#Be NICE and KIND and TOLERANT and ACCEPTING

[thealteredaltar]

Hellenic Deities: Aphrodite

🌹 Goddess of love, beauty, sex/desire, fertility and war

🌹 Symbols: Roses, myrtle, the ocean, seashells, pearls, the beach, apples, mirror, honey

🌹 Sacred animals: Swans, bees, doves

🌹 Colors: Pink and red

🌹 Crystals: Rose quartz, aquamarine, aragonite

🌹 Most Important Myths:

-Birth from Uranus’ severed genitals and the sea foam

-Arranged marriage to Hephaestus

-The exposure of her affair with Ares

-Judgment of Paris

-Death of Adonis

-Seduction of Anchises

🌹 “Don’t take the myths literally” understanding:

Aphrodite is not envious, petty or vindictive. She is an incredibly loving, warm being. She also does not envy anyone because she doesn’t need to. She’s Aphrodite! Comparing someone to her, beauty-wise, will not anger her. But, she wants you to see your own beauty through her, instead of trying to make hers rub off on you. She does insist on great respect and has a fierce side that should not be underestimated. Yet, she is absolutely delightful.

It is also not exactly that she was horribly “unfaithful” to her husband. She was forced into a loveless marriage and then actually found love. She just found it elsewhere and was shamed for it. That story is less about infidelity and more about how you can’t force love that isn’t working and have to follow your heart, even if that has consequences

🌹 Devotional acts: Self-care of any kind (skincare, salon trip, spa day), a long hot bath (with bath salts/essential oils/bath bombs, etc), shopping, putting a nice outfit together, doing your makeup, writing romantic poetry or love songs, writing yourself a love letter, watching a romantic movie, sexual pleasure (either alone or with a partner), buying yourself flowers (especially roses) or chocolates, doing self-love affirmations in the mirror

🌹 Assistance and Support:

-Obviously, Aphrodite is a huge help in romantic matters. But, it may not be the help that you are expecting. If you are yearning for or with someone who isn’t good for you, she is notorious for imploding or ending such situations. She will wake you up to what is really going on. Aphrodite wants you to actually be happy in love, not to invest in or stick to what you think will make you happy but really isn’t. Yes, she can also help you manifest the right person. You just need to do the inner work and healing required to align with that kind of relationship.

-She also is well-known for helping people when it comes to self-love and self-esteem, especially those who are more feminine. She will push you to improve your body image, feel more confident in your skin, see your beauty and attractiveness, and, above all, to know your worth

This is the only way I have found she can be a bit strict or “tough love”. As you build a bond with her, she will not tolerate you being down on yourself or accepting less than you deserve. But, this comes from a place of affection and love

-Aphrodite can also improve your relationship with sex. She encourages sex positivity, teaching you to fully embrace your pleasure, rid yourself of shame, and feel comfortable in your sensuality

-She also can teach you the power and the value of femininity. If you are a more feminine individual, she will encourage you to embrace that and own it, regardless of society’s negative ideas about femininity. If you’re more masculine, she will get you to do the same, to accept your feminine side without fear

-She can be called on when doing glamour magic, love magic, sex magic, and even earth magic, as she is a fertility goddess

🌹 Additional Note

-It is best to work with her on Friday, as this is the day she rules. You can and should, of course, work with her any day but this will be the most “charged” day in terms of energy

[nosferatuix]

some 1st year sashisu headcanons:

1. They had a horrible first impression of each other because Gojo was way too exciteable, Shoko too apathetic, and Geto seemed like a stick in the mud, and all of them were like god this is going to be a long few years. By the end of the month they were practically fused together.

2. Shoko's the oldest so her birthday was the first time Satoru had the chance to celebrate a friend's birthday. Suguru asked him like the week before what he was planning on getting her and then immediately had to reign Gojo in from going totally overboard.

3. I know the official art disagrees with me but I saw a fanart of 1st year Shoko with a pixiecut on twitter and she looked really cute so I think it should be canon that she had a pixie cut when she started school, alongside Gojo's super short hair. Geto's already Found His Style

yesyesyes. i actually have a very specific set of ideas about their first interactions. my personal headcanon was that shoko and satoru met each other first because shoko was the first one to move into the dorms, but gege cracked my headcanon by having suguru be the first one to move in so i'm not gonna go into a lot of detail. what i was initially thinking was that shoko and satoru actually got along fine at first sight, with both of them thinking the other was weird but having the consensus that their weirdness was a tolerable amount, which made them at least accept each other as human beings. it was satoru's first time seeing someone who could do rct on others and shoko was trying her best to test the waters first before even thinking about making friends, so they were fine.

then they met suguru and shoko was immediately like, okay, wanna-be-atsushi-sakurai over here doesn't talk as much as the other one which makes him easier to exist around, so i can ditch the other one if he gives me a headache. but i don't think satoru and suguru possibly could have clicked the first time they saw each other. i think they probably got into a huge fight just because suguru was already a nervous wreck so he was feeling on-edge and something about him (probably the fact that he was a couple of centimeters taller than satoru since satoru hit his growth spurt later) ticked satoru off and it was basically like putting fire and gunpowder together. shoko was like... i don't know if i can survive the next four years like this. joke's on her.

moving onto part two here, i love that one fanart of stsg snooping through the student files to figure out more information about shoko because she was a bit secretive and they found out there was only a week left to her birthday. suguru mumbled something about what to get for her and satoru was like, WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GIVE HER A GIFT? and he freaked the fuck out i mean my man was stressed out. suguru had to give him a basic run-down on how these things work in the world of normal people, which was what him and shoko were used to, and they probably put their stipend together to get her something nice. maybe a nice necklace that she never wears except for fancy occasions. or something cute that she could place on her desk in the infirmary to personalize the place a bit since she was starting to spend so much time holed up in there.

PIXIE CUT SHOKO IS APPROVED BY ME. i personally think she had longer hair when she first started the school, i'm thinking shoulder-length and whatever, then she got a borderline-pixie cut that felt inspired to get because she watched hong kong express by wong kar-wai and felt moved by the pretty lady from there even though romantic movies don't do much for her. she eventually grew it out into a bob because it was too high-maintenance and tying her hair up became kind of a necessity the more time she spent in the infirmary, but i'm a firm believer in shoko being really into the nu-metal scene of the 2000s so do with that what you will.

on the topic of gojo's supershort hair, it has always been canon to me ever since i saw nibeul's fanarts about first year sashisu and i actually used to think he cut it himself in the bathroom of the train from kyoto to tokyo the moment he got on it and that's why it's such a choppy and shitty haircut. (it was his first time being unsupervised and equipped with a pair of scissors and he had to perform yet another act of rebellion for the gojo clan elders, excuse you.)

and suguru had already been exposed to buck-tick and the 1993 music video for dress a couple of years back so he was in the middle of growing his hair out to look like the pretty dude with makeup from the music video, so i do agree that he had found his style way earlier than these two. explains the piercings he already had at 15, i bet he begged his mom for months to let him get them lol.

[bucket-of-spiders]

”Mspec lesbians aren’t real” “asexuals don’t belong in queer spaces” “neopronouns are cringy” “all men are bad” NO. To the pit with you. Reconsider your views and use your anger for something useful.

