#and since then I've been wanting to take a look at what that's all about

[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

[azzifudd]

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?” 

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips. 

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word. 

“Oh, where in Minnesota?” 

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.” 

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.” 

“You’ve heard of it?” 

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.” 

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed. 

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster. 

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty. 

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.” 

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.” 

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands. 

“Please, please, please?” 

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife. 

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.” 

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.” 

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel. 

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky. 

“Paige? Are you okay?” 

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!” 

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?” 

“You wanted to.” 

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top. 

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin. 

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.” 

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe. 

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands. 

//

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?” 

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world. 

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name. 

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.” 

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again. 

“Oh, babe. What happened?” 

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself. 

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her. 

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight. 

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches. 

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible. 

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco. 

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside. 

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched. 

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time. 

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in. 

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots. 

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses. 

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once. 

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her. 

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.” 

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin. 

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her. 

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi. 

“You wanna?” 

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt. 

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows. 

“Go ahead.” 

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?” 

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales. 

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs. 

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.” 

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers. 

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy. 

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again. 

//

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!” 

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room. 

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?” 

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat. 

“Of course.” 

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously. 

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.” 

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth. 

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face. 

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country. 

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before. 

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi. 

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply. 

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.” 

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Okay!” 

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up. 

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it. 

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box. 

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.” 

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart. 

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.” 

//

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game. 

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug. 

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try. 

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team. 

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes. 

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest. 

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.” 

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge. 

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her. 

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.” 

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely. 

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate. 

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her. 

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes. 

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.” 

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here. 

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige. 

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes. 

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.” 

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.” 

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep. 

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face. 

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee. 

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows. 

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.  

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her. 

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

//

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!” 

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.” 

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years. 

“Azzi-” 

“Paige-” 

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes. 

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out. 

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.” 

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.” 

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.” 

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her. 

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back. 

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere. 

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers. 

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena. 

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her. 

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?” 

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.” 

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments. 

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.  

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most. 

“What do you want, Paige?” 

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach. 

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.” 

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige. 

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls. 

“I-” 

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media. 

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away. 

//

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!” 

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy. 

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court. 

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down. 

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.” 

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them. 

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide. 

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. 

[chamomiletealeaf]

Just thinking about price with daddy kink, who didn’t mention it because he didn’t wanna scare you off yk? But then you call him daddy during adult sexy fun time. I’m sorry I’m a degenerate :(

The way this was asked 7 months ago omg I'm so sorry for how late this response is 😭 but I love this idea so much.

Warnings: daddy kink, dacryphilia, face slapping, dom! Price, sub! reader, slight mention of choking, finger sucking, mating press

Your knees were pressed to your chest, tears streaming down your cheeks from pleasure while Price fucked you into next year. The perks of being with an older man was that he knew how to fuck and how to do it well. He knew everything you liked and just how to do it. You however, thought you knew everything he liked: watching you cry tears of pleasure, watching you squirt, choking you, eating you out, giving you the best aftercare, etc. But he hid the BIGGEST daddy kink from you.

He didn't think you would be into it since you never mentioned it, so he never brought it up. When he was deployed he would jerk off to the thought of you calling him daddy while he gripped your jaw and told you how well you were taking daddy's cock.

But he had you here now, under him folded in half. Your cheeks wet and hot with tears and from being slapped by John when you didn't beg loud enough for him to hear.

"C'mon louder sweetheart, beg for it, beg me to make you cum." He cooed at you, hand returning to grip your jaw after giving your cheek a slap.

You were so cock drunk and needy to cum you didn't even think before you babbled.

"Please daddy, fuck me." You pleaded and whined, not realizing what you said until John abruptly halted his movements with a growl. Something snapped in him finally hearing you say what he's always wanted to hear.

He maneuvered you so your legs hooked around his thighs as he moved up onto his knees and pressed his weight down on you, moving you into a mating press. He leaned down into your ear to whisper to you, one hand on the headboard and the other around you jaw before pounding you so good you saw stars.

"Say that again." He growled even deeper and grittier this time, making your pussy clench and flutter around him.

"D-daddy- please- fuck me" You whimpered.

"Fuckkk" was all he said before picking up his pace, hand never leaving your jaw. He placed his forehead against yours and muttered out mindless phrases to you as the headboard banged against the wall.

"Cum for me sweetheart. Cum for daddy. Been dying to hear you say that for so long. Such a good girl listening to daddy so well. Cunt's fluttering nice and pretty around my cock. Gonna cum so deep in you like you deserve. Daddy's gonna make you cum so fuckin' good darlin'. Open your mouth, want you to cum sucking on daddy's fingers."

You opened your mouth, vision blurry from all the tears spilling out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

"Yeah that's it, go on cum for me baby, thaaat's it, ooh fuck that's a good one I can feel you pulsing around me so good. Yeah look at me sweetheart. Nod your head for me like this. Oooh yeah that's it darling. Aww look so pretty cryin' for daddy." He says condescendingly, laughing breathily while simultaneously mocking and praising you through your orgasm.

"Fuck gonna cum. Cunt's fuckin' squeezing me." He grunts.

"Cum in me daddy." You moan, and that's all it took.

He moans loudly while he empties himself into you, making you whine from overstimulation from the feeling of his cum and his throbbing cock inside you.

"Fuck sweetheart. C'mere." He says before kissing you sweetly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You ask.

"Tell you what doll?" He responds.

"That you wanted me to call you daddy." You say with a shy giggle.

"Oh- I just- didn't think you'd be into it." He said with a laugh.

You lean in to kiss him again.

"John I've been holding it back thinking you wouldn't be into it."

"Well then darlin' we need to work on communicating better." He says with a laugh before snuggling you to sleep.

[apricotbuncakes]

[ID: Screenshot of Tumblr tags that read "#sigh this is the universe sending me a message (I'm on day 8 of binding for like 13 hours every day) #and i wonder why it hurts to breath #aaaaaaa #gender shit" End ID]

Ooooookaaaaaaah, big brother time.

So. Here are some things that I have learned to help me not bind as much. Note how I didn't claim this will make you less dysphoric. These won't work for everyone, but they did work for me.

