#[:^) but like... dont ask for anything crazy... he only knows

[itchyandtwitchy]

I feel like the part where his husband just audits to watch is so crazy???? I need to know more about their dynamic. Also teaching with a tissue over the nose IS just crazy. I am eating this up!

IT IS CRAZY! I mean, its definitely practical but also the most distracting thing ever. Unfortunately, because I never took a class with his husband, Im not sure what he's like as a teacher. HOWEVER, allow me to ramble off a few dynamic obs about them.

Obs under cut

Having class with Russian professor then going to my internship with his husband gives me such insane whiplash. They work at two different colleges about 25 minutes apart and just hop between buildings during their breaks. Dont ask me how it works, I have no idea.

Not only are they nearly polar opposites of one another, Russian professor is insanely different outside of the class. He has a reputation for being critical and having unobtainable standards, I nearly failed his class my first year. His husband is the exact opposite, he still has that strict professor vibe but he's more gentle and understanding in his teaching. Again, not sure how he is in the classroom, but Ive been able to sit down and have an actual conversation with him on many occasions.

Anyway, SNEEZE TIME

Im often working with the husband late into the night; comparing notes, writing reports, updating databases, etc. This means that Russian professor almost always stumbles in while Im still there, makes himself some food (God bless that microwave), and pulls up a chair next to his husband. This is where the interrogation begins- 'how are you feeling? Still coughing? You take anything? You looked poorly during class, I have more tea and tissues on my desk'. Hearing my professor answer these questions is like taking multiple bullets to my soul. He goes so in depth about every symptom, PLEASE BE QUIET (keep going).

The even crazier part is he knows I know what theyre saying even if Russian isnt my first language or speciality.

But the ACTUAL craziest part is how much his husband tolerates while I'm literally right there observing all of this. One of husband's quirks is that he will catch professor's sneezes in a tissue. Like fully, if professor were to show any sign of sneezing (and they're obvious) his husband just holds a tissue to his nose and let's him use it. This is why Im convinced he is one of us, I cant be the only one going insane over this.

A few times when I was in his office at even later ungodly hours than usual, professor will sort of lay his head on his husband's shoulder while we work and turn to bury sneezes against his shoulder or neck. I just know hes lurking on this side of Tumbleweed. Do you understand my insanity? The worst part, even though Im a personal victim of his bad attitude, hes so docile when its just me and his husband. He doesn't talk much at all, but thats still a major improvement from how he usually treats my work.

Hope you enjoyed, these are so fun to think back on. I also might go back and expand on some of my asks with @empresskaze

[3416]

william nylander fanboys have to be the most annoying leaf fans that exist and it's not close actually

[ubike-official]

date back on for sunday now. His friend is okay. thank god. And uhhh, yea now we're finally be fr about the "hey we met on a dating, lets be so fr about what our experience has been" uncharted territory besties. we're not at "so what are you looking for?" but i already essentially told him my approach is to just really try getting to know ppl i find interesting and letting a spark develop from there w/o pressure. kinda like in school where you consistently see people in casual settings. and he thought it was a good plan so uh. here we are.

[ichigosoju]

🌷

[wifeiy]

what if everyone was just nicer and more considerate when bringing up things that might upset me or make me uncomfortable or i have historically not wanted to talk about. and like what if you stopped and thought about how i would feel by focusing on everyone but me

[djevelbl]

My dad just came into my room to ask me if he could drink one of the small sodas I have in the fridge (haven't gotten around to watching the trsmp end event vods lmao), telling me he can replace whatever he drinks bc he has the money...

SIR. IF U CAN BUY IT URSELF THEN WHY TF ARE U ASKING IF U CAN DRINK MY SHIT. GO BUY IT FOR URSELF TOMORROW LIKE THE FUCKING REST OF US 😭😭😭

[rachelamberish]

hate solas or not romance him or not whatever like. i dont understand how he doesnt drive everyone CRAZY as a character.

like. have you ever just sat and thought about. what it must be like. the trauma. the shakespearean sadness of being the only person that remembers DEATH not being a thing.

and you feel so insane because youre going around telling people “no you dont understand the world as it exists now is fucking horrible people used to not DIE.” and theyre like “its fine as it is just let it be and let us live and die as we are”, desperate for you to acknowledge their personhood. Meanwhile your entire race is the victim of genocide and slavery and cultural erasure, what little magic remains in the world is shunned and mages are systematically imprisoned for being fucking born and people die of old age and its because of you. and now its your cross to bear to atone for ALL of that and justify to people that the world could be better but no one else knows anything different so they dont get it and just know they dont want to die.

And so the only way you can cope with the trauma of that is by treating the world and everyone in it like it’s a bad dream.

Its just so existential. It’s like what if you could talk to God and ask him why he made the world but he was just some vaguely pathetic dude and his answer was “it was a mistake and i regret it every day”.

[skullsfiction]

hand of gold — cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x wolff!reader

summary: nobody knew you and carlos sainz jr were dating, much less getting married. now everyone’s buzzing at the prospect of getting to witness the biggest (and most expensive) wedding in formula one history.

authors note: this was requested by an anon MONTHS ago and i am so sorry this took me so long, AND im so sorry because the request has for some reason disappeared from my inbox, i hope this makes it to you anon!

instagram • ynwolff • dec 23 • monaco ⚑

liked by lewishamiliton, kimi.antonelli and 718,025 others!

ynwolff: happy holidays from the wolff family 🐺🎅

view comments below!

username1: you never let me forget how rich you are

username2: how does it feel to live the life

username3: are toto and susie looking for a 3rd

➥ ynwolff: it’s christmas…have some decorum.

➥ username3: i didn’t think you would see that…i apologize.

➥ username3: but…are they?

username4: i would kill my entire family to experience a wolff family christmas

username5: i can’t believe she’s still soft launching, you can trust us girl

➥ username6: it’s been THREE whole years…we will never see this man’s full face

➥ username7: i bet he’s ugly.

➥ username8: hes either 1. hideous to look at 2. not rich 3. a driver, or 4. a controversial man

➥ username9: what if it’s lewis?

➥ username10: do you see an ounce of melanin on that man’s skin?

➥ username11: this whole thread is why we will never know who she’s dating 😒

kimi.antonelli: thank you for the new kart 💙 i love it!

➥ ynwolff: only the best for a mercedes driver <3

➥ georgerussell63: i don’t recall getting a new anything for these last 2 years? 🤨

➥ ynwolff: remember that you are a grown man with a grown man paycheck!

instagram • pomegranatesgossip • unknown ⚑

liked by 72,626 users!

pomegranategossip: #neverforgiveneverforget the day this picture came out and everyone thought carlos was for sure going to mercedes! just for him to go WILLIAMS, will forever reminisce on what we could’ve had

view comments below!

username12: they knew what they were doing..and they were so evil for it

➥ username13: will forever wonder what they were talking about

➥ username14: and why on earth was old papa sainz there?

username15: i have a theory..but im scared people will think im schizophrenic

➥ username16: as a diagnosed schizophrenic, let’s indulge into this theory together

➥ username15: i’m convinced carlos is dating toto’s daughter

➥ username16: oh baby….

➥ username15: NO IM NOT CRAZY

username17: nightmare blunt rotation

instagram • carlossain55 • jan 13 • joali being ⚑

liked by susie_wolff, ynwolff, and 628,926 others!

carlossainz55: big things coming soon

view comments below!

username18: i’m cumming soon 😩

➥ username19: ON A POST WHERE HES SHOWING OFF HIS GF???

username20: another one that won’t man up and hard launch 😒

➥ username21: what a coincidence that both yn and carlos have been soft launching for the same amount of time 😭

➥ username22: now that you mention it..

➥ username23: huh

username24: why is susie wolff in the likes?

