#the first chapter is here!! huzzah

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

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

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

Length: 14.2k

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

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

“Ross. Mike Ross.” 

“Cut the Bond schtick.” 

“I’m a contender.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s at your two o’clock.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here often?” 

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

-- 

“...Annually, at least.”

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

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

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

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

“What did Mike tell you?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around. 

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

Well, he was hard to miss. 

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

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

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

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

“Target acquired.”

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

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

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

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

“If I had a nickel.” 

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

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

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?” 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.” 

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.” 

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

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

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight. 

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

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head. 

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

“Really.” 

“Mm…N—...No—?” 

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

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

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

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

“What could have happened there, I wonder?” 

“You must not have taken care.” 

“Of what?” 

Of me. “Of anything.” 

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

“Friends of yours?” 

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

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

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

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

“And this is Harvey Specter.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I took a crack at writing it myself.” 

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

“I look forward to it.” 

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

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

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

“Thirteen,” You sighed. 

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?” 

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

“It’s an open bar.” 

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

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

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

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.” 

“Smart move.” 

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

“Better late than never.” 

“I guess.” 

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

“We’re going to.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve barked enough for now.” 

“Biting?” 

“If you play your cards right, sure.” 

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

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

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

“What did?”

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

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

“You don’t say.” 

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

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

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

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

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

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

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

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

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

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

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

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

--  

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

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

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

“You have that good faith deposit.” 

“I told you where it went.” 

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

“Not yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not a good idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does one make a polite killing?” 

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

“Redbull?” 

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

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

“On which?” 

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

“Anything stand out?” 

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

“What about the others?” 

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.” 

“You have the print-outs?” 

“In my car.” 

“Why are they in there?” 

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

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

“You do that often?” 

“What, drink?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?” 

“I’m asking if you do that often.” 

“Once in a while.” 

“New for you?” 

“Relatively.” 

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

“So you can talk me out of it?” 

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

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

“We don’t have to talk.” 

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

“Call me anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll drive up.” 

“And Gstaad?” 

“A little trickier.” 

“Could bill it.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You could, under discovery.” 

“This would not be covered under discovery.” 

“How would you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.” 

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

“I await the enraged phone call.” 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.” 

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Remember what I said.” 

“I will.” 

“Call me if you need anything.” 

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

“...Harvey?” 

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

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

“I don’t want to litigate that.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“Not like this.” 

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

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

--  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—” 

“I need you to come into the office.” 

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

“What happened?” 

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

“Come to the office.” 

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

-- 

“Cheese fries?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey’s on that.” 

“Your divorce.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know of it.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.” 

“Lucky guy.” 

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

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

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

“Look, Mr. Alford—” 

“David, please.” 

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

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

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

“It could be again.” 

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

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

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

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand. 

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

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

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.” 

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

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

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

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

“You need one.” 

“That is beyond the point, Mr—” 

“David.” 

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

“How would you know what’s enough?” 

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

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

“Yes, I do.” 

“Because it was your business, too.” 

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

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

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.” 

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

“I mean, having been served—” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“There is no way.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

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

“Well, it certainly would be before.” 

“What exactly has changed?” 

“You didn’t know me. You do now.” 

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

“What a cozy little conference this is.” 

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?” 

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

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

“We can’t all be queens of quip.” 

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.” 

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

“Coffee?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

But you were not going to fuck him.

--  

“Don’t fuck him.” 

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

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

“Excuse me?” You finally managed. 

“You heard me.” 

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

“I have plenty of business.” 

“No—” 

“Don’t—” 

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

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

“Do not say that you know me.” 

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

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

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

“I know the type.” 

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?” 

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

“I meant Steven.” 

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

“Just…Be careful with him.” 

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

“I’m not lecturing you—” 

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

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Fuck you.” 

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

“We’re not done talking about this.” 

“Yes, we are. Get out.” 

“We’re not done until—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.” 

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

“I did not—” 

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

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

“Oh, really—” 

“And a helluva lot worse than me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Against your better judgment.” 

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

“Don't call me that.” 

“Why not.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

“Give me a good reason not to.” 

“You haven’t earned it back.” 

“Any idea of how I might do that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.” 

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

“Turn around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left one on the counter.” 

“You want one?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harvey?” 

“What.” 

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?” 

“I had a date.” 

Your brow furrowed as you took that in. 

“...When?”

“Tonight.” 

“Why aren’t you there?” 

“Because I’m here.” 

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

“Don’t read into it,” He added. 

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

“I was.” 

“Arrange for that, did you?” 

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

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

“What.” 

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

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

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

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

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.” 

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

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

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

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?” 

“Nope.” 

“Didn’t promise a rain check?” 

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.” 

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

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

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

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.” 

“Sure.” 

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

“You’ve earned one.” 

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

“I understand.” 

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

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?” 

“Can we talk about it?” 

“The sex or the other thing?” 

“The other thing.” 

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

You shook your head. 

“Some other time,” He promised. 

“Sure.” 

-- 

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

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot. 

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

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

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

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

“They’re worth more than your apartment.” 

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

“...This is different.” 

“It’s criminal,” You muttered. 

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

“Both. Come on.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now who’s making cute comments.” 

– 

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

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

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.” 

“So, what do you think?”

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

“Why list it in your name, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.” 

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

“And Gstaad?” 

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

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

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement. 

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

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

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

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

“He is to me.”

–

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

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.” 

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

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

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

“I can handle it.” 

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

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

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

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

“Cruel is an understatement.” 

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.” 

“Stubborn.” 

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

“What for?” 

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

“Oh, so now you want to?” 

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

--  

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

“Nothing. What were you saying?” 

“Jessica needs to see you.” 

“Right now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

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

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

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

"Were there any outstanding features?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

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

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

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

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

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

"She told you?"

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

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

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

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

He was certain of it. "Yes."

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

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

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

"Has Steven seen it?"

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

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

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

"Things are different now."

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

"Let me see this case through."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

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

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

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

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

"She knows."

"What?"

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

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

--

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

"Jessica—"

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

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

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

"Oh—Come on."

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

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

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

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

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

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

--

“You slept with—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I went over to hang out.” 

“At her apartment?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

“Get out of my office.”

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

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

“That’s not enough to disbar you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

-- 

"I'll come over."

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

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

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

"At work."

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

"I'm ready for it."

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

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

"Fine."

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

"Harvey—"

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

-- 

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

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

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

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

--  

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

“Find the place alright?” She teased. 

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

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

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

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

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.” 

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

“Two minutes.” 

Two minutes? Until what?

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.” 

“They are.” 

“Figures.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

“You regret it?” 

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

“And then what?” 

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

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

“Donna will keep him at bay.” 

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

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

“Probably.” 

But neither of you rushed to move. 

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

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

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

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

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

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

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

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's on me."

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

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

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

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

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

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

"He sure has."

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

--

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

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

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

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

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

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

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

--  

“Impressed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re dazzled.” 

“I like the kitchen.” 

“You’re helplessly turned on.” 

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.” 

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

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

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

“...Harvey?” 

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.” 

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

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

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.” 

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

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

“Please,” You pleaded softly. 

“...I didn’t write the note.” 

Fuck. 

“Okay.” 

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.” 

“Who wrote that one?” 

“Scottie.” 

“...Okay.” 

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

“Well, she was right.” 

“Yeah.” 

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

“I had doubts.” 

“About me?” 

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

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

“I was afraid of it.” 

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

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

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

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

“Because you loved Steven?” 

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

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

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

“I wasn’t ready!” 

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

“You wanted to get married.”

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

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

“Would you if you could?” 

“Yes.”

“...Okay.” 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

-- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmhm.” 

“Want coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

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

“Sure.” 

“‘Kay.” 

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

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

[lemonisntreal]

Some sketches because it's been months since I drew these idiots oops☝️🥰

HI THERE. It's been a minute, sorry about that lol. I took a tiny out-of-nowhere and sorta involuntary break from the fandom because I lost interest for a second, but I'm slowlyyyy making my way back. With art, and some news about Tone Deaf for the people who are still wondering about that.

Also I see there's some asks in my box, I'll get to that eventually, I see you ;-; dw

--------------------

As stated, I momentarily lost a bit of interest with this movie- partially because I've recently been ensnared in a new fixation that will not be named right now, but yeah. I'm digging my heels in rn, because the last thing I wanna do is abandon this project. But, also, I've clearly bitten off more than I can chew with this being a comic lmao. In over my head and going through all 5 stages of grief and currently on acceptance.

The story got bigger. Like, a LOT bigger. Too big to capture every thought in a drawing and panel it and put it out as a perfectly polished comic without seriously burning myself out. It really doesn't help that my art style evolves by the second too apparently, so I've reached a middle-ground:

Tone Deaf is going to be a fic with some comic-like segments in it. An illustrated fanfic bc I still love showing and not telling a little too much.

This'll help me not only get stuff out faster, but also to help me fill in the gaps I didn't know how to draw with just text. So I can focus on just drawing the juicy shit. This also means it'll all be collected over on Ao3 in a neat little package, and I honestly prefer that over having a bunch of posts of pages that might be hard to find. So yeah, that's the plan.

Another bonus is that the frames can now be a lot more polished and nice looking [in glorious color] rather than hastily mashed together due to my bad habit of going overboard on singular frames without realizing it.