1) Use neutral language about your breasts. Not like gender neutral language (though that may help too). What I mean is don't use negative language like "I hate my chest" or "my chest is bad". Yes I know those phrases are basic. But framing your chest in a neutral way may help you to not see it as a chore that needs maintained constantly and may help you feel less guilty about not binding or 'preforming' your gender (aka: presenting in a way that others expect).

2) Remember that you don't owe anyone a certain look or level of effort from your body. Not binding because it hurts and or you can't/don't want to doesn't mean you 'aren't trying hard enough' or 'aren't really trans'. If anyone tells you otherwise, they're a fucking dick who doesn't care about your health and you shouldn't care about them or their opinion. Your health and safety is more important than the approval of some dick whose allyship is conditional to you being the perfect tranny for them. And I mean that with all the love I'm my heart: If someone thinks you performing their ideal version of you is more important than you being safe and healthy, They 👏 Don't 👏 Deserve 👏 Your 👏 Love 👏 Or 👏 Attention! 👏 👏 👏

3) Don't bind at home in your room. Get used to being topless in your room. Literally, I've been topless in my room since my second year of highschool. I actually get a sense of euphoria from not having to wear a shirt in an environment where it's completely legal to do so. It's part of how I reframed how I look at my chest. I no longer hate myself for having a large chest, though I know I'll still feel so much happier when I have top surgery next month.

4) Have a 'lazy' binder. For me, that's a 'binder' that is loose and comfortable. It doesn't necessarily 'bind' me, but it's not a bra either. Ideally you have a nice binder and a lazy binder, but if you can only afford one, a loose tank top can also substitute as a lazy binder for you to wear under your shirts. This lazy binder is for you to put on when you can't bind 'properly' but you still need your brain to accept that you've 'put in the effort'. It's a lot less restrictive, but still provides enough support that your chest doesn't feel completely exposed.

5) Convince yourself that other people are just unobservant. Make a list of qualities that you consider gender affirming, and if someone misgenders you, think of that list and tell yourself "Pssh! That person is so dumb for not noticing [list of gender affirming qualities] that clearly signal I'm [gender identity here]." Don't remind yourself that you aren't binding or punish yourself for not 'doing better'. Just pretend that other people are ignoring the very obvious signs of you being your gender. (Literally, this has prevented me from crying at work).

6) If you can't take off your binder (because you're at work or school or wherever), try putting it on later in the day instead of trying to take it off before your event is scheduled to end. Wear extra layers when you go to wherever it is and then slip off the the bathroom to put it on. That way you don't use some of your binding time during the commute to the event.

Or if you're like me, get really good at putting on your binder under your clothes. You probably shouldn't be able to do that, but some people are also broke like me and can't afford to get a new binder every time the old one gets a little stretched out. I get it.

Final reminder that your health and safety is just as important as your joy and euphoria. Binders are a tool to help us achieve euphoria, but like any other tool they can hurt you when used incorrectly. Take care of yourself. Listen to your body.

This is coming from someone who learned too little too late that binding incorrectly will seriously hurt you. I can barely bind for more than a couple hours now without feeling some kind of discomfort, and some days I can't bind at all because it just hurts that bad to wear a binder. Do not follow in my footsteps. Please take better care of yourself than I did.

Fact #1047: The advice to not bind your chest for more than 8 hours at the time is not some transphobic conspiracy to foce you to experience dysphoria. It is advice given to you for your own safety. As mentally uncomfortable it might be to be without a binder, physically you need to give your ribcage a break.

[goatgoesmbe]

So about that post of Simons gf that's super kind. what if she's petty with her kindness. one time me and my mom got in fight and that same day she complained about how many house plants she had. so i bought her a miniature rose bush (roses being a hard plant to take care of) as make up gift. I've also made other people their coffee wrong, bought unbalanced pens, gave there cats cat nip, given their children obnoxiously loud toys, etc.

OOOH ANON, I LOVE THISS-

Like- just because reader is sweet, that doesn't mean being a pushover. You have class, and your own way of handling assholes properly.

I imagine Simon would think he needed to be the one who protect you, seeing you're all sunshine and rainbow, always so nice and kind- and he just didn't want anyone to take advantage of you, you know?

But then he realized that you're actually not a damsel in distress.

The first time he saw it, was at a neighbor's baby shower..

"You've been with him for what? 3 years now- and still no ring?" Simon glanced at you who simply smiled in response.

He recognized that voice, Stella was her name or something. She was one of those people who always wanted attention, bragging about every little thing while also dragging people down just so she could feel better about herself.

Simon had to hold back from rolling his eyes when she previously arrived. Wearing matching designer clothes with her five-year-old son, Aiden. Which was a waste of money in his opinion, the little fella will grow out of them in a short time after all.

"I mean.. come on, you're not getting any younger.. better make it official soon before you get expired- he might not be attracted to you anymore then" Before you could respond to the previous jab, Stella continued talking. You could see why she would ask something like that, it was just how she was like after all. You and Simon have reasons, but it was really none of her business. And you couldn't exactly explain to her that your boyfriend is legally dead so you couldn't marry him properly.

Simon wasn't even listening to the other lads around him anymore- not that he did in the first place. Looking at you directly from his spot, he observed the others who interact with you. You were surrounded by the other moms from the neighborhood, yet none of them said anything against Stella.

He saw you giggled and brushed off Stella's words way too casually like it didn't affect you, or maybe you didn't get that she was mocking you- Simon wasn't sure.

"It's time to go, luv" His gruff voice stopped their conversation as he approached you. He could feel their eyes on him, some of them not hiding the fact that they found him attractive from how they looked up at him with a slight flush on their cheeks. He wondered how you were comfortable being around them at all, he never spent more than a few words with them and already felt like committing murder.

Well.. whatever, you won't be meeting them again soon since you two were planning to move away.

You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and pouted "But-". "It's late" he added, putting his hand on your hip and pulling you close to make a statement at the others who still shamelessly gawked at him.

Seeing that look in his eyes- the one that means he accepted no rejection, you sighed. "Alright, let me say my goodbye" You said before turning back to them.