➥ username25: the TWO wolffs are in the likes

➥ username26: yn has been in the likes since forever, susie on the other hand…

username27: i’m look at the hand in the second picture, and as much as i hate to ask, is that a engagement ring?

➥ username28: please please PLEASE DONT START

➥ username29: i can’t handle that right now

➥ username30: climate change, the cheetos in office, the worlds falling apart, and CARLOS IS ENGAGED TO SOMEONE WHOS NOT ME??? I WILL KILL MYSELF

➥ username31: this was truly the last thing i needed this year

➥ username32: if carlos got a engaged, why would he be wearing an engagement ring? isnt it normal the woman?

➥ username33: unless carlos was proposed TO

username34: please don’t do this to me carlos

twitter

instagram • ynwolff • jan 15

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton, and 619,026 others!

yourusername: fixed on your hand of gold

view comments below!

username35: we really went from 0 to 100 real quick 😨

username36: im frozen. you just altered the timeline

username37: THE TWITTER CRAZIES WERE RIGHT?

➥ username38: more importantly THE SCHIZOPHRENIC GIRL WAS RIGHT?

susie_wolff: tell him to watch his hands

➥ carlossainz55: yes ma’am i will watch my hands forever and always

➥ lando: kiss ass 🤣

➥ carlossainz55: you wish you could kiss my ass

➥ ynwolff: oh 😆

➥ carlossainz55: i didn’t mean it baby, i only want you to kiss my ass

➥ susie_woff: …

➥ username39: i like this new change

username40: i actually cannot handle this news right now

username41: THATS WHY PAPA SAINZ AND BABY SAINZ WERE TALKING TOO SUSIE AND TOTO

username42: i can just imagine carlos asking toto permission to propose to yn 😭

username43: wait so who proposed to who?

➥username44: i can’t imagine yn wolff getting on her knees for any man

➥ username45: it wouldn’t make sense for carlos to have a an engagement ring unless yn proposed to him

➥ username46: keep in mind, yn has an engagement ring too

➥ username47: maybe rich people do stuff differently

susie_wolff: i would like to make it clear that my daughter did not get on her knees for any man. she was proposed too, and THEN did she get an engagement ring for her soon to be husband —toto wolff

➥ username48: toto said put some respect on his daughters name

➥ username49: this makes me feel much better

➥ username50: this wedding better be HUGE

➥ username51: if i can’t have a big wedding, then i least i can live through someone who will

carlossainz55: i love you 💙

➥ alex_albon: simp

➥ username51: so did everyone in the paddock know about this relationship?

➥ lando: yes

➥ username52: just dig the knife deeper

➥ username53: i didn’t even feel this level of betrayal when my boyfriend cheated on me

twitter

instagram • carlossain55 • feb 14 • monaco ⚑

liked by ynwolff, charles_leclerc, and 916,016 others!

carlossainz55: wolff-sainz wedding, september ‘25

view comments below!

username54: so what i’m understanding is that your taking the wolff last name 🤨

username55: holy shit look at those flowers

username56: ON HIS BIRTH MONTH EVERYONE!

username57: my expectations for men just went way up

username58: im assuming it'll be a very flower themed wedding??

lando: so according to my invitation, i shouldn't bring fireworks? will you be providing them or was it a typo?

➥ carlossainz55: this will be a firework free wedding lando.

➥ lando: WHAT

➥ charles_leclerc: NO FIREWORKS?

➥ maxverstappen1: well i already bought the fireworks so

➥ carlossainz55: do not set off fireworks at my wedding max.

➥ maxverstappen1: what the fuck am i going to do with all these fireworks

username60: im so excited for OUR wedding

username61: the bride right in the middle as she deserves

username62: the way yn has posted these exact photos on her story before..

➥ username63: private but never secret

➥ username64: i still can't believe they got away with this for THREE years

ynwolff: so ready for you to take my last name

➥ carlossainz55: so ready for you to take MY last name

➥ susie_wolff: technically you're taking my last name—toto wolff

➥ username65: you two should fight to the death, and whoever wins takes the others name

instagram • pomegranatesgossip • unknown ⚑

liked by ynwolff and 92,193 others!

pomegranatesgossip: two snippets of carlos talking about the wedding in a recent interview:

"I think the thing that bothers me the most is when people say 'is yn a bride...what do they call it? bride...zila?' I do not understand what is wrong with a woman wanting everything to be perfect on her big day. I don't think people understand how stressful it is to plan a wedding. It seems like all we do is plan, plan, plan. And I do love it because I want the day to be perfect for her, but if I'm not racing, I'm planning the wedding. So I understand why some women, especially when they don't have their fiancé to help them, can get a bit....angsty."

"When we had that talk about our future, one thing my YN made very clear was that she wanted a huge wedding. She wanted different dresses, different cakes, different venues, everything. So, I think it was our fourth date when I started taking note of everything she liked—I actually still have the list—so when we did plan the wedding, it would be easier, you know? what flowers she loved versus which ones she just liked. It did make it easier. Instead of going crazy over two good choices, we can easily pick one."

view comments below!

username66: oh my gosh he's so in love???

username67: that was supposed to be my man

username68: i am begging you guys to go see the actual video because the heart eyes he gets when talking about yn is so 🥰

ynwolff: i knew there was no way he just memorized my top 50 favorite flowers... 🤨

➥ carlossainz55: i’m sorry baby i have bad memory

➥ username69: THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY MAN

username70: his yn everyone

username71: HE KNEW HE WAS GOING TO MARRY HER BY THE FOURTH DATE! THE FOURTH

instagram • carlossainzwolff55 • sep 1

liked by ynwolffsainz, alex_albon, and 1,726,917 others!

carlossainzwolff55: Mrs. Yn Wolff-Sainz 🫀

view comments below!

username72: i just woke up wtf happened

username73: oh so by september you meant the FIRST of the month

username74: THAT DRESS

danielricciardo: beautiful wedding, beautiful bride 🍾

➥ carlossainzwolff55: 🤨

➥ lando: you don’t have to be so jealous anymore, you’re married now!

➥ carlossainzwolff55: 🤨

username75: he wasted NO TIME changing that username 😭

username76: for those who are in a different time zone and missed the insta story’s, here’s a summary: yn had 3 different dresses, they had 4 different venues? (what it looked liked) and a shit load of flowers, ALSO toto cried

➥ susie_wolff: is it so shocking that i cried at my beautiful daughters first wedding? — toto wolf

➥ username76: you need to get an instagram account old man

➥ carlosainzwolff55: first and ONLY wedding ** 🙂

username77: they took each others last name 🥹

username78: its so scute how he’s the one that’s always the first to post

lando: would’ve been better with fireworks

➥ charles_leclerc: agreed

➥ maxverstappen1: totes

➥ carlossainzwolff55: god forbid i don’t want tacky fireworks at my wedding

➥ maxverstappen1: TACKY??? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW MY FIREWORK GUY ONLY GETS ME TOP OF THE LINE EXPLOSIVES

➥ username79: top of the line and fireworks should not be associated

username80: we’ve come so far in such little time

username81: it’s carlos’s birthday…

➥ username82: OH MY GOD THEY GOT MARRIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY

ynwolffsainz: i love you 🫀

➥ carlossainzwolff: i love you MORE 🥰

➥ alex_albon: sick to my stomach (beautiful wedding btw!)

username83: the picture in the middle?? jaw dropped.

