#yiiiikesmish

[biteofcherry]

listen. being pregnant is literally my worst fear. like these genes are 100% not suited for passing on and being a pre-med student means i know female pelvises are wider so that the baby can fit through but then i saw a real like actual grown woman pelvis and it so small and now i get full body ick shivers every time i think about it. anyways, point is, for mafia!steve? i could be (read: def would be) convinced. id risk it all for that man and im so obsessed with that universe. and your writing

To be completely honest, the actual process of growing a baby inside of you and then the birthing part is scary as hell! There are so many details (about body fluids and ripping and risks) which are rarely mentioned. I myself would like to someday be pregnant, but at the same time I'm terrified and would rather not. So I absolutely understand you!

The things Steve would make us do for him, though 😌 right? That man is a danger to our sanity and self-preservation instinct.

[brandycranby]

HI HELLO. I HAVE QUESTIONS! ok so obviously all about my newest obsession raccoon hybrid!reader. ONE. do the others know about stevie's new pet (? is that what we call her idk imma go w this bc it makes the most sense in my brain unless you have a better title)? like is tony aware theres this precious girl hiding out in steves rooms? do bucky and same know about her i must know. TWO if they do know about her how do they react? how does reader react to them knowing about her?

eeee thank you for all the questions 🥺🥺 i’ll try to answer these as best i can, it got kind of sociological and political honestly 🥲 i wish i could loosen up for ridiculous fanfic

a note ig, idk if i want to call her “pet”, both in and out of the AU. that does largely bring up the idea of owners and i don’t know if thats somewhere i want to go since the concept of being "owned" could be jarring for some readers. “companion” may be a better term and it’s even preferred in universe. “pet” would be an outdated term for a hybrid who exists as a live-in partner/entertainment (but technically they are kinda… pets)

ONTO UR QUESTIONS under a cut bc it's too long

they will eventually find out. unless no one ever visits steve’s quarters or notices how he orders extra extra food and spends more time in his room alone. I mean, bucky at the very least would be suspicious lolol sam would also get dragged along into investigating. they might even help steve keep his secret but she’d eventually get bored and sneak out. might go crawling around in the vents and end up bumping into clint who’s just 👀

there are rumors of a compound cryptid going around for a few weeks or months. thor brushes it off, has shared peanut butter with the “horrors” during late night snack time and didn’t know. natasha probably knew from the very beginning bc steve isn’t subtle and she Knows All. tony is the last to know ofc. bruce is concerned about hybrid welfare and is surprised that there's one here???

A lot of “how they react” and “how she reacts” really depends on the status of human-animal hybrids in this universe. A brief history:

for creatures to be treated as sub-human despite having human characteristics/appearances, it would mean that they’ve occurred naturally in the wild for some time and have been incorporated into human society as high class companions or status symbols but largely not.

glossing over a lot of historically linked phenomena like ✨british imperialism✨, the industrial revolution, capitalism, and rapid population growth, hybrids would eventually become victims of not only hydra but also other shady groups who either want to 1) capitalize on breeding and marketing hybrids or illegal trafficking/prostitution, 2) develop super soldiers that are hybrid-based (an alternative route to the serum), 3) or are just fucked up mad scientists who want to experiment on things that wouldn’t technically land them in legal hot water

bc hybrid laws are weird and complicated and i need a real lawyer to help me develop these (except i won’t bc this is strange lil au and i can’t dedicate my whole brain to it). as a whole, i don’t think it’d be strange for countries in the 21st century to have hybrid rights passed as legal regulations. they can talk, they can think for themselves, yes they have animal behaviors and special needs, but they are largely sentient and deserve to be called legal persons.

They can work and do things on their own but i think it’d be a very specialized field like dog hybrids working as TSA assistants bc they have good noses or cat hybrids being preferred dancers for ballet performances. Their role as companions are still relevant, bunny hybrids are cute and very nervous which make them less hireable as a barista for example but are ok for companionship.

(very vague term honestly, this ranges from the traditional lady’s companion role where they’re paid to just live with someone, babysitters/nannies, domestic partnership, to being caregivers or sugar babies 👉🏼👈🏼 also not sure how they'd get hired for this? word of mouth? registery?)

Raccoon hybrids exist but kinda.. aren’t useful in a field or are as desirable as companions. They don’t take orders as well as dog hybrids, are far too mischievous, and aren’t as aesthetically pleasing. Their common stereotype as pests have led to raccoon hybrids living mostly off-grid or as wanderers. This means they have more independence than other hybrids that live as pets but it also means that it’s not uncommon for them to be arrested or disposed of because of complaints.

Again, real life in the US is kinda terrifying right now. What is a right depends on state-to-state legislation. So while hybrids may have full rights in New York, the situation in Texas may be much worse where they are treated more like animals than persons. More horrors: possible open season?

All the Avengers would do their best to accommodate her and make her feel safe in the compound. Maybe they didnt think Steve would have gotten a hybrid on his own but ofc he'd pick one out of a garbage can 😌

---

i spent way too long on this 😭😭 thank u for loving my writing aaaa 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 u have no idea how happy that makes me, i write such sappy and soft stuff sometimes

the fic: the berry sweetest

[0nerd-at-heart0]

The Stress of a Case

Harvey Specter x Female Reader

Please Read: Hello! It's been a hot minute since I have published anything. Have been currently studying for my LSATS and have been a busy bee but after being obsessed with Suits for the past 2 years and waiting for more Harvey stories to be published I decided to create my own little storyline. What started off as a storyline in my head is now on paper. I have this idea to create a mini-story/universe: how the reader got hired, when she first met Mike, her first case with Harvey, her first date with Harvey, etc. I guess I just want to see if people are interested. It's been a while since I had written anything that wasn't an academic paper and my writing skills have changed drastically. This is one of the first the fics of the universe I am building in my head that I have written so I decided to publish this. I hope yall enjoy it, please give feedback.

Warnings: Talks about not eating (due to stress), food mention, panic attack details, fainting, Harvey being an ass, cursing I think? if I am missing anything please let me know

Word count: 5.6k

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @yiiiikesmish @malfoys-demigod

I tagged those who commented under my last post I hope that's okay and if you aren't interested in being tagged let me know and I will remove you sorry.

As you entered the corridors of Pearson Hardman, they were alive with the usual buzz of legal minds at work, but this time, a distinct tension hung in the air. You didn't even get a few steps into the associates area before hearing the straining  voice of Louis Litt yelling that there was an emergency meeting. 

You scrambled behind, stuffing your mouth with the banana nut muffin you thought you would eat peacefully at your desk this morning. You knew what this meeting was about, everyone knew. The case against Amir Jackson, the firm's ex-lawyer turned adversary, had everyone on edge. 

The briefing room was filled with hushed whispers as everyone settled in, and even the confident strides of Harvey Specter and Louis Litt carried a subtle weight.

Harvey, impeccably dressed as always, stood at the head of the conference table, his piercing gaze flickering between Jessica Pearson and the gathered associates, and maybe it was your imagination but it might have lingered a little longer on you. Snapped out of your imagination when he spoke, "Listen up, people. This case is different. Amir Jackson knows us inside out, and he won't hesitate to use that knowledge against us. He's playing dirty, and we need to be ready for anything."

You never got to meet Amir Jackson, but oh the stories. The firm had no problem doing what they needed to do to be successful, but there was a line they never dared cross and Amir crossed it. 

Jessica leaned forward, her hands planted firmly on the table. "Amir's betrayal when he left this firm was bad enough. Now, he's trying to take a piece of us with him. We can't let that happen."

Louis chimed in. "I've seen my fair share of dirty plays, but this guy is in a league of his own. We need to be one step ahead, or he'll bury us."

The gravity of the situation was sinking  in, associates exchanged knowing glances. They understood the magnitude of the challenge ahead. Amir Jackson wasn't just a legal opponent; he was a former comrade who knew their strengths and weaknesses intimately. The fact that there was a meeting needing to be held just told how much this case was about to get tricky. Usually the inner circle dealt with these cases: Harvey, Louis, Jessica, Mike and maybe sometimes Rachel. 

Your role as the go-to person for legal paperwork kept you in the thick of it. While Harvey Specter had his famed right-hand man in Mike Ross, he knew he could rely on you for drafting contracts with a precision that went beyond mere proficiency.

You might not have been Harvey's drinking buddy or his confidant like Mike, but there was a unique dynamic between you both. It was a quiet understanding that transcended the formalities of the workplace. You  knew you would never be his protege, and that was perfectly fine with you. What you brought to the table was a specialized skill set that complemented Harvey's legal prowess, if you do say so yourself. 

His voice thundered through the briefing room as he adjusted his cuffs, “I am building a specific legal team to help bring down Amir Jackson”. 

Of coure Harvey was going to pick Mike Ross, Mike was worth more than 8 associates. How much more help does he need? Who else could he need? Harvey's eyes scanned the room filled with associates. His gaze settled on you, and he flashed a sly grin. "You, Y/N. You're on my team for this one.” 

Harvey and you had worked together various times. He always knew he could count on you for legal paperwork. As much as he depended on Mike Ross, there was one thing you were that Mike wasn’t and that was that you had a talent when it came to drafting contracts. But I believe that there was some respect, one might even say in a blossoming friendship between you and him. You got a spark of it when he teasingly picked you out of the bunch of associates to be part of his team for his takedown of Amir Jackson. 

“You know, Y/N, if paperwork were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist," Harvey remarked with a wry grin, “And I expect you to bring the gold home for Pearson Hardman”

“I won’t let you down Sir”, you gave a weak smile as all eyes were on you.

 You hated the attention, yet you couldn’t help the small heat you felt on our cheeks as Harvey stared at you. Drawn to playing with the bracelet you wore as you slightly cringed at yourself for the words that came out of your mouth. Sir? Really. Stupid, you thought. 

Harvey moved past it and called out the name of 2 more associates and asked if anyone else wanted in on the case had to draw up a proposal. He only wanted the best of the best and trust him, he would get the best of the best. 

You made your way to Harvey’s office as the meeting was dismissed. And you reminisce on the first time Harvey complimented on your legal work. 

“ Are you a sorcerer”, Harvey asked as he made his way to your cubicle. It was late one night and you were stuck on an email. You had this need to overachieve and be perfect and it showed in everything you did. But if you were being honest it was exhausting. 

You glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Harvey, someone has to make sure the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Can't let you walk into a negotiation with a misplaced comma, now can we?"

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Maybe it's the lack of sleep or the fact that you had 4 coffees. But the confidence was there and to your surprise, Harvey chuckled. 

You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as he responded, "You're practically the Mozart of legal documents. I half expect those contracts to start singing a symphony when I open them."

You smirked, setting aside the email you were currently writing, swiveling your chair to face him,  "If you want a soundtrack to your legal victories, Harvey, I'm sure I can find a way to make that happen."

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Now that's the kind of innovation I like to see. Who needs background music at a negotiation? Just cue in Y/N legal masterpiece."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea. "I'll be sure to add it to the list of services I provide, Harvey. Background music, legal counsel, and a dash of flair."

Harvey straightened up, his signature confidence in full force. "Flair is your middle name, isn't it? The 'Legal Maestro with a Touch of Flair.' Has a nice ring to it."

You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation. "I'll have to update my business cards. But let's be honest, Harvey, you appreciate the flair. It's what sets my paperwork apart from the rest."

Harvey smirked, leaning in. "You're not wrong. But don't let it get to your head. I can't have you drafting contracts with a crown on, declaring yourself the Queen of Legal Documents." He turned to leave right after and you could have sworn you were asleep and that any moment now you would wake up from this dream.

You yelled out, “Don't worry, Harvey. I'll keep the royal proclamations to a minimum. Wouldn't want to overshadow your crown as the King of Closing Deals." And you could have sworn he let out a hearty laugh from down the hall. 

“Y/N, nice of you to join us”, Harvey said. Jessica and Mike were already in the room as the other associates were already screaming. They had been given their assignments and were off to work. 

“What can I do”, you spoke above a whisper, feeling small as the eyes were all on you. Jessica knew your history, she knew you struggled to be the shark of a lawyer you could be. But she hired you anyway, your interview with her wasn't the best. But she saw something in you, something that reminded her of herself when she was starting off. She was gonna build and mold you to a shark. But for now she let you be. A shark wasn’t born overnight. 

“ I need one of your flawless contracts for Amir. I need no loopholes. Nothing he can use against us”, Harvey spoke in a harsher tone then he meant. 

All you could do was nod your head and swiftly leave the room to do the research needed.  Leaving Mike, Harvey and Jessica to chatter. As you walked down the corridor you saw Louis making his way to Harvey’s office with Rachel in tow. All hands on deck indeed, you thought to yourself. 

The first night working on that draft through the dim glow of the late-night office lights illuminated your determined face. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard was accompanied by the occasional crunch of Hot Cheetos. 

Proud of  your work, you compiled the neatly typed pages and confidently walked over to Harvey Specter's desk. As  you  placed the document in the designated spot, you felt relief wash over you. It’s currently 2:00 am, no one is here but you but you really wanted to prove your worth. 

With only 5 hours asleep, the next day, you walked into the office, a little pep in your step. You made yourself some crappy coffee. And were about to head into the bullpen. 

