrying these, and beat us. Because let me clue you in on something.” Mike leaned down. Her green eyes were harsh and sharp. As if responding to the mood of NSFW’s words, a particularly fluffy cloud drifted lazily in front of the sun, casting the sunlit park in an extended pall of shadow. “Your concept of barbarism and mayhem isn’t new to us. A little of that due diligence I mentioned would’ve told you that.” The scene of the sakura-laden garden is interrupted jarringly with a flash-film montage. Grizzly Duggan being told, through a hard knee and a Mack-force punch to the mouth, to Batter Up, Motherfucker, a thunderous crowd leaping to their feet as new Tag Team Champions were crowned. “Violent.” Arya Melon struggling to no avail, desperate to escape Bishop Church’s ironclad grip before everything darkens for her, the Melon Wolf falling unconscious. “Brutal.” Mike being popped up in the air by strong, trusted arms only to plummet downward toward her target, the end result being a hard forearm crashing right into Yeshwa’s face. “Explosive.” Nina Samson hit with a vicious redheaded cannonball of a diving headbutt, the ambitious dreams of the young woman dashed with three slaps to the mat. “Sadistic.” All manner of vicious ferocity- not just from Mike, who one would expect that sort of thing from, but more jarringly from the outwardly gentle-natured Church as well. Both dispensing all forms of punishment both in pursuit and defense of their Tag Team gold. The scene reset back to them and visual softened back to normal, the camera angle straightening back to a traditional face-forward. “That’s us. You’ve talked and talked and talked about what you’re capable of to the others in your way and you’ve proven that you’re better against impromptu tag teams and a pair of braggadocious nobodies.” “But like we’ve said a few times before- ain’t nobody like us but us. We’re like nothing you’ve ever seen before or will again. There is no preparing for what’s ahead of you. Notethe Sakura Flower’s Wisdom- we live, we die, we live again. And we’ve crawled too far out of our own personal underworlds to be stopped by anyone. Try though. Try with all your might to shock us and leave us in fuckin’ awe, or you won’t stand a chance.” Mike sat back down along with her partner, poured them both another cup of amazake, and together, they tipped their cups toward the camera in a ‘salut’ gesture. “See you at Stranglemania.”

[redgoldblue]

Honestly I really wanna write a Marvey Vegas AU where they’re both like semi-famous professional poker players but they work different places so they’ve both managed to become semi-famous without ever having met or played each other, each just knows vaguely of the other one as Their Major Competition. But then there’s like. a big poker marathon or something (as you may have guessed the major thing stopping me from writing this apart from my three other WIPs is my complete lack of knowledge about professional card playing) and they’re both keep winning their initial games (obviously) and they know eventually they’re gonna be playing each other and they start respectively freaking the fuck out because a) Ross/Specter is supposed to be really good and I mean I know I’m good but also let me start practicing literally every waking moment i have to win this or Donna/Rachel is never going to let me live it down and honestly more so because b) we keep passing each other in the halls because we’re both staying in the hotel it’s being run at and uhhhhhh he’s hot. How did I never know this. Why did no-one ever bother to inform me of this. Goddamnit.

So then it’s like the semifinals round and they’re finally facing each other and they’re both nervous as hell but also absolutely determined to win this but see here’s the thing - they play completely differently (which is basically canon anyway). Mike watches the cards and performs mathematical probability calculations instantaneously and honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t been banned yet for counting cards - Harvey watches the people he’s playing against, figures out their tells as soon as looking at them, and, well - ‘plays the man, not the odds’. And they’re both really fucking good at what they do, and at playing defensively against their own tactics - Mike is very careful about revealing what cards he has by his moves, Harvey has The Poker Face To Die For and has eliminated all tells (or so he thinks) - but those are useless against each other. But the thing is, they’re equally useless, so they end up almost on a level playing field again, only both of them feel equally like they’re floundering and like this person is actually... a terrible player? I know exactly what cards they’ve got? But they also seem to know exactly what I have so what the fuck. But they come away from one round and realise what’s happening (or rather, their respective friends who’ve been watching do and tell them), so when they go back they’ve both tried to adjust, but are also ready to trash-talk the fuck out of each other as thinly disguised flirting. 