➥ username84: it’s my new wallpaper 😭

username85: i see my future and its bright

username86: thank you for all the wedding inspo!

username87: so can we refer to toto as old man wolff now? because it’ll get real confusing real quick if we don’t change something

[starlinggirll]

stanford!art except he's a bit crazy...inlove with you!

who...sneaks out of his dorm to sneak into yours. thankfully you got a dorm to yourself, so he can come in and out as much as he wants. his head resting against yours in his sleep has become a routine for him he's never getting tired of. and it also helps him make sure you arent with someone else at night.

who...is a bit friendly with other girls. he doesn't mean to! obviously. he's just naturally friendly, he didnt find it a problem until you mentioned how he let a girl in his class lean on him. he saw the way your usual bubbly persona turned into almost an insecure one. from that day on he beraly talks to other girls that arent you, and if he does, is because you're around. he cant risk losing you after all.

who...hates whenever he makes you upset. constantly asking you if you're okay, to the point where it kind of gets on your nerves but when you see his big blue eyes staring into yours, you cant help but smile. and sometimes if you're feeling needy, you shake your head just so he can coddle you more. and he loves that, loves that you think you're lying to him when instead he was waiting for you to do that. everything he does is for a reason, after all.

who...loves spoiling you! regardless if its snacks or expensive snacks, he loves gifting you stuff. specially since sometimes he feels like you arent satisfied with the way he treats you, he, in the most innocent pure way (hopefully), tries to buy your love.

who...hates whenever you talk to other boys. he always has his eyes on you, and when you talk to other boys he feels strong urge to drag you away. he doesn't know where it comes from, he has always been a territorial person, specially with patrick. but being with you, those thoughts and urges have spiked to the max.

who...gets irrationally mad when you go out without him. he doesn't get mad at you if you wear something revealing. if anything, he encourages. loves seeing you so confident and loves to brag about you. but when he isnt around he feels completely helpless. specially after you post a photo of the party, taking hours analyzing each picture to see if there's something/somebody that isnt supposed to be around you.

who...wants nothing but the best for you! he really does. he just...hates whenever you go out without him. the people that hangout with you? they dont know the real you. then dont know you the way he knows you. he knows whats best for you. or that's just what he tells you all the time he inside of you.

who...whispers sweet nothings in your ear while he'a fucking you. well kinda. from "i love yous" being shared between you two to "no one else gets to see you this way. no way. me and only me." you are too busy enjoying yourself to realize how he really does mean those words. how he's completely serious.

who...will never let you go now that he has you. he doesn't care what he has to do, threaten to kill himself? force you? he wouldn't think twice if it meant keeping you with him. but thankfully you love him too, obviously not in a creepy way like he does, but he has you hooked. and you have him hooked. its meant to be!

[deesseshesca]

PAC: How do y’all feel about each other sexual energy ? (18+)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~3 )

Haven't slept since last night...

Hello Chérie d'Amour !

How y'all doing ? Hope those last few days have been treating u better than me. When it comes to me is time for me to take a real break. I'm going to be inactive for a month. I am so sorry for my single babe since birth, it was finally your turn to thrive but don't worry, I try to create some good juicy content before I leave for a moment. All readings will be on sale up until this weekend because of recession. I feel like you guys need to catch a break but keep in mind you will only receive the product in May 2025. In April everything will to back to regular prices. That being said, I hope April brings you nothing but success.

MUCH LOVE,

SHESCA.

PILE 1 

YOU : You feel that he has experiences and you are one on his list of potential lovers. I am not going to lie before I even get further, this does not feel like romantic love. It could be platonic love with sex (FWB or sexual arrangement) at least from your side. I don't know if that's how y’all relationships begin or how it was always supposed to be. Ahhh… now lets go. You can sense the deep desire he has for you. Maybe he has prey eyes when he lays them on you. May have possessive  mannerism  with you. Also may tell you to go around and tell others you are his because he hates the thought that anyone can even think they have a chance with you. I just heard: “ You are too pretty for your own good”. You do applaud the fact that he never cares and always show you off no matter the circumstance. Not the type to be disrespectful. May actually be quite the feminist not the performative kind. You may never think he cares so much for women rights because he dont look like it. May have a darker or alternative aesthetic. If not then has the aesthetic of somebody that dont care for women rights : pick up car, bible verse tatted, country accent and love hunting. Actually very emotionally available yet avoidant. Which mean he can express himself and can be transparent with his feelings. Probably dealt with his childhood trauma, not the type to ghost after fucking you. Actually take care of you and give some aftercare. Asking you if you are "ok", before the act and after. Clean you up and tell you he leaves before doing it so you dont wake up feeling funny. Would hate for you to feel use. Avoidant because he can't see himself being in a relationship because he dont think he deserves it. You can feel all this by the way he treats you right but can't seem to give you the title you desire. Want you to be his, act like you are his and don't mess with other people, yet don't want to ask you out properly. You can feel like his manifesting you. What I mean by that, is that you are going to see him grow. From running from you, to trying, to loving you and appreciating you. He wants you, you can see it in his eyes, his actions and his words. You feel like one of most prize objects in his life, he treats you as such and you know that you are all he wants.  Also he has a big dick. To my virgin babe don't worry, he is no monster. Will probably do a lot of foreplay and y'all may also have many nights that all you do is oral sex prepping for the big gun. If you are a virgin, he is very scared of hurting you. 

HIM : 

Before anything : I hear and see you caressing his cheek while saying: “My baby, my baby…” with a sad tone. 

They fucking love is crazy. At first I was unsure and I would be the first to tell you to run the fuck away from something, y’all know me. I don't play those games. 

HE FUCKING LOVES EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ! The way you look, the color of your hair, your hairstyle, if is curly or not, the color of your eyes, the way it light up, the shape of your face, the face you make when he fuck you, he loves you body, every inch. Clothes or nah, he is fucking turn on all the time when it comes to you. The style you have, nails or nah, lashes or nah, makeup or nah, shave or nah. He loves the sound of your voice, the moan you make when he's thrusting deep into you, the way you talk dirty and the way you tease him with nudes, the way  you end up play hard to get it just for the fuck of it. The reality is you guys meet when he just came out of the dark night of the soul. He just fought suicidal thought maybe even survive an attempt. He may be clean from self harm tendency or his sober from substances. He’s still in woods but his not dancing with the devil no more. You are going to force your way into his life. He is a loner and he dont like to mingle but you are coming in with your zest for life … LOL ! What you don't know is that you are the sun of his life. Just by existing you bring him all the joy, life never thought worth giving him. Don't get me wrong it aint co-dependent. He doesn't live because of you. Nah he lived so he could found you. Going back to him, he is too fucking tired to start fighting his avoidant issue but without realizing it he will be growing with you. You are going to enter his life when he is in the 8 cup era( me : surprise the card did not come up) , like he let go of something but he is not yet sure of the next path but knows he must leave so he did. Your warmth  ( dang all I wanted was the sex … here I am in love reading) is something he yearns for. He will often hit you  up, so he can spend your work break with you in his car so you guys can cuddle. He will hit up after work so he can see you. He will beg to see you. Not for sex just to sleep. If he has night terror, you make them stop. Don't worry you ain't got no super power, it's just because he feels safe in your embrace. In my visions regarding your couple, he is always sleeping. Damn y’all fav spot is your bedroom. Lol … babe don't take it personally but he see you as a liability. No job asking for princess treatment just eating and using all his money. He would love how wet you get. You are going to make him feel like his dick has super power in the bedroom because he can make you squirt. To my virgin no worries is actually bound to happen since he's big and you go that WAP. You guys may develop a size kink together. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Your first & maybe only love reaction to seeing you naked for the first time (Babe gather your coins because there's no more free content in the future, xoxo.)