--------------------

Tldr; Tone Deaf is technically still gonna be a comic, it's just now gonna be supplemented with word-based fic mixed in because I made the project way too fucking big [the first Act has like 20 chapters I'm going to literally die]. Also it's gonna be on Ao3 and I'll probably be posting all the art here alongside any updates I make so huzzah! Help me :>

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 11: How to Catch a Zombie

hi hello yes it's me again sorry for the delay ya girl had a RUFF friday the 13th it's ok tho I lived and here is another chapter YAY HUZZAH WOOHOO

lil blurb of semi-importance: it came to my attention (my husband told me) that Sunshine's original rank (First Lieutenant) would not be possible if she was an enlisted soldier, so you will note that her rank has been corrected to Sergeant in the earlier chapters (which affects how she is addressed in said chapters but little else and nothing plot-wise).

ok das it, bye ..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 11 // How to Catch a Zombie

.................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, descriptions of guns

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Captain John Price, Kate Laswell

Chapter Excerpt:

A week and a half later, you find yourself standing in a wide, grassy meadow, about an hour's hike from the estate. Soap, Gaz, and even Price, are here too -- across the field, maybe fifty meters away, still up-range. Another hundred meters beyond them, is a line of targets, each comprised of varying combinations of wood and hay, haphazardly spray painted with red and black. Ghost is standing next to you with a pair of binoculars held up to his face. 

"Any day now," he drawls.

There aren't many clouds in the sky today, the warm sun a nice change of pace. There's a slight, balmy breeze and the field is abuzz with insects. Little blue flowers grow in patches about waist high, and you find yourself distracted by their loveliness on more than one occasion. 

You're holding a rifle -- a regular one -- Ghost's, actually. The one you'd admired that first night, traversing through the desert. They still haven't let you touch the upgraded weapons, to your constant and pervasive annoyance. Price insists it's because they worry you aren't strong enough yet to handle the recoil, but you know it's actually because they still don't quite trust you. 

And why do you know that? Because this is the first time they've allowed you to hold a gun at all that isn't your own pistol. You'd complained to Ghost a hundred times about not getting any shooting practice as part of your training, but he'd mumbled and grumbled things about "not being ready" and "too dangerous" and "waste of bullets" each time. 

Finally, a couple days ago, thanks to endless groveling -- and the new secret weapon in your arsenal to getting your way: Soap -- you were able to convince the group to take you to a range. 

You'd started the morning around the kitchen island sipping coffee and frowning into a bowl of oatmeal -- just the five of you. When Price and Laswell had returned from wherever it was they'd gone, Laswell had stayed long enough to hear about your father's descent into madness and its implications on the future of humanity, and had then immediately turned around and jetted off to some other mission base. She hadn't offered you any information about her and Price's prior whereabouts, but she had brought you another large box of hand-me-downs. She'd even included a few new pairs of shoes -- these actually in your size. A couple more pairs of sneakers, and a surprisingly lovely pair of worn-in leather lace-up boots. She'd handed the box to you with a stern expression and a covert wink. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Five

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

Listen to the Take Care playlist!

A/N: I love a story when it gets MESSY don't you? We're officially over the 40k word mark! Huzzah!

Word count: 6.5k

Chapter Five

You considered yourself a punctual person, but this time you were late. After finishing the article, you collapsed as soon as you got home. You didn’t set an alarm for the next morning, nor did you expect to sleep for a staggering fourteen hours, but when you woke up less than an hour before the bus left Richmond for Liverpool, you almost had a heart attack. 

You ran to Nelson Road with wet hair, no make-up on and so much random crap in your bag that you genuinely didn’t even know if your wallet or keys were in there somewhere. As you rushed into the stadium car park, you let out an abrupt sigh of relief to see that the bus was still there. Everyone was on board, and you’d felt your phone buzz in your pocket several times during your rush, but you hadn’t stopped to look at the messages. 

Only when you stepped on board the bus and allowed yourself to breathe, did you let yourself smile and laugh at your idiocy. 

“Hey!” Ted was the first to erupt in greeting, but the rest of the guys followed suit immediately after. “Did someone miss their wake-up call?” he asked. 

You sighed deeply, stepping further onto the bus as the doors finally closed. “Don’t ask. All the missed sleep finally caught up with me.”

Ted nodded in understanding. “Well, you’re here now. Go cop a squat with the guys.” 

You smiled as you walked down the small bus corridor. The guys all greeted you in their own ways, and you were thankful that you’d decided to join them instead of sitting out. As you approached the back, a circular group of seats that reminded you of sitting at the back of the bus at school, you caught Roy’s eye. There was a spare seat beside him, which he gestured to for you. You dropped into the seat next to him, bashing your shoulder against his softly, before the bus started moving.

“We all thought you’d bailed,” Roy said. “You didn’t reply to my texts.”

“You texted me?” you asked, quickly grabbing your phone from your pocket. There were several texts from Ted and a few missed calls, and a few from Roy. You winced. “Sorry. I’ve only been awake for forty minutes, I passed the fuck out last night and forgot to set an alarm.”

Roy hummed, almost like it was his own version of I told you so. You shot him a playfully annoyed look, and he raised his eyebrows at you in response, a small smile curled onto his stoic face. You huffed to yourself, settling in for the journey up North. Despite sleeping for so long, you were still fucking exhausted. You’d thrown clothes and toiletries into a backpack before rushing out, and you couldn’t face looking at the mess that you’d created just yet. You were glad the game wasn’t until the next day, because you still had an awful lot of sleeping to do. 

As the bus lulled to a pleasant buzz, you found yourself sinking deeper into your seat. You brought your knees to your chest and curled yourself into a ball comfortably. Next to you, Roy had his earphones in and was listening to an audio book of some kind. You peered over him, gently resting your head on his shoulder for a moment, to take a look at the title. 

He peered down at you softly, before he plucked one of his earphones out. “It’s The Grapes of Wrath. Wanna listen?” he asked, and you quickly pulled away to meet his eye. 

You looked up at him tiredly. “That’ll definitely send me to fucking sleep.” 

Roy huffed, sending you a perked brow. “I thought you were a fucking writer?”

“I am. But even I have my reservations about the classics.”

“You’ve read it before?”

You nodded. “Three times. It made me cry every time, just to warn you.”

Roy digested your words for a moment, before he offered his opposite earphone to you. You took it gently from his fingers and slotted it into your ear. “I can take it,” Roy muttered to himself, as both of you sat back in your seats and got comfortable for the ride. 

After an hour, you’d dozed off heavily. Roy leaned all the way back in his chair, allowing you space to lean against his shoulder gently. As the bus bumped on the motorway, you shifted slightly, and fell into his chest. Roy peered down at you softly, letting out a gentle cough to clear his throat. He positioned himself to the right slightly, and let your head rest against his breast bone. You snoozed softly, almost silently, as he started playing the next chapter of the audio book. 

Opposite him, Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo saw the scene unfold before them. The gentle tilt of Roy’s body to accommodate your sleepy head, the almost imperceptible smile that lay on his lips, the shallow way he was breathing to stop his chest from moving too much. The look on his face was blunt and plain like normal, but with every stare that he sent down your way, the boys saw exactly what was happening. 

Colin elbowed Isaac silently, shooting a look at you and Roy. A smile upturned on Isaac’s face. Something boyish and playful that every man could recognise at one point or another. When he moved his gaze upwards, he was shocked to meet a steely stare from his Captain. Roy looked at Isaac and Colin in turn, and it was enough to make them both recoil and sink into their chairs awkwardly. 

Roy cleared his throat again painfully. He acted like nothing was happening. He pretended like he didn’t want to fall asleep beside you, all the way until you reached Liverpool. 

You slept like a baby that night. You hadn’t slept this much in your entire fucking life, but upon arriving you’d had about two hours of energy after your bus nap, before you had to retreat to your room and rest for the remainder of the evening. You missed out on team movie night– the guys watched Sleepless in Seattle– which was a fucking bummer, you knew, but you’d rather be alive for the game. 

You were at the end of the corridor to the guys, near the rooms of the Diamond Dogs. Ted’s room was next to yours, which you knew from your abrupt awakening– you could hear his over enthusiastic Southern drawl through the thin walls on the morning of the game. He woke you up after answering a call with What’s shaking, Kevin Bacon! 

You got yourself up and dressed, and joined everyone for breakfast at the hotel. It was utterly silent as everyone ate their meal. Even Roy looked more pissed off than usual as he cut into the golden yolk of a fried egg. Next to you, Ted happily sliced into another sausage. Gently, you leaned towards him. “Has someone fucking died or something?” You looked around at the glum faces of the guys. “Why does everyone look like they’ve been slapped?”

“Oh, well.” Ted started. “Richmond haven’t won an away game at Everton for six years–”

“Sixty,” Beard interrupted, correcting Ted. 

Your eyes widened. “Sixty?” you whispered harshly. “Sixty fucking years?”

Ted let out a hum. “Oh, yeah. That’s my mistake. It has been sixty years since they’ve won.” 

As you ate your breakfast, you understood why all the guys looked so fucking defeated already. Even on the way to the stadium they stayed the same way, silently contemplating and accepting another loss before the game had even begun. You tried to send them all reassuring smiles, but none of them matched your energy for more than a second at a time. It was fucking miserable. 

You jumped off the bus when you arrived and stood with Sam and Roy before splitting up. “Good luck, Sam. Bring the heat like you know you can, alright?” you said, before you gave Sam a tight hug.