Harvey, engrossed in his own work the minute he stepped into the office, took a moment to glance at the papers. His stern expression, usually unreadable, twisted into a scowl as he noticed a small Hot Cheeto stain near the corner of the document. And called you down to his office. Your pep was gone once you heard his tone of voice as he called your name. Turning on your heel you headed towards his office. Donna was expecting you and let you by. One foot through the door is as far as you got before Harvey had something to say. 

"Do you see this?" Harvey's voice was sharp pointing at the small stain.

Panicking slightly, you stammered, "I'm sorry, Harvey. I must have missed that." It was an easy fix, just print another copy, you thought to yourself making a mental note.

Harvey's gaze shifted from the stain to the content of the contract. He began circling errors with a red pen, his frustration apparent. "And these mistakes? This is what you place on my desk and yet it isn't up to my expectations”.

As he pointed out the errors, your pride in their work crumbled. The Hot Cheeto stain seemed to just make Harvey go on a power trip.. Each correction felt like a blow,"I expect better from you," Harvey remarked, his tone cold and unforgiving.

You nodded, unable to muster a response. Maybe the growing friendship you thought of was truly in your head.  As Harvey returned to his own work,  you retreated to their desk, determined to rectify the mistakes. 

You admit your first draft wasn't the best. And you shouldn't have eaten near the paperwork. You were currently starving as you finished up the last paragraph. It’s been 6 hours since Harvey scolded you but  this draft was perfect. And after you turned it in you were going to treat yourself  to a nice dinner. Probably the Mexican place down the road. You were zoned in for the past 6 hours. This was the only case you were working on and it needs all your attention. But your attention was quickly zoned into the associate that was stumbling through the door. 

Mike comes waltzing in, barely having any balance.  You and Mike haven't really talked much. But he didn't look well. 

“ Hey, Mike. You okay?" you asked, concerned in your voice. 

Mike attempted a nonchalant smile, but the wavering balance gave away his inebriated state. "Yeah, just...you know, a little tired."

Observing Mike closely, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. "Are you sure about that?"

Mike hesitated before confessing, "Okay, fine. Maybe a bit more than tired. Harvey and I went to meet someone about the Amir Jackson case, and things got a bit...out of hand with the drinks"

Your  concern shifted to a mix of annoyance and frustration. While you had been tirelessly working on the second version of the contract, Harvey and Mike were out getting drunk. "Seriously, Mike? We have a case to win, and you two are out here partying?"

Mike scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "We thought it was a good idea at the time. Maybe it was a bit impulsive."

Determined to express their frustration,  you headed towards Harvey's office, the door slightly opened,. Knocking lightly, you  entered and handed Harvey the second draft of the contract. The faster you gave it to him the faster you could leave. 

"Here's the updated version, Harvey," you said, trying to mask your  annoyance. After all, he is still the boss.

You sped walked out of there and back to your cubicle. Mike was there still, with his head on his desk. 

“Go ask Donna for some pain killers, you still have a long night ahead of you”, you told him. 

Mike just nodded and stumbled as he stood up to go to Donna. You were packing your bags, ready to call it an early night. When your computer dinged.  You sat down to respond to an email quickly when you felt the tension of the bullpen change drastically.

“What is this, Y/N ?" Harvey's tone was sharp, his blue eyes piercing into mine.

You frowned, confused by the unexpected hostility. "It's the contract you asked for, Harvey. I double-checked everything, and it's all in order."

He scoffed, he took out a red marker from his pocket and started circling stuff with his red marker again, "This is subpar, even for an associate. I don't have time for amateur hour."

You  felt a knot tighten in your stomach, a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Harvey, I don't understand. I followed the protocol, and the contract is flawless. What's the issue?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, cutting tone. "Flawless? If this is your definition of flawless, we're in trouble. I need precision, not this half-baked attempt at legal work."

The comments were like a punch to the gut. Harvey's relentless standards were known, but this seemed different. You couldn't fathom what had triggered such a harsh reaction. Was he too tipsy?  Doubt crept into your  mind, questioning your abilities despite knowing that the document was, by all standards, impeccable.

As you scrambled to gather my thoughts, Harvey continued. "If you can't handle the basics, I don't know why I bother keeping you around. Maybe it's time for a reality check, Y/N."

His words hung in the air, a heavy weight on my shoulders. The bullpen fell silent, and your colleagues exchanged uneasy glances. You knew how people judged women for being emotional in the workplace but you could not help the tears welling in your eyes. 

Harvey turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance, leaving you with a sinking feeling of inadequacy. You stared at the perfectly crafted document, now dismissed and devalued by Harvey's cutting words. It was a moment of doubt, a crack in the confidence you had built in your work. Goodbye nice dinner, you thought to yourself as we sat at your cubicle, back to square one. 

It's been about a week since Harvey yelled at you. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat. Doubt was eating you. You were always proud of your writing skills, that was what you were known for. This is what got you hired at Pearson Hardman. What if you weren't good enough for this job anymore? Did you speak? Your mind was racing and you were lucky enough to talk yourself down. You were currently working on your fifth version of this contract. Every draft before that had him taking out his red marker. A part of you could have sworn he was just circling things at random, but who are you to question the great Harvey Specter. It was 2:00 pm and you thought maybe you deserve a snack so you headed to the breakroom. Who do you happen to run into Mike Ross? He had no faults but just happened to be the unwitting recipient of your  frustration.

You stormed up to Mike barely containing the anger that had been building for weeks. "Mike, we need to talk," I blurted out, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice.

Mike looked up from his sandwich, surprised by the intensity of my tone. "Sure, Y/N, what's going on?"

You took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "It's just... Do you ever feel like you're stuck in someone's shadow? Like no matter how hard you work, you're always one step behind?"

Mike furrowed his brow, sensing the gravity of my emotions. "What happened? Is it Harvey?"

You nodded, my frustration bubbling over. "It's always Harvey. He treats you like a partner, his drinking buddy, his go-to guy for everything. Meanwhile, I'm drowning in his shadow, drowning in rewrites and unreasonable expectations."

Mike leaned back, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I get it. Harvey has his moments. But you're great at what you do. Maybe he just doesn't see it."

"That's the problem, Mike. He doesn't see it. I'm just the person who writes and rewrites, constantly trying to meet his impossible standards. Did you know I can't even eat at my desk because once there was a Hot Cheeto stain on one of the drafts, and he lost it?"

Mike's eyes widened, realizing the extent of my frustration. "That's harsh, Y/N. Look, I know I have a different dynamic with Harvey, but it doesn't mean he values you any less. Maybe you should talk to him about how you're feeling."

"It's not that easy, Mike. I'm tired of being the one in the background. I can't handle the pressure anymore." you confessed, your voice laced with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

Mike sighed, understanding the weight of your words. "I can't fix everything, but I can listen. And I am truly sorry"

“NO, NO, no  I am sorry Mike, I am not mad at you or at Harvey. I guess I am mad at myself. I am just going back to work on my fifth version of this document”, you said as you felt the hunger take over. But you pushed through. You had to push through.

As you walked out of the break room,  Mike became an unexpected ally. He went to his binder Harvey put together and looked for the fourth version of the contract knowing Harvey had put it all in the file to look over. The document was perfect, no one could have done it better. 

Mike took in your look when you came bargaining in here. You looked awful. And what it was barely a week working on the case. Mike had heard about Harvey yelling in the bullpen but it had caused you so much disarray that Mike knew Harvey took it too far. He knew you and he didn't talk as much but Rachel adored you and he had to do the right thing and get Harvey to apologize.

Donna saw Mike striding towards Harvey’s office and knew what was coming. Donna knew Harvey was wound tight. That this case was getting the best of him and taking it out on the lovely Y/N but lord forbid she say anything. The last time she tried she nearly got her head chewed off too and Harvey right now needs to know he isn't alone in this case. 

"Harvey, you're being too hard on Y/N. The contract she wrote was perfect, and every draft since then has only improved upon perfection. You can't keep circling random stuff just to make her rewrite it," Mike asserted, his tone firm as he entered Harvey’s office. The fourth version of your contract in his hand. 

Harvey shot him a sharp glance. "I demand the best, and if she can't deliver, then maybe she's not cut out for this."

Mike shook his head. "It's not about delivering, Harvey. It's about you being stressed out over the case and taking it out on her. She's doing her best, and you need to acknowledge that."

Before Harvey could respond, Donna chimed in. "Mike's right, Harvey. I've seen the way you've been treating Y/N, and it's not fair. You've always had a soft spot for her, even if you won't admit it.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "A soft spot? Donna, you're reading too much into it."

Donna crossed her arms, "Harvey. I am Donna and I know everything. I also see everything. Harvey. Remember the time she was sick, and you made sure she had everything she needed? Or how you personally chose her for the team during the Jackson case? You compliment her skills and skip past everyone else you named for your team. You've got a soft spot for her, whether you admit it or not”

Mike nodded in agreement. "You can't deny it, Harvey. There's something about her that you can't ignore. Maybe it's time to acknowledge it and cut her some slack."

Harvey sighed, he didn't appreciate Mike and Donna ganging up on him but the fact that they were meant they maybe had a point, "Fine. Maybe I've been too hard on her. But she needs to know that mediocrity isn't acceptable."

Donna shook her head. "Harvey, there's a difference between pushing for excellence and being unnecessarily harsh. You owe Y/N an apology."

Reluctantly, Harvey nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to her. But this doesn't mean I'm going soft."

Donna smirked. "We wouldn't want that, Harvey."

Harvey made his way to find you. While Donna and Mike exchanged a knowing look. He made his way down to Rachels office, knowing that's where he will find you at these hours. He was taking the elevator and he thought about the last time both of you were in the elevator. It was the day the Amir Jackson case got handed for the first time. Harvey was on his way to meet with Amir for the first time in a long time to talk over the case, get under his skin.

The elevator doors closed, enclosing Harvey Specter and Y/N in a small, confined space. The tension from the  Jackson case was already weighing heavily on Harvey, evident by the way he impatiently tugged at his perfectly knotted tie.

"Harvey, relax. You're going to strangle yourself with that tie if you keep pulling on it," you quipped. You realized the stress coming off him and the words just flew out of your mouth before you could think.

Harvey shot them a sidelong glance, his usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a flicker of amusement. "Maybe I'd be better off without it."

A small, unexpected laugh escaped Harvey's lips, surprising both him and Y/N. It was a rare sight to witness Harvey Specter, the embodiment of seriousness, letting his guard down even for a moment. Specifically with you. 

" This isn't your first time easing the tension, I see the way you calm Rachel down when she gets in over her head. You always find a way to lighten the mood. What's your secret?" Harvey teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You shrugged, a smile forming as you too let down your guard "Maybe it's just my superpower. The ability to make even the mighty Rachel and even the mysterious Harvey Specter crack a smile."

Harvey's expression shifted back to his usual cool exterior, but a subtle warmth lingered in his eyes. "Careful, now you might start thinking you're irreplaceable."

As the elevator continued its ascent, the banter between you quieted down and Harvey and you started to go back to normal. Back to the quietness and coldness.

But before the elevator opened to the floor, Harvey sneaked in, “Well, don't let it get to your head. You're not the comedian Pearson Specter, just the document wizard.", his smile lingered a little before the face of the closer returned to its hard exterior. 

If you were there longer than Rachel or she was busy running around the office she allowed you to work in her small office room. It was currently 4:00 pm but Louis had yelled at all the associates and dismissed them for the day for being useless. Only those working on the Amir case were still here, plus Donna and Rachel. Rachel was off trying to get the emails of old associates of Amir. You thought that Mike probably went off with her after your little breakdown to him. You knew Harvey was in the office and that you were typing on your keyboard like there was no tomorrow. You  meticulously worked on the revised legal document, determined to prove to Harvey Specter that you could meet his standards and trying to prove yourself that you could melt your own standards. The door swung open abruptly, and you hooked up to see Harvey's stern expression.

"Y/N, we need to talk," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that another reprimand was imminent.

Your pulse quickened, and your breath caught in your throat. The anxiety that had been simmering since Harvey's earlier criticism surged to the surface. You felt a tightness in my chest, your hands trembling as you tried to compose myself.

Harvey noticed your distress, as his expression softened, and he took a step closer. "Hey, relax. I just wanted to talk about earlier. I think I may have been too harsh."

The words barely registered as your panic escalated. Your mind raced, and suddenly, you found it difficult to breathe. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you. Before you could respond, the edges of your vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness overcame you as you sat at the desk, gripping on to the edge for support. 

Harvey's concern deepened as he watched you struggle. "Hey hey hey, whoa, take it easy. You are okay, everything is okay”

But you couldn't catch your breath, and panic tightened its grip. Your hands shook uncontrollably, and you gasped for air. In the midst of the chaos, Harvey acted swiftly. He made his way around the desk kneeling down to be at eye level with you. 

"Deep breaths, Y/N. In and out," Harvey instructed, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of panic.

As you continued to struggle, Harvey, without hesitation, he took your  hand and placed it over his heart. "Feel my heartbeat? Match your breaths to it. In, and out” 

His heartbeat served as a rhythmic guide, and slowly, your breaths synchronized with its steady cadence. The panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over you.  As the storm within you  quieted, exhaustion set in, and the world around you blurred into darkness.