PILE 2

YOU : You feel as tho he has a breeding kink. He loves nutting in you or loves seeing his cum on your tits, your butt, stomach or your face. A fan of facial. You may have a very pretty face, a bit childish, don't worry he aint a pedophile. You have a round face, very chubby cheek, and round deer eyes, may have a rather coquette or very feminine aesthetic. I am seeing light makeup, you may like to get doll up before y’all fuck. Don't act all innocent; you enjoy seeing the aftermath of y’all encounter. You get all doll up, so you can see the wig lifting (if you wear one), your makeup mush, you lips red, the hickeys on your body  or even like seeing your clothes tear down on the floor after the act is over (me: you guys are literally the representation of the quote : I love pink, violence and sex). You know he has a good sex reputation. He may have been a player until he decided to settle with you. You knew it and he never tried to hide it. If you guys do end up break up, he is forever going to be the best sex you ever had. The man knows what the fuck he is doing. You are not here for the sex tho. He knows it. You are here because he get you. Maybe people around expected you to act a certain way, you may attend private school, may be the oldest sibling in your family, may hold a job with power, whatever the situation is, you are held to a higher standard than the rest. Some of you may be the daughter of a pastor or religious important figure. With him, you get open up and even do stuff that would not be allowed by people around you. Having sex may be forbidden in your family before marriage. You may also smoke with him and drink 2. You guys talk to each other about hardship and he just gets it. The thing is pile 2, is like you guys are living in a golden cage. You have gone through so much trauma but you can't talk about it because there's almost a policy of : “ you hear nothing, see nothing and speak of nothing” in y’all family. I’m hearing the song of Pretty Little Liars. They have a darker aesthetic and they are more of a loner so you would think they are the one with the destructive habits but is all you. Now that I’m thinking about it, you may be the only one smoking and drinking when y'all are together and he just makes sure you don't go overboard. You may actually be the one asking him to go this hard in the bedroom. What's funny (not really), you don't feel like he loves you for you. You think, I am writing black on white, you think he only loves you for your tight pussy. You know I dont stand for BS so imma be very honest babes. He aint the problem. Y’all seriously hate yourself very deeply. It's really sad. I did not say I pity you but it breaks my heart, sensing the depth in which you hate your own gut. You see him as an enemie. Almost as a war weapon … I aint playing Chérie d’Amour. You make me think of the way Katniss thought of Peeta in the book of Hunger Games (the first ones). In reality, you don't think no one could ever love you. 

PS : You also feel like he is very emotional. Is easy for him to cry and he doesn't hide himself when he does so. He would cry a front of a kid show or while listening to the news. He may actually stay from the news because he easily absorbs emotions around that. A truth empath … LOL ! He is very loving in the way he dirty speak, I am hearing: “ Look at me …”, “ Is ok I’m here …”, “ You are doing amazing love …” 

HIM: 

I ain't going to lie, this is toxic. Not the yelling, verbally or physically abusive type of toxic. No breaking each other's spirit . Is more the type he wants to save you from you  and you are incapable to stop destroying yourself. Don't get him wrong, he ain't got no savior complex but he sees so much potential in you… yet all you see is his flaws and nothing is really changing your mind. If he is the one reading … RUN ! But since is you, there's nothing I can do but watch. Congrats you have manifested your first relationship  ( I swear I mean it with no sarcasm). There's a lot of lessons here. This may be your wake up call because you are the one closest on in this PAC getting in a relationship. May even happening this Aries season. Is not a matter of “if” but a matter of “when”. 

He feel like you have a facade because he can sense all you truly crave is softeness. You don't actually want this hardcore sex, you want something softer. Otherwise you will want to be degrated, the fact that you prefer him talking in a softer tone, caressing you and holding you when the act is done shows your true intention. You hide behind that tough cover. In front of people you play the perfect innocent daughter while in front of him you play this though women that nothing sacred anymore. He can also feel that you are disgusted by the fact that you do desire love and affection. He doesn't want you just for your tight pussy. He love the depth you have and the beauty you hold. You are a very pretty babe in his eyes, the prettiest woman he ever laid his gaze  upon. Also he’s in love with the poetic tone you give to your pain. You could quite literally love writing  poems or being a writer in your free time. You may play an instrument or love singing. He enjoys listening to you talking about philosophy for hours even tho he doesn't always agree with you. For him, you guys together are the embodiment of the song : Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey. He feels like you are wasting your time with him. You deserve so much more than him. He ain't going nowhere. He feels like you only want him close to you just so you can hurt him. You wish you could destroy people around you but instead you keep hurting his love with fake promises and treating him like he is replaceable. He won't leave because he actually enjoys this arrangement.  If it is the only way for him to have you then that is how it must be. He may have a Mars in Scorpio or in Pisces. 

PS : Now I understand, he aint innocent either. While you destroy yourself with hate, substance and sex. He destroys himself by finding people he knows are going to hurt him. Is more than the victim complex, is the martyr. If he aint in pain then he ain't living. Right now in the spiritual world you are like falling stars colliding into each other and nobody is stopping you because there's life changing lessons that must happen. 

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PILE 3 

YOU: You are extremely grateful for all his exes. You thank them for the way they tame his masculinity and raise him to be an amazing bf. You are grateful for his sisters for showing what is it to actually deal a real women. Most importantly his mom for making him a gentleman. You feel like he loves trying new stuff in the bedroom and dont mind doing it in places that are not traditional. Everytime he grabs you, you don't know in which position you are going to be. He may love going round after rounds with no break ( me : Shit that a whole workout). May be the type to start making out in the car in broad day light with the windows down because he never gave a fuck. Will probably introduce you to sex toys, nothing crazy ladies. He ain't your BDSM type at all but his masculinity never was scared of a pink dildo or a rose toy ( amen to that !). You feel like he has multiple options. You see people flirting with him in front of you like you don't exist. You may keep your relationship private because when you post him, people add him with no shame. Also you applaud the effort he put in the bedroom. He put in the work. Coming in with new techniques  like the pillow or the bear hug. There's something about the way his hip moves, like he is going to hit your g-spot like nobody damn business. Over and over again at that. 

PS : Your first relationship may be an interracial one. For him, you're the first woman of that race he actually dated, not that he found you kind ugly, he just never had a chance to date one of y’all. Also don't worry, no fetishes, purely in love with learning your culture with respect. 

HIM :He feels like you have no idea of your sexual needs. Don't get him wrong,  he knows you are a virgin so you don't know how to move but the problem is that you don't seem to even know what you want. It's almost like you have literally no idea what sex is. Like a new concept falling from the sky. You are acting like you are a pre-teen who just now learned about sex. On the other hand he enjoys the way you are spontaneous many claim to be but they are not. There's a difference between being spontaneous and adventurous and people don't seem to know it. He loves the way you are down for anything at any moment. Which he always craved and missed in his last relationship. Going back to what I wrote, he feels like you are like a doll with no opinion. You just go with whatever he says with no real back bone. You don't tell him if you like what he just did. You don't show different emotions depending on different position or touch. You are just here looking at him nodding. He enjoys your moans but would prefer if you could appreciate him more in the bedroom. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't expect you to have the vocabulary of a porn star but tell him he's doing a good job. Telling him is hitting the right spot, telling him he's handsome and telling him you have been craving him. At the end of the day he aint stress because he is sure y’all are going to figure it out. It's just the beginning of your sexual journey and he knows with time and patience you are going to open up to him. 

PS: He knows you are nervous. The first time y’all are going to do it, you may actually be anxious. I see you looking around nervous and having jabbing movements. You will open up about the fact that you are not sure you can satisfy him. What you don't realize is just the thought of you, turning him on sooooo bad. He can't sleep without taking a cold shower because he is always sexually frustrated when it comes to you. You are literally his dream girl. Trust me babe, no need to worry, you are his female fantasy. 