Simon simply grunted and waited. And when he thought you were ready to go, he raised an eyebrow when you instead walked over to the kids who were busy playing. You told them about you moving out from the neighborhood and the kids didn't seem to like that, you were their favorite after all.

"I have something for you guys to remember me by.." You chirped. Immediately, the kids looked at you with eagerness as you rummaged through your tote bag.

The side of his lips lifted under his mask when he saw you pulling out mini harmonicas. Before you could say anything more, a brat snatched one out of your hands. That was Aiden, Stella's spoiled boy. Which means it would be hard for the mom to get the noisy thing from him.

A cute little giggle escaped your lips as you watched the boy immediately blew on the harmonica messily, spraying spit everywhere.

After you made sure every kids got one, you stood up and hold his hand before skipping away with him in tow. Cacophony of moms frustrated yelling, children's laugh, and loud harmonicas left behind.

So you had planned your revenge all along, huh? Seems like you're not a total angel like he thought you were.

...

The second time is when he visited you at work. While he provided you enough for you to stay home and do nothing, you still insisted on having your own cafe. Saying that it had been your dream since you were little. And how can he say no when you look at him with those puppy eyes?

And while you do have people working for you, you still helped around from time to time. "It's the best part about having a cafe" you said to him that one time.

He was sitting at a table close enough to observe you working in that cute little uniform you designed yourself for the cafe when a guy walked in. His appearance screamed 'douche', the kind of guy who would talk about how many body counts is too many for a woman in a podcast.

Despite that, you greeted him cheerfully like you do with every other costumers. Even when he told you to write 'daddy' on the cup after you asked for a name, a disgusting smirk on his lips.

Meaning you would need to yell out that word to call for him when the order was ready.

And while Simon was fuming inside, you were calm. Humming along with the music playing from the speaker as you prepared the coffee.

But, instead of calling for the guy yourself, you turn to one of your employees. His name was Shane, written on the name tag clipped to his uniform. He was a big guy, not any taller than your boyfriend but still. A simple man who will be pleased spending the night scarfing down pizzas and beers. Now, Shane was known for many things, one of them is being very gay, and he was totally not shy about it.

You smiled before turning away to take the next order, but also secretly paying attention to what was going to happen next.

"Daddy..!" Shane shamelessly sing-sung the word loudly and even when Simon expected it already, he still choked on his tea. He also saw you biting down your lip to prevent yourself from laughing.

Shane went on for a while until the whole cafe fell silent except for the music playing that didn't fit the situation at all, which made it more hilarious.

'Daddy' finally walked over to get his order. Red in the face and looking very pissed. He was not stupid enough to cause a scene however, and simply accepted his cup without so much as a thank you. And of course Shane added the cherry on top by throwing a flirty wink.

And when you noticed the way he glanced at you after taking a sip of his coffee, tasting regular milk instead of almond- knowing full well he told you before that he was lactose intolerant. You simply gave him that sweet smile of yours, a cheerful "Thank you, please come back again..!" Thrown his way like how it always is whenever a costumer was leaving.

Simon chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Feeling proud (and maybe a bit scared) of his pretty bird being cruel in her own ways.

So when he saw you sighing after an argument on the phone with your mom, he didn't question it when you went ahead and buy a make up gift for her.

[whor3ing]

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 | 𝑴.𝑺

― 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

Matt Sturniolo! x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut in a bathtub, super sweet!, worshiping your tits - sucking/kissing, established relationship, masturbation, making you touch yourself for him, fingering, lots of dirty talk & praise, usage of slut & good girl

word count : 3.1k ♡

― Matt Sturniolo treats you like you’re everything. Ever since you met him, everyday, he traces your skin like you’re something sacred, his eyes always full of nothing but admiration and love, all for you.

Every touch, every word, every breath with him is pure devotion—like you’re the only thing that matters to him, because in his eyes, you are.

It’s in the little things he does that he seems to wordlessly tell you just how much he loves you—the way he ran this bath for you the second you had texted him about how bad your day had been. How, without you even asking he carefully tested the water to make sure it was just right, adding extra bubbles for you just because he knows you like them.

He knows you so well—knows that after a long day, a warm bath is exactly what you need. And he knows you’d want him with you too, so he slips in too, settling behind you without a word.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as if he never wants to let go. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles on your skin, his touch light but intentional. Every so often, he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your damp skin—a silent reminder that he’s right here, exactly where you need him to be.

“Y’good?” he asks, his voice soft as he rests his chin on your shoulder, his fingers gently brushing through your hair.

You hum in response, leaning into him. “Yeah... this is perfect.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “I got you. Always.”

You close your eyes, letting his calming presence surround you. The tension from the day starting to melt away with every gentle touch, every kiss. His hands move slowly over you, soothing and patient, like he has all the time in the world to savor you.

"Tell me about your day," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanna know.”

You sigh, the exhaustion still heavy in your chest, but it feels different now—lighter, as if Matt’s presence alone is enough to make the world feel less overwhelming.

“It was... a lot,” you say softly, your voice barely audible, “but now, it’s better.”

He nods as he listens, his fingers still tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. After a moment, he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck before speaking softly.

“Yeah, I get that. My day wasn’t much better,” he chuckles lightly, the sound low and comforting. “Filming for the channel today was a mess—tons of takes, trying to get the intro right, you know, the usual. It’s always a bit more chaotic than it looks.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, but there's a weariness there too. “By the time we were done, I just wanted to get out of there, y’know? But I knew I’d come home to you, and that was the best part of the whole day.”

You smile softly, leaning back into him, the weight of his words grounding you even more. As his hands move from your shoulders to your thighs, you shiver slightly at the contact, feeling the heat of his touch through the water.

“I get that,” you whisper, “coming home to you makes everything a little easier.”

Matt’s hands move gently over your thighs, his touch both soothing and possessive. He tilts his head, brushing his lips against your skin again, this time closer to your ear.

“I wanna help let go of all of that stress," he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “Forget about everything that’s been weighing you down today... Just focus on us baby, right here, right now, i've got you."

You close your eyes at the sound of his voice, the desire between you both. His words send anticipation through you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh.