[seaglassdinosaur]

Remembering that two long-running arcs of the Origami Yoda series regarding Dwight were his classmates becoming real friends with him as they stop seeing him as the ‘weird kid’ and connecting with him as a person, and Dwight starting and continuing to date Caroline, the girl he likes. These arcs present to the (presumably neurotypical) audience, an autistic-coded character as someone nuanced and human, who is capable and desirable as a partner and friend, encouraging the idea of looking past dismissive judgements of strangeness and to try to understand people, and even if you can’t, accept them and appreciate them for who they are.

[girlwithrituals]

101 ways to improve self esteem

1) Master a new skill.

2) List your accomplishments.

3) Do something creative.

4) Challenge your limiting beliefs.

5) Talk to a counselor.

6) Don't worry about what others think.

7) Read or watch something inspirational.

8) Stay true to your character.

9) Let go of negative people.

10) Set healthy boundaries with others.

11) Care about your appearance.

12) Welcome failure as part of growth.

13) Be a lifelong learner.

14) Face your fears.

15) Become a mentor.

16) Accept compliments.

17) Eliminate self-criticism.

18) Practice coping skills to manage stress and big emotions.

19) Notice negative thoughts and beliefs.

20) Challenge negative thinking.

21) Think about what you learned from negative experiences.

22) Practice gratitude.

23) Exercise.

24) Eat healthy and limit junk food.

25) Get good sleep.

26) Spend time with positive and supportive people.

27) Encourage yourself.

28) Write a list of your strengths.

29) Don't compare yourself to others.

30) Avoid perfectionism.

31) Do at least one positive, enjoyable activity every day.

32) Celebrate small victories.

33) Be helpful and considerate to others.

34) Be honest with yourself and others.

35) Accept your flaws.

36) Don't give up.

37) Practice self-care.

38) Go easy on yourself.

39) Practice being assertive.

40) Practice saying "No".

41) Practice relaxation techniques.

42) Take on challenges.

43) Volunteer to help others.

44) Forgive others and yourself.

45) Set goals and work toward them step by step.

46) Seek balance in all areas of your life.

47) Discover your passions and purpose

48) Groom yourself.

49) Dress nicely.

50) Be kind and generous to others.

51) Practice good posture.

52) Change a small habit.

53) Smile.

54) Don't procrastinate.

55) Don't take things personal.

56) Organize your personal space.

57) Challenge unkind thoughts about yourself.

58) Spend time outside.

59) Notice the good things.

60) Celebrate your successes

61) Write a list of things you like about yourself.

62) Don't take too much on.

63) Do something for yourself every day.

64) Develop daily habits.

65) Remind yourself it's okay if not everyone likes you.

66) Practice mindfulness.

67) Learn to tolerate discomfort.

68) Use problem-solving skills.

69) Take responsibility instead of blaming.

Tell Yourself Positive Affirmations Such As:

70) I am grateful for every day.

71) I am worthy of happiness and love.

72) I am in charge of my own happiness.

73) I love, respect, and believe in myself.

74) I deserve to be happy and successful.

75) I approve of myself, right here and now.

76) I am learning and changing for the better.

77) I accept 100% responsibility for my own life.

78) Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.

79) I can learn to accept the parts of myself that I don't like.

80) I am thankful for my challenges as they make me a stronger person.

81) Write down three positives about each day.

82) Make a collage with your talents, goals, and dreams.

83) Practice laughing.

84) Be proud of yourself.

85) Say mistakes are an opportunity to learn.

86) Show respect to yourself and others.

87) Resolve conflict peacefully.

88) Ask for help or support.

89) Complete a daily task list.

90) Have a growth mindset.

91) Be optimistic.

92) Treat yourself with kindness and compassion.

93) Focus on the things you have control over and can change.

94) Get started on tasks you have been putting off.

95) Practice good daily hygiene.

96) Focus on solutions not problems.

97) Talk about your feelings with someone you trust.

98) Drink plenty of water.

99) Start a new hobby or join a club/sport.

100) Do random acts of kindness.

101) Create a dreams list.

[machinemonstrosity]

HATRED'S EMBRACE | betrayed!1x1x1x1 x reader

WARNINGS - NONE , brief mentions of blood , fluff , comfort but 1x probably needs it more , he/she/they used interchangeably for 1x , 1x with wings truther

a/n - i promise i will get to requests at one point! writing has been difficult for me recently, hence why this one is a little short and maybe sloppy. this radioactive glowstick has been rotating in my head recently.........

She growled any time you attempted to wriggle away.

You never expected 1x1x1x1 to be so… cuddly.

Huge clawed hands grappled at the fabric of your shirt, the surprisingly delicate touch leaving sharp fingertips to lightly graze your stomach. Large wings enveloped you in a dark cocoon, obsidian feathers rustling in sync to the steady rise and fall of her chest. Their breath — in which you never knew he had — ghosted the back of your neck in warm gusts. Each exhale was rumbly, creating a quiet “hnngh” that eventually served as your rhythmic reassurance.

Despite how you initially tensed, bracing for impact and the sickeningly familiar heat of fresh blood trickling down flesh, nothing ever came. Her claws never pierced you. The cold press of the chains entangling their arms somehow never reached you. He caressed you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As if he didn't want to hurt you.

You were both shielded in your own little world. And he wasn't going to let you leave anytime soon.

Truthfully, you were afraid of the expression she was currently wearing. You expected some sort of disgusted scowl, a mocking sneer at your dependency towards such a beast, perhaps. No one in their right mind goes to the manifestation of hatred and malice for comfort, after all. Much less have said manifestation humor your desperate pleas.

The strange benefits of your existence being tolerated by 1x, you presumed.

Limbs interlocked with yours, you finally dared to contort your head behind your shoulder. Yet when your eyes caught the rough features of her face, you found nothing of what you feared.

They looked calm. Peaceful, almost.

He’s taken to burying his face in the top of your head, disheveled white hair falling over your shoulders. It was only after pestering 1x to the point you swore smoke was going to billow from their nostrils that she begrudgingly tore out her hair tie. Not to mention having to coax it out of his hand after — or the last few threads remaining of it.

Admittedly, he looked nice with their hair down. You swore their eyes softened a fraction when you complimented him, even if you were immediately brushed off with a dismissive click of her tongue and a snarl. Your kind words and gestures had an effect on him, whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not.

You would've maneuvered your body to face them if you knew it wasn't going to startle them. So instead, you settled, simply melting into their careful touch. Accepting his form of affection, knowing they were trying their best. After all, none of this would've been happening if 1x1x1x1 didn't care enough to comfort you.

Letting a walking glowstick snuggle you like a teddy bear made you smile, anyway.

And maybe she was desperate for some comfort, too.

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. not much of a romantic .

you hadn't expected the general to accept your gift, much less, to preserve it. not until you see the gift again hundreds of years later.

featuring : general lilia and current lilia vanrouge (cameo appearance: idia)

cw : f!reader, reader is fae and is not yuu, established relationship(?? was friends then they got married), fluuuuufff, probably bad grammars, ooc general lilia? +the divider are supposed to separate between past and future lol

a/n : HEHEHEHHE LILIA VANROUGE

"this is ridiculous," lilia mutters under his breath, setting his weapon by the tree with a look of disapproval shot your way. the two of you were on your way to go back to the camp, but your 'childish mind', as lilia called it, insisted on stopping by the road. simply because a field of flowers had caught your sparkly eyes.

"come, now! there's no need to look so grumpy!" you smiled at him, putting a few flowers in your pocket. had you been someone else, lilia would've just ditched you right here by yourself. but of course, he won't. he tolerates you a tad bit too much to do that—not that he'd ever admit it, though.

"hmph. flowers? what are you, children?"