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PILE 4 

YOU : You love the fact that he makes you feel wanted. You feel like you are the object of his desire. He makes you feel like he can't make a move without you in his life. Without you his life ain't complete. He makes you feel super sexy, always begging you for a pic of you. Not caring if it is a selfie, a nude or even just an OOTD. I see you taking a bunch of pictures that you keep in a folder for when he is needy of your presence but can't be near. Also you can sense how he gets no pleasure being in the dominant role of the relationship. For some of y’all, he will take the lead in public. For the other in this pile, he will be walking around unafraid to show how much of a simp he is.For the first type, he may be very tall and loves going to the gym. He cares for the finer things in life, I see luxurious cars and watches. He may work a white collar job and hold a title of power ranging from manager to CEO. Not the time to talk a lot, have a rather deep voice and have a mug face normally. While for the other he’s a student, shorter, may be older than you but have a baby  face. The first one would be the type to text you that he is waiting at your door, giving you unexpected surprise and making sure everyone knows you are taken because he is possessive. While the other may be the type to follow you around, be down with all your sidequest, take your picture like one of your fans and always have this fool expression on his face when it comes to you. You may tell him what to do but he will always pay for everything and give you the princess treatment. They both have something in common, they love to be dominated. Love it when you play with them. Edge theme, tell them “no” just to hear them whine, don't worry it won't be on your first time but will love it when you use toys on them 2. Will love it even more if you bound them in beautiful pink ribbons. Loves when you challenge them not to make a single noise or they wont get to fuck you tonight. They make you feel love. There's not a single doubt in your mind and others that he loves you. By the way he acts, speaks about you when you ain't there or even takes care of you like  you are the most delicate being on this planet. Whether it be with letters, text you poem, buy flowers or when he travels and always comes back with something that reminds them of you. The way they refuse to end FaceTime because they want to sleep and wake up to you. Scream to any women approaching  them that their fucking taken may wear a fake marriage ring to seal the deal because the mere fact that other women may flirt with them piss them off. 

PS : The biggest munch alive. Will literally cry if you don't let them taste your delicious pussy. 

HIM:He knows you are very strict, you don't play mind games. Your standard are high and you don't mind cutting a man off mid date, mid convo or even relationship if you don't feel respected. At the same time he knows your love can never go bad. You are not really the type to talk about the feelings, you are more the type to show it in your actions. The fact that you bake  for him, your eyes light up when you look at him, your voice softens when you speak to him or even the way your body relaxes when you touch him. On the other hand, he still can sense a blockage in you. It's like you are always waiting for him to fail. You never allow yourself to enjoy the bliss of this relationship. Waiting for him to become abusive, waiting for him to start yelling, waiting for him to start breaking shit around or even start cheating. Just so you can say : “ I knew it ! You can't trust this man, frl, frl.” The issue with this way of thinking is undervaluing the efforts put in by your partner and he also makes him feel like he is constantly passing a test. That may be a big red flag for him that he will consider the worthiness in longevity in your relationship. I see him entering the relationship knowing he found the one. I also sense he can let go, if he ever feels like he can't give you what you truly desire.

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[transgenderer]

Give me your Islam trutherism stance. Lay out the whole position. I think I've asked about this before but I forgot. I'm kind of an Islam head. Islam is the only Abrahamic religion I give a shit about. I think the other ones are bullshit. Academically I think critical scholarship on Islam is like just getting off the ground so we barely know anything about it yet. Anyway drop the trutherism. Mohammad was a girl... Mohammad was actually a beautiful anime woman...

well see the thing is. mohammad was almost certainly a real guy, who was some sort of leader of a group of people. POSSIBLY he never lead a large group, and the large group didnt form until afterwards. but it seems like he led at least a large-ish group. he probably had some sort of religious teaching, altho its unclear if he had any original doctrine or was just a passionate judeo-christian monotheist. oh and yknow, he lived and did stuff around arabia (well. some people say syria. probably not syria).

and that's...sort of all we can say for sure about the real muhammad! there's all sorts of other stuff that MIGHT be true about muhammad, especially after they got to medina. but his early life is a blank to us, the same way jesus' life before his ministry is a blank to us. who knows! but people who confidently tell you "mohammad lived in a city of pagans and converted them all" are exceedingly credulous. we have no good evidence that happened

one interesting thing the shwepisode talks about: so, obviously the islamic conquests "happened". in the sense that there wasn't a state there, and then there started being a large state there. but we dont see them archeologically! which is not crazy, they allowed people to surrender. they didnt just raze everything to the ground. but it's unfortunate, it would be nice if we could use archeology to say stuff about early islam. in part, we cant use archeology re: early islam because a huge number of artifacts were destroyed, there's a weirdly small amount of surviving stuff that could tell us about early islam. but it's not clear! posssibly even the *stories* about uthman destroying a whole bunch of alternate qurans aren't true!

its a very weird field. something that is clearly very important to a huge number of people, and yet is in some ways even more poorly evidence than the early history of the christian church, which we have a large number of texts from (i mean, starting in the early 2nd century. but christianity grew much more slowly, so "early christianity" lasted much longer than "early islam")

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

[deejayrockz]

can you do george clarke headcannons please i absolutely loved your arthur hill ones 🙈🙈

HEADCANNONS •

G. CLARKE

SUMMARY ౨ৎ in which deejay imagines what george clarke would be like as a boyfriend. #parasocialcore

WARNINGS ʚ fem!reader mentioned, but you can just ignore it, it's only really in one line. fluff ! tooth rotting fluff. mentions of argument. nsfw (is labelled beforehand)

౨ৎ

i think he is a very teasy bf. constantly making fun and teasing you, but you do the same to him so it's okay 🤗

i don't know about pda, i think he'd prefer to cuddle and things in private, but he'd like a hand holding, or arm around your shoulder after a few drinks!

invites you to every possible video idea. he makes any excuse to hang around you, despite the fact that before the relationship he was so nervous talking to you

he's the type to hold your waist when kissing you, while you hold his face. i think if he did hold your face, it'd be like a hook under the chin kinda thing

will give u piggy back rides 24/7

big kitchen dancer guy. sticks music on and forces you to dance around with him!! your tired and probably have no coordination, but he looks at you with the most love every time 🤗

he loves streaming, but it always makes him feel bad because he doesn't want you to think he likes it more than hanging around with you. you obviously encourage him to stream anyway, because he loves it, but he cuddles you extra close after every time. he makes sure to ask you if you're okay 5+ times. "you sure you aren't upset?" "george, shut up and go to sleep"

big spoon 100%. maybe little spoon after a few drinks, but big spoon sober. he likes to lay on your chest, however if it's in the living room, the most cuddles you'll probably get it legs draped over his lap, and his hand slowly massaging / rubbing your knees.

i think if you were to have an argument, he's the first to say sorry. as stubborn as he is, he'd do anything to keep you happy, and if admitting that he's wrong is the only way to do that, he'd come around eventually.

flowers. loads. ranging from cheap pink flowers to the most expensive roses, he loves to give u flowers!

very cheesy dates too. fancy dinners, or pizza on the beach in the sunset, he absolutely loves it!!

i think he'd prefer to get his own place with you, but doesn't want to move too quick, so will stay with chris and arthur until you hit maybe the one year mark. then he'd be hinting at finding a house together.

he knows so much about you, things that you genuinely dont even remember telling him. you'll go out, and he's the first to buy you a drink, without even asking what you want. he'll go to the shops, and buy you you're favourite chocolate or sweets, without even asking if you wanted any. he knows your favourite flowers, restaurant, city, EVERYTHING!!

i think in vlogs and stuff, he's very flirty, making jokes about 'having a crush' on you, however doesn't ever really confirm anything to his fans. you both agree it's best to keep it private, especially with how crazy his fans can get.

NSFW !!

i think he can be very vanilla. he tends to take more control, however isn't really into the whole dom/sub play.

he's a grunter. i don't think he enjoys moaning, as he goes all red in the face, but he'll give you the occasional "fucking hell" or "you're so gorgeous"

loves a blowjob. that's all i have to say on that really. he just seems like the type.

i also think he loves cowgirl, his hands bruising your hips!

big munch, usually before the actual action happens, but loves to eat you out !! one of his hands is holding your hips down, while the other spreads your legs open, gripping onto your thigh.

not big on public sex, only ever really enjoys it in the bedroom, or maybe the shower, but even then it isn't his favourite place.