“Matt…” you breathe, relaxing in his arms. His eyes are dark, intense, like he’s already lost in the moment, and the way he’s looking at you makes everything feel even more intimate.

He smiles, that knowing smirk that always seems to make your heart race. His hands travel further up your thighs, moving in slow, deliberate strokes that make you lean into him even more. “Just relax for me, baby. We'll make you feel so good."

Matt smirks as he leans in to kiss you, turning your head, slow and tender, like he’s savoring the moment. His lips are warm against yours, and the kiss soon turns deeper, hungrier.

His hands are everywhere now, guiding you with every touch. You can feel his tongue against yours as his lips part, his hand sliding to your cheek as you lean back against him, his thumb brushing against your jaw softly as he pulls you even closer.

You smile with his lips against your as you feel his fingers trail up and down your body, hovering above your lower abdomen, so close to where you need him most.

Matt pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his lips curling into a small smile. His hand hovers dangerously close to your pussy, his fingertips brushing the edge of your lower abdomen.

"You want me to touch you here?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Tell me you need it, and I'll give it to you."

You feel your breath catch as his hand lingers, just inches from your slick folds, his fingers tracing soft hearts against your skin as he waits for you to reply.

"I... I need you, Matt," you whisper, your voice shaky with anticipation. "Please, touch me."

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound a mix of satisfaction and something darker. "You know you're gonna have to beg for it," he says, his fingers grazing your skin, making you shiver. "I need to hear you say it."

You feel your cheeks flush, your heart pounding in your chest. But you can't hold back anymore. "Please," you whisper again, this time with more urgency. "Touch me. I want you so badly."

"Aw, baby.." Matt chuckles, "You're so cute.. my sweet girl." His fingers brush against your skin, trailing up from your abdomen up to your tits, causing you to whine.

His fingertips find your nipples as his chin burrows into your shoulder so he can watch his hands work, his index fingers skim over them both and rub against them softly. "It's too bad, but I just have to play with these pretty tits first, baby.."

"You like when I rub these pretty tits for you, don't you sweetheart? Can't get enough of me." His voice is low, taunting, as he gives your nipples a pinch, making you gasp as he pulls them gently, enjoying toying with you.

Matt's hand moves, his fingers wrapping around each of your tits with a firm grip, squeezing them as he groans. "God, these are perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His thumbs brush over your nipples again, teasing them, his mouth watering.

“God.. turn around, baby.” He murmurs suddenly, his voice firm. Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your wet pussy at his command.

You hesitate only for a second before shifting, turning around just as he wants. His hands help guide you, steadying you as you settle onto him, your legs move around him so that you sit against his lower abdomen, so fucking close to his cock.

“Just like that,” Matt groans, his hands immediately finding your waist, gripping you possessively. His lips ghost over your stomach as he sits you up, his face right in between your tits, his breath warm against your skin. “Now, let me play with you properly.”

One of his hands slides up your torso, fingers teasing your nipples again as his other hand grips your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “So fucking perfect,” he mutters, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You feel good like this, don’t you?”

Matt hums in satisfaction, leaning in, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust.

Without warning, he shifts, his grip tightening on your waist as he tilts you slightly. Then, his tongue flicks over your nipple, slow and deliberate, sending so much fucking pleasure through you.

You gasp, your fingers gripping him for support as he drags his tongue over you again, this time swirling around the hardened bud before sucking it into his mouth, his saliva coating your nipples. The wet heat of his tongue combined with the light pressure of his teeth makes you whimper. He hums against your skin, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples, very clearly enjoying the way you react to him.

Matt pulls away slightly, blowing cool air over the sensitive peak before licking it again, rougher this time. “God... these tits are so good," he smirks, glancing up at you through hooded eyes. “So fucking sensitive… I could do this all night.”

Matt pulls back with a wet pop, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he watches you squirm in his lap. His hands never stop moving, even with the loss of his mouth, one still kneading your breast while the other drifts lower, fingers grazing over your stomach, teasing you.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “So desperate, huh?” His fingers trail lower, stopping just short of where you need him most.

But instead of giving you what you want, he grabs your wrist and guides your hand down between your legs.

“Go ahead,” Matt rasps, his voice thick with command. “Rub that pretty fuckin' pussy for me.”

You hesitate, but his grip tightens on your wrist, pressing your fingers firmly against yourself. “C’mon,” he coaxes, his lips grazing your jawline. “I wanna feel you touch yourself while you sit on me like this.”

His hand remains over yours, guiding your movements at first, pressing your palm down harder as you begin to move, urging you to rub your dripping folds for him, urging you to make yourself feel so good, all while he plays with your tits.

“That’s it,” Matt groans, his own breath turning ragged as he watches you. His free hand slides up your thigh, squeezing possessively. “Such a good slutty girl… making yourself feel good for me,” He groans, his mouth hovering right over your nipple before he speaks again, the sound muffled as he takes your right breast into his mouth, "fuckin' rub that wet cunt for me, get all that stress out.."

"Feel how wet you are, baby?" Matt growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his tongue circles those buds, his tongue flicking and sucking, never faltering as he speaks. "That’s all for me, huh?"

Your breath hitches, your fingers moving faster against your slick folds, your fingers rubbing circles around your clit as Matt’s words fuel the fire burning inside you. The combination of his rough voice, his hands gripping your body, and his hot mouth sucking at your breast makes you dizzy with pleasure.

His teeth graze your nipple before he pulls back, his lips glossy, eyes dark with lust as he watches you grind against your own hand. “That’s it, baby,” he rasps, squeezing your thigh even tighter. “Keep going. Let me see you fall apart for me."

You whimper, your body practically melting against his chest, your head tilting back onto his shoulder as the pleasure inside of you builds.

“Bet you wanna come so bad, huh?”

His hand suddenly moves, slipping beneath the water, his fingers replacing yours. The moment his fingers slide through your wetness and he finds your most sensitive bud, he lets out a deep groan, his grip on you tightening.

“Shit, you’re fucking drenched,” he mutters, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit. “All from rubbing yourself while sitting on me like a needy little slut.”

Matt groans as his fingers continue their slow torment, teasing you with just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to let you fall over. His free hand slides up your body, cupping your breast one last time before he suddenly pulls away.