He hugged you back fiercely, as if trying to inhale all of your good vibes. “Thank you. Having you in the crowd is good luck for us, you know?” he said, before pulling away. 

“What?” you let out softly, shooting him an amused look. 

“It’s true! I am not a superstitious person, but about this, I am. You bring good luck.” He beamed at you, and you huffed at him in subtle embarrassment. 

“Thanks, Sam,” you said, before he disappeared into the stadium with the others. 

Roy milled about a bit longer, making sure all the guys got off the bus safely. You stayed put next to him the entire time, trying to think up something smart to say that would ease his nerves. You didn’t know what any of them were feeling, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to understand them better. If you could put yourself into their shoes then you’d be able to cater for them in different ways. 

You peered up at Roy for a split second, ready to say some words of encouragement, but he cut you off before you could. “You sitting in the owner's box?” he asked, sending you a stoic look. You gulped back your prior words and nodded instead. Roy hummed. “See you on the other side.”

Roy left before you could say anything coherent. He strolled past the press with his mouth in a straight line, leaving you behind at the bus on your own. You watched him go until he entered the stadium, seeing the strong way he walked and the way his fingers were balled into fists. As much as you’d wanted to, not wishing Roy good luck was something he preferred. He felt the nerves, the anxiety, for himself and his teammates, and you knew that well. Wishes of good luck only ever seemed to make him madder. 

You sucked in a sharp breath and entered the stadium then, readying yourself to scream for your fucking life for your team– for Richmond. 

Needless to say, the atmosphere was second to none. You sat with Rebecca and Keeley in the owner’s box, on the away side, and didn’t calm down for ninety minutes. The guys played electrically, moving as a fierce unit like never before, and everytime they scored you went absolutely insane. You cheered and screamed bloody murder, jumped up and down on the spot, and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. 

In the second half, near the end, the guys were slowing down. You took it upon yourself to sing their praises to oblivion, but not even you expected to be so into it. During the final goal, Roy assisted Sam to get it into the box. When you saw him, pumping his arms to hell before he tackled one of Everton’s boys and got the ball to Sam, you held your breath until everything exploded. 

During the eruption after their final, winning goal, you jumped up and leaned against the balcony edge of the owner’s box. You inhaled sharply, and realised it strongly, alongside a “Go on, Roy!”

It echoed throughout the stadium, reverberating off the walls and slanted ceiling loudly, until it hit the player’s ears. Roy was doubled over in exhaustion, but he lifted his head when he heard it. It took him no time at all to seek you out– he’d asked you where you were sitting beforehand, after all– and when his eyes hit yours, you couldn’t stop yourself from whooping and hollering in his favour. 

You didn’t care if it was embarrassing, you were overly proud of them. When they bound their way back to the locker room after the full time whistle, you practically jumped to follow them. Keeley laughed beside you triumphantly, and followed behind you as fast as she could in her tall heels. You slalomed through the press all the way to the away locker room, before you burst through the door. 

“You fucking thrashed them!” you screamed upon entry, and the guys matched your energy tenfold. 

Sam was the first to encase you in a hug, before you were overtaken by multiple sets of limbs. Isaac lifted you off the floor when he wrapped his arms around you, and you let out a much needed pent up sigh as you stepped back afterwards. You took in their pristine faces, and you thought that, perhaps, you’d never felt more like you belonged. This all started out as a slap in the face, but with everyday that passed, you felt more and more a part of this incredible family. You felt lucky, and that was saying something, when before you’d been so unlucky to step through the doors of the Dogtrack. 

You leaned against the cinder block wall for a moment, remembering the scene that played out before your very eyes. This would become a core memory in time, you decided, and you knew that when your year was up, these were the times you’d think back to. Their elated faces, their hugs of affection, their love bursting from every pore and crack and crevice that it was almost suffocating to withstand. 

“You can fucking yell,” Roy said, appearing on your left suddenly from the rabble. 

You breathed out. “Roy,” you greeted him softly, over the fucking moon. “Congratu-fucking-lations!”

“Sam was right,” he said, placing an abrupt but welcomed hand on your shoulder. He squeezed you affectionately. “You bring us good luck.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but nevertheless felt your cheeks warm. He raised his eyebrows at you playfully, happily. You enjoyed every moment the stoic look on his face was replaced with something different, something soft and joyful. Now was one of those times. 

Suddenly, Roy hoisted himself onto one of the benches, and let out a loud “Oi! Listen up!” to his teammates. They all stopped celebrating to listen to their Captain. “None of you are going back to the hotel tonight! ‘Cause we did something today that no one thought we could do, including us! So we’re going out, we’re celebrating, and we’re gonna rub it in this city’s fucking face!” 

The locker room erupted once more, and before you could peer up at Roy, you were pulled into the mob of players as they started to chant– Richmond till we die! We’re Richmond till we die! We know we are, we’re sure we are, we’re Richmond till we die!

Keeley let you get ready in hers and Rebecca’s suite. It was huge, and kitted out with lavish decor and a fully stocked mini-bar. Keeley applied her lipliner in the bathroom, while you sat on one of the plush sofas and sipped from a glass of champagne. You felt content, you felt known. It had taken you half the fucking season, but you finally felt happy where you were. 

Despite the familiarity of going out with the team, you felt that today was different. Not just from the way the guys all loved you, but from the increasing tension that buzzed between you and Roy that you simply couldn’t ignore anymore. You wanted to tell him about the article tonight, wanted him to read it before you did anything rash, but there was a part of you that didn’t want him to think that was all you liked him for– your career, your assignments, your degree. Roy Kent was fast becoming someone that you simply enjoyed being around, more than anything. You didn’t want him to think of himself as less. 

“Babes?” Keeley called from the bathroom. 

You breathed in and left your jagged thoughts. “Hm?” you replied. 

Keeley shot her head around the frame of the bathroom door, lipstick finally applied. She took one glance at your back, slumped and in thought, and furrowed her brows. “You okay?” she asked, and you twisted yourself around to face her. 

You sent her a genuine smile. “Never been better,” you said, and you found yourself believing it. 

Keeley rushed towards you and jumped on the sofa. She picked up her glass of champagne and made a show of hovering it before yours. “Shall we toast?” she asked. 

You raised your glass next to hers. “Always, but to what? The team?”

“No,” she said. “To you, and your article.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please.”

“I’m being serious!” she exclaimed. “Only you could make Roy sound so… human. It was emotional, strategic, but above all– you made me care about Roy Kent as more than a footballer. You should be fucking proud.”

You felt bashful, but nevertheless smiled at her compliments. “Thanks, Keeley,” you said gently. 

She raised her glass higher. “To you becoming a writer, any fucking day now,” she said. 

You chuckled lightly, and clinked your glass with hers, before both of you downed the contents. Bubbles fizzed up your noses, almost being spat out as you spluttered with laughter, but the two of you held it together. It was a matter of time before things got crazy, and you knew you wouldn’t be prepared. As you left the suite with Keeley, a bag across your body and spring in your step, you told yourself to enjoy it– at least while it lasted, before all of this ended in a matter of months.

Thanks to Keeley brainwashing everyone, karaoke was definitely on the cards. The guys booked a private room for the whole team, and upon arrival you were all coerced into requesting songs for one another. You sat on the sofa with Keeley, chatting away with Rebecca and her friend Flo, aka Sassy. The guys were ecstatic, and you were happy to be part of it all. Even Roy had a permanent smile fixed on his face, next to a beer in his hand at all times. 

As the songs went on, you found yourself enjoying yourself more. You all settled into it, enjoying one another's company, joking around as the guys queued songs to embarrass someone, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t been overly aware of Roy’s presence all night. He never went out with the guys in London, never joined in for post-match pints or a night on the town, and you’d been waiting for a moment like this with him. Yet, you couldn’t move from where you were. You stayed back and let him be, all the while wondering if he was ever going to approach you himself. It was childish, and made you feel even more so like a schoolgirl who was crushing hard, but the thing you were worrying about the most was the bomb you were going to drop on him– you’d finished the article, and you wanted him to read it before you submitted it anywhere. That was the goal. 

After Bumbercatch had performed Sex on Fire, you went back to chatting with Keeley, but that was promptly interrupted by an abrupt “Oi!” from yours truly. You twisted yourself on the sofa to meet his gaze above. Roy peered down at you, empty beer glass in hand, and a small smile on his tipsy face. “Need a refill?” he asked, and you smiled immediately. 

“Yes, please,” you said, as you stood up and followed him to the bar. You slalomed through other people enjoying their night out, until you both ended up at the main bar. The music was loud, and the place was packed, but you felt at ease next to Roy. “I’ll get these!” you yelled over the noise, but if Roy heard you at all then he chose to ignore it.

He ordered two more pints and tapped his card against the machine without hesitation. You pouted as you zipped up your bag again, looking at him sternly as he passed you your pint. “One of these days you have to let me buy you a drink, Roy.”

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking mind. Not when it’s you.” 

You looked at him quizzically. “Why?”

“Because you don’t expect it. Everyone else does when you’re a footballer. They expect the drinks and food and the fucking bill sorted, but you never have,” he explained.

You scoffed. “Yeah, because my mother raised me with manners.”

“Good woman,” he said, before he clinked his full glass against yours. All you could do was laugh, as the two of you took generous sips of your drinks together. 

You took a moment to glance around the main room of the club. It was bustling to the brim. People danced and drank joyously, and a few managed to scramble onto a small stage and use the pole that was there. You hadn’t been out to a club like this in a long time, and it made you even happier to think about the people you were with. A stellar team, a kind group of guys. You couldn’t believe how much you’d lucked out with them all. 