Harvey caught you as you passed out. Guilt swept over him because he knew he was the cause of this. He can’t remember the last time he saw you smile, the last time you ate, the last time you lit up a room. You were giving your all in this case and by doing so you were giving away parts of yourself too. He moved you onto Rachels couch so you could lay down properly. He knew you passed out because of panic and the lack of eating, he noticed these things about you. He noticed a lot about you actually, damn it Donna, he thought.

 He took his pocket square and wet it with your water bottle. He adjusted himself to the couch, moving so that your head was on his lap as he placed the cool rag on your forehead. 

The aftermath of the panic attack had left both of you in a vulnerable state. Yet Harvey couldn't deny the flutter in his chest as he gazed down at you. Was it concern for your well-being, or was it the proximity that had him on edge? He shook off the thought, focusing on steadying his own heartbeat.

In the midst of the stillness, the door creaked open, and right on cue Mike Ross cautiously entered. He took in the scene, the concern etched across his face.

"What happened?" Mike asked, his eyes shifting between Harvey and your unconscious state, ready to fight Harvey if he did you any physical harm.

Harvey, in his usual commanding tone, snapped, "Go to the Mexican restaurant two blocks down and get two number 5's."

Mike, taken aback, stammered, "But—"

"Just do it," Harvey insisted, his gaze never leaving you. 

Mike quickly exited, leaving Harvey alone with his unconscious colleague. He had so many questions but Harvey’s tone told him everything he needed to know.  Minutes later, the door swung open again, revealing Mike with bags of Mexican takeout in hand.

"Here," Mike said, handing the bags to Harvey. "I'll take off early for the night. Rachel and I were thinking about grabbing dinner. You got this, right?" A little weary to leave you, feeling like he should tell Rachel, Donna or even Jessica. But the look in Harvey’s eye told him he had nothing to worry about. 

Harvey nodded, a silent acknowledgment of Mike's understanding. As Mike left, Harvey couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and guilt. He knew you hadn't been eating well, and by the looks of your under eye bags you also hadn't been sleeping and the panic attack had been triggered by the stress of the Jackson case, a burden he bore on both their shoulders.

As you began to stir, Harvey glanced down at the bags of Mexican food. The aroma filled the room, and he hoped the gesture would, in some small way, make up for the turmoil he inadvertently caused.

"You're awake," Harvey remarked as you slowly opened their eyes.

You ignored everything around you as you slowly sat up with the help of Harvey. A blush rushing on your face realizing how close you were to Harvey. But all that faded when you saw the food, "How did you know this is my favorite?"

“That’s the first thing you ask?’Harvey raised an eyebrow. 

Your body slowly turned to face him.The headache and body sores had you wincing in pain. Harvey’s eyes held much guilt and sadness in them even as he tried to suppress them and act strong in front of you. This was about you and not about what he was feeling. 

“I am a simple girl. I get easily distracted by food”, you let out a small laugh even though you are exhausted, “Now answer my question”

Harvey hesitated, the words lingering on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say that it's because he knew you. But Instead of admitting the depth of his knowledge about you, he chose a simpler response. "Who doesn't love Mexican food?" 

You hummed as he moved the desk closer to you so you wouldn't have to get up from the couch. The food was spread out and he took a seat next to you. A silence took over the room as you both began to eat. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, the events of the panic attack still lingering in the air.

Harvey cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. "Look, Y/N, I wanted to apologize for the unnecessary pressure I put on you. It was out of line, and I shouldn't have let it escalate to the point of causing a panic attack."

You glanced up from your plate, a mixture of exhaustion and forgiveness in your eyes. "Harvey, it's not entirely your fault. The case is stressful, and I should have handled it better."

Harvey's expression softened at your words. "That doesn't excuse my behavior. I should have been more considerate. I don't want you to feel like you have to carry the weight of the case alone."

You sighed, pushing the food around on their plate. "Harvey, I forgive you, but on one condition."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

" I can't keep being treated like an outsider, I know I only got hired because of my writing skills but I want to do more, be more. I want to be more than just the person who drafts contracts. I know I can be a kick ass lawyer if given the chance."

Harvey took a moment to absorb your words. The realization of the impact of his actions sank in, and he nodded. "You're right”

“Did those words really just come out of your mouth”, your eye grew wide as a smile danced on your lips’’

“Just, can you just shush for a moment”, he said as he placed his  fork down. 

“ Jessca told me when you were hired that you were born to be a shark. I guess I got so caught up in your skills that I haven't really even given you the chance to dominate the courtroom.  I shouldn't have overlooked that."

You saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Was it hope?

You both continued to eat in subdued silence, the tension in the room shifted. The unspoken feelings between both of you simmered beneath the surface. This was forever changing the dynamic of your professional relationship. 

So where do you all go after this? The case of Amir Jackson isn't over, there is much more left for you both to do. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning, leaving both Harvey and you to navigate whatever comes next.

[ronearoundblindly]

On A Scar

Steve Rogers x reader (no specific universe but this is inspired by--and for--@anika-ann 😘)

a surprise addition to my Valentine's Fics of 2024!

No warnings but I literally hurt myself it's so cute. WC 234

Steve truly is a gentle giant.

Broad-shouldered and big-handed, he could lumber around—hulk about, if you will—but instead he’s spending a lazy morning tickling you. He uses light, fluttering fingers to trace patterns on your skin while you two hide out beneath the bed sheets, a glow of daylight diffused by your makeshift hideaway.

The golden boy looks so beautiful in the morning. He’s soft and sleepy. He leans his head to your chest as if not strong enough to lift it, as if he’s wiped out by touching you in his dreams.

He tells you about those.

He whispers how you excite him, how you tease him, how you comfort him, and then he remembers that most of those are real. You really exist. You’ve really been here. You’ve really stayed. You truly love him.

His fingertips smooth over the long scar below your bellybutton, one after the other.

Index.

Middle.

Ring, adorned with his golden band.

Pinky.

Outside your cotton oasis, there’s a cry for attention, a young alarm set to a biological clock you bore from that very scar.

You and Steve sigh with matching amusement. You’ll return to this lovely interlude after a brief, bottle recess.

As he gets up, Steve plants a sweet, lingering kiss to the nerve-sensitive line.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers, and the gentle giant sneaks off to feed his super cute baby.

Jake Jensen and a kiss to shut them up ⬅️ ➡️ Ransom Drysdale and a kiss on a falling tear

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

[beefromanoff]

Tempting Fate Masterlist

growing up in Brooklyn, Steve and Bucky knew a girl that nearly tore their friendship apart. Genevieve was beautiful, enigmatic, tempting. they made a pact never to let another girl come between them again. now, decades later, Tony Stark has brought a new lead engineer to Stark Industries.

she's beautiful, brilliant, and the spitting image of her grandmother.

as Evie pursues what, and who she wants, Steve and Bucky have to decide if their pact should hold up, or if it's time to give into temptation.

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list <3

MINORS DNI tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

teaser

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Heya lovelies!

How is everyone??? 😌😌😌

No Pressure tags (my moots) <3: @navybrat817 , @sergeantbarnessdoll , @neoncowgirlposts , @yiiiikesmish , @marvelavengerspovs1 , @jvanilly , @animnerd , @thetrashpossum . @jamneuromain , @somnorvos , @cntloup , @cevansbaby-dove , @im-salt-but-not-salty , @angelbabyyy99 , @buckys-wintersoldier

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Bear and Pretty girl

Ari Levinson x reader mini series

Even bears get hurt sometimes...

How Bear met Pretty girl...

Tags: @hawkeyes-queen @boringandbored @lewisroscoelove @fangirlfree @am-i-rite-ladies @calimoi @wintasssoldier @gh0stgurl @chrisevanseagletattoo @hcaldwell016 @coffeebooksandfandom @tenaciousperfectionunknown @talesofadragon @sebsgirl71479 @summersong69 @montycantsin-blog @moonlover-tobefree @hereforthemarvelidiots @mischiefmanaged21 @yiiiikesmish @marigoldreamer @like45 @shoegal73 @hufflepufftruffle @buckybarnessimpp @imaginelover88 @thorinsmistress13 @fuckyouwithkindness @angelmather1 @aprilspage @g-c-e @shamalamadingdong @stillthatbetch @evieshifts777 @dontbescaredtosingalong

[universitypenguin]

Last Line Tag

rules: share the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words you want.

tagging: @yiiiikesmish @rogersbarber @nomadstucky @rosedpetal @worksby-d @lexivass

This is the prologue from a fanfic story that I’m currently playing around with. Thoughts of publishing it are very far away at the moment, but I enjoyed how this dialogue scene between two of my oc’s turned out.

The trouble with Khalil wasn’t his skills. It was his personality. He was a tenacious, driven student who worked hard despite all the advantages life had bestowed upon him. His father was an international banker from Qatar and his mother’s side of the family included a long and distinguished line of Saudi Arabian horse breeders.

“The merits of the case against you have been thoroughly reviewed,” Franz interjected. “Multiple witnesses have come forward and the findings are clear. We can’t ignore such serious allegations. Especially when they’re backed up by physical evidence.”

Khalil’s jaw clenched. “I’ve been at this school for five years. You know me. I would never stoop to such a despicable level. I’ve worked too hard to ruin everything now! Especially by doing something as stupid as that!”

Franz tried to find a softer phrasing to cushion the next blow he’d regretfully conceded to deliver, but he wasn’t the type for indirectness. After struggling within himself for a delicate choice of words, he gave up and spoke the plain truth.

“That may be true of you, Khalil, but it isn’t true of your father.”

“I’m not him! I earned my place in this sport through my own efforts!”

Franz sighed heavily. That was true. More so for this young man than many of the other students who were there based only on their connections and wealth.

“I want to believe you, but the integrity of our school is at stake. We can’t turn a blind eye to this… unfortunate situation, no matter how dedicated you may have been to your work. You’re dismissed from the academy, in addition to your lifetime ban from all internationally sanctioned Equestrian Sports.”

[velvet-paradox]

Between (Part Two)

Fandom: Stranger Things/Marvel AU

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Female reader, Jim Hopper x Joyce Byers, eventual Female reader x Jim Hopper, eventual Jim Hopper x Female Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: the new neighbors next door are really something, huh?

Length: Medium

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, ok look... one little idea pops in my head and here we have this mess; take it or leave it (PLS TAKE IT): explicit content, voyeurism, strong language, oral (m receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie .

Tagging: @synnersaint @yiiiikesmish

ENJOY!!!

"No no, like this!"

Jim smiled in his own backyard watching Will do a summersault on the grass. El laughed at him, missing out on those little fun things as a child. Not poked and prodded and forced to use her powers for hours on end.

"Now you try!" Will and the rest of the kids were still pretty young at heart. They played some fantasy game that Jim had never gotten the grasp of, biked around and would sometimes play a pick up game of basketball at the rec center. He hoped El wouldn't grow out of that stage just yet. Seventeen. He was suddenly reminded of what you had said when you first met, that you were a bad influence of sorts. Jim wondered how many hearts you broke along the way to land Steve Rogers.

"Hey Jim, we're out of basics, would mind running to the store?" Joyce finished soaking the dishes, sliding in the last plate he could hear from the window while he smoked and watched the teens play.

"Sure thing! Keep an eye on em' while ya?" 

"Whatever you say, chief." Joyce blew him a kiss and tossed hum the keys through the open bay window. 

Jim turned down the radio in his truck, lurching forward in the seat as he saw storm clouds rolling in. Thick dark pillows clouds gathered and just far enough I the distance he could see little sprinkles of blue white lightning in the future. A few droplets of water hit his cheeks when he walked into the grocery store. 

Jim grabbed a few things the house needed and few that it didn't. Did he really need to buy an extra six pack and a box of Twinkies? No, but they were in the cart anyway. He strolled through the aisles and just as he put the last bag in the backseat there was a shout from behind him.

"Look out!"

Bang. 

Son of a bitch!

A wild shopping cart, dizzy from the gaining wind slammed into the back of his leg. As he rubbed his knee quick footfalls came closer.

"Omg Jim I am so sorry!" You grabbed the shiny red handle of the cart, spinning it away. "Damn thing got away from me! Are you ok?"

"It'd alright Y/N, I'm alright." Jim winced and his eyebrows met his hairline when you dropped down to a squad, touching his knee. His skin felt too hot and wished the rain would just get here already. Wash away this strange new feeling. 

"Are you sure?" You asked and looked up at him through your lashes. Poor Jim. He caught just the briefest of glances down your shirt.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You got up with a bounce. "It's not busted is it?"

"Nah probably just a scratch, nothing serious. Trust me, I've had worse.”

"Gosh I am really sorry, Jim."

"You don't have to apologize, that storm is coming in hot. I'm surprised more carts aren't flying around here." Jim joked, relaxing when you smiled. 

"I'm parked just over there," you thumbed behind you, Jim could see the trunk of your car was still open, then you turned back with a wicked twinkle in your eye. "Wanna' race home?"

"What?"

"I'm kidding! I know you're a lawman." 

"Was, a lawman. "

"Once a man in a uniform, always a man in uniform." You touched his arm, not the way you touched your husband's but close enough to let it linger.

....

"So... what do you think?"

"You look like a princess."

"Or something a princess ralphed up." Will joked as El spun around the living room in a too pink, too puffy sleeved and flounce homecoming dress. She frowned.

"Will, be nice." Joyce never could scolded Will, not like she did before everything had turned Hawkins on its' head.