“Now,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “Put your hands on your tits for me, baby. Play with them yourself.”

You shiver at his words, your breath hitching as you hesitantly lift your hands. The moment your fingers skim over your sensitive nipples, Matt lets out a pleased hum, his grip tightening on your thigh, rubbing his fingers against your cunt harder.

“That’s it,” he praises, his gaze locked on the way your hands knead and squeeze your breasts, rolling your hardened nipples between your fingers. “Just like that, baby. I wanna see how pretty you look touching those beautiful tits for me.."

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop, fingers sliding through your wetness, teasing and circling, making your hips twitch against him.

“Mm, fuck,” Matt groans, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every little movement. “You love putting on a show for me, don’t you?”

Matt watches you with dark, hungry eyes through his tousled hair as your fingers continue, pinching and rolling at your sensitive nipples while his hand works between your thighs.

Then, without warning, he presses two fingers against your entrance before slowly pushing them inside.

Your mouth falls open, a sharp gasp escaping as your walls stretch around his two fingers. Matt groans at the feeling, his grip on your hip tightening as he sinks his fingers deeper, the veins of his hands flexing as he fucks his fingers into your pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters, watching the way your body reacts. “You’re so damn tight, baby.”

Matt chuckles darkly, his pace quickening, thrusting his fingers deeper. “That’s my good girl,” he groans, his mouth finding your stomach, kissing softly. “So fucking perfect, letting me play with you like this.”

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm, slow circles as his fingers fuck into you, plunging in and out, skimming right against your g-spot. “You gonna come for me, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and full of lust. “Come all over my fingers while you squeeze those pretty tits?

“Keep going,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your abdomen as his fingers speed up inside of your drenched cunt. “Wanna see you lose yourself for me.”

“You close, baby?” he teases, his voice dropping lower as he hears you moan for him. “Feels too good, huh? Can’t even talk, you’re so desperate for it.”

Your breath comes in short, stuttering gasps, and Matt only smirks. “C’mon,” he urges, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say it. Tell me how bad you wanna come for me.”

You can’t even form words, just a breathy whimper as you nod frantically. He chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the way you’re relaxing in his lap, so close to the edge.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his fingers moving faster, deep inside of your pussy, his thumb working steady circles against your clit. You can feel the bulge of his cock beneath you, pressing up into your inner thigh, so close to entering you.

“Let me feel it, baby. Come for me.”

His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure crashes over you. Matt holds you through it, his fingers never slowing as he groans into your skin. “That’s it,” he rasps, his grip firm on your waist as you shudder. “So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me.”

As you catch your breath, his fingers slow, teasing one last stroke before he pulls them away. You’re still panting when he brings them up to your lips, his eyes dark as he murmurs, “Open.”

You open your mouth and Matt slides his fingers against your tongue, your wetness sprawling out on your own taste buds as he makes you taste the absolute mess you made for him.

Matt’s fingers gently pull back, his gaze never leaving yours as he watches you with so much amazement in his eyes.

"God I love you, so fuckin' beautiful" he murmurs, the words dripping with praise. "You look so perfect like this."

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as you catch your breath. His fingers are still slick, but now they’re just there, gently resting against your lips, a reminder of everything that just happened.

“Come here,” Matt murmurs, his voice coaxing you closer, pulling you in with a tender force. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, the weight of his body a grounding presence after everything that just happened.

Matt runs his fingers through your hair gently, his other hand still resting on your waist.

His voice is quieter now, a bit softer, though there's still a hint of that passion in it. “Do you feel better now, baby?”

The question hangs between you, the weight of it settling over you. You let out a shaky breath, your body still coming down from the rush, and for a moment, you just close your eyes, absorbing the feeling of his touch.

You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you finally meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice husky, still thick with the aftereffects of everything that just happened. “I do.”

Matt smiles back, the expression something softer than it was earlier. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “You deserve to feel good, baby. I wanted that for you.”

You give a small, contented sigh as his kiss lingers on your forehead, his warmth still enveloping you, protecting you, always keeping you safe.

Matt pulls back just slightly, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, alright," he murmurs, his voice teasing. "As much as I’m enjoying this… we really should get outta here before you get all cold baby." He smiles at you, kissing your forehead once again, " and I think you’ve definitely earned some rest now."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Rest?”

Matt laughs softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Rest... movie.. letting me fuck you silly.." He smiles, chuckling, "it's all in the same realm."

thank you for reading ! ♡

this was supposed to be short, I got carried away. clearly.

masterlist

taglist! - @chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @v4lsturn @shitttttypoet @mattsplaything

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

[sweetbunpura]

Past Relationships.

I know Valentine's day is around the corner, but I couldn't resist the urge to write about Yuu's past relationships~

"Yuu."

The girl looked over at Epel as the first year group sat in the courtyard. The winter frost had started melting early as temperature started to rise allowing the gang to break out the lighter jackets today.

"You said you were in a couple of relationships in the past. What was the worst?"

"Really?" Ace looked at the farmer. "That's what you ask?"

"I mean, she said she's been in worse ones before!" Epel crossed his arms. "I was just curious."

"It's fine, it's fine." Yuu waved her hand and hummed as she tried to remember. "I think I was like either thirteen or fourteen at time, I kinda blotted the guy's name from my memory. Probably Brad or some other boring shitty name. Uh, he was part of the basketball team and he asked me out on a date."

"You said yes?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I was young, sue me." She shrugged. "Anyway, he took me out on a movie date and a couple of other dates until we officially announced we were dating."

"There's a "but" in there." Deuce pointed out.

"You are correct. A week or two later, he starts acting really shitty. I'm talking calling me names and talking me down and shit. Calling me ugly and how I should be lucky he gave me a chance at all." She scoffs. "He even said I was pretty for a black girl, can you believe that shit? He even tried getting money out of me, saying how he was entitled to some of it since I was his boyfriend."

"He should be lucky he isn't here." Sebek crosses his arms with a glare.