Roy gently leaned to your ear, his beard skimming your cheek softly. “Need some air?” he asked, and as much as you wanted to say yes, you knew you had a song queued in the karaoke room. 

You leaned into his ear in return, savouring being close to him like this, even if it was brief. “Keeley queued a karaoke song for me!” you said, and the mischievous face that Roy sent you was one that you added to his expression bank in your mind. 

“Come on, then!” he yelled over the noise, before he offered you his arm. 

You took it as the two of you made your way back to the private room, but within the space of five minutes, the rest of the club was on the brink of bursting. As Roy took no prisoners and shoved people out of his way, you dealt with the opposite. You tried to stay glued to him, but it proved useless when you tried to cross a packed pathway. As Roy pushed himself forward, you were caught in the crossfire and pushed away. Your arm twisted out of his own, and you stumbled backwards abruptly. Your beer sloshed in its glass, and trickled down your fingers as you tried to compose yourself. You couldn’t see Roy anymore, just the bobbing heads of other club goers. 

“Oi!” Roy boomed from further in the club. It was then that the crowd parted, like Moses with the fucking Red Sea, and he stomped his way towards you sternly. When he reached you, he peered down at you strongly, before he snaked his hand around your waist for a moment. “You go first,” he said into your ear, and you walked forward with him right behind. His fingers gently bobbed upon your lower back, always near, just letting you know that he was close. 

“Are you Roy fucking Kent?” one of the club goers yelled out, and Roy abruptly turned to the person in question. He looked no older than a university student, and had a very distinct Scouse accent. 

“Yeah. What of it?” Roy replied, and the kid before him all but backed down. 

“N-nothing,” the kid stuttered out. “Nice playing today.”

The crowd around the kid erupted suddenly, questioning his loyalty to their local team. You didn’t stick around, though, as Roy gently pushed you forward and towards the karaoke room once more. When the crowd died down more, he moved himself to your side, but kept his fingers on your back, just grazing there, in case he needed to step in again. 

An attendee pulled open the curtain to the private room for you both, and you finally let out a sigh of relief. “Jesus fucking Christ, thanks for that,” you let out, and Roy nodded at you.

“I have no patience for little fuckers that get in the way,” he said. 

You scoffed, and took a sip of your beer. “It’s a wonder why you have so much patience for me, then.”

Roy furrowed his brows at you, amused. “Don’t fucking push it,” he joked. 

You shot him a beaming smile, one that had your cheeks hurting as soon as it encased your face. At the front of the room, Keeley snatched the microphone from the previous performer. She tapped it once, alerting everyone to the stage. “Hey!” she spoke through it, her voice booming through the room. You and Roy turned to her immediately, and she caught your eye. She smiled. “Come on! You’re up!”

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, and took a few large gulps of beer before you headed to the stage. Roy gently grabbed your drink before you could leave, and propped them both down on a table as the guys went crazy. 

They cheered and screamed as Keeley passed you the microphone, and you tried to keep it together. You’d done karaoke before, just not when you were this sober and coherent. You didn’t even know what song you were fucking singing, until the large TV for lyrics flashed the title– Womanizer by Britney Spears. 

As the song started, Roy watched on from the crowd. Over his dead body would anyone sign him up for something like this, but seeing you fumble through the initial nerves was endearing to witness. Keeley, Rebecca and Sassy egged you on to oblivion, alongside the chants from Ted and Beard, as well as the members of your fan club– Sam, Colin and Isaac to be exact. It was impossible not to smile as you performed, getting more confident as the song went on. 

Roy crossed his legs where he sat, right opposite the stage, as you towered above the rest of the team. Tonight was a good night. He was surrounded by his teammates, his bosses, you, after a win that no one had been expecting. The only thing that could possibly make it better was the opportunity to talk more with you, in a different setting, socially. There was no doubt in Roy’s mind that you were the life and soul of any party, especially from the upbeat way you sang and laughed at yourself on stage. When he thought about it, about you, he often found it hard to find anything to criticise. He couldn’t even rightfully say that you were pushy anymore, not after he’d jumped at the idea of your article before. 

It was then that he realised, while watching you fail to hit high notes from laughing too hard– Roy couldn’t fucking say no to you. Even when he wanted to, even when he needed to, probably, he couldn’t fucking do it. 

When the song finished, you thanked your lucky stars that it was fucking over. You breathed heavily as applause broke out everywhere, and when you jumped off the stage you found that your legs had turned to jelly. You stumbled as you made your way back through the crowds, and dropped yourself down next to Roy as if you’d been close to collapsing. 

He huffed as he handed you your beer, and you downed half the glass as fast as you could. When you finished, you met Roy’s overly amused face. “How did I do?” you breathed out. 

“Well, no one’s ears are bleeding. I call that a win,” he replied. 

You scoffed, embarrassed, but nevertheless embraced your shit performance. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” you let out, and Roy chuckled beside you warmly. You leaned back on the sofa only to realise that Roy’s arm was draped behind you. Neither of you moved. You were comfortable this way. 

As Beard got up to perform Lady Gaga, Roy leaned closer to you. You could smell his cologne when he did, as you gently leaned forward to let him find your ear. “Need some air now?” he asked, and you smiled to yourself, before you gently nodded at him in agreement. 

The two of you shuffled out of the room again, and headed to the smoking area out the front, missing the crowd of drunk people inside. As he emerged into the cold outside, Roy gently looked back for you. You caught his eye with a smile, before the two of you found a secluded area to perch upon outside. You both sipped at your drinks in silence, thankful for the space and quiet for once. As much as you were enjoying yourself, you’d been dying to get out for some breathing room. 

You sighed, content. Roy copied you, as your white breath surrounded one another before disappearing into thin air. “I can’t believe we fucking won,” Roy said first, and you turned to him gently. 

“You all played amazingly,” you added, and Roy peered down at you softly. “Seriously, and I obviously know what I’m talking about.”

Roy raised his brows at you. “What’s the offside rule?” he asked. 

You waved him off playfully. “Don’t go making new rules up, that’s just not fair,” you said sarcastically, and when a small chuckle burst from Roy’s lips you felt validated. You felt it whenever someone laughed at your jokes, but with Roy it felt extra special. 

Roy shuffled on his spot, and his shoulder gently bumped into yours. You were struggling to balance the nerves in your gut, made even worse by the fact he was so close to you. There was that feeling, one that told you, if you lingered on each other for just a second too long, that you would wind up kissing. You sucked in a sharp breath, before you swilled your beer around in its glass, just to do something with all your pent up anxiety. 

Innately, you knew that now was as good a time as any to bring up the article. You’d have to do it sooner or later, or risk not submitting it at all. You thought back to Rebecca’s words, about how she’d been too quick to assume that Roy wouldn’t give a shit, but you still wanted to try. If he was indifferent, it was still OK to actually submit it, surely?

You cleared your throat gently. “I finished the article,” you said, and Roy’s face hardened slightly, but he was still listening. “I know that you hate this kind of thing.”

Roy growled, but when you turned and caught his eye, you knew it wasn’t a full blown pissed off growl. It was more like a growl in agreement. You smiled at him, genuinely, flicking your eyes over the features of his face softly. “Yeah, I do,” he said abruptly. Your smile disappeared slowly. “But, if it helps you do something great, that’s a good fucking thing.” When he peered down at you, you felt immediately at ease. 

You huffed affectionately. “Really?” you asked, just to double check. This was what he did– made you feel special, made you feel heard. “That’s great, Roy, really.” You sighed in relief. “I was so nervous you wouldn’t like it at all, and when you get around to reading it I can make changes to anything you really don’t like–”

You were cut off by Roy laughing suddenly. It wasn’t a sound you’d heard often, but nevertheless it was something you welcomed. What he was laughing about, however, had you confused. 

“What?” you asked, smiling. 

Roy took a sip of beer before he met your gaze. “I’m not gonna fucking read it.”

Your heart dropped into your gut suddenly. “What?” you let out again, as butterflies tore their way through your internal organs. 

Roy breathed out. “I was never going to fucking read it. But, I did the interview and everything you wanted, right? That’s enough, isn’t it?”

You struggled to compute his words, and instead let out a chuckle instead of coherent words. You placed your glass down and took a few stumbling steps away from him, trying to figure out why the fuck he let you interview him, write about him, all of it, if he was never going to fucking read it in the end. This wasn’t how you rolled. You didn’t want people to do things like this for you if they didn’t want to, and Roy definitely fit in that box– even more so. The last thing you wanted to do was piss him off. 

“I– I’m just confused with this,” you said, trying not to lace too much annoyance within your words. “Why would you agree to this, if you were never going to read it when I was done?” Roy shrugged, but the pained look on his face revealed that there was more there. You stepped forward. “Why, Roy?”

“Because! I– fucking hell,” he exclaimed. He put down his drink as he found his words, and let out a sigh before he spoke. There was an exposed look on his face, one that you recognised as when someone was about to admit to something. “I struggle… saying no to you.”

Your blood boiled. It was a miracle you didn’t erupt on the spot, but you were too busy trying to stop your legs from turning to jelly, and your fingers, and your limbs. You peered up at Roy with wide eyes and the strangest urge to fucking bury yourself beneath the ground you stood on. If there was one thing you never wanted to be, it was an annoyance. Yet, with those six words, Roy had just admitted to how he’d never wanted to do the article in the fucking first place, but placed himself in that situation from not being able to deny you. 