Harvey wins barely bc it’s a little bit easier to adjust your moves on short notice than to hide your subtle tells, and offers gloatingly to buy Mike a drink with the proceeds, which Mike agrees to because at least that way he’s getting some of his money back in the form of alcohol. Only then they start properly talking, about poker at first but then about music and movies and their friends and their Encounters With The Law and before they know it it’s 2am and they’re both drunk as hell and somehow it seems perfectly reasonable when Harvey ends up in Mike’s room and then in Mike’s bed and oh look at that in Mike. Don’t know how that happened. But then of course Harvey flees the next morning before Mike wakes up because it’s Harvey, and they studiously avoid each other for the next two days until uh-oh, someone’s been disqualified for cheating and guess who’s back in the tournament and determined to fucking thrash Harvey Specter that no-good gloating running still unnecessarily handsome bastard? That’s right it’s Mike ‘identified-his-tells’ Ross, and he’s ready to fight. Oh, and also? He’s been watching all the footage he can find of Specter’s past games and he’s identified a goddamn tell so take that. (Rachel has tried to suggest that perhaps he’s being a little... overly combative about this but he hasn’t listened.)

Mike wins this time, winning the tournament and forcing Harvey to descend from his emotional pedestal for a hot minute and notice that he was really passionate about rubbing it in his face but also there was an undercurrent of hurt in all those comments and oh shit now he’s guilty. No he doesn’t like that. Shit now he’s gotta apologise for running doesn’t he. (Donna in the background: YEs you fucking do! Louis next to her: she’s been saying this for three days!) So he finds Mike at the idk afterparty, suggests that maybe Mike should buy the drinks this time after cleaning him out, and sheepishly manages to apologise, leaving Mike sorta astounded both at the fact that he did and at how relieved it made him feel. Mike suggests that he could help Harvey with the memory/calculation stuff as a sorta peace offering, and in return Harvey says that while he was really much better this time, he still had one tell that cropped up a few times. There’s a little tic, just below his mouth, when he’s got a good card. Although, in the process of watching that, he also noticed he had very nice lips. Also now he’s pointing it out so his hand’s there and it’d be real easy to just move that to the side of his face and now they’re kissing in a decidedly public bar.

Anyway they become the Vegas Poker Power Couple and teach each other their styles and become basically invincible. Eventually they both do start being banned from places for counting cards and simultaneously agree that it was getting boring anyway they were too good but hey they’re rich now and didn’t you say you always wanted to go to law school? Wait, didn’t you say that? Well, hey, we’ve got nothing else to do with our piles of money so let’s go for it and we can set up a practice with our weirdly large number of friends already in the legal profession after sounds like a plan

[penwieldingdreamer]

Caring Makes You Weak

So, as there are too few Harvey Specter Stories and inspiration finally striked again while rewatching Suits I decided to rework an old story of mine and post it on here, too.

Hope you guys will like it. Let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

Also shout out to my beta @fortheloveoffanfic​

Summary: Harvey Specter, best closer in New York City and Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, the man most females in the city want, yet he himself doesn't want commitment, because caring makes one weak. Enter Elle Howard, a woman he met a long time ago. Will she be the one to break down his walls and make him care?

Words: 1704

(Coverart still pending)

"Mommy? Can we see daddy today?" the three-year old's question sounded from the back of the car as the young mother was on her way to drop her two children off at daycare and school. 

A deep sigh left Elle's lips when she stopped at a red light. "I don't think he's got time today." she said, keeping her mouth shut about her ex-husband's questioning ability to spend more than five minutes with his kids. 