"He wouldn't even last a day here. About a month into dating, he notices I'm not bending the knee to him, giving into his demands and everything. Basically, the emotional manipulation isn't working and so he tries to amp it up. By now, the whole school knows something was going on with me and him. I wasn't popular, but I was nice enough that people wanted me to be their friend." Yuu curled a strand of hair around her finger. "When the amped up manipulation doesn't work, he tries physically attacking me."

The boys eyes widen as they heard that and tensed up.

"Sevens, Yuu!" Deuce sat up. "What happened? Tell me you knocked this guy into next week!"

"I did. The moment he tried to punch me, I caught it and punched him in the face. He cried and held his face while he's on the ground, complaining that I broke his nose. He kicks at me and well.... I start swinging. Teachers had to pry me off of him and call my parents, big whole ass issue." She sighed.

"How did you manage to take all of that for a month?" Ortho blinks.

"Simple, I told my mom about everything he had done and she told me to write it down so she could gather evidence on it. But she also told me never to believe the lies someone like him spits out in order to drag me down. He didn't like how strong I was compared to him, so he tried to tear me down with words instead." She crossed her arms. "My dad and mom said I could only fight back if he throw the first punch, he did and he was swiftly put in his place. Come to find out it was all a dare one by his shitty teammates cause they dared him to ask me out and date me because they thought I wasn't attractive enough."

"What happened to the guy, Henchhuman?"

"The school and his family got sued, they tried to sue us instead but because of all the evidence and eye witnesses, they couldn't get away with it. That's the story, the end~"

"I see why he's the worst now." Epel muttered. "Almost regret asking. Wait... is that why you have issues with Ace ghosting that girl?"

"Can you stop bringing it up!?" Ace snapped.

"Honestly, yeah." Yuu fixed the red head with a glare. "But I've gone off on him about it."

"So..." Jack spoke up. "...Does he know?"

Everyone's eyes shifted over to see Leona walking down the hallway as he yawned. He was unaware of the eyes on him as he continued walking.

"I've told him everything and I had to stop him from shredding the bed." Yuu gave a soft smile. "Four relationships and this one is the golden one."

"...Wait four?"

"Story time's up boys!" She got to her feet. "Another time maybe."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Snake Bride

There were pudgy little yellow creatures everywhere, here. As common as squirrels, it seemed. They looked like squishy, somber, ditto-faced Pikachus...sorta? I made a note of it. Stopping to make a few sketches. Not that anyone here would ever get the reference, mind you. And they didn't have the iconic tail. More of a nubby little hamster tail?

I'd have to figure out a better description. For the bestiary. Not to mention a suitably cute name, assuming they weren't deadly, after all...

You never knew, with hidden realms like these.

Throughout my training, the other disciples and I had been beaten over the head with countless tales of "it looked cute/pretty/beautiful/holy/or otherwise harmless AND THEN TRIED TO KILL US. Do NOT make our mistakes! I will pull you from the jaws of death! Just to kill you myself!!" by our Shizun. The man could rant for hours.

He still couldn't let go that a glowing, flower patterned, butterfly tried to rip his throat out. And? Since he technically for them "first"? (As far as anyone can find.) He got to name then poor creatures.

Which is why, there exists a very beautiful species of highly deadly butterfly... called the "flying demon rat bastard spawn".

(God, I love Shizun so much. He is so, SO petty. Hilarious, vengeful, the man's the living manifestation of "target sighted". Man has beef with specific TREES for god sake. I wish I had HALF that kind of energy. Even if it DID get us banned from like... so many places.)

I tried to get a good look at the little guys mouth, seeing one yawn. Hmmm... the teeth suggest venom. Better not startle any of them... but NOT I'm gonna need to catch one to milk it. Great. They seem fast...

A knock out array? No. Need them to want to bite me, so I can get a venom sample...

Crouching, I mulled over the problem. Admiring the little creatures as the clambered up and down the strange flora of this realm. It was fascinating. Humbling, in a way. When, I considered that? No one else had DONE this before. I knew it for a fact. Every single reference to this hidden realm? Was from either the immortal who created it... or four hundred years later, the immortal who sacked the placed.

It was hard to get into, hard to find, didn't boast any supposed ten thousand year treasures or legendary beasts. Just? A humble pocket of life. Started and left to cultivate. Shift and change. Grow!

Who CARES what uses the creatures or plants have?! This place should be STUDIED! All these realms should be studied! They're amazing!!

I spot a moss I haven't collected yet and carefully take a sample. Noting it's location on the map I've started (which is a mess, I fear I definitely have no future there). Of course, as is so often the case? Finding one sample leads to another. Moss leads to "oh hey, a mushroom" to "is that bird or a leaf?" And so on and so on. I nearly forget to make camp.

(It was a bird. It just looked like leaves! Fascinating camouflage!)

Only noticing the light shifting qualities, drags me from my hyperfocus. A nasty (or, I guess, productive? For an immortal.) habit. I had lost days to it, before. Disappearing into the library or some work room, back on the peak, for time blurringly long periods of time. Inedia keeping me from hunger. Younger disciples bringing me tea.

There was a reason, after all, I never made Head Disciple. Even though I got along great with Shizun. I was about as responsible as a goldfish. Entirely too focused on my own studies, to be honest. But to be fair? Let's see YOU focus! When there is so much... I don't know, Xianxia bullshit?

(IS it Xianxia bullshit? Or is it Xuanhuan bullshit? Fuck. It's been a life time. I literally can not not remember. Let's see YOU remember the differences! After literal decades!!)

(God, I miss my books. And the internet. And TV. Honestly? I miss everything.)

Fuck! Side tracked! Again!!

Careful not to step on any of the marshmallow-y not-pikachus, I scramble to collect the last of my samples. Reach out with my Qi, to feel how the ebbs and flows around me shift. I should? Be able to sense any nearby predators. As well as posdibly find a nice qi rich spot to set up camp. Maybe meditate.

Just because I'm exploring hidden realms, doesn't mean I should grow lazy, after all! Whole point of cultivation it to ascend. God hood and all that. And, yeah, I'm still sceptical as fuck. But... count me curious. Why not try?

Oooh! That's a nice ca-! Hmmm?