[w2mini]

RED MEANS TAKEN DUMMY! atsumu x reader

-happy valentines 𓂃۶ৎ warnings: reader is reserved, swearings, black cat x golden retriever (I'm never getting tired of this trope for atsumu) fluff only

For Atsumu, he's always been drawn to you—the quiet, pretty muse from unfortunately another class who never seemed to fall for his popular charm. And what's worst is that you weren't even doing anything to catch his attention. It was just a random Tuesday when you were introduced as a new student in Inarizaki, then went on with your day as a normal student like everyone would—and that?

That drove him crazy.

It was probably your reserved nature that felt refreshing to him since he's used to having a crowd of admirers around him. You weren't trying to stand out, be loud—you just always seemed like you had your own little world to be content with.

And he desperately wants to be a part of your life. But let's be real—he's probably not the type to immediately accept his feelings about you because this is genuinely the first time he's falling for someone, so with some ups and downs, denial, and winning a war with his own feelings—yep, he wanted you BAD.

So little by little, he would hang out with you during breaks, keep you company, and slowly become a part of your inner circle—you grew fond of him in your own quiet way. So with Valentines coming up, Atsumu decides it would be the perfect time to confess his undying love for you.

But of course this is an Inarizaki centered story, and it's not one without chaos.

"Yo, have you guys seen the new post from the student council?" The volleyball club were currently in the gym practicing as usual every after school times. Akagi, who was simply scrolling at his phone during break ends up with an interesting post from their student council's social media page regarding the event tomorrow. "The color-coded shirts? still haven't decided what I'm gonna wear to be honest." Aran replied, approaching Akagi to look at his phone, checking what each color meant. To celebrate Valentines, the student council announces a color-coded Valentine's event wherein students wear shirts that indicate their relationship status: Red meant taken, White meant single, Pink means friend-zoned, Black meant heartbroken, etc. Atsumu, who was already plotting his confession, grinned to himself. White it is, because, obviously, he's saving himself for you. So could you just imagine on a Valentines day morning, he's all excited walking at the school, ready to show off in front of you, and sees you in the hallway—

... wearing a red top.

aka TAKEN.

his soul shatters at the sight.

I—what—When—WHO???? Osamu and Suna who was with him—seeing the devastated face on Atsumu bursts into laughter.

He turned to Osamu, aggressively whispering "WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN???”

"She's taken? tough luck Miya." Suna says in between giggles.

You on the other hand who was just simply talking to a friend—doesn’t recognize the chaos happening behind you for wearing a red top.

“You never told me you were in a relationship?” Your friend offhandedly asks, but they were also internally panicking because they know about Atsumu’s plan.

You tilted your head in confusion, “huh? but I dont?”

“what? it’s red though.” your friend points at your top.

“so? don’t people wear red for valentines?”

You friend’s expression drops.

“[name] you dumbass.”

—

Atsumu spent the whole day sulking, even during practice. He messed up the easiest receives, screwed up his sets, and almost hit Suna on the head with his serve.

that damn red top, he’s never been this furious over a color, and what’s worst is that you looked good with that top too!

How come he had already lost without starting?

And how come he never knew you were already in a relationship? You never gave hints or said anything about being in a relationship—

“If I were you, I would’ve confessed already rather than sulking like that.” easier said than done Aran.

“She was wearing red, RED!” Atsumu dramatically exclaims as he drowns on his own sorrows.

“What did red mean again?” Ginjima asks.

“Taken.” Suna replied bluntly, making Atsumu hiss at the word.

“Never stood a chance huh?” Osamu grinned mockingly.

“SHUT YER TRAP SAMU.”

Kita could only facepalm at the situation, but he’s rather amused since this is the first time he’s seen Atsumu like this, “You know Atsumu, have you ever thought that maybe she just wore the color and discarding the meaning?”

Atsumu’s ears perked up, then Ginjima suddenly had a lightbulb over his head, “Oh yeahhh, it could mean like that too, there were a bunch of guys wearing black for fun earlier despite not being in a relationship.”

“Maybe try asking her about it then?” Akagi suggested.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Actually scrap that, it would.

That is until knocking was heard on the doors of the gym.

The team looks over to the source of the sound then sees—

You… with a small box.

“Uhm, pardon me but can I call for Atsumu?” You asked, peeking over to the doors.

Atsumu immediately RAN and was suddenly infront of you, looking… nervous?

“Did ya’ uh, need anything?” he asks, his voice crackling a little.

Then, you hold out the gift to him. “For you.”

Atsumu froze.

“Huh…?”

“Thanks for always keeping me company,” you say softly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to approach.”

Atsumu finally finds his voice. “Wait—so yer not datin’ anyone?”

You blink. “No, why?”

His brain short circuited. He points at your top, “But—THAT’S RED.”

“So?”

That’s when he realizes.

You didn’t know shit about the color-coded event.

His entire face lights up, and lets out the most dramatic sigh of relief. “Wearing red means taken stupid.” He says, flicking your forehead.

It was your turn to get struck by realization now.

No wonder everyone kept asking if you were in a relationship, and no WONDER everyone was wearing different colors for valentines.

Oh you feel fucking stupid.

You then immediately took your phone out, opening an app then searching for your school’s official account page.

You face drops seeing the png file on the very first post that appeared, no wonder why your friend had asked that odd question.

“I—didn’t know…” you muttered, embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding.

Atsumu only chuckled in response, laughing at your misery. “Yer’ killin me ya know that? I though I lost my chance before I even tried.”

You perked up. “You were trying?”

“Obviously.” He grinned.

You smiled warmly, feeling funny about the situation. “Try harder then.”

Atsumu had the brightest grin on his face, he ruffled your hair then gently took the gift from your hands. “Oh I definitely will.”

“P-D-A ALERT” Osamu suddenly shouted from the gym, surprising you and pissing off Atsumu.

“MIND YER OWN BUSINESS!”

WOOOO KINDA SHORT IM SO SORRY GUYS but happy valentines!! and of course I had to celebrate it by writing my all time favorite character😻 hope you guys enjoyed HDJHFODK

💐 >> bouquets for those who don’t feel special enough on this special day <33

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Your writing is amazing 🤩

Can I request headcanons where The Big Three hedgehogs (separately) would react with a reader who doesn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with them; not because of them specifically, but because reader doesn’t want to be in life-threatening trouble all the time. They want to live peacefully, and they can’t have that if they’re dating hedgehogs who are known for attracting danger.

Sonic villains are scary and op. I wouldn’t want to deal with them, even if it meant rejecting the coolest characters in fiction.

Yandere triple s x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic is the embodiment of freedom and excitement, living life on the edge is all he knows. When you tell him you don't want to be in a relationship with him because of the chaos he attracts, he's initially confused.

"What do you mean you don't want excitement in your life?" he asks, his grin faltering. "You're seriously saying you'd rather stay boring and safe than, y'know, live it up with me?"

You explain that it's not about being boring, it's about being genuinely weary snd concerned. Eggman, Metal Sonic, literal GODS, waiting to pop out of the woodwork aren't exactly conducive to a peaceful lifestyle. You want to enjoy life without worrying about explosions, kidnappings, or world ending disasters.

At first, Sonic brushes it off with his usual charm. "C'mon, don't be like that. I'd never let anything happen to you, you know that!" But when you stand firm, his sunny charm starts to crack.

"Are you serious?" His voice lowers, losing its playful edge. "You're really turning me down because of a little danger? You think you're safer without me?"

His words filled with disbelief and growing frustration. How could you not see that he's the guy for you? He protects you better than anyone else could. Sure, Eggman"s schemes are dangerous, but they'd be even more dangerous if he wasn't around to stop them.

As days pass, Sonic'a obsession starts to surface in ways you didn't expect. He's always watching, always. You'll look out the window and catch a fleeting blur of blue, or feel the wind shift as he speeds past. You can't shake the feeling that he's nearby, even when you're alone.