"He doesn't have time because he doesn't want us anymore, Izzy, he's got a new family." her son ranted angrily. Ever since Travis and her had split up, the seven year old pulled away from her. He was easily irritated and his grades were suffering. Elle wasn't able to spend as much time with her children as she used to when she was still married to Travis Tanner. During that time she used to be a stay-at-home-mom, but now she had to work odd jobs to keep her kids in the same facilities as they were right now. She didn't want to take that away from them when they already had so much on their plate. 

"Charles Henry Tanner, stop it. Don't talk like that to your sister." she called, only just taking her eyes off the road for the fraction of a second. It was enough time for the light to change again and another car speeding towards them. 

Mike raced towards Harvey's office, the files tightly gripped in his hand. His heart was racing, reading through the Pro Bono. Donna looked up from her desk, her eyes widening when she saw the associate come running down the hallway. 

"Mike!" she called, getting up from her chair. "What's going on?" 

He held up his hand and stormed into the office. "Harvey, I need your help." 

Looking up, the closer opened his mouth but closed it again when he saw the wild look in Mike's eyes. "What the hell are you doing storming in here?" Ever since the younger man had lost his beloved Grammy and the problems with Daniel Hardman, Harvey had been irritated to no end, not even Donna being reinstated had helped lighten his mood. 

"Louis gave me that case. I can't take it." he answered, putting the folder onto his boss' desk. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing in the office, his long strides taking him from the corner window to the door and back again. 

Harvey took the files, reading through the case notes, cursing on the inside, while not showing his own reaction to his associate. "So? What do you want me to do about this?" 

"This is a custody case. I never did that and it's Tanner's ex-wife." the younger man argued. "He's going to rip this case apart. There's no chance I can beat him." 

Leaning back in his chair, Harvey Specter watched his associate. He knew what he was capable of, but Travis was a pitbull in court. "How about you talk to his ex-wife and get started, I'll look into the rest of the case." 

"Elle's my neighbor, Harvey." Mike told him, falling down into the chair in front of the desk. "When I lose that case, she's going to lose her kids. Tanner doesn't even want to spend time with his kids anymore, he's got a new family now. They might as well end up with a foster family." 

Rubbing his chin, the lawyer turned around and looked out of the window. "What exactly happened?" 

"Actually I would have loved to have you come with me to ask that question." 

"Mike, I can't" 

"I cleared your schedule, Harvey. You should go with the puppy." Donna's voice sounded over the intercom, the smile on her lips clear as a day. 

Harvey turned to the glass wall of his office, seeing his secretary looking at him. He raised his eyebrow, giving her a warning look. "I thought we had an agreement about you listening in." The redhead just shrugged her shoulders and gave him her typical 'Donna' look. "Right, let's go ask some questions." 

Together, the lawyer and his associate stood in front of Elle Howard's apartment, the one just down the hall from Mike's. 

"Harvey, please be gentle this time. They took the kids from her as soon as they were checked out from the hospital." he told his boss, fidgeting with his tie. 

Rolling his eyes, the closer hit him in the chest. "Stop it, Mike. You know her, what are you nervous about?" He raised his hand and knocked on the door. 

"I just don't want to let her down, you know." he answered, looking at his boss and friend. 

Before he could answer, the door opened and Harvey felt his breath catch. It wasn't that he was shocked by the beauty of the woman leaning in the doorway watching them closely, not that she wasn't beautiful even with the cuts and bruises on her face and body, but he remembered those eight years ago. "Elle." 

"Harvey." 

Swallowing, the closer and his rookie entered the apartment after the redhead. Mike gave his friend a questioning look before he shook his head. "You know her?" he angrily whispered, pointing his thumb at Elle. Harvey just shook his head and walked over to the couch where the younger woman was already seated. 

"So, Tanner and you?" he opened his questioning, leaning back on the couch next to his associate. 

Chuckling softly, Elle looked over at the lawyer. "That's what your first question is going to be? I thought you'd at least have the nerve to ask me how I am doing." 

"Elle, listen, I'm sorry that we showed up like this, can you tell us what happened the day of the accident?" Mike intervened, sending his boss and mentor a dark look. 

Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the mother-of-two sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say? I'm just happy that my kids are fine and didn't get hurt. Do you have any idea when I can see them again?" 

Clearing his throat, Harvey watched her closely. "Your ex-husband has filed for custody, Mrs Tanner, also banned you from seeing the children until trial is over."

"I'm going by Howard now, already done that for the last two years." Elle bit back, fidgeting in her seat, when she felt tears spring to her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong for that jerk to deny me my kids. He didn't even want them in the first place, Travis gave me sole custody but no money for Izzy and Charlie." 

Getting up from the plush couch she moved over towards the window, looking down at the numerous picture frames showing her wonderful children. They were her life and not having them here with her was tearing her up inside.  "It was only a second." she started, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Harvey watched her closely, remembering the weekend they had spent together, while his associate rested his eyes on him. Never in his life would Mike have believed that the notorious Harvey Specter would show emotion, besides that one time they were smoking pot in his apartment. "Izzy wanted to see Travis, I told her that he didn't have time, like always and Charlie, he's been so angry ever since we split up. I just, the light was green when we drove off and it, I only just turned my head to look at Charlie. Next thing I know both my kids are standing outside, next to the car with the EMTs while the FDNY is pulling apart my car."

"Okay, please don't think I'm being rude but I have to ask." the associate started, earning raised eyebrows from his boss. "Were you drinking or taking medication that would lead to any failure of sight or control of your body." 

Shaking her head, Elle turned back to the lawyer and his protégé. "There were no drugs and no alcohol, the only thing I took was some mild medication for my headache."

"That, that's good. We can work with that. We'll have to check the traffic cameras, there might be something there that police missed in the beginning." Mike told her, adjusting his shoulder bag before both Harvey and he stood up. "We'll get back to you as soon as we got something for the case." 

The lawyer buttoned up his jacket and nodded at his associate to wait outside. "I'll be right there, Mike." 

"I'm glad he finally got his life together." Elle said, looking over at the closed front door. 

Clearing his throat, Harvey watched the mother-of-two. "How have you been doing?" It had been a while since he saw her but she hadn't changed one bit. "It's been a while, Elle."

"I got married to a dick head, he screwed me over with his secretary and now he took my kids away. I'd say I'm doing quite good." she pointed out, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, knowing if he'd move just one muscle he'd compromise everything they'd need to work for. "I'm sorry about Tanner, I had the privilege to meet him twice now and the last time I decked him." 

"Good for you, Harvey, he probably deserved it." Elle whispered, not knowing how to act around him. "So - uhm - do you think I got a chance to get my kids back?" 

"We're going to try everything in our power to win this." 

She raised her eyebrows at the dark haired lawyer. "Try?" 

"Do." he corrected, "We'll do everything to win. Mike is the best and brightest associate Pearson Hardman ever had." 

Giving him a small smile. "I'm glad you took my case. I trust Mike, and I trust you. All I want you to do is give it your best, I don't want my kids ending up with a foster family." 

"I promise." Harvey said moving toward the door, opening it and watching his associate fidget in the hallway. "Ready to tackle Tanner?" 

Mike turned to his boss, already seeing the determination written across his face. "We're tackling him?" 

"He ain't gonna know what hit him." 

[statusquoergo]

Part I

Apparently Alex managed to sway Katrina with his last pitch, because here she is showing up in Faye’s office late at night to inform her that “if Harvey testifies tomorrow, so will [she].” Uh, okay.

Except that Katrina’s not threatening to testify to the truth or anything; she plans to accuse Faye of “[asking her] to use [her] friendship with the other side, and when [she] refused, [Faye] got rid of [her].” Faye points out that this is a lie, and Katrina counters that it doesn’t matter because “it’s also the third time [she’ll] be accused of wrongful termination, only this time, it’s a crime,” and I’m confused, is she talking about the three strikes law? Because that refers to persistent violent offenders, not civil disputes; Faye could be accused of wrongfully terminating a hundred employees, that doesn’t necessarily make it illegal. Or is she saying that this time she’s accusing Faye of committing a crime that led to the wrongful termination? I guess this is that perjury thing Louis was warning Gretchen about, and wow, of all the people I expected to try to pull it off, Katrina was way down there on the list.