Something... not-brushes against my senses. As though it should be there. I should sense something. An almost taste and nearly smell of... something? Someone? Kinda like the faintest hint of someone's cologne, lingering in the air, as you move through a crowd that isn't touching you. But... warmer. Like it's still on the skin. Not a lingering remnant from someone who passed through?

It's... weird. I can't sense anybody.

Maybe if I try harder? I pump more qi into my technique. More then is technically polite, honestly. But maybe they are farther out then I think they are? I hadn't exactly expected to be sharing space. This Realm isn't exactly BIG. Just a ring of mountains and the valleys between them. One big, lush valley. Many smaller ones.

Again, it's not a popular realm. Not to mention already looted. And not even particularly Qi rich. So meditating here would be a strange choice. But... maybe they want the relative isolation?

I still can't find them. Dispite knowing they are there. (That technique does not give false positives.) So I risk rudeness. Figure I can always apologize. Maybe they are deep in meditation or something? Pumping more qi, frankly appalling amounts, into the technique, I am damn near half blind as I walk. (For all that I can see better then anyone in this valley at the moment.)

The sensory input is cacophonous. Beautiful. Terrible. Like balancing atop a single hair thin thread. Suspended carefully, above a raging sea, made of wonderous light and churning pains. I use my foot steps to anchor me. Balanced and even. Yet... find nothing. Pull back.

Are they... hiding?

Why?

Up ahead it the qi rich cave (more an over hang, cave is generous) that I sensed. A good, defensible place to set up.

It's only as I'm setting up? That I notice the little Marsh-a-chus? (Is that a good name? I really do need to start thinking of a good name for them.) Have followed along. Crowd the trees and settle thick in various bushes. And... part of me? Wants to go "away, I made friends!" But...

The rest of me? Was drilled in horror story and horror story by my Shizun. And that's so mighty fine "unusual interest" behavior going on there. Might even go so far as to classify it as hunting behavior!

Mmmmhm! Don't like THAT! No sir! Time for some nice and cozy warding talismans! Shall we? The STRONG ones.

Under far too many beady little eyes, I slap down security talismans. Full three sixty. Against the ground, the stone, the mountain behind me. I am taking no chances. Just as I was taught.

Which... as I am settling in for the night? Dinner done and dishes drying. Sleeping mat, out and reading to go. Light and warmth talismans, positioned just where I need them? Turns out to be for the best.

Because there is something in the dark. Big. Predatory. And coming towards me.

It's not so large as to show above the trees. But that is small comfort. They are fairly large trees. And honestly? I know only too well, massive size does NOT indicate lethality. Sun turtles are mountainous after all, and THEY photosynthesize! The problem is? There wasn't supposed to be a predator that big in this realm.

Did someone fucking shove a spirit beast or monster in here!?

What? Out of sight out of mind?! No longer their problem, right!? Why kill it, when you can put it in a hidden real to LET IT GROW BIGGER! Destroy an ecosystem! MOTHER FUCK-!!!

The night is silent.

It should NOT be.

Gripping a sword I am only kinda decent at wielding, I pray to the gods, I don't have to use it. I am a spiritual cultivator! Not a martial one! This is BULLSHIT. I don't have anything on me for "unknow predatory mega-fauna" because there WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ANY! Oh, this is the LAST time I-!

Foot steps. Crushing through the underbrush.

Into the circle of light my talismans cast, fades a pale young master. Graceful and pale in the moonlight. Very... very pale in the moonlight, actually. No better in the light of my talismans. Near ghostly, in his white silks. Touches of pale gold and stark black. Curls of ink wash grey. Like a painting brought to life.

Just a touch too perfect. A touch too beautiful.

With a grace to his movements that... that is too smooth.

It's not until he all but stands in the light that I am certain. His hair. Too lovely and well kept, for it to be an accident or some sort of shaming. Those are NOT bangs. That is the entirety of it. Nothing held back, in a crown or subtle styling. No... no it is SHORT.

No Human Wears Their Hair SHORT Here.

Entering the light? His eyes reflect. Grey like blades. Like storms and death. No pretty silver things. No, it is far too deep a color. Far too dangerous. Slits, that contract with the light. Half hidden by a heavy expression, that I can not begin to interpret. I desperately try to identify the creature before. Feline? No. Lacks the savage edge. Too cool... serpentine. Snake!

"Like a panicked little mouse, honored cultivator. This one might begin to suspect you weren't happy to see me~" they...? He? Says; his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "But how can that be? When this humble servant has been hunting for so long?"

"Surely, my dear little mouse, has been anticipating this day~! Dreaming of the day when her lord would catch her?"

There is something... mean, in that tone. Vicious and victorious. The silent echo of a madman laugh, as he burns the world to ruin. Seizes and achieves all that he desires. Strangles all that he can not possess. Covetous and ugly. Dancing, dancing, dancing around the edges. Demonic, indeed.

Yet... I do not recognize this creature. This demon. He certainly recognizes me, as horrifying as that is. What past does he speak of? Hunting? What HUNTING?! I try to find something familiar, in this strange form. Unless, of course, he is simple insane? Not impossible... but...

"Ah~ my poor little mouse." The demon coos, mocking in his indulgence. His eyes still dance with laughter. Mad and unable to feast. "You don't recognize this poor servant, do you? How cruel! To be forgotten. A passing fancy, barely held, in my mouse's fickle heart."

He's laughing me. Knows I could not possibly recognize him, yet plans to punish me anyway. Somehow. Fuck! This seems genuine. But how? Why!? When would I have-!?

Then, he shifts.

Gone is the beautiful young man. In his place? Rising, rising, RISING? A behemoth of a bandy-wolf king snake. Black, white, with occasional bare traces of that pale gold on the under belly. Hundreds of thousands the times it ever should have been. But... but? There. A scar. Oh gods.

I recognize him now.

A snake got into the village I was born. Absurdly poisonous, unthinkably venomous, it should have been left alone. Gathered very, VERY carefully and taken far away from people. But... people panic. Get stupid. The adults didn't fucking listen. And over sixteen people died that didn't have too. I was sick at the sight of it. They captured the poor creature and were going to burn it alive.

For the crime of being afraid. Hungry. Getting attacked and then protecting itself.