When he finally confronts you again, his tone is far less casual than before. "You don't get it, do you? If you're not with me, you're vulnerable. I can't just leave you out here, waiting for something to happen. It's too dangerous without me."

His logic twists. In his mind, your rejection only proves that you need him more. You dont want to be around him because you dont want to get hurt? He'll give you that wish. Sonic begins isolating you from anything that could "endanger" you. Friends mysteriously cancel plans. Locations you frequent suddenly close down. If you dont want to be happy with him, thats fine, he'll make sure you cant be with anyone. After all, they might "endanger you" too

Shadow:

Shadow doesn't take rejection lightly. When you tell him that you don't want a relationship because of the danger associated with him, his first reaction is silent disbelief. He stares at you, his eyes narrowing as he tries to process what he just heard.

"You think being with me is dangerous?" His voice is cold, almost offended. "I've kept you alive all this time, haven't I? Do you really think anyone else could protect you better than me?"

You try to explain that it's not about him failing to protect you. You just don't want to wake up every day wondering which new villain will target you because of your association with him. Shadow's life is crazy, and just way too "eventful", and you're not cut out for that kind of stress.

For a moment, Shadow seems to consider your words. He's calculating, always analyzing the situation for the most logical solution. But then his own head gets the better of him, and the idea of you rejecting him, for any reason, sends him into a quiet fury.

"So, you think you can live a peaceful life without me?" His tone deceptively calm. "You think you can just walk away and no one will come after you?"

It’s a veiled threat, but there's truth in his words. Shadow's enemies are ruthless, and you even being friends would have already alerted them enough of your presence by now. In his mind, letting you go isn't just reckless, it's cruel. You need him, whether you realize it or not.

Shadow begins to follow you. He's always nearby, watching from the shadows, ensuring you're safe. But his presence isn't comforting. Every time you think you've escaped his grasp, he's there, reminding you that your "peaceful" life is a fantasy.

"You just dont understand, do you? If anything, im the only thing keeping you safe."

And if you still insist on resisting? Shadow's methods become less "gentle". He's not above using force to keep you by his side. In his mind, it's all justified. After all, he's doing this for your own good.

Silver:

Silver is the most emotionally vulnerable of the three. When you tell him you don't want to be in a relationship because of the danger he attracts, his first reaction is heartbreak.

"Wait... what?" His voice cracks, and his wide, teary eyes search your face for any sign that you're joking. "You… you don’t want to be with me? Why...?"

You explain that it's not about him as a person, it's about the constant danger. You're not strong like him. You don't have speed, psychic powers, or any training. You're just a regular mobian trying to survive, and being with him feels like painting a target on your back.

Silver's lip trembles as he tries to process your words. "But... I can protect you. I'd never let anything happen to you, I swear!" His desperation is just saddening. He doesn’t understand why you'd reject him when he's offering to keep you safe.

As the days go on, Silver becomes increasingly obsessive. He can't stop thinking about you, about how wrong it is for you to push him away. He convinces himself that you're just scared and that he needs to prove he can give you the peaceful life you want.

Silver starts "fixing" your life in ways that quickly spiral out of control. He uses his powers to move you away from anything he perceives as a threat. If someone looks at you the wrong way, they trip and fall. If a place feels "unsafe," he blocks your access to it entirely.

When he confronts you again, his tone is a mix of desperation and determination. "I've done everything I can to make things better for you! Don't you see? We can be together. You just have to trust me!"

If you still resist, Silver becomes more unhinged. He's not naturally violent, but his obsession with keeping you safe drives him to extremes. He starts to believe that the only way to protect you is to keep you with him, always.

"I know you're scared" he whispers, holding you close despite your protests. "But I’ll make everything okay. You'll see. You don't have to worry about anything anymore... because I’m here."

[nieceeee]

"MATTERS OF THE HEART"

P/S credited to @wttcsms

"pro athlete character who gets featured on a tiktok for the team where the social media manager asks to see what’s in the players’ lockers. he opens up his and everyone is shocked to see stick figure drawings from y’alls kids & printed out selfies of him, you, and your kids. the domestic display is so different from his in-game personality that it almost feels like a prank, but when questioned further, he just tells the viewers, “my locker is full of reminders for who im playing and winning for."

I saw this and the story automatically popped into my head I hope you dont mind!

PAIRING: footballplayer!ony x reader.

A/N: So much fluff it will make your teeth rot! Sweet sweet Ony! This one came to my head to fast! I hope yall like it!

Being the social media manager of a football team kept you on your toes. You were used to all the antics: trash talking, flexing, the hype. It was like second nature for these guys. Your goal has always been simple, keep the fun and relatability. With this new trend, you were sure that this was going to be the perfect opportunity to showcase some of star players. 

Especially Ony.

Onyankapon AKA Ony AKA The Beast always carried a different level of mystery. Literally known as “The Beast” to his opponents. Ony was a quiet storm. Through all the post-game interviews, fan interactions, and behind the scene content, Ony normally kept to himself. He was reserved, leaning more in the background instead of the spotlight. The way he saw it, the field was his stage. Ony was the ghost outside of his highlights and the people wanted more. 

“Where is Ony?”

“Why is Ony never apart of the videos?”

“We need Ony on the screen!”

Week after week, the fans were restless. They wanted to see the beast outside of his natural habitat. And today was the day, little did you know, that it was going to happen. And not only that but it was going to break the internet in a way you never knew possible. 

You had pitched the idea for this part of the series a few months ago. The “Get to know us” playlist you had created on the team page had gained a lot of traction and the next video up was the “What’s In Your Locker?” trend. A TikTok video where the players give their fans a peek into their personal lockers to get a glimpse at their personality and lifestyle outside of the field. “It's not going to be anything too crazy. Just the basic snacks, routines, lucky charms, etc.” you explained in the meeting. 

It was going to be a piece of cake. 

Little did you know what Ony had in store for you and for the fans. 

You walked into the locker room, camera crew right behind you. They had the lighting set up and ready to go for the series. The team had finished another practice and they were doing their daily shenanigans, joking and messing around. “Okay boys! Cameras are about to start rolling!” you call out, giving them time to settle down before the red button popped up, indicating you were rolling. You grabbed the mic and started your rounds. This series would be a little bit different since it was live so everything had to flow well.

You start off slow walking over to Reiner, his southern slang and calm demeanor always setting a good tone for the videos. Chats start rolling in of women cooing over him. “Okay big Rei, my sweet guy. What’s in your locker?” you start. “Hey there darling.” He greets you. Hearts fill up the chat. He opens his locker door.  Everything is neat and organized. Clothes folded and tucked away. There was a small Texas magnet in the door holding a picture up of a young Reiner and his “nana” as he called her. Clean cut and to the point just like he was, “Sorry it's not all fancy. I’m a simple man sweetheart with simple taste.” his southern drawl croons out. 

Comments erupt in the chat “Raw. Next Question”

“Can he be anymore perfect?”

“Ain't nothing like a good ole southern man.”

“Thank you Rei.” you give him a smile and move to the next one. Your next player was Connie. He smiled big at you, legs bouncing with excitement as you approach. “Oh Lord here we go.” you giggle. “Connie Springer, do I want to know what’s in your locker today?” you ask him as you approach. “Come ooon, don't do me like that mamacita. I got some good stuff in here.” He bounces over to the door and swings the door open. If Reiner was all things order, Connie was everything chaos. 

His locker was packed to the brim, clothes stuffed into the corners. “And you wonder why you can never find anything for practice.” Jean said from across the room. Laughs echo across the locker room as Connie smacks his lips. “Whatever man. Your locker sucks. Mamacita, mira.” he turns your attention back to him. His locker door held chains with different charms, one holding the number 13. A horseshoe hung on the other side. “Y estas aquí son mis milagros. My charms from mi abuela y my tio. Son las cosas más importantes para mí.” he explained showing each charm to the camera. Again comments roll in.

“I don't know what he said but yes.”