Not surprisingly, Faye follows Harvey through the lobby to accuse him of putting Katrina up to threatening her, which Harvey denies, and that’s technically true, but no matter, because Faye called for a one-day continuance for Harvey to get Katrina off the witness list (even though that’s not appropriate cause for a continuance to be granted, not to mention the fact that if they didn’t keep rushing everything, they might actually have time to deal with this sort of shit in the normal course of business the way they’re supposed to). Harvey refuses unless she puts their “entire agreement into writing” so she can’t “move the goalposts another fucking inch,” and this is so stupid that it has to be on purpose but I still can’t figure out what the hell is going on.

The next day, Faye is surprised to find all the major players waiting in the conference room to bear witness to her signing this agreement with Harvey, making a big show of their united front, so I’m guessing that whatever their big plan is…this is it. Gretchen gives Faye the document for review, and right on cue, Mike and Samantha burst onto the scene to accuse Harvey of tampering with Mike’s witness (Katrina), prompting Faye to accuse him of “[playing] dirty in [her] name”; Harvey defends that he stopped her from testifying, just as Faye asked, and Mike demands to know if that’s true, and Faye tells him not to “twist this,” and like, is their plan just to create confusion? Because it’s working. It’s dumb, but it’s working. Harvey and Mike yell at each other until Harvey shoves Mike, Samantha yells at Harvey and pretends to punch him (she does “punch” him, it just looks super fake), Gretchen putters around furtively in the background, and oh my god are they really doing what I think they’re doing?

With a heavy sigh, Faye signs the document, informing them all that “[she] can’t wait to put [them] all behind [her],” thereby prompting Louis to smugly tell her to “get the hell out right now” because yes they did do exactly what I was hoping they hadn’t: They tricked her into signing the document Gretchen swapped for the agreement, “an order for Harvey to witness tamper by any means necessary” that, in combination with the facts that “Katrina came to see [her] last night and there’s a record of it in the lobby downstairs, and after she did, [Faye] went to see Harvey, and there’s a record of that too,” makes her look guilty as fuck. And sure, “it may be bullshit, but to a jury, it’s gonna look like a hot fudge sundae.” (What the fuck does that mean?) Faye proceeds to go off the deep end a little, shouting that she’ll never back down and that Harvey is a blight, and a real fight almost starts brewing until Harvey kicks them all out so he can “give [Faye] the thing [she’s] wanted since the moment [she] got here, but not the way [she] wanted it,” and I get that he needs to get the last word in and everything, but this whole “patronizing asshole” routine is really off-putting.

The motley crew bustles off to a different conference room to fret that even Harvey’s best efforts might not be enough to get rid of Faye, but lucky them, Harvey makes a hero’s return about five seconds later to announce that Faye’s “packing her shit as [they] speak.” Louis immediately hires Samantha back, seconded by Alex if for no other reason than “finally giving Harvey what he’s always had coming” when she punched him in the face, and Louis needs to know what Harvey did to convince Faye to leave, but Harvey’s not telling yet. Or ever. I bet it was something super scandalous. Anyway Donna makes a speech about how much they love each other and therefore they should go out for drinks even though it’s like, ten in the morning, and that’s something you can do when you’re your own boss, so off they go.

This episode is basically two episodes scotch-taped together, so I want to pause here at the end of the first installment to talk for a minute about what just happened.