"I'm just joking!" Will hid his shit eating grin and hugged his stepsister. "You know I'm kidding, right El? It looks nice it's just..."

"Just what?" El asked swished the skirt of the dress.

"It's just, I don't know El, it's not you. Not your style."

"My style?" El's frown grew and she moved and plopped down on the couch next Jim. He patted her leg. "What's my style?"

"I don't know. You haven't figured that part out yet." Will shrugged.

"Look at Mike, he rocks band tees and ripped jeans because that's his style, that's how he is. And Max, she's a big music head so she wears what her idols wear. You'll figure it out. Pink just doesn't describe who Eleven is."

"Oh."

"Don't worry sweetie, we'll take you to the mall and have a girl day. How does that sound?" Joyce offered just as the timer on the stove went off.

....

A crack of thunder and a purple wave of lightning lit up the night sky, rain came down in full on sheets. Jim checked and rechecked that he had in fact rolled up all the windows on the cars. It sounded violent. 

Another sleepless night.

The sounds outside put the whole Byers/Hopper house expect for him. Munching on a banana in the kitchen didn't help, the glass of cold tap water didn't either. He hung his head at the sink, gingerly placing the glass on the surface. He walked through the living room with a yawn but stopped short when a flash of lightning illuminated the empty space between the houses. Jim squinted,  uncertain of what he just saw or thought he saw until he got to the window.

What was with these glimpses into other people's lives that lured him like a moth to a flame?

It was wrong to be nosy, to be that neighbor. He thought of Gladys Kravitz from Bewitched, always on the look out for something strange across the street.  But there was something goin no.

As Jim peered through the downstairs window, no enough to cast a shadow or let himself be known.

You were in your own living room, moving your head back and forth while Steve had his hand at your throat. He was choking you, shaking you around in the candle lit room. Steve's hand slapped your face twice in succession, not violently but enough so that you pouted and looked up at your husband. Jim fumbled around for the phone but stopped when he lifted the receiver, Steve was pointing at you, then the floor. Jim couldn't see much after that, other than the top of your head that made a good shelf for Steve's large hands as you sucked him off.

....

Adventurous is what Joyce called it when he told her the next afternoon, finally the weekend to enjoy and indulge in some much needed R & R.

"Their young and in love Hop, it's fine. Their consenting adults and why are you watching them anyway?" Joyce asked, rummaging through the clean and maybe not so clean piles of laundry in the bedroom.

"I wasn't watching them! I just happened to look out and see Steve choking and slapping his wife!"

Joyce regarded him. "Jim. People experiment sexually all the time, maybe their into some kinky stuff."

"Well we don't do that stuff!"

"No Hop we don't and you know why?"

Jim abruptly looked at his wife. "No, why?"

"Because we're not them!" She laughed and at least threw a clean pair of socks at his face. "We're old and we have young kids in the house... once it's just you and me, if you want to fool around with that kind of thing we can explore it then but for now," Joyce shook out a shirt and as an after through smelled it and tossed it down quick to the dirty pile at her feet. "Yeesh. Until then, I am a-ok with our missionary."

"That's all we do." Jim didn't mean for it to come off like that, he was fine with it too but sometimes he wanted to bend his wife over, take her from behind, tug on her hair, smell her neck.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"Oh no, not nothing. Explain yourself, Jim Hopper. " another wad of socks bounced off his chin.

"It's nothing Joyce really. I didn't mean anything by it. Just like, I don't know. We used to be like them I guess, not slap happy shit or that what do you call it-- exhibition junk, but we used to do it all the time, all over the place. Remember when I turned thirty-seven and we had sex at skull rock like we did in high school?"

"Yes... and you're right; that was pretty fun." Joyce smiled in her reverie.

"Ya' know I think that was the last time I fucked you from behind. Jesus, maybe we are old..."

The laundry basket hit the floor with a thud, all her sorting efforts gone to nothing. Joyce strolled around the end of the bed and grabbed Jim's foot. 

"You uh, maybe wanna do that now?"

Jim burst at the seams. Nobody wake him the fuck up.

"Wait, now?"

"Yeah now! The kids are gone, it's just you and me for the next hour or so," Joyce wiggled her eyebrows and twitched her lips to the side. "Or maybe even later."

....

Fuck this felt good. Why did this feel so fucking good? He almost forgot the feeling, the way Joyce melted and clawed at his arm wrapped around her waist. How her muffled breath for more sounded to his ears, his knee made a popping sound but that didn't stop him from fucking his wife. If anything it made him lust after her even more. Joyce laced their fingers together on her soft stomach, bent over her and smelled her hair, her perfume. The slap of skin on skin, their hot bodies set in unison drove his cock deeper into her. 

"Jesus Hop, don't stop!" Joyce moaned and slipped out of his grip, falling to the mattress as his thrusts sped up, chasing the lightning of both of their orgasms.

"Christ Joyce, that's it. That's fucking it!" Jim tugged on her mused hair, scratching at her scalp, stretching her around him until the final grunt of her name as he came, letting go inside her as Joyce gripped the sheets by her head and followed over the edge with a wail.

"We gotta’ do that more often." Joyce panted, rolling over and fixing her tits in her bra. It happened so fast her shirt was just shoved up enough to expose her chest, jeans hung loose at both of their ankles.

"How much time did you say we had?"

Joyce laughed in hysterics, turning on to her back. The sheets were ruined and would be added to the pile on the floor, especially when she reached out for him. He fit between her legs, wet and flaccid cock reviving against her sex when she pulled him in for a languid kiss.

[0nerd-at-heart0]

The Case Continues

A/N: Thank you for ALL the love and support on my latest fic!!!! ♥ After not writing for a year it felt weird to write again but y'all have been so sweet, so truly thank you to all of you. I just finished 2 of midterms and there was this guy behind me on one of my tests coughing like crazy so now I am sick. While I should take this opportunity to study for the LSATS now that I am stuck in bed, I just had to continue writing. As long as you all continue reading I am more than happy to continue writing. If you want to be added or taken out of the taglist please DM me :) 

P.S. : I used the stars to break down the sections for myself as I wrote and kept them in, if they are weird or unhelpful let me know so I can get rid of them and as always feedback is always welcomed

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @malfoys-demigod @yiiiikesmish

Word Count: 5.5 k

Warnings: sexual harassment, cursing, pet name like sweetheart, mentions of food and eating (any more warnings that I missed please let me know)

There will be a part 3 after this one, still writing it but if you haven’t please check out the Part 1:  The Stress of a Case

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ

As you finished the last bite of your meal in Rachel’s office, a comfortable silence settled between you and Harvey.  Harvey leaned back in his chair, and a sense of relief seemed to wash over his face, "You did well today, Y/N. We'll get through the Jackson case. I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You offered a small, appreciative smile, acknowledging the sentiment. "Thanks, Harvey. It means a lot."

You stared at the clock and the realization that it was time to head home crept in. Harvey, ever the gentleman, offered you a ride, “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He stood up moving the desk back to how he found it and picked up the trash. 

However, your need for control and familiarity after the recent panic attack made you decline the ride, "Thanks for the offer, Harvey, but I think I'll take my own car tonight."

A small, almost imperceptible frown flashed across Harvey's face, quickly replaced by his usual composed expression. "Alright." was all he could stammer out. 

After parting ways, you walked towards the parking lot, keys in hand. As you drove home alone, a subtle sense of curiosity lingered. What if you had accepted Harvey's offer? What could have unfolded in the confined space of his car, free from the walls of the office? 

The thought nagged at you as you navigated the familiar streets, feeling your head cooling off. Rolling down the window to allow the fresh air to overflow your senses  There was a part of you that wished you knew the answer, a desire to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of your professional relationship with the Harvey Specter.

The next few days went by pretty fast. All days felt the same . It was a routine of restless nights as your mind was clear yet foggy on your night with Harvey. Nervous yet excited on what the following days would bring. You woke up early every day to go to your favorite coffee spot. But every day you spent it at your desk going through Amir related emails and one day you spent the day researching organic cat food for Louis. You haven't even had the chance to really see or talk to Harvey, not that you were keeping track ( 3 times he has spoken to you). 

But about 10 days after the incident, here you were, standing in the elevator, expecting to be another calm day of going through Amir’s associates emails with Rachel.

But when the elevators dinged,  the beautiful face of  Donna Paulsen appeared as the door opened.  She stood there waiting for you and without saying a word she turned on her heel and gestured for you to follow her. And like a loyal puppy you followed Donna through the corridors, her signature click-clacking heels echoing in the hallways as you tried to keep you.

As you walked, Donna’s voice boomed,  efficiently providing a rundown of the latest developments in the Amir Jackson case. Apparently, Amir had signed a contract with his brother-in-law’s firm, and Harvey was currently breaking it down in his office to find any potential weaknesses or loopholes. You were confused but eager to understand your role in all this, so you did your best to keep up with Donna's brisk pace. The details of the case were important, but the question of why Donna was sharing them with you lingered in the back of your mind.

Donna approached Harvey's office, she shot you a sly smile and motioned for you to enter. The door creaked open, revealing Harvey Specter engrossed in his work. Donna whispered, "You wanted to be in the big leagues; well, here you go."

Harvey was seated at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him. Mike Ross was leaning against the wall, and both turned their attention to you as you entered.

Donna, standing in the doorway, mouthed, "You got this."

It dawned on you—this wasn't just an update on the case. Donna had orchestrated this moment for a reason. You were being given a seat at the table, an opportunity to contribute to a high-stakes strategy session. The realization sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins. Harvey was keeping his word after all. 

 Harvey and Mike acknowledged your presence, you straightened your posture and mentally prepared to engage in the battle of wits that lay ahead.  You are ready to keep up and prove your worth beyond your typing skills. 

Mike walks up to you handing you a file, and you take a seat. Knowing the breakdown you take out your colorful pack of highlighter ready to color coordinate. Purple for potential loopholes, yellow for things to research, blue for important dates and green for  contacts. 

Harvey couldn't help but notice you being meticulously organized. With a smirk, he quipped, "Really, Y/N? Color-coordinated highlighters? Are we in kindergarten?"

You, shot back with a playful smile, "Well, Harvey, some of us appreciate a little order and aesthetic appeal. It's called professionalism."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the quick retort. "Professionalism, huh? I prefer the classic black and white approach. Simple and effective."

You without looking up from your file said, "Well, Harvey, sometimes a splash of color can make things more interesting. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Reaching down to your highlighter bag you pulled one out handing it to him, “Here, I think pink suits you”

He takes it from your hand, not backing down, “You know if your legal skills were as efficient as your highlighting skills we would be done with these files already”

You retorted, “Well, Harvey, if your people skills were as smooth as your hair, we'd have won the case yesterday."

Mike, who had been silently working, looked up with a bewildered expression, unsure of how the banter had suddenly transformed into a flirtatious exchange. He blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events.

Harvey  leaned against the table and raised an eyebrow. "Smooth hair, huh? You're just jealous, Y/N."

"Oh, please," you replied with a smirk, "I've seen smoother hair on a mannequin."

Mike, now thoroughly confused, looked between Harvey and you, trying to decipher when this banter became a new development. 

Before anything can go any further there is a knock at Harvey’s door, it was Rachel. After hearing from Mike about your little fainting incident, she was kind of overbearingly persistent on making sure you were eating and were okay no matter how much you told her you were fine.  Despite your reassurances that the incident of passing out was a one-time occurrence and that you were doing better, Rachel continued to express her care in thoughtful ways.

Today was no exception. Rachel asked to borrow you for a moment. Excusing yourself from your work, you followed Rachel outside the office. She had a warm smile on her face and a bagel in her hand, with your name on it.

"Hey, I know you said you're doing better, but I thought you might need a little pick-me-up," Rachel said, offering you the bagel.

You couldn't help but smile at Rachel's thoughtful gesture. "Thanks, Rachel. You really don't have to keep doing this, but I appreciate it."

Rachel chuckled, "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Consider it my way of making sure you stay fueled and ready to tackle anything."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

While you were outside having that conversation with Rachel, Mike couldn't help but seize the opportunity for a little teasing. Looking at Harvey with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he remarked, "What was that?"

Harvey, ever the master of composure, shot Mike a sharp look. "Shut up and focus, Mike," he retorted, trying to divert attention back to the files.

Mike, undeterred by Harvey's attempt to change the subject, leaned back with a playful grin. "Oh, you're definitely focused on something," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harvey rolled his eyes, realizing that he might have just opened himself up to a barrage of teasing from Mike. 

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You returned to the office with the bagel in hand, you tucked it away in your bag without giving it much thought. However, Harvey's raised eyebrow didn't go unnoticed. He questioned, "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Unbeknownst to you, the hesitation stemmed from a lingering unease about eating near files, especially in front of Harvey—thanks to the hot Cheeto incident. Harvey, catching on to your reluctance, decided to assertively intervene, "Eat."

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Bossy much, Harvey?"

Harvey quickly adds, “Well I am the boss”.

Mike, always quick to jump into the banter, chimed in, "Hey, wait a minute. Rachel didn't get me a bagel."

Harvey, in his usual deadpan manner, responded, "Deal with your relationship drama outside the office”

Mike mumbled to himself though directed at Harvey “you deal with your relationship drama outside the office” as he turned over to the next file. 