"no! i simply enjoy life, unlike you!"

"krk..!" he grits his teeth at your reply. how dare you say that to him? sigh. well, he'll let it slide. for now. while he is occupied with his own thoughts, you suddenly walked over to him with something behind you. you also appear to be grinning ear to ear. "what are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"close your eyes, will you?" he raised an eyebrow at your request.

"huh? why should i?"

"come on! just do it!" he scoffed at you but did as you had asked. when he closed his eyes, he felt something being put on his head. it feels light and smells great, too. but it's probably because you're so close to him. "you can open them now!"

"ta-da! do you like it? i made it with great efforts, you know." you beamed, chest puffing out in pride. it's.. a flower crown. you made a flower crown for him. for him. the feared general. how can a fae be so pretty and kind? "lilia?" you called out to him, making him snap out of his thoughts. heck, he didn't even realize he's been standing still up until now.

"... utterly foolish. you expect me to go to war with this?"

"i don't see anything wrong with it, general! maybe those humans will be in awe when they see you!"

he scoffed once more, reaching his hand up to caress the flowers so gently as if it would break if he uses slightly more force. "your idiocy knows no bounds."

the sounds of keyboard clicking echoes through diasomnia's halls, specifically around lilia's room. lilia had invited you to visit night raven college during the weekend, and yet, he's now letting you rot in his incredibly messy room without paying attention to you at all while he's playing his game.

not that you mind, you're quite intrigued by his occasional yelling of "nice!" or "yes, hit that!" this makes you wonder how his game can be so interesting. it almost makes you forget that you're both hundreds of years old. but that does not matter. to entertain yourself, you decided to clean lilia's room one step at a time.

the first step is: his wardrobe.

it's messy, to say the least. you scrunched your nose when you smell the stench of unwashed socks near its doors. how long has it been since it's washed? well, no matter. you decided to pick it up and put it somewhere far away for you to wash later. then, another scent reaches your nostrils.

it doesn't smell bad now. in fact, it smells sweet and familiar. a little too familiar. "lilia." you turned your head to the side, calling out to him. but he does not budge. instead, he waves you off with a little, "not now, darling. i'm working." without even turning his head at you. ugh, old men, am i right?

"your 'work' is you ignoring your wife." you quipped, pouting at him. hearing your sentence, lilia chuckles softly while typing into his chatbox;

MuscleRed: Forgive this old man, but my wife called for me. I must go AFK for a while.

then, someone replied,

Gloomurai: oh, kk. no worries there. i'll wait for your return.

he then paused the game, finally turning to look at you with an apologetic smile. "sorry about that, dearest. what is it?" he asked, looking up at you. 'he paused his game for me ...' it's been years, yet he always manages to make you fall in love with him more each time.

"uhm, well, i was just curious to see if you'd know about the flowery scent in your wardrobe."

"oh? well, i haven't the slightest idea. maybe it was those new detergents sebek bought yesterday? he said that it smells great."

you hummed, reaching your hand in the wardrobe to search for the source of smell. "... hm? i think i touched something." when you pulled it out, what you saw almost made you smile like a high school girl in love. it's a flower crown. specifically, the one you made for him hundreds of years ago.

you both stared at the crown in silence before lilia laughed, almost falling off of his chair. "hahaha! i didn't even remember putting it there!" his words made you tilt your head in curiosity and confusion. "but ... how? it should've wilted a week or two after i gave it to you, right?"

"well, i used magic on it so it doesn't have to wilt, love! to think that i'll see it 3 years later after i've put it in there ... i'm quite surprised!" he replied, as if what he did was something that everyone could relate to. as if what he did is something that is not romantic at all.

"you could've just told me, you know ... i would've made you new ones every time it wilts."

"khehehe," he laughs again, embracing you in his arms. "past me was a little too prideful for that. forgive me, will you?"

but of course you do. you love him too much.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[astrolovecosmos]

A secure Aries Rising is confident in who they are, decisive, and independent. They have a lot of self-motivation and energy. They may be ambitious or always on the go.

A secure Aries Moon picks their battles carefully, may be the first to stand up for others, and tries to use excitement, spontaneity, surprises, or adventure to manage conflict rather than just pure aggression. They can be assertive, passionate, and bluntly honest.

A secure Taurus Rising truly attracts. They are genuine in a down-to-earth way. They may strongly identify with a skillset or physical aspect of the self. They approach things carefully and rationally.

A secure Taurus Moon protects their inner security at all costs. They let others get close to them slowly and carefully. They don't get involved with people who make them feel bad or drain them. They have patience with themselves.

A secure Gemini Rising says what's on their mind, uses their talkative nature to their advantage, and is persuasive and entertaining. They lead with a positive curiosity and doesn't question or doubt their intellect or opinions.

A secure Gemini Moon accepts many parts of the self. They are expressive and open-minded. They take joy in learning about the details and quirks of others. They encourage learning and teaching in all types of forms.

A secure Cancer Rising tends to be understanding, approachable, and kind or at least nice. They approach others and the self with compassion. They may be private, reserved, or sensitive but they can also be highly perceptive and intuitive with high emotional intelligence. They may use these strong people skills to get what they want.

A secure Cancer Moon tends to be very empathetic and receptive. They are creative, imaginative, and caring. They can be incredibly loyal, protective, and encouraging towards their loved ones.

A secure Leo Rising is usually very self-expressive and creative. They may be cheerful, entertaining, and/or radiate confidence. They enjoy making others happy or connecting through passion.

A secure Leo Moon has a stable ego and strong sense of self. They usually come off/act genuine, may be generous - especially emotionally, and are also usually honest. Their courage towards individualism and self-expression can inspire others at best and protect themselves during the worst times.

A secure Virgo Rising tends to be friendly, easygoing, observant, and clever. They use their intellect to navigate life and get what they want. Their judgment may be sharp but they tend to be tolerant or level-headed towards others.

A secure Virgo Moon uses discernment and adaptability to protect their peace and mind. Their practicality complements their sensitive side rather than battles it. They are patient, caring, a good listener, and supportive.

A secure Libra Rising stops giving a f%&#. Their honesty comes out but so does their messy or low-key dramatic side. However they are also usually open-minded and may be able to balance logic with kindness. They are highly accepting of themselves and others.

A secure Libra Moon prioritizes their inner peace. They may either be very independent or highly adaptable in relationships, promoting cooperation and compromise among others. They become more decisive and solid in their morals, social standards, and/or goals.

A secure Scorpio Rising "uses their powers for good". They take their time with decisions, is strategic with actions and words, and usually comes off as trustworthy. Their empathy, compassion, and intuition guide them through this world. They can come off deep and/or help others tap into their own depth and emotional processing.

A secure Scorpio Moon may try to help, heal, or empower others often. But protecting and taking care of the self and their loved ones is where most of their energy is put. They hold their cards close not out of fear or bad intentions but out of caution and experience. They are highly linked to their intuition and perception.

A secure Sagittarius Rising is confident in their intellect and/or morals, even better, uses their mind or beliefs as much as they can to reach their goals. They are very brave when chasing after or defending their freedom. A secure Sagittarius ascendant may seem more unhinged than an insecure one... but this comes from a place of realization, raw honesty, and sincerity. They also may have a better chance at developing discipline and focus.

A secure Sagittarius Moon follows their instinct towards passion and purpose. They are secure and solid in their beliefs/morals and may defend or campaign them with zeal. They are more honest with themselves and cultivate more patience and understanding around emotions. They search for wisdom in various ways.