For nine episodes, the looming threat over this firm, and all these characters’ livelihoods, has been Faye Richardson’s attempts to put their affairs in order, to stop their habit of “crossing lines” (re: committing disbarrable offenses) to win their cases. It’s not an unreasonable request; in fact, they could easily get rid of her at any time by bringing the firm up to code, so to speak, but these rebels with a cause can’t stand being told what to do, so no one’s going to be entertaining that option. Okay, fine; we’re not going to take the easy way out, so instead the entire season is twisted into knots to find new and increasingly ludicrous excuses for them to do battle, all the while trying to weave in all the backstory that could’ve been built up at any previous time but probably wasn’t even conceived of until the moment it was thrown into this melting pot.

This disjointed narrative leads to a serious problem in trying to craft a satisfying resolution to this story: There’s nowhere to go but sideways. Faye established right at the start of her tenure that she would have no qualms about demoting or firing anyone who she deemed to be acting inappropriately, so the question there has never been whether someone would be fired (Chekhov’s gun and all that) but rather who, and, to a lesser extent, why. Louis was demoted but remained at the firm in essentially the same capacity, Samantha was fired but kept right on working with all her former coworkers, Katrina was fired immediately before the finale and therefore only kept in limbo for half an episode; none of these actions have any weight because they don’t have any serious consequences, not to mention it’s so obvious that everything will return to normal when all is finally said and done. There is no sense of mounting tension; however they planned to get rid of Faye, it couldn’t result in a hero’s reward after a long and hard-fought battle because every time they’ve gone up against her, it’s just been another parallel version of them trying to get away with business as usual under slightly different circumstances. The entire game has been played on normal mode and we’ve barely even bothered to leave the training area; the thing that finally does her in isn’t even a particularly clever ploy or masterful legal maneuver, merely that the sleight of hand happened to work this time around.

Except that it shouldn’t have worked, because it makes no sense. And as much as that ought to be the slogan anytime Suits tries to pull any sort of legal shenanigans, if they’re ever going to pretend to know what they’re doing, shouldn’t it be now? I guess they’ve made it this far, they might as well go all the way.

So Faye signs one copy of a document which makes her appear to have directed Harvey to tamper with a witness; this document is not notarized, the only witnesses to its signing stand to benefit directly from the signatory’s expulsion from the firm, no one in their right mind, much less a veteran officer of the court, would ever put something like that in writing, and as I said, this is the only copy, and there’s literally nothing stopping her from destroying it. Their supporting evidence is a lobby record of Katrina’s visit to see Faye the previous night; while it’s certainly possible that this building requires listing a point of contact before admission, the fact that Faye was surprised by Katrina’s appearance (“Katrina, you’re not permitted to be here”) makes that unlikely, meaning Katrina was almost certainly documented as a visitor to the firm, meaning that, as far as anyone not bearing witness to these events knows, she could have met with anyone there for any reason. The next piece of evidence, that Faye immediately went to see Harvey after Katrina left, is even more ludicrous, if possible; she followed him to the lobby, so there would be no record of their meeting unless they’re talking about a video recording, but even so, it’s perfectly reasonable to think that two coworkers might be discussing any number of things in the building where they work, so that’s hardly conclusive. At best, this all boils down to a case of she-said, they-said, built on a teetering mountain of conjecture, hearsay, perjury, and fabricated evidence that would force any self-respecting judge to acquit, putting them all right back where they started, but with a lot less patience for each other’s bullshit.

Except that none of this matters anyway, because, spoiler alert, Harvey only gets Faye to leave by promising to leave as well, framing it as some big sacrifice even though this is how he planned to end things all along. So Donna can make her speech about them all risking everything for each other to get Faye out, and they can all go out together to celebrate a job well done, but when it comes right down to it, at the end of the day, none of their parlor tricks really worked, and the war was only won when Harvey made the decision to throw himself down upon his sword for the rest of them. And even then, he didn’t sustain much of a wound, having already lined up a position at Mike’s firm where I doubt he’s going to stay a junior partner for very long.

I’m just saying that after all the buildup, after all the manufactured tension…this is kind of a letdown. Or, well, it would be, but I said I was keeping my expectations low and this is exactly why.

Onto the second half!

Part III