It made you feel stupid. It made you feel mortified. How had you not noticed that he’d been utterly against it from the start?

“Oh my god,” you muttered, gobsmacked. “I’m an idiot.” Roy reached out for your arm, but you abruptly slalomed out of the way. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“How is that a bad thing? It meant you could still fucking write it, right?” Roy said, but he didn’t get it. He didn’t get how it felt when you realised you were nothing more than a blight on someone who didn’t actually give a shit. Someone stuck to his side, following him around, asking for things that he didn’t deny, just to appease you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you repeated him, raising your voice. “You never wanted to fucking do this in the first place, Roy, but you made me think that it was okay! Oh my god.” You smacked your hand over your mouth abruptly. “I stayed at your house for six fucking hours!”

You felt embarrassed. You felt like a nagging, boring uni student. 

“I don’t see why this is such a fucking issue,” Roy said, matching your anger.

“I never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position, I wanted to write something good-”

“You did all that, so why do you need me to fucking read it?”

“Because I wrote it for you, Roy!” you exclaimed, and Roy’s mouth shut instantly. “I wrote this for you. I wanted to write something about you that you’d actually like reading.” You frowned at him, your eyes glassy. You weren’t expecting this to blow up in this, nor were you expecting Roy to completely ignore what you’d actually written. 

You desperately wished he’d read it and told you he hated it, instead of this outcome. 

You remembered what it had been like before. His attempts to avoid you, so that you wouldn’t bug him. His easiness at telling you to leave him the fuck alone. His aversion to being around you. All of this could have been fixed if he’d set up boundaries with you– boundaires to back the fuck off, ones that you would always uphold if you knew they’d been in place. 

“I don’t think anyone will be able to write something about me that I actually like,” Roy let out, and it only made your heart sink more. “That’s not on you. That’s on me.” He took a step towards you, but you only backed up when he did. 

“I won’t submit it,” you said suddenly. 

Roy furrowed his brows. “Why the fuck not?”

“I was never going to submit it without getting your approval first, Roy,” you said lowly. 

“I fucking approve!” he let out. 

You were shaking your head before he was even done talking. “I’ve made up my mind,” you said, before you forced yourself to look at him. You felt tearful, you felt childish, but most of all– you felt embarrassed of yourself. “I’m so sorry I roped you into this to begin with.”

“Hey,” he said strongly, and finally reached out to grab your forearm. “This isn’t a big deal.” You inhaled sharply when he got in close, trying and failing to make you believe anything different. He’d said how he felt so clearly that nothing was going to make you change your mind, and all you wanted to do now was give him space. 

“I beat myself up about asking you to do this,” you started. “I spoke to Keeley about it and everything, and she reassured me that it would be okay, that you’d say no if it was something you didn’t want to do. For fucks sake, Roy– this is a big deal,” you pleaded with him. “I stayed up all night to write it, I pored over old news stories about you, I fucking worked hard to make this something you’d like, was so excited about it, just for you to tell me you’d never planned on reading it from the beginning. Do you understand why I’m upset now?”

Roy’s expression softened. He hadn’t thought about it that way, hadn’t thought about the impact it would have on you when he spilled his true intentions.

“If you’d told me the truth from the start then it would have saved all of this from happening,” you added, and you gently tugged your arm out of his grasp. 

You sniffed, and let out an abrupt laugh from a lack of what else to fucking say. You felt gutted, worse than you’d feel if he’d read it and laughed about it being shit– that you could have taken on board and worked with, but this was a different ball park altogether. This was Roy not respecting his own boundaries to try and make you happy, only to have all your work, time and effort mean nothing at the end of the day. It felt like a slap in the face. 

You rationalised your feelings then, as quick as you could. You couldn’t deny the hurt you felt at Roy’s blatant dismissal of your work, but you also understood that he didn’t have any intention to hurt you. With that in mind, you turned back to him and softened your expression. You tried not to show how upset you were, you didn’t want to make him feel any fucking worse. 

“Next time, just let me know if you don’t want to do something, okay?” you said, but the wobble in your voice was noticeable. It hit Roy in the chest harshly, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

You shuffled back to where your glass was and picked it up. You downed the rest of your beer, ignoring the painful bubbles in your chest, before you looked back at Roy and forced yourself to smile. “I need a refill. I’ll head back inside,” you said, and you didn’t give Roy a chance to respond before you entered, through the main door, back into the club. 

CHAPTER SIX

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl@royalestrellas@weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon 

[numelfanclub]

since curse au is set 7 years in the future i have realized i can make MORE OCS!!!!!!!! HUZZAH!! here lemme put pics

haruka koizumi

umeko takeuchi

hotaru geto

shoichi matsuoka

there's also yumemi too but that's just the first years :^) yume herself is a second year 🤫 OKAY i'll make the rest of the second years and third years laterrr i need to WRITE and DRAW brother

also also also also!! i posted the first chapter of a mini curse suguru fic!! here's a little screenshot of the summary

okayyy read it if you want to and huzzah for the new ocs 👅 i will come up with techniques later 🤫🤫

[sincerely-sofie]

Chapter 8 of Sofie Plays "Slay the Princess": The Hero and the Princess (Round 3) + The Damsel

This is a love story, but it's a love story that I wrote at thirteen during my Warrior Cats phase.

[ Beginning ] - [ Previous Part ] - [ Next Part ]

... Hopefully she doesn't mind the flesh rotting off of my avian visage?

This run is going exactly like the one where I was forced to kill her by the Narrator--- I'm hoping I can change it by not alluding to her gnawing off her own limbs and just checking upstairs for a key.

FRICK.

Interestingly, the option to slay the Princess is no longer available here. The run is a bit different, despite being very similar.

I can't select any of the options. Am I stuck like this?

IF YOU SCROLL DOWN YOU CAN WARN HER. OH MY WORD. THE ANGST IN THIS SCREENSHOT.

Can I please chuck the blade away so that she can defend herself with it. Please. Pretty please. Narrator pleeeeeeeease---

Huzzah! Okay new game title: Slay the Borb.

... I didn't think that was actually going to be the route we took, but alright. Fair. Knowing the way the writing in this game has gone, she's going to miss anything vital and just make it hurt.

This is probably the single game I hate having so many predictions about prove to be correct.

Oh, shoot, it's a new chapter? I couldn't see through my tears.

New party member: Now introducing the Voice of the Simp! ... Smitten. Voice of the Smitten. Yes. That's what I said.

Mirror check! The Smitten is a dork. Moving on.

Once again, I didn't take the knife. I really gotta see what happens when I enter the basement with it in hand.

The Smitten ranting about how much he loves the Princess to the Narrator and Hero's utter dismay like:

I don't have any comments to make on this exchange other than how hilarious it is and how relatable it feels for someone who's had hallucinations try to talk to real people in the past.

The Hero was pulling out a squirt bottle for the Smitten two minutes ago, but the second the Princess calls him a hero he's competing for the Smitten's title. Peak character right there.

The idea of the Princess having a sort of Narrator instructing her on how to behave and what actions to take / things to say is INSANE and a question I had the second the Narrator told me to go down into that first basement. The immediate deconfirmation is a little saddening, but the Smitten's comment makes me wonder if the one who has reality warping powers here isn't the Princess, but us.

Hear me out. The way we interact with the Princess in the first chapter of every loop seems to dictate what the next Princess will be. It's like our opinion of her shapes what she becomes. She savaged our player character in that very first interaction, and then in the next, she was a wild animal that swallowed us whole. In the chapter preceding the Stranger, we never entered the cabin in the first place. We never met. And when we finally did, she was a fractal of possibilities--- almost as if because we hadn't formed an opinion of her yet.

GIRL HUH. Yeah no she's not real. This is a cardboard cut out with a speaker behind it.

NOPE DON'T LIKE THE FACT THAT THE MUSIC IS VERY MUCH CHANGING.

Hey wait her eyes look different. Am I crazy?

Yeah no a lot more than her eyes are different! The gal is having a crisis of identity that is represented by the art style and that is VERY COOL and also VERY DISTRESSING

Chickened out and didn't press the issue of her having her own wants beyond leaving the cabin beyond a second question. I said that if she wants to leave, then we'll leave, and she was abruptly back to normal. Sweetie you need therapy.

The Smitten just said "We have each other. We don't need the world for our happy ending." and that COULD just be his mushy romanticism showing... but what if it's not?

Turns out the Narrator is the one who's been locking us in the basement 90% of the time, not the cabin itself, or the Princess. When we were locked in, I asked the Princess if she thought she could open the door, and said I believed in her when she asked if I thought she could.

THE POWER OF DATING A MARY SUE Y'ALL

Ultra Princess I'm genuinely so thrilled to hear your terrifying ambience again this princess scares me infinitely more than the ones who gnaw off their arms or eat me please take her away ;w;

FINALLY GOT A SCREENSHOT OF THE ARMS. THIS TIME I WAS READY, HECKERS!!!

Continuing this in the next post. Can't wait to take my next mirror selfie! I'm not scared whatsoever :,D

[steamberrystudio]

19/05/2024 Devlog

Hallo everyone! I'm actually updating tumblr in a fortnightly fashion! Yay for actually having the time to pre-write the post!

Writing:

As I mentioned last time, I am now embroiled in an epic battle with Chapter 10! 