A secure Capricorn Rising understands that you can only focus on what you truly can control in life - the self, your actions and choices. They may focus on growing in confidence and authority in their knowledge, skills, and finances. They don't ever settle for disrespect.

A secure Capricorn Moon is more open to emotional expression and/or sensitivity. They give themselves room to emotionally explore and for introspection. They may keep their inner circle small and close and can still easily have a fear of instability. However they face that fear with their own inner security and endurance.

A secure Aquarius Rising may take their individuality to the extreme, and even if they don't - they will always be themselves proudly and maybe loudly. They share ideas openly and is good at identifying like-minded people. They fight for causes in a realistic and impactful way. They are independent and their charisma, social skills, or high intellect are their biggest strengths to navigate the world.

A secure Aquarius Moon has many long-lasting and/or fulfilling friendships. They highly focus on building all types of relationships. They love to mentally connect but what matters most to them are genuine bonds. They are likely an independent individual and can still be a detached or aloof air placement, but they place themselves or find themselves frequently as the glue, problem solver, or leader of a group.

A secure Pisces Rising is incredibly perceptive and intuitive. They sense... they SEE the unspoken communication or truths in others. They use this advantage to help them approach the world. Their flexibility is also a great strength. They don't fear, shame, or try to hide their empathy and softness.

A secure Pisces Moon does what makes them happy and their loved ones happy. They focus heavily on their inner world and emotions. They allow themselves to just be. Forgiveness, healing, and imagination are their strengths and a secure Pisces Moon does not let others or society diminish this.

[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

[rotagnus]

your first child --<3

note: can you guys tell i like horses? LMAOO

this pac will be focusing on your firstborn. if you don't want kids/aren't planning to have any, don't feel like you have to read it! this reading isn't for everyone.

it'll focus on the temperament of your child, their behavior, maybe some qualities of you and the other parent.

thank you for the love on my father/husband reading! more readings will be coming <3

pile 1.

wow. your firstborn is going to be a fierce character. probably a fire sign, but i feel like they may have some earth placements as well. this child may heal some of you who felt overshadowed in the family--they'll adore you as their parent, and they'll be an absolute sweetheart. they might not be the child to take no for an answer, and they can be hardheaded, but that was part of what you wanted to teach them--to be firm and resolute with what they say. they'll be quickwitted, albeit probably not book-smart. they might grow up in a place with lots of birds; i think birds are significant for this pile, not sure why. they'll have darker features, or have a generally darker temperament. might have your nose. they'll have this bright light in them that'll transform into a talent in the right environment. as a parent, you'll encourage them to develop their craft, which can range from a sport like basketball to a hobby like poetry. i think that this child has potential to better the world, and they're a gift to you. i'd advise you to give this child time to bloom, whatever that means to you.

signs: birds, planes, things to do with the sky. warm colors. automobiles/mechanical items. 333. fire/earth signs. sources of water--particularly lakes/rivers. vases.

pile 2.

ohhh baby this child is going to be a little angel. on the quieter side, though, somewhat melancholic. they may be extremely introverted and prefer to stay to themselves, even though some of you guys have a wide social circle. they'll contrast you in all the good ways. they'll probably be very smart, but you have to make sure that you tell them that. they can be insecure and doubtful of themselves. they might not be the kind of a child you expected, and this might weigh heavy on them. they may struggle socially, but pile 2, this isn't all bad. deep inside, they want to be seen--and eventually, they will be. they'll feel like they're with the right group of people, aligned--maybe they'll develop a deep connection to a person or a hobby, but they're destined for greatness. they may not have an easy life, but the rewards will outweigh the bad. they may be an old soul. everything will be alright, though--do not fear.

signs: goats. angelic imagery. music. air signs. diaries/journals. bite marks. long hair. 2000s music. cozy, small spaces.

pile 3.

peacemaker who?!?! this child is gonna have a good heart, pile 3. a great one. they'll have this intricate ability to read situations and people in the blink of an eye. extremely socially smart and adept--an inherited quality rather than a taught one. they'll be accepting of people and unlikely to uselessly argue, but they won't tolerate any bs! they may have more masculine energy--doesn't mean it's a boy, but i'm getting more typically masculine cards and signs. they'll have a pretty nice life, mainly because they worked their ass off for it. you'll instill good values in them--they may not be the most patient person, and they could get on your nerves sometimes. maybe they're a yapper or they cried a lot as a baby, something to do with the voice. other than that, they'll be a typically balanced person, valuing harmony and peace over things that are wastes of time. they may not be fond of family activities, preferring to keep to themselves though...just something to be wary of. other than that, it's all going to be good. this child will bring out a very vulnerable part of you.

signs: flowers. guitar. blue hour. nostalgia. abundance, particularly financially. grandparents. 555. air signs/water signs. beauty in simplicity.

[idllytarott]

PAC: LOVE IN JUNE.

my catalog.

Pile One.

Hello pile one! The month of June in love brings a lot of newfound emotions. It will be difficult for you to express yourself this month, you'll feel like a lot of things are changing externally, so you'll be changing a lot internally. You will desire more connections, these next few days bring a lot of options in love, but you might not know how to deal with them accordingly, you won't feel good about yourself this month, you'll want to hide or not socialize. There is a lot of busy or nervous energy around you, like you won't have time to connect or interact with other people, no matter how hard you try or how much you want to form new relationships, this is a month of self reflection, of dealing with heavy thoughts and emotional detachment, you are not yet in a place where you feel comfortable talking and being vulnerable, you are still closed off from past situations that shape the way you move nowadays. Work on that, work on this fear of abandonment or need to want to control the outcome of a situation at all times. As I said, there'll be a lot of new options in love, but you have to step back and focus on what it is you truly want from love right now, don't stay or accept a bad situation just to not feel lonely, or you'll regret it.

some channeled messages: Gemini, Air dominant, Aries, Leo, Scorpio, 999, the 9th of October or April, dreaming of a life far away from your own body, self-esteem issues are really bad now, dealing with everything on your own, scared of non-committal people, Lexa Gates, red orange.

Pile Two.

Hello pile two! The month of June in love is a little crowded. I see this will be a time of uncertainty and indecision, there will be a person, probably a man, that wants to provide for you and take care of you in a moment where your life or mental state is not the best, this person is caring and trustworthy. But beware of codependency, if you are not used to this kind of love or help, it can go south really quickly, you must learn to be more independent and trust your gut when something or something isn't sitting right with you. This person can be charming and pretty, nice to be around, but they might want too much room soon, promise things they are more ready or in a good place emotionally, to give, a lot of sexual energy, but as I said, beware, because if sex and gifts is the only thing a person can offer you, without commitment, or emotions, you might end up in a situation you will not like to be in. These next few days can be challenging mentally, a lot of things or a busy schedule will perturbate your calm. Your idea of what love is will change a lot this month and you'd be put to the test, what is a priority for you, your partner or you? Sadness can be especially difficult to deal with this month, be sure to have a good support system to get out of it.

some channeled messages: Libra, Mars dominant, Virgo, Capricorn, Taurus, Cancer, hard to sleep during the night, trying to keep busy because your love life makes you sad, complicated men, anger issues, super opposites, opposite signs? 555, the 5th of November or May, sixsex, dark pink.

Pile Three.