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Without hesitation you grabbed another file, opening it  up you saw on one of the clauses of the contract that it said,  “Keep an appropriate reputation”.

You spoke up, “Have we been able to contact his brother in law?”

“Louis is currently on that”, Harvey said nonchalantly.  

“Louis?!?!”, the shock in your voice was not hidden at all as your hand went to cover you mouth,

“See even she is shocked’’, Mike gestured towards you as he closed his file. 

“Mike you are  going to have a deposition with Amir in about an hour and I got to prep you. As much as I'd rather have you do it,” Harvey eyes quickly glance at you before returning to the file in his hand, “I don’t have time to walk you through it, plus Jessica said I have to throw Louis a bone”, Harvey mumbles the last bit. 

You nodded, understanding that you were too green to already start interviewing people without supervision. 

After an hour of underlining and highlighting things they may be able to use against him, Harvey dismissed you and Mike to prepare for meeting Amir. You gave Mike a questioning look as you exited the office.

The door closed and you could have sworn you heard music playing. 

“He has a whole routine when he has a stressful case”, Mike said as he handed Donna a piece of paper to fax. 

“Whoa, you are just going to share Harvey’s secrets like that”, Donna added. 

“She is part of the group now, she deserves, nay she needs to know”, Mike defensively argued

Donna playfully rolled her eyes and all you can do is laugh. 

“Imma go to the conference room and set everything up”, Mike then turned on his heels. 

“Why are you meeting with Amir?”, you couldn't help the question come out of your mouth.

“Jessica and Harvey believe he is trying to get in our heads”, Mike causally stated like this is somehow normal, “anyway see you afterwards”. 

You headed down to the bullpen with a couple of files in hand for you to review. The bullpen was empty, you saw a memo on your desk that Jessica was holding a mock trial for the associates. You believed she was doing this to boost morale. It's been 3 weeks since the Jackson case was first assigned and every day the stress of the case becomes more evident in not only the partners but everyone. 

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All that can be heard was the click-clack of your keyboard as you diligently worked on a memo at your cubicle in. A man walked it, he didn't go unnoticed as he leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his face.

"Working hard or hardly working, sweetheart?" he said with a smug grin.

Startled by his words, you looked up to fully take in this strange man, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. 

"What can I do for you?", you let out an annoyed breath. 

He wasn't unattractive, tall, seemed to be built, his dark hair slicked back and his tan figure was highlighted with a beautifully tailored suit. 

He ignored your attempt to deflect his trashy pickup line  as he leaned in, invading your  personal space. "You know, I am here to see Mike Ross, but I would rather be seeing you. What do you say we grab a drink sometime?"

You noticed a wedding ring on his hand and that added to your discomfort which was palpable, and  you glanced around, searching for a way out of the situation. Amir Jackson was standing right before you in all his dirty lawyer glory. Before you could respond, the familiar sound of a door swinging opening  caught your attention. Harvey Specter stormed into view, his expression colder than the usual glacial demeanor he reserved. 

"Amir, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey's tone was razor-sharp, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Amir straightened up, his confident facade faltering in the face of Harvey's iciness. "Just trying to get to know the beautiful talent that sits before me" he replied, attempting to play it off.

Harvey's jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, his presence dominating the small cubicle. "This is not the time or the place for your personal agenda. We're here to work, not to entertain your attempts at charm.", emphasis on the word attempt. 

Amir chuckled nervously, realizing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, Harvey. Just thought we could all use a break."

Harvey's stare could freeze time itself. "Save your charm for the courtroom, Amir. Now get lost before I decide to make this a legal matter."

Amir hastily retreated, leaving the cubicle, heading upstairs to interview Mike. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Harvey's gaze softened ever so slightly as he turned to you. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, grateful for Harvey's intervention. "Thanks, Harvey. I didn't know how to get rid of him.” You left a pause before continuing, “Though he was cute”, it was your attempt to lightened the mood

But it seemed that you failed as you could have sworn that Harvey’s eyes darkened. 

“Don't tell me he is your type?” Harvey glares, trying to play it off as a playful intrigue. Though behind those words were sharp undertones of jealousy. 

Was your type arrogant lawyers? Oh god, you thought to yourself. 

“I mean if we are being honest”, you were already regretting the words coming of of your mouth, “I wouldn’t mind drinks with him, if you know he wasn't-”

“A dirty slimeball”, Harvey interrupted.

“I was going to say married but hey your  words not mine”, You shrugged as you smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. 

Like a switch any sign of a normal human being verison of Harvey goes back to a cold exterior Harvey ", Get back to work. We have a case to win."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence. Louis Litt barged into the bullpen, a triumphant expression on his face. "I got it, I got it!" he declared, his voice echoing through the walls.

Harvey shot him a stern look. "What do you mean, Louis?"

Louis beamed, brimming with excitement. "I met with Amir’s brother in law and we have a plan"

"Louis, I don't like that look on your face. Well, actually, I don't like your face, period," Harvey retorted, his patience wearing thin but shot you a mischievous  look as you let out a small laugh. 

Just as Louis was about to unveil his plan, you received a text from Rachel, asking for assistance upstairs. Seizing the opportunity to excuse yourself , you made a quick exit, leaving Harvey to deal with Louis's eager revelation.

As you walked away, you overheard Louis saying, "Can I just tell you my plan?"

You missed Harvey's response that carried a tone of indifference, "Louis, I am a lawyer, not your babysitter. You don't need to run your ideas by me. Just do whatever it takes to win."

"Whatever it takes," Louis echoed, his enthusiasm undeterred as he practically skipped out of the room, eager to set his plan in motion. 

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The next day, as you were on your way to the copy room, Louis Litt beckoned you into his office. The air in the room felt different, an unusual tension hanging in the air. Louis, with a somewhat secretive smile, asked for your help with a deposition. He believed you were the perfect candidate to handle the client interview. He said he will be there to supervise it all. 

Despite the lingering suspicion about Louis's true intentions, you were eager to prove your skills and showcase your capabilities. With determination in your eyes, you took the file full of questions that Louis prepped for you into the conference room, ready to face the challenge. As you were coming round the conference room, Louis excused himself to the bathroom saying he was going to be right back and to start without him.

As you entered the room and set up the camera, you were met with the unexpected sight of Amir Jackson—the person you would be interviewing. Suppressing the internal alarm bells, you maintained a professional demeanor and focused on the task at hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson. My name is Y/N, and I'll be conducting the deposition today. Please make yourself comfortable," you greeted, doing your best to project confidence.

Amir acknowledged you with a nod, “Oh trust me. I remember you.  I can't forget a face like that sweetheart”.

 You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this deposition than met the eye. As you pressed record on the camera, a pit forming in your stomach as you felt that you were part of a bigger scheme that Louis had formed. But you continued on. 

The questions came to an end and Louis was nowhere in sight. You think you did a good job but you really hoped you would have some help guiding you. You were reaching over to turn off the camera when Amir made his way around the table, invading your personal space as he placed his hand on your thigh.  You felt disgusting, but you gritted your teeth and tried to remove his hand. His grip just got tighter. 

“Mister Jackson, you are married and I am not interested so please let go”, you remained calm. 

"This isn't the first time I've given in to another woman's temptation," Amir whispered, his hand slowly making its way up higher. . The situation escalated, and you attempted to stand up, desperate to distance yourself from his unwarranted advances.

Just as the discomfort reached its peak, Louis Litt stepped into the room, 

 "We got you now, Amir," Louis declared, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Louis revealed  that the entire encounter had been captured on camera, since the little red button was still going and Louis left his dictaphone as well. There was enough proof of the man Amir really was

The revelation startled Amir, who looked like he was ready to erupt in anger at being caught.

But a last Amir stammered trying to get his words together. 

“I think you should make some calls”, Louis said, his smile not faltering. 

Amir, now furious, stormed off, leaving you alone in the aftermath of the orchestrated confrontation. 

Anger boiled within you. You were mad at Amir, you wished you had the strength to have slapped him or yelled at him but you froze, your mind was whirling running 100 mph before you can truly comprehend what was going on. Now that it was over you were a teapot full of steam. Ready to blow. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration became directed at  Louis. 

His dramatic reveal. His smirk. This was the plan all along and you were just his puppet. He knew this was going to happen, he wanted this to happen. 

"Why the hell did you put me in that situation?" you snapped, the intensity of your emotions evident.

Louis, unfazed, responded, "It was Harvey's idea. We had to win the case, and trust me this”, he gestured to you and the empty door, “ sealed the deal”

Your anger shifted, now directed at Harvey Specter, the architect of this manipulative plan. The lines between professional strategy and personal boundaries blurred, they have been blurring. But this, this felt like the lines were being drawn all over again, You took a deep breathe as you were left grappling with the aftermath of an uncomfortable encounter.

You stormed  out of the conference room.You were shaken and in desperate need of someone to confide in. As you walked down the hallway your bubbling emotions made every step a struggle. In your mind, the need to talk this out with Rachel outweighed any confrontation you might have had with Harvey.

Focused on reaching Rachel's office, you were determined to leave the unsettling incident behind. However, Mike Ross, perceptive as ever, intercepted your path, concern shown across his face.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened back there?" Mike inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.

The overwhelming emotions made it difficult for you to articulate your feelings. When Mike reached out to grab your hand, hoping to offer some comfort, a reflexive flinch escaped you. The subtle gesture spoke volumes about the impact of the encounter.

"Don't ask like you don't know," you managed to utter, your tone heavy with frustration and disappointment.

Mike was left dumbfounded, his attempts to provide support met with an unexpected defensive response. As you stopped in your tracks, you turned to face him, meeting the bewilderment in his eyes.

"I was Louis’s bait but if this was Harvey's idea, lord knows you were right there beside him. Batman and freaking Robin," you added, the accusation hanging in the air.

Mike's expression shifted to curiosity as he raced down the hall to Harvey’s office, needing an explanation. What the hell did you do now Harvey, Mike thought to himself. 

ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You sought refuge in Rachel's office. Rachel offered a comforting presence. You recounted the events, finding solace in Rachel's understanding.

"I can't believe he used you like that. I'm so angry on your behalf," Rachel said, her support unwavering.

As Rachel provided a comforting presence for you, on the other side of the office, Mike Ross stormed into Harvey's office, his frustration evident. Ready to give Harvey a piece of his mind for giving Louis the idea to use you as bait, Mike's accusatory words were poised on the tip of his tongue.

But Harvey, surprised by the accusation, defended himself. "What are you talking about, Mike? I didn't allow Louis to do anything."

Before Mike could continue, Harvey's tone softened. "How is she, Mike? Is she okay?"

Mike hesitated, admitting, "She's shaken up, Harvey."

Without sparing another second, Harvey stood up, determination etched on his face. "I need to find her."

ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ

The atmosphere in Rachel's office was heavy as you sat there, still visibly shaken from the encounter with Amir Jackson. You found comfort in spinning your bracelet around your wrist.

Rachel, ever the empathetic friend, suggested a visit to the bakery you both loved, a subtle attempt to bring a touch of sweetness to the somber moment. As she left to fetch the cookies, you stayed seated at her desk chair, staring out of the window. 

Harvey stepped in to check on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension as you looked up, frustration written  across your face. You turned back to the window refusing to look at him. 

You couldn't hold back the surge of emotions that spilled out. "Fuck you"

You were always so poised, always so put together, Harvey couldnt and wouldnt lie that hearing your curse did something to him. But he scratched that out of his mind, returning to the matter at hand. 

Still taken aback by the force of your words,  he raised his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with what Louis did. I wouldn't put you in that position."

But you weren't convinced. "Your motto is 'do whatever it takes to win,' right? I was just a pawn in your grand scheme of things. Last week, after the panic attack, I thought we were okay. I thought we were on good terms, but now I don't know what to believe."

Harvey's expression hardened as he tried to find the right words to reassure you. "You weren't a pawn, Y/N. I didn't know about Louis's plan, and I would never intentionally put you in a situation like that."

You scoffed, frustration and hurt evident in your voice. "Your actions speak louder than words, Harvey. I'm tired of being caught in the crossfire of your 'win at all costs' mentality.” 

Harvey, his usual composed demeanor faltering, tried to find the right words to reassure you. The weight of your accusations, was challenging the fragile trust that had started to rebuild between both of you. 

You continued to stare out of the window, refusing to meet Harvey's gaze. He could feel the tension escalating, and he knew he had to address the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Look at me," Harvey said firmly, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to comply. Unfazed, Harvey moved closer and he bent down  a little so he would be eye level with you and with a gentle touch, guided your head to face him. His touch ignited the fuel of your emotions, whether it be rage or something else entirely. There was a fire burning within you. 

"I don't like to repeat myself," Harvey stated, his eyes locking onto yours.

You met his gaze, still angry, a tempest of emotions brewing within you. He could see the fire in your eyes and sensed the need for an outlet. "Yell at me," he urged, guiding you to stand up.

You were now facing Harvey, an arm's length between both of you. You took this oppurtunity, you took a deep breath as you let it all out. 

"You are insufferably arrogant and stubborn. You're like a shark in a corporate sea, ruthless and cold-hearted. You wield your charisma like a weapon, and everyone else is just a pawn in your game. You  bend the rules until they are ALMOST at a breaking point", you go off on a mini rant. 