“Can I have him please?” 

“BOOMSHAKALAKA YES LAWD!”

“Thank you C Springz. That's beautiful.” you say to him. You continue through several other players who give you different glimpses of themselves. Eren showing you his collection of skull jewelry to Armin sharing his favorite reads. You were just about to wrap up when your eyes landed on Ony. He leaned back against the bench watching you work the room. Your heartbeat thrummed in your chest as you did you best to keep your composure. His massive frame stretched out, relaxing and a small glint in his eyes. You took an unsteady step closer to him. “You can come over here. I won't bite.” his deep voice rang in your ears. 

“What I wouldn't give to be her right now!”

“OH MY GOD IS HE GOING TO DO A VIDEO!?”

“I’m so glad I didn’t scroll.”

“God, it's me again.” 

Comments scroll so fast it was hard to keep up with them. “Whoa, look who’s being a team player today.” Connie lets out. Other players try not to be so obvious with their shock but they mask it poorly. “Okay. Looks like we get a special treat today. The Beast himself is coming out of hiding.” you say softly. A small smirk curves at the corner of his lips. “Care to share what you’re hiding in there?” you ask nodding your head towards his locker. “Bet.” he says, standing and walking to his locker door, effortlessly drawing attention to himself. 

The door of his locker opens with a clank and squeaks open and the room was silent. 

The camera zooms in and widened eyes fill the room, no one expecting what they were seeing. Bright wonky stick figures drawn on white printer paper with old crayons littered the door. Scribbled names of “me and daddy” and “our family” written on the bottoms of each little masterpiece. Handmade “#teamony” craft magnets holding them together. 

“OMG ARE THOSE KID DRAWINGS?!”

“DOES HE HAVE CHILDREN?!”

“ONY WHY YOU CHEATING ON ME?”

Comments blur the screen at rapid speed. But when the camera zooms in closer, there is an eruption of energy underneath your skin. Because right underneath the lens of the live footage, pictures of his most kept secret were revealed. Images of him with a little boy holding a tiny football, selfies with a brown skin girl with slick back puffs, and then there they were. Pictures of Ony with his arms wrapped around none other than…you.

Printed selfies of you and him decorated the door. Selfies of you from date nights to casual Sundays at home during the offseason. Your face was plastered all over his locker room door. Beautifully captured domestic life shots of you, your kids, and your husband were being revealed across social media. Your cheeks heat up and skin tingled at the moment. The view count tripling. 

The locker rooms was dead silent. 

The revelation was jaw dropping. The sweet energetic social media manager they’ve grown to love and their number one player they respected and adored. Together? “W-wait…so y’all are…” Connie tries to find the words but for once was rendered speechless. “This.” Ony speaks up. “Is my motivation. These people right here. My kids Ocean and Oryan, and my beautiful wife Y/N. That's who I’m playing for.” His eyes find yours.  “Every Sunday, I put my all on the field but my heart is forever theirs.” Your chest rises and falls and you have to will the tears away. The man they knew as the beast, a tough no nonsense type of player revealing a piece of him he held so dear to his heart.

“So this is not like…a prank or anything? This is real life. Y/N is your wife?” Eren speaks out, trying to wrap his mind around the truth. Ony’s gaze stays locked on yours, pride and admiration sparkle in his irises. “Nope. This is who I play for. Who I win for.” he emphasizes walking closer to you. You try to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay as he nears. His teammates look at you both in awe, a blanket of tension building between the two of you on camera. The views continued to sky rocket, reaching the highest the social media team has ever seen but the only thing you were focused on was your husband. The man formerly known as the beast, a feared titan amongst men, was no beast at all. He was a father, a partner, a simple being behind all the physical prowess. 

“Damn O, you been hiding a whole family from us. That’s crazy.” Jean called out. The live content that was mean to be used for snippets later slowly shifted from a what’s in my locker to all things Ony and the followers were eating it up. Comments ablaze with questions about this newfound discovery. 

“How long she been with my man?”

“How old are the babies?” 

“Chat, is this real?”

“So, what’s up? How long has this been going on?” Eren asked. “Yeah, and have we met your kids? CAN WE MEET YOUR KIDS?” Connie jumps up and walks closer. Ony chuckles to himself. “If that's okay with wifey,” he says walking up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then y’all came meet them after the next game.” He looks down in your eyes. “That fine with you beautiful?” he asks softly. “Y-yes. That's okay.” you respond. Gone was the gung ho attitude from before replaced with a bashful softness only your husband normally sees.

His teammates stood there taking in the moment. Seeing a new side of Ony was something they weren’t expecting but in their hearts, they felt a shift. The leader of the team whose tough exterior stepped in the room before he did was revealing a deeper side of him resonating not only with his teammates but with every follower that was on the live.

THE LIVE!

Your mind was so wrapped up in your man that you didn't even register that you all were still rolling. You quickly turned towards the camera. “Well I hope y’all enjoyed this segment and we will catch you all in the next video.” you start to end it. Comments rushing in to tell you to keep it rolling but you knew that  you needed to wrap up and do it quickly. “TEAMNAME Signing off. See yall next week.” Ony finishes it off for you, arm tossed around your shoulder.

As the video finished, you tell the team to cut off the cameras but the energy in the room still buzzed around, still vibrating off your skin. Ony let you go and closed his locker door softly. He tosses his bag over his shoulder and walks back to you, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. “So…that was unexpected.” you say meeting his gaze. “What can I say? Got to keep things interesting. Don't want you to get bored of me.” he smirks at you. “I could never get bored with you.” you say softly, your lips pressing against his. 

Connie walks up behind you clearing his throat. “A-aye Ony man.” he starts. “I just wanted to say eres una inspiración big bro. We all go out and do what we gotta do on the field. But this,” he swipes his hand out gesturing towards you. “This is real shit amigo." “I appreciate lil bro. Forreal.” Ony daps him up and pulls him into a hug. You bite back your smile at the overwhelming love he was receiving. Being a football player’s wife was not easy but things like this made it all worth while. 

For the first time in a long time, your husband allowed himself to be truly seen and it made your heart swell with joy. Slowly the room starts to settle down and people begin to head home. You wait for Ony to finish packing his bag so that you could leave together. “Oh shoot my phone.” you say to him. As he waits for you, you rush into your office to get your phone from the desk. The minute you picked it up, your screen was flooded with notifications.

The video had went viral. Shares, comments, and memes overtook your feed. People had found your personal page from the video and were following you. Comments about brand opportunities and business along with outpourings of love filled your inbox. You stood there for a moment to take it all in. Several sports pages showcasing headlines about

“The Real Ony” 

“Ony’s Family Revealed”

“Onyankopon and Y/N: The Beauty Behind the Beast.”

That one made a laugh escape your chest. Major sports networks were sharing all about this small encounter. “Hey, you good baby girl? I lost you in here?” Ony’s head peeked around the corner of your office. You slip your phone in your pocket and meet him at the door. “Nope. Right here with you baby.” you say to him.

Later that evening, after tucking your kids into bed, you lay up under your husband and clear out more notifications. “This is going to be a field day trying to get through.” you mumble, mind already working overtime. Blogs wanted inside scoops about everything, your relationship, your kids, etc. Everyone wanted to know the story. “Uh uh. No working in bed.” he says snatching the phone from your hand and putting it on his nightstand. “But…” you start to argue but he pulls you close and kisses the disagreement from your lips. “No buts. We handle it tomorrow. Together.” he reassures you. You cuddle in close to him. “I still can't believe you did that, you know? I thought you were okay with keeping it quiet. What made you change your mind?” You ask laying on his chest. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“It was about time I showed everyone my heart.” he shrugs, puling you closer. 

And as you lay there, listening to the gentle beating of his heart you settled with one thing. No one. And you mean no one would ever forget this. The day Ony, the beast who played for his family, showed that his heart was as big as his game.