Hello pile three! The month of June in love will be very promising, you'll be entering into a commitment or very proud of the person you have in your life. You will be seeing the fruits of your labour if you've been seeing someone or trying to take your relationship to the next step, you will also have to deal with your sensitivity to criticism, this month will test your tolerance and patience, your anxious mind. Sometimes you are inclined to play the victim instead of fixing a problem and these next few days are going to call you to be more sensitive to others emotions, to not do things impulsively or let your mind get in the way of your love life, you have a tendency to see the bad in the mundane and the exciting in the dangerous, your life in general can be feeling stagnant and you cope by breaking every relationship you have and starting again. Be patient, don't do something you'll regret in a week, you are a very sensitive person but you are also very gullible, don't let shiny things manipulate you into a bad situation.

some channeled messages: Aquarius, Aries, Sagittarius, Pisces, difference in age, grieving something before it's over, stupid questions, salty food, grey's anatomy, doing everything for nothing, he doesn't have a crush on you, infidelity? 13th of any month, Tuesday the 13th , 666, sun protector, lorde, ocean blue.

Pile Four.

Hello pile four! The month of June in love brings structure and responsibility, a lot of nostalgia from the past. Thinking about the things you have and the things you had to let go of to have them, your emotions will not control you this month, your mind will be set in one goal and you will feel like love is a chore sometimes, there is a person that wants to grab your attention, someone responsible or good-looking, a person with good income and with feelings for you. I don't see you being too focused on love these next few days, you will be thinking a lot about your future and, if somebody is interested in you, you might doubt them a lot, or resist their advances, but this person will be very persistent, I see they call the attention a lot and they are kind of confused as to why they can't get your attention specifically, your love life this month is going to be tested a lot, by you. You will feel like you have no time to waste, that you have already seen what's out there and it doesn't impress you, I see you focused on your studies or your job or future projects, love here can change, but only if you're willing to, you are very emotionally closed off this month, but there's a possibility that somebody is very interested in you, it's your choice to give them a chance or not. Don't run away from vulnerability, nothing bad is going to happen to you if you open up.

some channeled messages: Capricorn, Aquarius, Saturn dominant, Cancer, Leo, post mortem, looking forward, city lights, being obsessed with hair, urbanism, political views, resentment, tarot reading, cupid arrows, trouble compromising, draco Malfoy??, 11:11, forward beckon rewind, the future sucks lol, 11 of September, September or cold days, autumn, 777, Taylor Swift, green.

[bunnwich]

im so happy that attachment worked! im glad u like the gift, bunny (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

if it's alright with you, i'd love your take again on what conflicts one would have if they were dating leona. after all, relationships aren't perfect and im assuming in the beginning, lots of things could be difficult to manage.

im under the impression leona isn't used to compromising. he's more used to people adjusting for him than the other way around. at least at the start. what other conflicts do you think could arise and how will you get past them?

thank you again, bunn! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) have a great day!

Conflicts When Dating Leona

Hi friend! YES, THIS IS A REALLY INTERESTING QUESTION. First off, I think irl most people have emotional baggage based on trauma, how they grew up, and often, unfortunately, this can get projected onto a partner in their lowest moments. 

I think that there could be some smaller issues that would arise when dating Leona, but I think that depends on what a person can tolerate in a relationship in general, and what each individual can vibe with. We ALL have imperfections, and often in long-term relationships, it comes down to finding someone whose flaws are compatible with your own and being able to balance and nurture each other in healthy ways. Also letting the other person have “ugly” moments and still being able to love them.

Here are a few things I think might come up in a relationship with Leona that could be hard to deal with.

1.) Messy Lifestyle: 

I think Leona is used to others cleaning up after him and making his own meals. It’s not that I think he couldn't do it himself, I think he just chooses not to learn bc of his privilege and the acceptance that his life will "always be like this", so “what’s the point.” He lacks the motivation to improve his life. Half of it, I think, is depression, and the other is…he's just a brat. He's a spoiled rich kid.

So a S/O who comes from a poor or humble background (like Ruggie) or someone with a strict routine (Like Vil)  wouldn't be able to tolerate something like this. I think there's a difference between “dirty” and “messy” and I don’t think he's unhygienic (contrary to old fandom HCs), BUT he IS messy. He’s a complicated man, I think he both cares little about his appearance and cares a lot. Obviously he cares little about wrinkles and buttons, BUT he cares enough to braid his hair and wear flashy jewelry. Though I suppose the fact that he has a deal with Ruggie to care for him and his room, he at least has some standards. He’s a prince!

I do wanna believe (at least in my timeline with Yuu) that Leona learns to live more of a humble life and bonds with the common folk of his kingdom as he takes a job in the community. (Maybe one day he’ll figure out the microwave.)

2.) He Has Toneal Issues/He’s Bossy:

 I think while it may not come from a bad place, Leona tends to think he knows best for everyone. I think he tends to view everything as “big picture”, a chess board, if you will. And he feels as tho he sees everyone clearly (He doesn't), but he feels he does so sometimes while “trying to help you improve” or “giving you advice.” I can see him being a pushy or a know-it-all. And even if coming from a place of “I see your potential and I just want you to be better”, for someone who is more…sensitive, this could be an issue. I can see him having issues sugarcoating things or always using a “nice” tone. It's not that he can't, he just doesn’t mostly. Now, as his S/O I think he is softer on you, but when he gets too stuck in the “mentor Leona” mindset, I can see him being a bit too harsh.

3.) He HATES Being Ignored/Not Listened To:

To kind of go hand in hand with my above point, I think Leona feels as though important people in the past have ignored or not listened to him. And if he feels as though you don't trust, listen or respect him, I can see him getting hung up if in a bad way, OR projecting this past pain onto a partner. Again, this wouldn’t be all the time bc I choose to believe Leona is a self-aware person. Based on the reflections we’ve seen in Chapter 2 light novel and his Chapter 7 dream. HE KNOWS HE'S KINDA A MESS. But, if he feels as though he’s not receiving “adequate attention,” I can see him being a bit clingy or overbearing. We ALL have insecurities, and I firmly believe that nurturing each other’s inner child in a relationship can be key, so making sure he feels like he takes a high precedence in your life is very important to him, considering how highly he would think of you. 

4.) Letting Him Be Right (Sometimes):

Futhermore, Leona is VERY opinionated and I think that while he needs a strong personality to square up with him, you might need to pick your battles and let him take that mentor role he loves so much. He’s got a bit of an ego, and I think he values his intelligence and thrives on the idea of being a caretaker and giving advice. So when he sees others take his advice and “need” him, he feels valued and validated. I do firmly believe in caretaker Leona. He’s smart enough to know when you got this and when to step back. He loves that you're independent! (He wouldn’t choose you if you weren't tough.) BUT, he does like to be needed by you. And if he’s having a low point, I can see this popping up from time to time as a point of frustration for him.

5.) Mood Swings/Clinginess

I do think that once he is invested in someone, all of his insecurities about being needed and wanted will surface. He wants to feel acknowledged by you, to be reassured that you love him. You DON’T have to worship the ground he walks on, but since you would be one of the closest, if not the closest to him, that can be a heavy burden to bare. He can be moody and will need reassurance, even if he doesn’t know how to ask, but he acknowledges himself in Chapter 7 that he “craves attention” more than most. This sort of codependency could be too much for someone who is easily overwhelmed.

Leona’s got Flaws, but He’d Never Stop Trying Being the Best For You.