Harvey, with a measured tone, responded, "I don't disagree. The fact that I haven't interrupted you should tell you I take pride in who I am. But one thing you didn’t say and one thing I would never do is hurt the people I care about. Maybe I would occasionally push Mike in front of a slow-moving car, but that's as far as I'd go." 

You stifle a small laugh, trying not to give Harvey any satisfaction. But you nodded at him showing that you believed him.

His hand rested on your shoulder as his eyes looked at you with concern. "How are you?" he emphasized.

You shrugged, voicing your discomfort. "I feel kinda disgusting right now."

Harvey's jaw tightened as anger flared in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill Louis," he declared, ready to retaliate.

As he turned to leave you grabbed his arm. "Don't hurt him," you pleaded, your voice holding a mix of anger and compassion. Despite the hurt you felt, you couldn't bear the thought of Louis facing physical harm.

Harvey paused, looking down at your hand on his arm. "I can't promise that I won't give him a piece of my mind, but I won't hurt him physically."

You nodded, acknowledging the compromise.

ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The celebratory feeling filled the air in Jessica's office as Harvey stormed in, anger etched across his face. Louis and Jessica stood there, clinking glasses in celebration of what they believed was a triumph in the Amir Jackson case.

"Join us, Harvey! Louis found a way for us to win this case. It's finally over" Jessica exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within Harvey.

Harvey's eyes narrowed as he observed Louis making himself small under the intensity of his gaze. Unable to contain his fury any longer, Harvey erupted, "Louis, you pretentious fucker! How dare you do that to her?"

Jessica, puzzled, looked between Harvey and Louis. "Harvey, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

Ignoring Jessica's inquiry, Harvey continued his tirade, directing his fury solely at Louis. "You used Y/N. You put her in a bad situation with Amir. That's a new low, even for you."

Jessica's confusion shifted to anger as she slammed her glass down. "What?"

Louis, feeling the heat of Harvey's wrath, defended himself, "You said to do whatever it takes to win."

" One, you know how I feel about cheating. And two, you know what yeah this is my fault. For half a second there, I thought you would be a lawyer, not try to pimp out my associate," Harvey placing particular emphasis on the word "my."

“Here's the deal," Louis began to explain his plan. "Amir's brother-in-law allowed him to join his firm under one condition: he behaves and doesn't cheat on his sister. Now, Amir signed his contract promising to behave because Amir’s brother in law has a list of evidence that could easily get him disbarred, but his brother-in-law promised not to expose him as long as he kept his promise."

Louis sighed as he continued, "Y/n was the bait, Harvey. She is one of the more attractive associates that Amir couldn't resist. So I  let the pawns fall where they should fall and we got it all on camera. Amir's brother in law is going to the association to get him disbarred as we speak. "

Jessica chimed in, "Louis, why couldn’t you let it so Y/N in on the plan.”

Louis nodded, ‘’ I didn't think it would be a big deal”

The room collectively groaned. 

"The only reason you don't have a broken nose right now is because she asked me not to hurt you...physically," Harvey declared, his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Jessica, ever the professional, butted in, “Harvey the case with Amir is over now, let me handle Louis” giving Louis a dirty glare before opening the door to her office moving Harvey out the door, “Tell everyone to go home for the night”. 

Harvey followed suit, leaving Louis to face the wrath of Jessica. As he closed the door he could hear Jesscia yell, “What were you thinking”

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Harvey's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way to Rachel's office, seeking you out. Upon entering, he found you surrounded by Mike and Rachel, laughing at something as Mike shoved his face with cookies. The look on your face seemed lighter, you appeared more at ease.

Harvey addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, pack it up. Time to go home."

As he spoke, ​​his eyes lingered on you, and he added pointedly, "Especially you. Y/N.  No arguments this time, I am taking you home."

Your colleagues exchanged knowing glances, and Rachel and Mike gathered their things to leave. Harvey's directive made it clear that there was no room for negotiation this time; he was taking you home.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The plush interior of Harvey's car surrounded you, and you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in the luxurious vehicle. Harvey, however, seemed at ease as he turned to you and casually asked, "Put your location in the GPS."

You entered your apartment complex as the destination. The ride continued in relative quiet,

You were now three blocks away from your apartment complex, when Harvey abruptly took a sharp left. Confused, you turned to him with a puzzled expression, questioning his unexpected turn.

"Harvey, where the hell are you going?" you asked.

He glanced at you, a twinkle  in his eyes, and replied, "We both deserve to have some fun tonight."

You saw him pulling up to a bar, one that seemed too classy for you. You were too undressed for this. The doubt clouded your mind. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn't help but ask, "A bar, Harvey, really?"

He looked over at you, the corner of his lips quirked up. "What do you say?" He was parked but hadn't turned off the engine, giving you an out.

You looked over at him and he had that stupid, handsome smug smirk on his.

Not wanting the "what ifs" to take over, you met his gaze and said, "I'm in."

[ronearoundblindly]

Valentine's Ask Game: ...without a motive It's allowed to be abrupt, languid, bizarre, out of context, IN context but only you know what context it is-- it can too soon, start too late, anything!

I choose this work-weary space man from @larissa-ann's gif! Divider by @cafekitsune

James Mace x reader, one of my 2024 Valentine's Fics!

Warnings for not being a happy/roses-and-unicorns type of kiss fic, but I think it's still really cute and addresses that kind of numbness we can all feel from time to time. WC 418

Saying space is lonely is akin to calling water wet; it's accurate, sure, but it's also wildly understating the conditions as a whole.

There's fear and pressure, sleeplessness and fatigue, a never-ending schedule and infinite time to zone-out into the void.

You knew that going in. You've pulled your weight, stayed focused, remained practical, and been cordial.

No one on the crew hates you, but no one loves you either.

Space is truly lonely.

You've reached the point of acceptance. You can still bark orders during drills and smile over dinner. It's all...empty, though, meaning you never see it coming.

Mace just bumps right into you coming out of his quarters.

There are moves back and hands up, mumbled apologies, stated destinations, offered excuses. Then neither of you get out of the way because suddenly he is your way and you are his way.

Space doesn't contain slowed inertia. Space doesn't produce heat. No sound. No air. No gravity.

His head tilts and his lips meet yours, gentle but firm, the perfect middle ground, the most inoffensive action.

He exists with you. You exist with him. How can you mistake that for romance? How can you interpret that as passion?

If this were desperation, he'd grope and tug at clothing between you. If this were lust, he'd shove his tongue down your throat and moan. If this were love, he'd hold you in his arms.

There's no motive here. Space has nothing for either of you.

Soft and consistent, he doesn't break away. Your eyes never fully shut. Neither do his. It's a sort of experiment. You're evaluating reasons why you shouldn't, why you're wrong, why you can't, but he doesn't break away.

Like the ghost of a embrace, a whisper of a past life, James lowers his fingers to barely brush your arms. It's the first non-essential contact you've had in months, and a shiver races up your spine, pulling your neck taut.

The kiss is over, your head bowed and tucked to his rough chin, a rush of confusion and guilt lights through your nerves to make your breath catch.

His own breath shakes when it blows across your forehead and ear.

Mace takes a stable grip of your shoulders and shifts you to one side.

"See you later," he says as he walks by, turning to step into the mess compartment.

You finally close your eyes.

Space is lonely like water is wet, but even the depths of Earth's oceans hold other, unexpected discoveries.

➡️ Bucky Barnes and a kiss, casually

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

[ronearoundblindly]

🧣 + Ransom Oh yes I fucking did. You are welcome.

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader A Fluffy Blanket, a Root of All Ransom mini-tale

Warnings for zero editing and cursing/suggestive language. No one who has read even four sentences of this series will be shocked by that... WC 640

"Do I even want to fucking know what this is?" Ransom yells from the closet of your penthouse apartment.

You're moving in together, or rather, you are moving in very, very few things to his house because he deems everything you own--but truly do not care about--unfathomably common, old, and terrible.

"Hey, now." You snatch the blanket from his hand, withering at his judging stare. "This is my comforter from college. It's worn-in and perfect."

"Did you drag it on the ground behind you during trips back and forth across this continent? Because that's what it looks like."

You frown and knit your brows together, which is likely a tighter weave than a whole half of the thing cuddled to your chest.

"It's trash."

"VETO," you snap.

Ransom turns and lays his hands on his hips. "You only get three vetos for the entire day. You want to use one on that fucker?"

"Yes, I want to use one on this fucker."

He squints at you, hoping that's a bluff, but you immediately fold it back up and put it in the box to take, not the bag to throw away.

Ran digs past the hanging clothes--all of which he's decided to toss straight off the balcony if you leave him alone long enough--for the next shoebox.

"Of course, you kept your goddamn blanket," he grumbles, "you never even got rid of your fucking roommates."

"I heard that!"

You've just finished reorganizing Ran's kitchen to fit all of your cooking things. It's actually a small miracle that the thing you have the most of, your fiancé has the least of, so moving around his single pot, lonely pan, and untouched baking tray is easy...until you realize...

It is suspiciously quiet.

What is that bastard destroying of yours now?!

You expect the worst but plan to catch him off-guard, leaping into the living room as quietly as you can before skidding to a halt and covering your mouth in shock.

Cute shock though.

Apparently, Ran got tired of waiting for you and fell asleep on the couch, your ratty old blanket, still soft as ever--you kept it for a reason--tucked under his chin and clutched in his arms. The house isn't cold at all, so only one corner covers his hip.

He's out like a light, face relaxed and peaceful, plump pink lips barely parted.

You approach slowly, crouching down between the couch and coffee table to keep watching him rest.

No one else ever sees your Hugh like this; he never lets them.

You can't help but lay your hand on his smooth cheek, fingertips grazing the soft hair behind his ear. He never lets it grow. Ran would die before going over three weeks without a trim, but there is always just enough to know how silky the short, prickly strands are.

He nuzzles into the blanket some more, knees shifting higher, and after a quick flutter where his eyes do not open, he huffs indignantly.

"You were taking fucking forever."

His sleepy voice is the best.

You giggle and playfully grab his face for an assault of kisses, and Ran has to fight like he hates each one. All his struggles do is bring you closer and flip you on top of him, wedging you between the leather and the plush blanket.

Deep blue eyes meet yours. Behind him, the sun sets on the vibrant leaves outside.

"Well, you're in luck. I'm done with the kitchen."

"Good," Ransom says, "because I'm hungry."

You roll your eyes and start to toss a leg over the back of the couch. There's definitely enough in the fridge to whip something--

Ran's hand takes your blanket with it, covering your chest as his arm pins you down.

"Where are you going? I'm hungry."

Oh.

Oh.

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you bitch for asking!

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @kjdara @starkleila @adulting-sucks @brandycranby @petalj @ghotifishreads

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[beefromanoff]

Tempting Fate Ch. 1

summary: a flashback to 1940's Brooklyn, 2022 Boston, and an introduction to our leading lady, Evie Langston.

author's note: OKAY GUYS, you asked for this! the post with my little drabble and idea for a Stucky x Reader fic got so much love that here I am. fair warning if you haven't read my other works (which you should) I LOVE to set a scene and I love a slow burn. I'll definitely get to the good parts earlier in this story than in my other two, but this is going to be spicy AND plot driven.

masterlist

tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

Chapter 1

1940s, Brooklyn

The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and the scent of popcorn. Brightly colored banners flapped in the breeze as children ran around, and the mechanical whirring and dinging of carnival games echoed through the street. Among the bustling crowd, three friends stood out.

Ginny Langston was the center of attention, her auburn hair catching the light. She always was. Even at sixteen, her features were striking, catching stares from grown men passing by. Unbeknownst to Ginny, however, who only had eyes for her two best friends. Her stomach hurt from laughing so hard as she watched Steve Rogers attempt to win a prize at one of the booths. Their best friend, Bucky Barnes, stood beside her, a smirk on his face.

“Alright, Stevie, that was my last quarter.” He winked. “Try not to shit the bed again.”

“Bucky!” Ginny giggled, smacking his arm. “I believe in you, Stevie!”

Steve blushed, his determination clear. “I’ll get it right this time, just watch.” Eyes narrowed in concentration, he pinched the dart between his fingers and let it fly. With a loud pop the balloon on the other side of the booth burst, sending the trio into an eruption of cheers.

“Yay, Stevie!” She jumped down from her seat on the edge of the booth, bouncing over to Steve. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling his skin flush. “Can I pick? Oh, please let me pick!” 

“Be my guest,” He gestured to the rack of stuffed animals, cheeks still pink from her embrace. 

After selecting a floppy pink stuffed bunny, Ginny skipped over. Her eyes sparkled as she looked between the two boys. “How lucky am I,” she drawled playfully, “To have not one, but two handsome fellas to win me prizes?” To emphasize her point, she waggled the bunny and the stuffed bear Bucky had won by knocking down a tower of bottles with a baseball.

The boys shared a look as she linked one arm through each of theirs and led them further into the fair. The same understanding they’d had for the five years of their friendship passed between them. They both adored Ginny, but neither wanted to ruin the bond they had with her—or each other. 

So, despite the chemistry, despite the daydreams…they resisted temptation. It worked well, their trio. Friendship before anything. The laughter and memories they shared didn’t seem to be possible with anyone else. If this was all they ever were to each other –– best friends –– none of them would mind. But that didn’t stop the occasional late night thought from creeping into one of their heads…wondering what would happen if that invisible line in the sand were ever crossed.