I mean...I'm revising chapter 10. 

As I mentioned, this is a really big chapter and I expect it to get bigger as I flesh out some of the character interactions. The first love scene of each route (...ish) is in this scene too so obviously I need to check those out and make sure they're appropriately fleshed out.

I think last time I said the ending sequences in Chapter 10 were functional but needed to be fleshed out? I have no idea wtf I was talking about. One of them was literally a list of bullet points. 🤣🤣

In fairness, I think I recall that when I was editing Asher's path, I had an alternate ending idea for that section and just kind of roughly outlined it but left it for Future!Esh to work out because I wanted to finish up with Asher's edit. I just forgot that ending existed. The ending scenes all occur at roughly the same spot and the entire section was around 1500 words long. It's now about 7200 words long so...there's that.)

But with the endings out of the way, I'm now working on editing all the character-specific content. Which...is *most* of the chapter.

The chapter is currently 73,000 words and I do expect it to be over 80k by the end, taking the lead in terms of being the longest chapter.

I imagine the next two weeks will be me working on Chapter 10 but hopefully...*hopefully* I'll be done by then. And on to the final stretch of writing. 

Art:

Received a new BG since last time. Huzzah. Still slowly but surely getting those rolled in. 

I have also been keeping notes of additional variations for the sprites I want (or need) to add. Mostly just hair and outfit variations I want to add in to match the text. That isn't really art but it's art related anyway.

Other Stuff:

I have been working in some slightly different sprite choreography (?) than what I usually do because it's something I have been wanting to do for a while but have kind of been putting off. But I played a game recently that really inspired me to stop putting it off and try to code some of it into the game so I can see how it looks.

And so far I'm really liking it.

I've also been working on a few other minor changes/fixes for the game here and there.

Upcoming Weeks:

So far the editing process is going pretty smoothly. And I can only hope that continues. 

As I mentioned, I do still think this chapter is going to take me another couple of weeks. Because...by itself it's the length of novel. 

Once it's done, I feel like I'll kind of be in the home stretch. So yeah.

See you then!

[kaszuma]

gotta say, part 0 of certainly yours is defo my favourite 😭

there's just smth abt their first meeting that's so ASJKLHDJ. the tension ??? the banter ??? everything.

also, mina unknowingly being their matchmaker (thank u captain ashiro, for letting them meet)

love it ♡

Thank you for reading Certainly Yours 😊🫶

Already working on Part 7 though It might take a bit more time, since I've only just started brushing up some details. And work is hectic.

Fun fact, the scene with Soichiro had an emphasis with the number 4. Because Soshiro's first appearance is in Chapter 4 of the manga. And while I was scrutinizing over Soshiro's name, I realized that the (四) shi in his name meant the number "Four" as well. Which was a complete coincidence but huzzah. At this point I might as well post an entire dictionary and character study on this man. And post it here as a thesis haha

Lastly, Part 7 is actually hinted in Part 0. When I mentioned the word: "Bronze." Because funnily enough Aera Perennius means "More Lasting than Bronze." and that term may appear a lot in the following chapter. Heh. Anyways, I'll get back to working on it. And hopefully update soon. 😶‍🌫️

[caelwynn]

Sterling's Birthday

Honestly, one of the things that saddens me most about SDV 1.6 is the way it killed Custom Gift Dialogues. I realize that it's now incorporated into the base code (I think), but it's led to some of the modded NPCs' reactions to gifts to become rather... borked. Immersive Shane is a prime example of this, and I knew that going in.

I was unprepared for Sterling to also be affected, though. :-(

(Once again, let me stress that this is not in any way a complaint or dig at the people who create mods. You don't see my ass out there making mods, and I can only imagine the complexity and headaches of updating them when new versions of Stardew come out.)

One of the things I had made a point of while romancing Sterling was to hold off on giving him sunflowers, as I adore his reaction to getting them as a birthday present--especially if it's the first time you've given him flowers.

(Spoiler: Chapter 10 of Choices: Summer will deal with that very thing.)

Unfortunately, all I got was his generic 'loved' response to the gift. Sigh.

There was a bit of excitement, however, as this popped up:

Finally going to get the green rain event! Huzzah!

But then this conversation happened after I gave Sterling his sunflower...

And I'm not gonna lie, I panicked that I'd misjudged the dates when proposing to Sterling. The whole, 'what counts as three days?' conundrum. It turned out fine, but boy did I spend about an hour IRL on pins and needles.

All my 1.6 playthrough posts can be found here. If you're curious about Callie's 1.5 relationships with Sterling and Shane, look here for an ongoing series about her first year.

[avionvadion]

"In truth, I did not wish the life of a soldier upon you… and my decision to keep the sword from your hands is something I’ve regretted ever since I learned of what happened… but… deep down, I always knew; you were my daughter through-and-through."

Here's the drawing for the next chapter (67)!!! I just need to finish proofreading/editing first.

S'been a while since I did full colored drawing for Destiny's Call. I'm kind of happy with it. I finally figured out a decent way to get Time's ghostly glow going!!!! Huzzah! Just gotta use a much darker gold for the face.

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February 2024 Master List

Huzzah! I wrote 29 things for Fluffy February (ok, 28 things plus one very fluffy chapter for my bigger fluffy fan fic).

Highlights: I developed my canon for both Lenn Teraan and Cole Cantarus. I wrote another Akaavi/Mako piece (someone needs to write them an epic Carbonite Years fic). I posted my most explicit work so far (is that a low light?). Dr. Oggurobb has decided to weigh in a lot lately.

I'll post the round up list, and then reblog with the AO3 link.

Snow -- 10 ATC - the smuggler crew lands on Alderaan

Eavesdrop -- 22 ATC -- Someone is spying in the cantina.

Entertain -- 21 ATC -- Theron and Eva do an intel drop at a casino.

Learn -- 10 ATC -- Eva learns how to dance from Lenn Teraan.

Planet -- 29 ATC (chronologically "now" in canon) -- Eva buys a planet. Because.

Fire -- 36 ATC -- Eva, Theron, and the big family on Odessen roast marshmallows.

Recovery -- 24 ATC -- Eva recovers from the Nathema Conspiracy. Risha makes sure of it. CW for untended anorexia.

Smile --over the years -- Theron's teeth may not be real, but his smiles are.

Storm -- 5 ATC -- Eva meets her first magnetic storm.

Care -- 21/22 ATC -- After Theron is injured, Eva makes sure he gets the care he needs.

Quest -- 39 ATC -- Theron and his band of adventurers... need to go to bed.

Discipline -- 40 BTC -- the Grand Admiral headcanon/backstory that's been rattling around.

Splurge -- 25 ATC -- Eva buys Theron a gift that isn't exactly what he wanted.

Free space! I added to Elysium, for a little while.

Craft -- Carbonite Years -- Akaavi knits something for Mako for the first time; in terms of the relationship, that's a big deal.

Spontaneous --- Theron and Eva rope Lana into one of their schemes.

Pleasure -- 22 ATC -- Eva speculates on some of the alternative universes in which she met Theron differently.

Pain -- sometime between 25 ATC and 29 ATC -- Bit of a kinky piece wherein Theron has his old scars replaced by Eva. This is Explicit for sexual activity, biting, bruising, and blood.

Shadow -- the legend of the Voidhound, from a child's perspective.

Partners -- 21 ATC -- A Theron/Eva heist fic, with their radio comms as cover

Reward -- 40 ATC -- Dr. Oggurobb finally retires... or so he thinks, thanks to Bowdaar.

Sacrifice -- 29 ATC (between patches 7.2 and 7.3) -- Theron sacrifices one of the few things to survive from his childhood. Eva is a pregnant person in this fic, so CW for that.

Dance - Eva dances with Jace Malcom. This is a continuation of an eventual post-Nathema fic about a party.

Apology -- 28 ATC (Between Elom and 7.3) -- Theron liberates Arcann from his job at a fast food join in Dromund Kaas by punching him in the face. No, I will not elaborate (I will totally elaborate).

Kiss -- 21 ATC -- Theron thinks about the his views on good morning kisses in the early days after Eva's return.

Rain -- 21 ATC -- Theron finds Eva out in the rain after Koth is worried about her. It's not as bad as it looks.

Protect -- 14 ATC -- Dr. Oggurobb meets the Voidhound on Makeb.

Shy -- 13 ATC -- Cole Cantarus becomes friends with benefits with Eva (she pays at the bar).

Fresh -- anytime after 23 ATC -- C2-N2 tries to start spring cleaning on Virtue's Thief. "Tries" is the operative word here.

Taglist

@fluffyfebruary, @ayresis, @starlightcleric, @ermingarden, @blueburds-but-swtor, @vihola, @commanderlurker, @sarpndo, @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond, @vexa-legacy, @grandninjamasterren

[phoebenpiperx]

Having recently posted my HSM4 fic here, I went back and reread all my old fics on fanfiction.net and thought others might be interested in them as well.

15 of the fics were part of a series called Extra Innings that were all written by me and a friend immediately after HSM2, exploring the relationship between Ryan and Chad that started with the baseball dance # “I Don’t Dance”. I also deal with Ryan's relationship with Sharpay a lot as well as his friendship with the other Wildcats.

See below for links to my HSM fics (in the chronological order of the show).

Inspiration= A missing scene from HSM1. Kelsi observes the Evans twins rehearsing.