I think it is a bit of a taboo subject in a way, but dating/marrying someone with deep trauma or a mental illness is NOT always easy. They can sometimes act in ways that are unfair to you based on their trauma, and working out a healthy balance can be hard. I like to read Leona as mature and self-aware, and so I think with time and patience, he would learn how to balance his emotions and keep himself in check with his partner. He’s used to being alone, so it might take a little getting used to. Even so, he’d always apologize (despite what people think). A serious relationship would be all-encompassing to him, and he considers you a “team.” I do think that through disagreements and even fights, Leona would be surprisingly easy to talk to after or through it. He’s logical and empathetic in his own right. 

I think that when ppl “give Leona” flaws, they usually go the “he's aloof.” or “he cares but he's never says I love you out loud" route. And meh, I just don't believe in a SERIOUS established relationship, Leona would be “low-key.” about anything. It would be very apparent how much he loves you. He would never want you to feel how he did. Contrary to popular HC, I don't believe he would have an issue saying how much he loves you either. He's just a bit of a grump and can be a handful. “Mm, I'm sorry. Truly. You know your Lion loves ya.”

That's just what I think anyway, and what I HC! Thank you for your ask!! This was a really interesting one to unpack! I love the subject of imperfect love and relationships bc I feel like it's such a nuanced subject that isn’t brought up a lot. AND THANK YOU AGAIN FOR YOUR ART I LOVE IT SM! 💚💚💚

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

"Gloreth didn't think Nimona was a monster until her mom said so"

No. No, it's worse than that.

She decided Nimona was a monster when she tried to protect herself.

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." "If you kill a Nazi, you're just as bad as them." "So much for the tolerant Left!" "We have to be accepted by the cishets in power, so let's turn on trans people." "My community won't hurt ME, so YOU must be the problem."

Nimona was attacked, and couldn't escape, so she fought back. And Gloreth didn't understand that her neighbors, who were always so nice and kind and rational to her, were dangerous and deadly to her friend who was Other.

She was a small child. But she is a stand in for everyone who sided with oppression and murder because they didn't recognize their privilege. And, like many fascist governments do, she was used, her story warped, to persuade people to build the wall "to protect our children and future".

Gloreth didn't turn against Nimona because her mom said to. She turned against Nimona because she refused to accept that her community was cruel.

[520-elic]

okay I need nsfw and sfw of masky,hoodie,eyeless jack, laughing jack, and ben drowned

Eyeless Jack headcanons (sfw and nsfw)

Author notes ; sorry I couldn't do everything that you asked, but I will be doing Eyeless Jack! Hope you enjoy it! I love writing headcanons so much

Contains; slightly detailed gore, mention of nsfw things (obviously)

Sfw

Really quiet, he stands like a paralysis sleep demon (no pun intended) at almost every social gathering of some kind

I think he has some vision even though he has no eyes. I think his vision would be very dark and blurry, but if he's looking at direct sunlight it would still be very blurry but it would be somewhat brighter

He definitely has biceps and back muscles (will get into that later hehe)

Absolutely fucking despises the heat. Will avoid it like the plague, even if he's out killing people for his hungry needs

Even though he is a demon, he was human before. So I don't think his teeth would be razor sharp, just sharp enough to cut through human skin and muscle with some elbow grease

Perfers to do everything in silence since he uses his heightened hearing to know his surroundings. Will occasionally listen to some old 70's music if he's not doing anything

Hates touch, but will accept it if it's quick and from his friends or his partner

If you're dating him, he will lay across your lap like a cat. Good luck trying to move for the next 4 hours

Jack is really cold, and I mean really. You could put 4 heaters on him, and he wouldn't break a sweat, but it would be uncomfortable for him (like I said, he hates the heat but will crave it from you if you're dating him)

Tall. I'd say he's around 6'8, so it's to no surprise that someone will jump from suprise if they catch him standing right behind them

Sleeps like a mf TANK. He will be out cold and won't wake up until at least 9 hours later, unless his intuition says there's something wrong

He will eat politely or eat like if it's last meal ever.

He does make animalistic sounds, such as purring, growls.. ect..

Clean freak!!!! Takes atleast one or two showers a day and keeps his room very tidy, probably one of the most cleaned proxies in the mansion. And of course, he keeps his little doctor/nurse/medic corner very sterile

Has scars everywhere since he has a high tolerance to pain and won't really notice if he's hurt until he's showering or something

Very sensitive neck and ears.. 👅

Nsfw

Like I was saying, very sensitive ears and neck. Will let out a groan immediately if you begin kissing his neck and behind his black pointed ears

His main sex positions have to be missionary, mating press, or cowgirl

He definitely knows what he's doing considering he's specialized with the human body.. wink wink

He loves to praise his partner while pounding them hard and fast. Tears filling up their eyes while he licked and kisses them away, saying how good they're being

I agree with the headcanon that most people have of Jack, how he goes into heat at times. So, going off of that, I think he'll stay FAR away from you when he is in heat so he doesn't crush your ribs during sex lmao

Loves to mark you up nice and good, it gets him going whenever you say how you're his. He might have a bit of a possession thing for you..

Speaking of his back muscles and biceps, he loves to flex them subconsciously during sex. He will probably put you in a headlock with one of his biceps when hitting you from the back

He's extremely loud, there's no way to quiet this man, unless you're on top and you bury his face into the pillows (wink wink again)

Muncher to the max. He loves giving more than he receives, but he does love and appreciate whenever you try to give him head

If you're the one praising him, be prepared to walk with a limp for the next few days.

It turns him on whenever you pull his hair or rub his stomach near/on his happy trail. Also if you smell good, he's burying his face into your neck and rutting his hips into you lmao

Speaking of, he's very into dry humping!! Saves the time of taking eachothers clothes off, in his words

A thigh guy

[sunderwight]

Liushen AU where SY transmigrates into SJ's older brother, and subsequently nopes them right out of the slavery backstory by using his general knowledge of the story and actually being an adult in a kid's body to just leave (basically) with SJ and YQ.

SY carts them both up to Cang Qiong for the next sect trials. It's actually not all that hard, the trickiest part is getting enough to eat and finding safe places to sleep between leaving the slavers and taking the trials (SY manages just barely, with considerable help from his new little brothers.) Nobody bothers to go after them because it's before Qiu Jianluo and this style of human traffickers mostly operate by virtue of their merchandise having nowhere else to go. Chasing down runaways is an expense not worth indulging, given that most of them either come straight back or die of exposure.

Anyway, they take the trials, and as expected YQY gets chosen to become a personal disciple for the sect leader, and SJ gets chosen by the Qing Jing Peak Lord, but also as (kind of) expected (by SY alone) nobody wants SY. He's older the Yue Qi, so too old, and unlike YQ and SJ his cultivation potential isn't striking enough to make any exceptions for him.

SY, however, can't leave it at that. He's spent more than five minutes with the street kid codependency gang, so he's gotten attached to both of them. And he knows what will happen if they're left to their own devices and The Plot proceeds accordingly. (Also, they keep threatening to not stay at the sect if SY doesn't stay too, for some reason.) So with a heavy heart and internal candle lit for himself, SY heads to Bai Zhan Peak. Which is the only peak that accepts disciples by way of them turning up and refusing to leave.

SY's not much of a fighter. He actually really hates the atmosphere on BZP, he's not bad at physical cultivation (his health's pretty good in this life, ironic considering how much worse his situation was) but the random ambushes and survival-of-the-fittest stuff is just not his brand. But that's okay, because it turns out that BZP actually DESPERATELY needs disciples on the actual peak who are interested in things other than fighting and cultivating their own strength. Stuff like, filling out requisition requests for An Ding every time things break, apologizing to An Ding every time things break again, organizing schedules, browbeating senior disciples into actually teaching, educating disciples on virtually any artistic or social skill, hosting lectures on how to beat vicious beasts without just overpowering them, and etc.