Fall Semester, 2022

Boston

The ballroom was a vision of opulence, adorned with glittering chandeliers and rich, velvety drapes. MIT’s alumni gala was in full swing, a celebration of the brightest minds and most generous benefactors. The room buzzed with conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the beats of a live jazz band. Alumni, staff, and donors alike mingled with current students. It was an exclusive event for students to be invited to, needing a recommendation from a professor to be added to the guest list. At one of the most prestigious schools in the country, the competition never stopped. Evie Langston had been thrilled when her invite arrived, especially considering she was only a sophomore. This event was typically reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students, with only a handful of younger students having received an invite ever. 

She had been thrilled, but not surprised. 

Since her arrival in Boston, she’d been making waves. Big, tsunami-esque waves. 

For the child-prodigy community, she’d seemingly come out of nowhere. She graduated high school on time, not early. Her parents were insistent that she make the most of her high school experience, maintaining friendships, attending prom, walking with her classmates across the stage. They’d given her every opportunity to learn and grow, but not at the expense of her childhood. She’d gotten early acceptance to MIT as a freshman in high school after winning an engineering contest with such prestige that she was immediately contacted by a patent lawyer to protect her innovation. It was her first patent filed. She was 14 years old. 

At MIT, Evie had quickly distinguished herself as one of the brightest minds on campus. Her freshman year, she had been part of a team that developed a revolutionary nanotechnology application for medical devices, leading to a paper published in a leading scientific journal. Her contribution was so significant that she was invited to speak at several conferences, which she politely declined, allowing an older member of the team to represent them. It wasn’t that she was opposed to speaking, it’s just that she felt like there were better uses of her time than kissing ass and galavanting around a room full of the most pompous, self-important assholes of all time. Her name was listed first on the publication, and that was enough of an ego stroke for her. Especially since it drove the rest of the all-male team absolutely insane. 

Her sophomore year had only seen her rise higher. She had spearheaded a project that created a new type of lightweight, high-strength material, earning her a prestigious research grant and the attention of several major textile companies. Her professors often remarked on her uncanny ability to solve problems that stumped even the most seasoned researchers. She had an intuitive grasp of complex systems, a knack for seeing connections others missed, and a relentless drive that kept her working long after everyone else had called it a night. Plus, her ability to pivot between specialties like she was switching tabs on a browser was unheard of. She could go from artificial intelligence programming to biochemical engineering to robotics and not bat an eye.

Outside the classroom, she balanced her rigorous academic schedule with her job as a bartender. It was a role that seemed incongruous for someone of her intellect but was, in fact, a deliberate choice. It kept her grounded, connected to a world beyond equations, experiments, and giant fucking egos. It was there, in the bustling atmosphere of the bar, that she honed her people skills, learning how to read people, how to manage conflict, and how to charm even the most difficult customers. She loved being around her peers at MIT, the shared interest and the constant desire for progress, but she couldn’t stand their larger-than-life self image. Typically, she was opposed to sweeping generalities, but after a year and a half at this school, she felt it was a damn near foolproof hypothesis. 

So, to the judgment of her classmates, she became a bartender. In an environment where everyone was either funded by the deep pockets of their families or a hefty scholarship, she was one of the few students who worked a job. Let alone such an unimpressive job. Ironically, the scorn of her peers made her love the job even more. The fact that they were losing grant money to a girl alone was enough to make most of them need to up their dosage, but a girl who spent her evenings serving up gin and tonics in a low cut tank top? Berzerk. 

The best part? She didn’t even need the money. 

Her parents were upper middle class, back in the midwest. Her dad was a partner at an accounting company and her mom had stayed home with her and her siblings. They’d spent summers on vacation, not the Hamptons or yacht-style vacations that some of her classmates had been raised on, but nice vacations nonetheless. They were more than comfortable. So when she’d sold her first patent in high school, her parents had put her earnings into a trust. One she could access when she was officially out of college. They’d had every intention of funding her education, but it was clear they’d never have to break out their checkbooks. She’d been offered a full ride to just about any school in the country. 

There was only ever one option for her, though. The alma mater of the one and only Tony Stark. The Da Vinci of our time. The merchant of death. Iron Man. She’d wanted to be him since she was old enough to find his interviews on YouTube on the family computer. Much to her parents’ chagrin of course, who’d hoped their nine year old daughter would have found a more…palatable role model. It was he who inspired her love of engineering and innovation. It was he who taught her to be unapologetically confident. It was he who caused her to hang an MIT pennant on her wall and refuse to take it down. Even to this day, it hung above her espresso machine in her little apartment above the bar she worked at. 

It was he who delivered the most kick-ass, jaw-dropping, profane keynote address earlier that day. She’d been front row for the whole thing, hanging on his every word. It was her intention to speak to him after the address, but he’d been swarmed by overzealous ass-kissers that she didn’t feel like wading through. She’d seen him up close, and that was good enough for her. It was enough to make her want to get back in the lap and continue her work on nanotechnology right that second, but she knew she couldn’t pass up the gala. Not when her professors had personally advocated for her invitation. 

So, here she was. Evie stood near the edge of the room, her eyes scanning the crowd. She had dressed immaculately for the occasion, wearing a sleek, midnight blue cocktail dress that hugged her figure and highlighted her fiery red hair, which she’d styled into soft waves that cascaded down her back. Occasionally, a professor would usher some big-name investor over to her, making introductions and raving about her brilliance. So she would smile, put on her best impression of someone who gave a shit about their company and what their mission was, and charm her way through the rest of the conversation. At the end, she’d add their business card to the collection piling up in her purse, never to be looked at again. 

There was only one job she was interested in taking after college, and if that wasn’t on the table, she’d start her own damn tech company. 

She took a sip of her sparkling water, glancing around the room at the clusters of people deep in meaningless conversation. A commotion towards the middle of the room drew her attention. Her gaze landed on Tony Stark, who was making his way through the crowd with his usual effortless charm, evading those who wanted everything from a selfie to a donation to a job. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, a whiskey glass clutched in one hand and a cigar in the other, openly defying the no smoking rule. 

Looking around, Tony spotted her, his eyes locking onto her bright red hair and striking features once again. With a roguish grin, he made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease and a dismissive attitude. As he approached, Evie straightened her posture, her heart pounding in her chest. No fucking way. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Tony said, his voice dripping with charm and mischief as he looked her up and down. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her body like they were hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier at the keynote. Front row, right?”

Evie nodded, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Good memory. It was an incredible speech, Mr. Stark. Truly inspiring.”

“Please, call me Tony,” he replied with a grin. “And might I say, you’re a breath of fresh air here with all these bad toupees and escapees from mom’s basement. The red hair, this dress—” He looked her over again. “Quite the combination. You certainly know how to make an impression.”

Evie smiled, meeting his flirtation with poise. “Why, thank you, Tony. I’ve always believed in standing out rather than blending in.”

“Well, you’re definitely standing out,” Tony said, his eyes lingering on her. “So! What’s a dazzling individual like yourself doing at a place like this? I’d imagine there are more lively places to spend your Friday night than this snoozefest.”

“They say this is the event to be at if you want to shake the right hands.” She offered a teasing smile. 

“How’s that been going for you?” 

“I’ve shaken a lot of hands tonight, but not the one I came here for.” A coy smile. 

He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, assessing her. “Would I be living up to the egomaniac allegations if I assume you’re talking about me?”

“Yes, but you’d also be correct.” 

He grinned, shifting his drink to his left hand and offering her his right. “Tony Stark, Owner of Stark Industries. Benefactor and celebrated alum of this fine institution. Patron of the arts. Not really, but it sounded like it fit.” 

“Evie Langston,” Another small smile. “I’m a sophomore, studying engineering, but having a hard time narrowing down a specialty.”

“Engineering, huh? A woman after my own heart,” Tony said, clearly impressed. “Wait, Langston, Langston…you were the one who filed a patent for that new material. What do you call it?”

“Nanoflex.” Evie took a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving his.

“Nanoflex, right, that’s it. I tell you what, you’ve been giving a lot of my engineers hell these past few months.” 

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Unfortunately yes, it is so. I’ve had my whole team working on an alternative material for us to use in the manufacturing of combat suits and after months of research and resource allocation, and way more money than I should have funneled into it –– they’re still lightyears behind you.” He gave her a mock-irritated look. “And you, Evie Langston, hold the patent for the thing I’ve had the brightest minds in the industry working tirelessly on. To no avail or benefit to me.” 

“Would you like me to apologize?” 

“I’d like you to come work for me.” His voice was decisive. “Say the word, I’ll fire the whole lot of them and you can take the whole lab. Seriously, paint it pink, hang up a boy band poster, I don’t give a shit. I’ve gotta have you.” 

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at his words. “Tempting…as that may be, I’d like to finish my education first.” 

He leaned in closer. “Don’t tell me you’re really learning from these yahoos. When I was here I felt like I should take advantage of the office hours just to teach my professors a thing or two about their subject matter.”

Evie laughed. “It’s not so bad. I’ve always had a difficult time finding things that challenge me. This isn’t much different.” She waved a hand. “At least they can throw a party.” 

“Oh, sweet Evie,” He scoffed. “Let me court you. Professionally, of course. Unless you’re open to other possibilities––kidding, I’m not kidding.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at his candor and casual demeanor. He was funnier in person than in the interviews she’d all but committed to memory. “Come to New York, I’ll send the jet for you, let me show you what we’re all about. I’ll show you a real laboratory, show you what could be yours. While we’re at it, I’ll show you a real party, too. Unless things have changed here, the parties could be confused for a lively wake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this is pretty much exactly the scenario I’ve been manifesting for the past decade, but what’s in this for you? Something tells me you don’t come here to recruit talent.” 

“No, I come here because my delightful CEO, Ms. Pepper Potts, threatens to donate my vintage car collection to a museum if I don’t show up every year.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “As for what’s in it for me, that’s easy. Either you find me delightfully charming and decide to remind me why smart girls are the freakiest in the sack, or you fall in love with the endless resources and free reign over innovation and decide to come work for me. Seems like a win-win situation.”

Evie grinned, sipping her drink to hide the flush in her cheeks. She wasn’t a stranger to being prepositioned, but by Tony Stark? The temptation knotted in her stomach and she was grateful she’d opted for sparkling water, rather than something that might impair her judgment further. 

“Deal.” 

“Deal?” 

“Deal,” She laughed. “I’ll hear you out. After all, it’s a win-win, right?” 

“Every bit as smart as you’re cracked up to be.” He gestured to her almost empty drink. “What are you drinking? Next round is on me.”

“I’m not drinking, actually.” She held the glass up. “Club soda.” 

“Straight edge?”

“Wanted to keep a clear mind, you know, in case I met someone…important.” Evie smirked. 

“What a shame.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Well, the drinks here blow anyways. You’d think with all the donor money, they’d be able to afford top shelf, but I guess not. You happen to know if that old bar on McClaren is still open?” 

“It is very much open, at least it was when I finished my shift last night.” She grinned at his double take. 

“Woah, woah. Wait. You’re telling me you hold a patent that many interested parties, myself included, would pay well into the seven-figure range for, and you’re moonlighting as a bartender?”

“Something like that.” 

“You are full of surprises, Ms. Langston.” 

“You don’t know the half of it, Mr. Stark.” 

“Well, forgive me for being so forward, but if I stay at this party one more minute then I’m at severe risk of becoming clinically depressed and doing something destructive.” He held his arm out. “Care to join me for an after party, hopefully with fewer sticks-in-asses?” 

“Lead the way.” She took his arm and followed him towards the side door, fully aware of what people would say when they saw the pretty redhead leaving on the arm of the womanizing billionaire. 

Let them talk. 

Leaving with Tony Stark turned into one of the best decisions of her college career. His driver, a man aptly named Happy, was waiting for them outside. They’d made the short drive across town to The Bostonian, or The Bos, as the locals so affectionately called it. The champagne they’d drank on the way over probably cost more than the whole stock of liquor at the bar. When they arrived at the curb, Happy had rushed around to open the door for them. Downing the rest of the glass, Evie savored the feeling of warmth bubbling up in her stomach as she strode through the oh-so-familiar doors, Tony right behind her. 

When she walked in, she saw her best friend, Jade, right in the thick of the Friday evening rush. Flirting with a customer as she popped the lids off of two beers for another, she was a natural. The kind of bartender that every regular had a crush on. Her attention flicked to the door, where she clocked Evie and Tony right behind her. Recognition, confusion, then excitement all flashed across her face. 

“What’s up, E!” She yelled over the clamor. A handful of regulars turned their attention to her, whistling at her evening attire. It was a far cry from the jeans and tank top she usually wore, but judging from the tips she made, no one was complaining about her standard uniform. 

As they strode further into the bar, all attention turned from Evie to Tony. A slow chant of “Iron Man! Iron Man!” broke out around the crowded room, with Tony not even trying to look modest. After a few moments, he raised his hands in the air to quiet everyone down. 

“Alright, alright, I know you all probably think that if you flatter me, I’ll whip out my card and buy a round of shots for everyone,” He gave a disapproving look around the room, then reached in his lapel pocket. “...and I will.”

The room erupted into thunderous cheering, with the Iron Man chant coming back in full swing. Tony put his hand on Evie’s lower back, guiding her through the chaos to the bar. Two regulars immediately vacated their seats, clapping Tony on the back. 