Musical Auditions= Sharpay and Ryan discuss what musical they'd like to perform in next.

Fantasy Football= Ryan's decided to go out for the football team, and Sharpay realizes why.

Extra Innings stories

Wildest Dreams = Ryan is upset that his team didn’t win the staff baseball game, but running into the Wildcats—especially Chad—in the locker room afterwards cheers him up.

Hanging Out = After the baseball game, Ryan finds himself welcomed by a new group of friends.

Dancing Lessons = The dance lessons weren't going as well as either boy had hoped. Perhaps it was time to try a new tactic.

Fever = A sweltering dance lesson, a kiss, and the aftermath. [6 chapters]

Oh Brother! = Sharpay tries to come to terms with a recent discovery about her brother.

Advice = Ryan seeks dating advice from friends and family. A continuation of our other ChadRyan stories.

First Date = Chad and Ryan have a disastrous first date, but all's well that ends well. [The final Coda is rated Mature.]

Second Date: Bowled Over =Chad and Ryan's second date is comandeered by Wildcats.

Ryan's Musical Revue = Sharpay decides it's time to introduce Chad to Ryan's past lives...all the roles he's played.

Karaoke Night = Sharpay invites Chad and Zeke to join the twins at Wednesday Karaoke Night.

Clueless = After Gabriella calls him "Clueless", Troy tries to pay more attention to his friends...and discovers something about Ryan and Chad.

Back To School = The Wildcats return to school for their senior year after the summer at Lava Springs. Has everything changed, or is it back to the old routine? [3 chapters]

Freaky Friday = The students of East High get to walk a mile in each other's shoes during a school-sponsored Freaky Friday event. [5 chapters]

Family Courtside = Mr. Evans takes Ryan to a basketball game as he tries to deal with the fact that Ryan is dating Chad.

Double Skate = Sharpay goes on her first "date" with Zeke. [4 chapters]

RHPSM = Chad attends a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show with his friends. Chad/Ryan. Please note: coarse language and references to a rated-R movie -- may not be appropriate for younger readers!

--

canon to HSM3:

Obvious = It's obvious why Ryan and Chad are reacting differently to their high school graduation. Inspired by Hey Monday song "Obvious". My HSM4 fic is canon to this one.

A Last Huzzah = It's only days since graduation, and Ryan and Sharpay are discussing their summer plans.

Nov 15, 2008: Txting Txting 123 = It's November 15, 2008, and the Evans twins are communicating across the miles. [In November 2008, a law called Prop 8 was passed in California which took away the right for gay couples to marry! On Nov. 15, millions of people across America participated in marches protesting this law—I researched the marches in each of the cities mentioned so they’d be accurate.]

Just Desserts, a sequel to Txting Txting 123 = A sequel to "November 15, 2008 -- Txting Txting 123". Everyone's home from Thanksgiving and eager to talk about their experiences at the "No on Prop 8" rallies.

Spring Musical Awakening = The Evans twins are each cast in a production of their colleges' spring musical production of "Spring Awakening". Dialogue only, but based on an R-rated musical so beware. [2 chapters]

Concert Chaos = Ryan and Sharpay go to see JONAS in concert!

HSM4: The Reunion = It’s the 15th anniversary of the best class ever, but the returning East High Wildcats aren’t quite as happy as they should be. A lot has changed, but there’s some things that never do. Maybe getting the whole gang back together was just what everyone needed. [based on HSMTMTS s4; canon to HSM3 & my fic Obvious]

--

set post HSM2 – Rated Mature!

Dancing Now = After the Star Dazzle show, Ryan hooks up with Chad...fully aware that Chad isn’t really interested in HIM.

Only Time Could Tell, a sequel to Dancing Now = Immediately follows Dancing Now, showing how Chad redeems himself after betraying Ryan.

[fountainpenguin]

"And honestly, I think you're fine! I mean, you're beautiful... about 84% of the time!" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 21 - “Heat (Martyn, BigB)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

A frustrated Martyn is left alone to babysit the Fox Dragon’s eggs. He texts Grian, Scott, Cleo, Mumbo, and Ren, then gets in three fights within an hour.

Meanwhile, BigB checks if Impulse's new farm designs are ethical for the villagers involved and Bdubs walks in on a dynamic that catches him off guard. Huzzah for server hub politics!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

InTheLittleWood - Phantom

Status: Bored

Acting captain of New Star Station's phantom hybrid flock

💙  🧡  💚

"Iron… water… charcoal… salt… Ugh." Martyn leans all his weight against the lab table, blowing his lips. "Wow, this would be so much easier if I had an admin panel- none of this back-and-forth rabble. Why don't I ever look these things up when I'm on-server?"

The fox eggs, being eggs, don't respond. Martyn had to peel his eyes from them to focus his attention on the lab table, though he keeps his tail resting on the ground, lightly wrapped around the nearest one. If someone flutters down on the flock roost platform, he'll hear them. And if someone creeps on tiptoes across the landing, the vibration will rattle up his spine. He's a great caretaker. This is going just swell.

And it's not a bad gig, actually, stuck up here on the clock tower... so long as you don't mind the squawking and banter of parrot hybrids in the southern park whose voices carry back all this way. Let them sing you the song of their people; we're all sparky-frustrated up here in Between. Gods, that stupid moon.

Grian: i maen its no surprise if its rough. wild phantom idle ambiance uses live young w/o eggs or nests. the hybrids were the same back in my world Grian: well undead young but ykwim Grian: like its your bat side and not your vulture side is what im saying Grian: or whatever else you are InTheLittleWood: k InTheLittleWood: thanks g Grian: yeah sure InTheLittleWood: wait how do undead hybrid babies work? Grian: ? were you born alive? InTheLittleWood: ?? I thought I was? I was adopted as an egg tho, I didn't hatch in Linda's nest. Never thought to ask "Hey Mum and Dad, was I born alive?"

He pats the nearby eggs as Grian starts to type. Should he put his crocs back on? Is it rude to put your smelly feet up on a spawn egg? They can't sense that, right? Nah… They're not even born yet. The very beginnings of a soul might be in there (Maybe? He's not sure how it works), but they only hatch once an account links up to them. This clutch only has a few dozen eggs.

Martyn rests his hands on his stomach, counting down the ticking seconds. Thousands and thousands of eggs hatch every day, more or less in the order they were laid by one of the 98 dragons across Between. Sometimes siblings and camera twins are born the same species. Sometimes another dragon dropped a few of her own in a nest at the same time, so there's a split.

On rare occasion, two souls bundle in a single egg- That's where you get identical twins like Grian and Two. How much longer before these foxes start spawning? It can't be long now.

Gods, imagine if every single one hatches two souls… That'll be at least 60, 70, 80 fox hybrids scampering around up here. I should probably take them down to ground level. The base of the tower is a big empty room, offering nothing but the stairs and the doorway out.

Grian: i think mumbo said the phantom dragon carries the eggs in her throat pouch Grian: its what the alligator dragon does and she lives in the swamp near mumbo's spawner with joels mom InTheLittleWood: Suddenly I think I owe my parents some cards and gifts. I knew adopting phantoms was rare but I didnt realize grabbing an egg probably means crawling inside Linda's mouth and escaping before she bites you, geez 😳 InTheLittleWood: unless they just got my egg right after it was laid Grian: when the spawnlings hatch they eat the souls shes been carrying in there Grian: lol Grian: i mean mumbo got paid the big $ to do egg stealing runs, its why he had the last allay aggs Grian: eggs

Martyn lifts his brows, staring at his comm screen. If you measure by years instead of levels, he's older than Mumbo. Mumbo definitely didn't grab his egg, but how weird would that be? You marry the man who kidnapped you as a baby… That's just weird.

Granted, he does hail from a well-off family. The term "well-off" is ambiguous when you're off-server, but the gist is that his parents actually do have diamonds whereas most of Between's natural resources have been picked over out in the wild.

Growing up, he always just assumed his parents ended up with a phantom egg because that's what they bid for when the adventurers - usually, but not always wandering traders - went out on adoption runs to the dragon nests. His mum's an otter hybrid and his dad's a raven: a rare predator and a rare scavenger most people don't even know are native in the game.

Otter code was prepped for Minecraft Dungeons, but never made it beyond early concepts. Nonetheless, they exist. They're called a Tweenborn mob- something meant to exist, but never truly crossed into one of the main dimensions. Ravens actually did make it into the Dungeons spin-off, but only went public as cosmetic pets. You don't fight them, but they hang around anyway.

Most people thought his parents were modded and would do a double-take if they ever mentioned the Otter Dragon or Raven Dragon, who rarely get the mental pings to build nests and lay eggs. Growing up, they used to introduce Martyn as "their phantom kid" and urge him to show the wings and his baby fangs.

Was I a trophy kid? he wonders now. He wouldn't put it past them. Love his parents he may, but they did chase a lot of status symbols. Being rich enough to afford what must've been a wizard-level egg retrieval - potentially from the depths of Linda's gular pouch - may have been too good to resist.

Martyn stares a little more, rubbing his thumb across the edge of his communicator. I haven't seen my parents since before my EVO days. Maybe he should go. He can fly fast and be back in a snap. Would Scott allow that?

I guess it doesn't hurt to ask.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[altraviolet]

Sorry about the bad news! I decided to gather some out of context TEG notes from my document in hopes to cheer you up a little:

Chapter 1:

First impressions, they find each other strange looking. Rodimus finds SW creepy and SW finds Rod gaudy in amount of pieces and color scheme. This is fun to watch change later on.