Okay so some of this stuff isn't and has never actually been on Bai Zhan's curriculum but Shen Yuan is going to make this place tolerable. And stop these children from needlessly getting acid burns or lyme disease or scurvy or whatever. He keeps internally chewing out Airplane for designing a sect system that means there are a lot of largely unsupervised 12-year-olds running around the wilderness on a mountain picking fights all the time. (When he actually meets Shang Qinghua and figures him out he switches to doing it in person, of course, in twice-monthly bitching sessions that look a lot like budding friendship.)

Of course one of the worst offenders is the Liu kid, who SY would suspect was actually raised by wolves if he didn't know for a fact that Liu Qingge has a younger sister, and also the kinds of nice clothing and letters from home that strongly imply not only does he have a family, but that the family is pretty well-off. Liu Qingge is at first deeply offended by SY being a BZP disciple. He rarely fights anyone, and uses tricks and evasion tactics whenever a fight can't be avoided. And he does other annoying stuff, like pestering him about meals and baths and lecturing him on identifying dangerous plants and the early signs of qi deviation. This is not what their peak is about! He should get with the program already! Just fight stuff until you're too tired to keep fighting stuff!

Also SY's younger brother, SJ, is pure evil (at least according to baby Liu Qingge) even though his other younger brother (?) is cool and nice.

Anyway, Liu Qingge stops complaining about SY after their first mission together, where Liu Qingge doesn't lose a fight but does get into a kind of pyrrhic victory situation where he's really badly hurt, and it's SY who helps him win (correctly identifying the monster and then pointing out its weakness) and takes care of him afterwards and gets him safely back to Cang Qiong. SY expresses surprise at LQG actually being polite to him, and LQG realizes that he's been a colossal ass if people think he wouldn't be grateful to someone who saved his life, so the usual Liushen dynamic proceeds from there. Liu Qingge starts bringing SY fans he leaves behind and hunts down animals that are supposed to be useful for bolstering weak cultivation, SY invites LQG to tea and keeps the critters as pets, etc etc.

SY doesn't get the Head Disciple position, because that's only acquired via beating the current peak lord in combat and lol no. Also he's not interested in stealing it from Liu Qingge, to whom it rightfully belongs (in his mind). But that's fine, because Liu Qingge takes the position when the next generation ascends and then he lets SY exclusively handle all the peak duties SY actually likes (mainly teaching). It's perfect -- Liu Qingge gets to focus on his War God antics and occasional administration/meetings without having to deal with students his has no patience for, but the disciples of BZP don't get neglected because SY is actually teaching and organizing classes and student care. BZP hasn't enjoyed a golden age like this since it was founded!

Things are pretty good overall, but Shen Yuan knows that it's only a matter of time before The Plot shows up, and so he can't rest completely easily.

Meanwhile, the will-they-or-won't-they bets on Liushen have been going strong for a while now. The thing is, most of their martial siblings are convinced that these two are already "together", and just being circumspect about it. Those who know SY well (like SJ, YQY, and SQH) know better but think that SY's romantic obtuseness is to blame, whereas those who know LQG well (LMY, WQW, and MQF) are pretty sure that it's actually LQG's obtuseness that's the problem. Of course it's actually both of them, so efforts to "fix" matters by getting through one of their thick skulls inevitably run afoul of the other's.

An additional complication is of course: SJ doesn't like LQG (mutual), and now that he's the leader of his own peak, he wants to poach SY to come and live there. Not only so he can have one of the 2 people he trusts actually close at hand, but also because SJ also hates actually teaching the atrocious little brats on his peak, and would like to have SY come and do it for him. YQY is still a total pushover for him too, and is also now the sect leader, so YQY agrees that SY can change peaks if SY and LQG both agree to it.

Liu Qingge, of course, is a no, but he's a variable "no". He's not going to hold Shen Yuan against his will or anything.

As for Shen Yuan, it's... complicated. He doesn't really like BZP, but it's gotten a lot better than it was at the start. These days he's actually pretty proud of his accomplishments, and it's more comfortable, but it's still a rough and rowdy place with fewer creature comforts, libraries, or other appealing points than QJP. Also, if he goes to Qing Jing to teach, he can personally ensure that SJ doesn't go around persecuting any of his students!

But... SJ never lived with the Qiu family in this AU, and even though SY's not totally clear on what the PIDW backstory for SJ was, he knows he's a better guy now than the scum villain in the book was. He has a reputation for making cutting remarks, not for being an abusive snake or a lecher. SY's honestly less worried about him doing anything bad at all, and there are other people on QJP who can teach. It might even be good for SJ to promote more people to fill out a social circle he can rely on! That guy needs more friends, seriously.

And QJP really doesn't need more layabout literary intellectual types who get into pointless arguments, which is all SY would be if he went there. Just yet another nerdy scholar for the rich kids with middling cultivation that the peak favors to ignore. At least on BZP he's filling a gap.

SY is clearly torn, and the fact that SY's considering it has LQG upset, and LQG doesn't handle being upset very well, so of course they have an argument about it. SY storms off to cool his head and LQG is like, this is it, he's gone to Qing Jing Peak, I've drive him off by being too aggressive and he's probably remembering all those times I told him he didn't belong here and oh no what have I done maybe if I build him a heated bath and get him books he will come back???

Turns out that SY just went to An Ding to vent at SQH while SQH was like "I think you would have fewer problems if you and Liu Qingge just got married and my disciples could call you Shigu to your face instead of behind your back" and SY threw melon seeds at him and sulked on his fainting couch (which is always cold for some reason...)

Thus begins the Liushen Divorce Arc where SY tries to be anywhere but BZP or QJP, Liu Qingge tries to figure out what thing he can punch to fix this not-punchable problem, SJ is like "I don't see what the big deal is they should break up Liu Qingge is awful and I want my brother to teach my classes for me" like the spoiled youngest sibling he's finally allowed to be, YQY is trying to moderate this Hades vs Demeter situation and is all "well maybe SY could spend half the year on QJP and half on BZP?", and Liu Mingyan is going "I know my brother if this doesn't work out he is going to die single and pining like an idiot" and so keeps conscripting other disciples to y'know, lock SY and LQG into storage closets together (ineffective: LQG can punch through walls) or at least get them in the same room (underestimating SY's willingness to yeet himself out of windows to avoid awkward social interactions.)

By the time Luo Binghe joins the sect (as a Qiong Ding disciple), the drama is in full swing and is the main topic of gossip across most of the peaks.

[sunder-soul]

hiii cud u pl do a headcanon/oneshot where its a muggleborn reader who smhow ends up befriending the tom riddle who always seems to soft only to her, including tolerating her sassy attitude and its a study session together and they're bantering or summin? i think it wud be nice. thank you!

A/N: Girl I gotchu

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

Unsaid

Summary: By now you've got a pretty good idea why you're friends with Tom, but sometimes, when it comes up, you wonder why he's friends with you. [GN reader ★ no pronouns ★ Hufflepuff house (but ngl it doesn't really come up u just gotta trust me)] Word count: 1.2k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

“I’m dropping out,” you announce, dumping your bag on the table and falling emphatically into the seat adjacent to Tom’s.