Jade put two shot glasses down in front of them, leaning over the bar to give a generous view down her shirt. She was the one who’d taught Evie that if she wanted to make double the tips, leave the bra at home. It seemed that tonight was a night she wanted to make double the tips. 

“Now, Mr. Stark, with all bar-wide orders, there is a mandatory fifty percent tip included for the bartender.” She winked, sliding his glass across the table. 

“Only fifty?” He made a face, downed the shot with zero reaction, and met her gaze again. “You can have whatever tip you want, and that’s not limited to just cash.” 

She smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Evie rolled her eyes, grinning at Jade’s shameless flirting before downing her own shot. She sucked the lime to take the edge off, but her eyes still watered. 

“Alright kiddo, this is what happens when you roll with me.” Tony squeezed her shoulder before signaling for another round. “Consider this the beginning of your official Stark industries recruitment period.” 

______

The next morning, Evie met Jade for their usual Saturday morning walk to their favorite coffee shop. When Evie took the job at The Bos, Jade had been a welcome bonus. She wasn’t a student at MIT, despite being pretty smart. She’d grown up incredibly wealthy, definitely the Hamptons and yacht type. Her family had pushed her toward Ivy League education, toward the path of marrying whichever eligible bachelor was best suited to take over her father’s hedge fund one day. She told her family she was attending Harvard, faked a transcript whenever she needed to, and blamed her lack of contact on how inundated with her studies she was. Evie had asked her once what she planned to do in two years when her family expected to attend her graduation, and she’d simply shrugged and said she’d figure it out. 

She was a breath of fresh air in comparison to everyone who took themselves way too fucking seriously. Having Harvard and MIT in the same city often felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere, being stored up in the massive heads of all those that studied there. 

The walk was later than usual, with the sun already high in the sky. Last night’s escapades had stretched well into the night, with Evie ultimately thankful they’d been at the bar she lived above, as she stumbled up the steps at an unholy hour. When she’d woken up this morning, her head was pounding and she was still in her cocktail dress. Even now, in her crewneck and sweatshorts, she could feel the ghost of the corset’s boning pressing into her. 

Evie yawned, stretching her arms above her head as they walked. "I can't believe how late we stayed out. My head is still spinning."

Jade grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, but it was worth it. I haven't had that much fun in ages. Tony Stark sure knows how to liven up a place."

Evie laughed, shaking her head. "He's definitely a character. Ordering shots for the entire bar? He definitely lived up to his reputation."

“Oh, he absolutely did.” Jade winked and looped her arm through Evie’s as they walked. 

Evie raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something when I went up to bed?"

Her grin widened. "Let's just say, Tony Stark is very generous in more ways than one."

"Jade, you did not!" She burst out laughing, shaking her head.

Jade shrugged, looking pleased with herself. "Hey, a girl’s gotta eat."

“I saw the tip jar before we even sat down, you’re not in danger of starving anytime soon.” 

“Hey, he said I could have whatever tip I wanted.” She bumped Evie’s hip with her own. “I just happened to want a big one.” 

“Jesus Christ, Jade,” She pretended to cover her ears. “At least wait until I’m not fucking hungover and nauseous.” 

“Fine, get your little foo-foo croissant, but then I’m sparing no details.” 

They reached the coffee shop and ordered their usuals, then found a quiet spot outside to sit and enjoy their drinks. 

Evie took a sip of her coffee, feeling life slowly coming back to her, even as Jade told a story so salacious she felt slightly guilty for listening to it in the daylight. "Well, I’m glad you had a good time. It sounds like he exceeded expectations."

“You could say that,” Jade took a bite of Evie’s croissant. “It doesn’t hurt that my father absolutely despises him. Not that he’ll ever know, of course, but it made my night that much more enjoyable.” 

Shaking her head, Evie took the pastry back. “Daddy’s little law student, hard at work.” 

“Something like that. Anywho, why don’t you tell me why the hell you showed up at the bar with Tony Stark in the first place?” 

“Well, we met at the gala, we chatted, long story short –– he offered me a job.”

Jade nearly choked on her coffee. "What? Are you serious?"

Evie grinned. "Yeah, he was familiar with my work on Nanoflex and offered me a job on the spot. I said I preferred to finish school first, but he told me to consider my Stark Industries recruitment to have officially begun."

Jade's jaw dropped. "Evie, that’s amazing! But wait, why the hell wouldn’t you go now? Don’t tell me that piece of paper really means that much to you. You’re basically already a bazillionaire, you don’t need to pander for funding like the rest of those assholes do.” 

Evie chuckled. "I don’t know, I guess I just don’t want to rush things. No, I don’t really need the degree, I suppose. I know my parents will be so excited to come up for a graduation, to tell their friends their daughter graduated from MIT, blah blah blah. They’ve always been so pro-living life. If I drop out of college to go to work, even at my dream job, my mom will lose so much sleep thinking I’m chained to a desk slaving away for the rest of time. Plus, everything I made before I was eighteen is in a trust I can only access if I actually graduate. So, here I am.” She elbowed Jade. “Plus, is it really so bad to keep slinging drinks with you for another two years?” 

“No, no it is not.” Jade raised her coffee cup. “To Evie Langston, genius, future Stark Industries standout, mediocre bartender, and the best wingwoman a girl could ask for.” 

Evie raised her coffee cup, laughing. 

“I swear, Eves, no one is better at getting what they want than you. I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you’re practicing, but I want in.” 

“I’ll bring my spellbook to the bar tonight.” She winked. 

Present Day

Evie stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the collar of her blazer. Her vibrant red hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, the kind that gave you a splitting headache by lunchtime. Knowing she’d regret it later, she doubled down on her chosen hairstyle, knowing it accentuated her cheekbones. Yet another gift bestowed upon her through the gene pool, along with her green eyes, now sparkling with anticipation. Today was the day she’d start her new job at Stark Industries. Today was the day that years –– decades of her hard work would come to fruition. 

All the years being ahead in school, seeking a challenge and never quite finding it. Years of boredom and near stifling education, causing her to get into some trouble. MIT had pushed her just enough to keep her mind occupied, and once she’d officially received her offer from Stark Industries during her sophomore year, the rest of her education had been a formality leading up to this moment.

Now –– just as he’d promised two years ago, there was a job waiting for her after graduation. She’d walked in her ceremony just a week prior, insisting on starting her job right away. The only reason she’d allowed a week in between was to fly home and humor her mother with an over the top graduation party, and then settle into this new apartment just two blocks away from Stark Tower. It was still somewhat sparse, not quite lived-in. The problem with luxury apartments is that they always felt too clinical, too impersonal. A little part of her felt nostalgic for the little apartment she’d lived in above the bar back in Boston, the owner of The Bos giving her a break in rent since she bartended part time. It was small, cramped, and always had a lingering liquor smell wafting up through the floor, but it was the first place she’d lived in on her own. This new apartment was about ten times the size of that little shoebox, but lacked the charm. She was somewhat new to the level of income she’d found herself bringing in, between the numerous patents she’d sold and the consulting gigs she’d taken throughout college, and finally having access to her trust now that her degree was finalized. Plus, with the Stark Industries salary, she was bringing in more money than she knew what to do with. She made a mental note to hire an interior designer and pick up an extra large coffee on her way to the office.

Meandering around the room, she put gold hoops in her ears, pulled her purse onto her shoulder, and slid her laptop into her bag. Behind her, the phone buzzed on her nightstand. She picked it up, a smirk forming as she read the message from Tony Stark.

Ready to knock their socks off, Red? Just remember, no blowing up the lab on your first day.

Evie typed back quickly, grinning. No promises, Stark. Hope your insurance is comprehensive.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a final once-over. With a confident smile, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. As she locked up, she tried her best not to smile like an idiot.

[ronearoundblindly]

Sneak Peek!

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader excerpt

Summary: Steve reaches his breaking point when you return to the field after severe injuries.

Warnings for a touch of the spice and a vicious/hot argument. WC ~550 *This work is not in final edits yet. All mistakes are my own.

“You’re not my superior officer, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot in the head.”

“Fine," Steve shouts, arms crossed over his chest, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked, you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can’t handle myself." You push weakly at his chest like it's a game. "Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, a derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. Out there. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about a job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Excuse me?”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you taunt, rolling your eyes. “Play martyr all you want, but we both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head. He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Let’s see how you like feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.”

His last word thickens the air on the jet. 

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables? Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out, leave you wondering if I’ll ever touch you again, wondering if…”

“Yes,” you breathe.

a/n: Tentatively planning to have this done to post on Sunday since the original was a 'Sweet Sunday' ask. Per usual, don't quote me on that, but I got a huge chunk done today which was likely the hardest part. Thank you to all those who sent messages of support! I won't let you down 🫡

[Main Masterlist; Old Dog, New Tricks; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[ronearoundblindly]

Sneak Peek!!!

excerpt from Part II: Reasons (see previous or series) a Steve Rogers x villain!Reader tale

Summary: Steve's convinced your first (and only) move will be ordering Bucky to kill your enemy. He has no clue...

Warnings for mentions of injury (minor) and brainwashing/manipulation (technically). WC ~400

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, his friend would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not Bucky, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. He can’t let Buck kill for you.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Will heal,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“No. Food first, and palm up here.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focus on the meal before him. His mission is very simple, but he’s thorough. You knew he would be.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging “—while I tell you about your mission.”

a/n: Hope you guys still give a hoot about this tale, but I'm determined to complete in-progress fics probably for the rest of the calendar year... Sooooooooo much has to fit into this chapter that it's taking me forever to work it all out. I don't want it to be a play-by-play and boring explanation of her plan, but it can't be confusing either. The balance is getting there though. Thank you for your patience!

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @marvelmenwhore @happinessinthebeing @before-we-get-started @sjsmith56 @esposadomd

[ronearoundblindly]

Evil chuckles *rubs palms together*

Sorry I can't help it!

Imagine his coworker, Bailiff Bucket Barnes, notices that Steve seems to (unintentionally) put a little more detail into his courtroom sketches when reader is in them.

Ohhhhh let the teasing commence 😏

- 👜

court sketch artist!Steve Rogers x lawyer!reader drabble

[super short, just trying to get back into the swing of things. No warnings.]

Steve uses his middle finger to smudge the line of your leg just as the judge adjourns the court for jury deliberations.

It's not quite perfect, so he focuses on fixing the exact angle of your bare calf in those delicate heels.

"Punk," his friend rumbles from the doorway, securing the emptied room, "kinda missed your cue to leave..."

Whoops. Steve hadn't even sketched the judge behind the bench yet.

"Right. Sorry, Buck. I'll get out of your hair."

"Don't bother," Bucky says, stopping Steve's hand as it rushes to replace the charcoal in its tin. "Not expected to take long for a verdict."

The bailiff adjusts his uniform tie and takes a seat next to Steve.

"Ohhh," he coos with a craned neck, "I see why you lingered. 'Bout time you asked her out, ya think? You've been pining over her for six months."

"Have not, jerk," Steve practically squeaks.

Bucky puts up his hands in defeat. "You're right. You're right. It was this time last year that she started with the DA's office."

"I'm not...pining," Steve muses, running a nail through some black buildup on his thumb. "She's just photogenic."

"Then take a picture. With your phone. And then put us out of our misery and use that phone to get her number."

"Us?"

"The poor stenographer lost her bet in the fall. She was so sure you'd make a move after the Kinsey case."

Steve shrugs shyly. "Nah, that was such a big win for her. I bet the office took her out right after--had a party maybe."

"So? There are seven nights a week, big guy. Court is closed two of those days, too."

"Buck, I'm not gonna--"

"Bud, I'm gonna die of old age waiting for you to get your ass off this pew. Shit, my hair will be down to here--" Bucky gestures to below his shoulders "--by the time you--"

"Language," Steve warns.

Bucky relents and settles on a judging look.

After a long pause, he shrugs.

"Fine. Maybe I'll ask her out. She's got great legs."

Steve's head whips up so fast that his blond hair falls across wide eyes. "You wouldn't dare," he bites back.

Another shrug is his only answer.

A door at the back of the court creaks open.

"Barnes, call them back in."

"Damn," Bucky cards his fingers through his dark locks and whistles, "my girl's fast."

Heat flares across Steve's disbelieving frown.

Bailiff Barnes stands up with a chuckle.

"See, when you recreate that look at home, the color you're gonna wanna pick is Fuschia."

No sooner has Bucky opened the double doors than you flit past him and down the aisle.

"Barnes," you nod politely before your eyes meet Steve's.

Your head cocks to the side in surprise. "Mister Rogers."

It's a split-second in time, but Steve loses all ability to form words. He had no idea you knew his name. The smile you flash over your shoulder after setting your briefcase down, too, isn't just a polite smile or a confident 'I've won this case' smile. No. That smile is just for him.

Steve gulps, letting that gleaming gesture sear into his brain so he can sketch it later.

He plucks out his charcoal again.

At least he has this chance to draw the judge behind the bench...and put all the others he forgot on the page, too.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh boy. Yet another mini-series taking up real estate in my mind... Hopefully, none of you guys are taking bets about how long all these things are taking me!! Luckily, this one is pretty straight-forward fluff--which is, of course, how Threadbare started and that ended up ::checks notes:: at 20,000 words... Whoops, indeed...

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