Chapter 13:

Rodimus is the first person Soundwave opens up to willingly without being forced to answer. He doesn’t even like Rodimus but the fact Rodimus is only one giving him a chance already makes him more willing to share internal stuff.

Chapter 16:

First instance of SW feeling good things in general (in a non-malevolent way, since the incident) but also feeling good things towards Rodimus. Also first time Laserbeak flutters against his chest in response to Rodimus.

Chapter 19:

Soundwave experiences whimsy. While still anxious and easily irritated with the LL crew, he felt comfortable enough at his party to laugh. In this same chapter he is bothered by being the most hated mech on the ship too. He has nothing left to loose at this time and is settling into life there whether he consciously admits it or not.

Chapter 21:

He’s making fucking friends, let’s go!!!

Chapter 22:

(1) Nautica is naturally friendly, quite like Tailgate, they don’t really have a reason to like SW at all but they want to try regardless. She is very excited to meet SW and I get the sense that while wary of him of course, she believes Soundwave to be gentler than he is— that he just hasn’t had the chance to show it yet.

(2) SW is being a supreme dumbass this chapter.

Chapter 23:

You could cut that tension with a knife, ease up girls.

Chapter 24:

He’s feeling guilty for what he did! Huzzah! Yes you are an asshole!

Chapter 25:

(1) TENTACLE WIGGLIES.

(2) Call back to when they first met, Rodimus did indeed punch him then and it was hilarious.

(3) Rodimus definitely likes cuddling. He made the moves to lean against slenderman.

(4) SW that’s called being happy.

Chapter 26:

He’s learned earning things is more satisfying than taking them, especially when it comes to making Rodimus happy. Regardless for a while he still struggles between what’s good for the ship, what makes Rodimus happy and his own hunger to know everything and do things that only benefit him.

Chapter 27:

(1) My king that’s called enjoying a conversation.

(2) Whirl is crazy!! Slay!!

(3) Whirl is spitting bars actually.

(4) SW literally risks being lost to space to retrieve the vial, the life threatening fight looses priority against the promise Rodimus made him.

(5) TG being a fucking boss. SWs realization that such a small mech can restrain him and that he’s greatly underestimated TG is hilarious.

Chapter 28:

Dude you are so in love.

Chapter 29:

Yes, SW, that’s how making friends works.

Chapter 30:

(1) This is funny to me, some security mechs have noticed the frequency in which Soundwave and Rodimus are seen together but they have it wrong here. It is Rodimus who brings SW along whenever he can, SW doesn’t believe he has the agency to follow Rodimus around without Rodimus asking first.

(2) Less swagger, more purpose is a hilarious line.

Chapter 31:

Do not take Rodimus away from his creepy shadow. He cannot stand being separated from his creepy shadow— he is lonely.

Chapter 34:

(1) I am going to die of heartbreak.

(2) Rodimus you’re behaving like a toddler.

(3) Mirage doesn’t speak of Skywarp here because for some reason he still believes he will face repercussions for loving a decepticon. Meanwhile, Rodimus (the autobot co-captain of the LL) is glaring at his decepticon boyfriend for ignoring him.

Chapter 35:

Yes, Rodimus your boyfriend is creepy. What else is new.

Ok that’s enough!! Hope they’re entertaining<3

aww thank you!! I definitely smiled all through reading that =D

[fanfoolishness]

IT'S OVER

I did it, y'all!!! 10 chapters of all sorts of Cal angst! Huzzah!

---

The Force shimmers and flows around him.  It is the caves of Ilum; frozen and glittering: the lush flowering gardens of the Jedi temple of Coruscant; the rich, fractal mesas of Bogano.  Cal wades through it in the spiral’s outer circle, moving dreamlike through the living air, a soundless music suffusing his consciousness.  Green-golden leaves blanket the path below, and his feet slide over them in gentle silence. The world beyond him falls far and away, here in the first circle of the stone spiral.  His pulse is an ocean in his ears, his breath a tide, his heartbeat a symphony unto itself.  Tears slip, unbidden, from his eyes, dampening his cheeks.  He licks them from the corners of his mouth, wondering at the sharpness of the salt.  When is the last time he’s felt the Force like this, so pure, so powerful? He steps further into the spiral, gliding over the golden leaves like a ghost.  His thoughts are soft ripples in the stream, droplets here and gone, here and gone, his focus singular within the Force.    How has he been surviving all this time without this?  How has he been breathing?

Please head to AO3 for the full story!

[lycorogue]

"seduce with caution" sounds interesting!

Ask is in reference to this WIP Title tag game. I have a whole tag just based around me gushing/raging/tearing my hair out over this project. 😅

To start, it's a fanfic within the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. For those not in the fandom, here's a quick primer: the show focuses on the teenage superhero Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir as they save Paris from supervillain Hawk Moth. Neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir knows their partner's secret identity, which makes things interesting since Ladybug is actually Marinette, classmate and friend to super model Adrien... aka Chat Noir. These secret identities have caused a bit of a complex romantic plotline the fandom has dubbed the Love Square*.

Now, the elevator pitch for Seduce With Caution is that, over the course of the 6 years since they've met, Chat Noir has developed the habit of visiting Marinette on a nearly-nightly basis. They have become best friends within these two personas - Chat Noir and Marinette - and one of their main topics of discussion is their failed love lives. One night Chat Noir proudly proclaims that he's sorted out how to get Ladybug to finally fall for him. Marinette playfully dismisses him. To prove his point, Chat Noir decides to try out his new flirting tactics on Marinette. Neither of them expected his new seduction moves to actually work. When they do, chaos ensues.

So now, 19yo Marinette is trying to sort out her newfound sexual attraction for 19yo Chat Noir and what that means for both her love for Adrien and her partnership with Chat Noir as Ladybug. Meanwhile, Adrien is also trying to figure out why Marinette swooning over him is such a huge turn-on. Is it just the swooning? Is it because it's swooning over his superhero persona instead of his model status? Is it because it's a friend of his instead of a random stranger? Is it because it's Marinette specifically? Can he get her just as hot-and-bothered as just plain old Adrien? Would it be as much of a turn-on if he could? What does ANY of this mean for his friendship with Marinette (both as Chat Noir and as Adrien) or his supposed undying love for Ladybug?

The story does progress into a MariChat (Marinette and Chat Noir) romance... aaaaand there's some smutty moments spliced in there.

Honestly? The story was originally going to be this crack smut one-shot. I had read the 4th and 5th chapters of Dressed to Confess by @zenmisery back in the summer of 2020. I was caught up in the MariChat make-out session, but also the fact that the two literally couldn't do much more than heavy petting due to Chat Noir's costume being magically incapable of being removed. He has a sort of magical chastity belt that he can't get around without detransforming and revealing who he is to Marinette. Well, my pervy brain had Marinette create a work-around, and I was simply going to write that scene: the two aged up and getting their little smut on thanks to Marinette's characteristic ingenuity.

My first attempts included Chat Noir doing a pole dance strip tease to get Marinette all riled up, and then she would reveal her master plan for him to actually disrobe without revealing who he was to her. I tried writing just that scene about 4x over the course of the next year. None of them worked.

Fast forward to August 2021 and I finally wrote a more subtle flirting/seduction scene. It was more sensual. It built up the tension better. It was accidental flirting. This was the scene I have been meaning to write! Huzzah! Eeeeeexcept... the whole point of Chat Noir "accidentally" flirting with Marinette was because he was practicing for Ladybug. I couldn't just have him and Marinette shack up! I had to have him get over Ladybug first... and Marinette get over Adrien.... and THEN get to the original smut scene!

It's the transition from regular Love Square to Reverse Love Square that has been holding me up since flippin' 2021! I have the first 3 chapters of this story pretty much locked in, I have a concept for the 4th chapter that I've been tweaking, and I have a few more scenes/chapters further along the plot that I have already sorted out/written. I'm excited for the bits I have actually put to paper (as it were), but it's the bridging moments that have been eluding me. I've attempted 9 different plotting strategies, and this final one seems to be working the best (especially if used in conjunction with a few of the other plotting tactics).

One of my New Years Resolutions was to have this story ready to publish by August... but it's not looking very likely. I HAVE been steadily** working on it, though... so there's that.

If you don't mind spoilers and want more info on this story, I have my latest plot outline attempt available here. Still needs lots of tweaks, but it's a start.

*For those who might not know what I mean when I say Love Square, here's the basic breakdown: Marinette is in love with Adrien, but he doesn't see her romantically because he's in love with Ladybug (but can only get the chance to tell her so as Chat Noir). Ladybug doesn't see Chat Noir romantically because of her love for Adrien, but she can't tell Chat Noir that because she fears it will somehow reveal her civilian identity. Ladybug also can't tell Adrien she loves him because she fears putting a civilian (Adrien) in danger if the Big Bad found out she liked him (think Mary Jane being targeted to get to Spider-Man). Adrien doesn't let Marinette (or really anyone) know he's in love with Ladybug because either (a) he fears people will pick on him for having a crush on a superhero, or (b) it might give away that he's Chat Noir.

Basically, the Love Square is this (complete with the couple names):

Reverse Love Square is exactly what it says on the tin.

**By "steadily"... well... I haven't really written MUCH at all the past three years. Depression is a beautiful thing, isn't it? I have kind of poked at it about once a month though... so... I guess that's steady. Right?