Tom, for his part, does not look up. His quill doesn’t even hesitate as he writes in a smooth, unbroken script across his parchment. Instead, he says: “Your bag is on my book.”

You shove it unenthusiastically to the side to reveal the open textbook he’s been working from, and then fix him with a pointed look. Tom is set up in the same little spot in the library as always, his bag at his feet and at least ten other books neatly stacked off to the side of the table. He looks (as Tom always looks) like the poster boy of adhering to the uniform dress code.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” you say, slightly put out.

“I would not bother,” he says simply, leaning forward and dipping his quill in a small inkwell in front of him. “I’ve come to accept the inevitability of you telling me all sorts of things I don’t care to hear about, whether I ask about them or not.”

He resumes writing.

You kick his chair leg lightly and his quill skips sharply down the page, leaving a jolted line about an inch long off where he’d been writing the word putrescence.

This finally makes him look up, fixing you with a supremely irritated glare that’s made his whole face go tense.

You lean your elbows on the table and smile at him.

Tom’s jaw works slightly, and he takes a long breath. “What’s wrong?” he asks sarcastically.

“Well,” you say as he puts down his quill and bends to pick up his bag. “In Herbology this morning when we were cracking Wiggentree nuts, Lucy Grollen had this horrible allergic reaction and her feet swelled up so much that her shoes burst.”

“And this affects you how?” Tom drawls, diligently rubbing a Spellfriends eraser across his parchment.

You give him a scandalised look. “She’s my friend, Tom.”

He gives you a very dry look and then flips the eraser over to the purple side. “I hardly think you’d be tempted to leave the school because your friend is allergic to nuts.”

“Well she’s also my greenhouse partner,” you say dramatically, throwing yourself back in your seat, “and because she had to go to the hospital wing I had to finish the rest of the assignment alone­, and obviously by the end of class I didn’t have all our nuts cracked so Beery made me stay late to finish them. And that meant that I missed the sign up for the fieldtrip to the Menagerie of Mirabilia.”

Tom throws down the eraser and exhales in frustration. The ink remains unmoved. “You have been talking about that fieldtrip for six weeks,” he says in a clipped tone, pulling his wand from his bag. “And I have been telling you for six weeks that it was going to fill up quickly. Evanesco.”

The eraser shavings on his parchment vanish and leave both of you staring at the tenacious line of ink—which if anything, now just looks a little smudged.

His little comment about the whole six weeks thing has not left you feeling very sympathetic for him. “Wow. You have got to tell me what kind of ink you buy,” you say with a smirk as Tom tosses his wand onto the desk in frustration.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says hotly, folding his arms and finally looking at you properly as he leans back in his chair. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What happened with the fieldtrip?” he prompts irritably.

“Oh – so as I’m sure you remember, I promised Madeline I’d go with her on the fieldtrip because she’s obsessed with magizoology at the moment, so then I had to tell her I wasn’t going, and she was so upset, and I couldn't stop thinking about it because I felt so bad. So then I was really distracted in Transfiguration and of course Dumbledore notices and asks me to recite the whole definition of Amandation’s Command in front of everybody.” You sigh loudly. “So I can’t do it because I hadn't been paying attention, but then he points to the board and the definition is written right there and I just hadn’t noticed, and everyone laughed at me.”

You cross your arms too, feeling sorry for yourself. “The only solution is to drop out,” you reiterate moodily.

“This is one of your jokes,” says Tom delicately.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes well spotted.”

“You’ve ruined my assignment,” he says, nodding at it.

“You ruined your own assignment. With your callousness.”

Rather surprisingly, Tom snorts a laugh. “I would loathe to be my friend, to hear you describe it,” he says with suspicious ease as he extracts a new roll of parchment from his bag. “It begs the question as to why you persevere.”

“Very occasionally, you do something really nice,” you say, watching him with suspicion. Tom’s irritability rarely fades this quickly. “I just kind of zone out all the bits in-between where you’re weird and sarcastic.”

“Weird and sarcastic?” Tom repeats, lips curling. “Have you been listening to yourself since you sat down?”

“My life is ruined, and you’re worried about an assignment.”

“Your life is not ruined,” he says monotonously as he begins diligently copying over his work.

“I’m upset about this and all you care about is telling me that it’s not a big deal!”

Tom sighs curtly and looks up at you, leaning forward a bit and resting his forearms on the desk. “Your life is not ruined. Lucy Groggen is going to be fine, Wiggentree nut allergies are fairly common and the reaction doesn’t last more than an hour, the worst she’ll have to deal with is buying a new pair of shoes. Beery should never have made you complete a two-person task by yourself and it’s ridiculous that he kept you late because of his own poor class management. If Dumbledore was half the teacher that he claims to be, he might have noticed that you were upset about something and think to ask you about it, but his mistake is made all the more egregious given that he chose to single you out in front of the whole class with what sounds like a very silly little trick. And I wouldn’t worry about upsetting Madeline if I were you, because I signed you up for the fieldtrip.”

He resumes writing without another word. You stare at him, dumbfounded. A full ten seconds passes before you can rouse yourself to speak again.

“You signed me up for the fieldtrip?

Tom’s eyes remain level on his work—he’s writing at lightning speed like he’s trying to make up for the lost time. “You have been talking about it for six weeks. It seemed odd that you failed to show up.”

You look at your bag still lying dejectedly on the table in front of you and attempt to process the glowy, warm feeling spreading up through your chest. “Thanks,” you say blandly.

He just looks up at you with a glint in his eyes about halfway between wry and cynical.

“I feel bad about your assignment,” you announce.

Tom slowly smiles, this time very wryly indeed. “You have certainly changed your tune.”

You grab your bag and pull out your water bottle, placing it emphatically on the desk beside him.

Tom’s dark eyes flick from it to you, and he lifts a brow. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“You have to wet a Spellfriends for it to work,” you mumble, folding your arms and resting forward on the desk.

He stares at you in a sort of frozen state of disbelief. “You mean you let me suffer through all of that for absolutely no reason?” he demands in half-subdued outrage.

“There was a reason!” you protest, smiling at him again. “It was funny.”

He blinks once, and then snatches the drink bottle off the desk, shaking his head. “You are extremely irritating,” he says icily, twisting the bottle open.

“Huh, sounds like a nightmare being my friend to hear you describe it,” you parrot back at him with a grin. “One wonders why you persevere, Tom.”

Tom pauses, and instead of the scathing look of irritation or perhaps a biting remark back, he just looks at you with an unplaceable expression like you’ve caught him off guard.

“What?” you frown, sitting up a little in concern.

Tom blinks slightly and then holds out his hand. “Pass me the Spellfriends,” he says colourlessly.

You arch a brow right back at him, and retrieve the eraser from where it’s been lying discarded for the last few minutes in front of you. “If you were wondering what I meant by the weird part in weird and sarcastic…” you say to him pointedly, placing it in his hand.

Tom silently erases the offending ink stain with a taut jaw and an irascible look darkening his eyes.

“Hey,” you say.

He ignores you entirely, sweeping the fresh shavings off his parchment and setting the eraser aside.

“Hey,” you repeat, reaching out and taking his arm.

Tom’s gaze immediately flashes to you and he goes entirely still.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. “For the field trip.”

He does not immediately reply. A second later his lips part like he’s going to say something, but they close like he thinks better of it. He blinks, and then pulls his arm from yours to reach for another book. “Are you intending on actually doing work this evening, or was this visit’s entire premise just to disrupt me?”

You roll your eyes, and reach for your bag again with a smile.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.