I couldn't bear it. So... I stole it. Hid it in a cave, half way across the valley. Didn't my best to nurse the poor, injured, creature back to health. At least... I tried. The injuries were too severe. I was able to close the wounds. But sickness, blood loss...

Shit. That cave was incredibly qi rich. It's why I chose it! To make up for what I couldn't do! If he had already started cultivation and then... or just resented enough...

It was entirely possible to become a snake demon. Easily, even.

"Sss Sss Sss, ah, recognition~" the massive creature laughed "Why so fearful? Little mouse~ It's not you I want dead. Kindness for kindness, a debt for a debt. And aren't we be grown? Look how strong we've become!"

The booming, breathy cackle did not fit snake lungs. Silibant and painful. Hissing and near silent. It was more pressure in the air then anything. A madness long coming. As demons born of resentment energy tended to be. All burned villages and the screams of those who wronged them. Hatreds and obsessions made manifest.

I... I could barely breathe. Oh gods. Oh gods! What do I do? I.. I can't-!! Tears threatened to choke me. Fear, shaking my limbs and fogging my mind. W-what do I DO?! I'm scared. No. No, no, NO! Please! I'm SCARED!

"Ah~ so cute, so cute! My little mouse grew so lovely~"

Like the world sighing, as fluid and graceful as his steps, the snake became a man again. His grey tinted lips curled in a fang bearing smile. Hands up and braced against the barrier, his full weight leaning forward as he leered. He loomed. My talismans casting odd shadows across his face, giving the madness in his eyes a terrible glow.

"This husband truely did pick his trap well, didn't he? My sweet little mouse~" he purred, eyes unblinking, above a terrible smile. "My little wife has no where to run~! No where to hide! Her husband has trapped her quite cleverly, hasn't he~? Poor, poor, little mouse. Your husband is so mean!"

My heart felt like it was going to burst. Cold. T-trapped. Can't breathe! Oh gods. Is this a panic attack? I.. I think this is a panic attack! Can't think! Static. Legs, refusing to hold me. Sink. Crawling backwards. Away. G-got to get away! Trapped! TRAPPED!

I horror, I watch as he sinks his nails in to the barrier. Hands no longer resting, but digging into it. He-! He shouldn't be able to DO that! Oh gods! PLEASE gods! Tell me he's not strong enough to BREAK barrier talismans of this level! Please! PLEASE!!

"Ah~ acting this way, you make this husband want to bully you, little wife~♡ And ah, such big, fearful eyes~ Am I being mean? Is husband being cruel? Poor thing~"

CRACK.

In horror, I watch as his nail push through the barrier. Like driving stakes through stone. Cracks shooting from the holes, as he digs and digs. Hands closing around the shards he has created, ignoring the blood that spills from where it cuts into him. As the barrier itself whines and crackles in protect. Tryinging desperately to maintain its integrity. Slowly... cracking... failing...

"Let me kiss it better, hmm? No use in trying to run~"

"So be a good girl~♡ my little Mouse. Come to husband~♡"

[maryspenreturns]

A Dream Date

(Contains Force Feeding, Mobility Issues)

After our third date, you were pretty sure that I was a feeder. Between the massive meal, the extra dessert, and the sneaky little snacks I've been leaving you every chance I get, well, your jeans have gotten a bit more snug. Not that you mind the extra pampering, you're a greedy eater, and you wouldn't call yourself "fit", you're bordering on "fat", and it's only going to take a few more dates for you to be official, at this rate. You never thought much about your weight, you've always naturally been chubby, and a bit greedy with your food, but now with someone pushing you, you've begun to wonder what would happen.

You admit though, having someone dote on you has been nice, and you have enjoyed the food, even if right now you are feeling just the slightest bit uncomfortably full. Unbuttoning your jeans, you sit on the couch, not even fully noticing the bag of candy you've grabbed for yourself as you sit back to watch some TV. One hand lazily feeds yourself while the other caresses your swollen belly.

Groaning, you can feel it, rock hard under the layer of fat you've grown, it's almost a work out to be the full, or what you'd imagine a work out felt like, as you feel yourself drifting to sleep

***

You snap back to reality, finding yourself sitting in front on a large table. Looking around, it looks like a very nice restaurant, but how did you get here? And your dress...fits! Well that's one relief, everything had been feeling pretty tight on you lately.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your belly, gently squishing it as I kiss your cheek. I greet you warmly, making sure your comfortable, and more importantly hungry. A flurry of compliments follows, ranging from how gorgeous you look, to how lovely your dress is, and to how soft your stomach is. You blush at the last one. I've never outright complimented how fat you were before, but something about it made you tingle a bit.

I lean over you with a hand still on your belly as the first plate of food slides in from seemingly nowhere. Pasta, glistening with butter, cheese, and a delicious rich creamy sauce. Your eyes go wide at the size of the plate, you couldn't possible eat all of this, you insist to me, but wish a gentle squeeze of your belly again, and some choice encouraging words, you grab a fork and dig in, as if possessed.

It is delicious, so delicious in fact that you feel like you've never really eaten pasta before. You hardly notice how much and how fast you're eating, all you know is that you need more. You grab a slice of bread, so engrossed in the pasta that you don't realize that the plate wasn't there before, then another, then a slice of cheese, a piece of fish, all sorts of food, all while trying to eat as much pasta as you could as fast as your could, as though it might disappear if you stopped for even a moment.

But it did come to an end, and with the rush of the taste fading from your tongue, the reality of all you've eaten began to set in. You winced, your stomach painfully distended, pushing your dress to it's limits. You didn't know that your stomach could stretch that far as you gentle lay your hands on it. You whimper to yourself, you've gone too far this time. In fact, even looking down, the top of your dress looks tighter, and your hands a little pudgier. What was happening to you, you panic, how are you fatter.

You feel my hands wrap around your belly again as I whisper how since I met you, I've imagined you getting bigger and bigger. I cup my arms around you as though to show my idea of how fat I want you.

Your eyes widen at the idea of your belly being that round as you try to protest, but something about the idea sent shivers through you. But you're too full now to even think about that. You try to move, but you find yourself pinned down by your own bloated self, as I push another bite of pasta into your mouth.

(Let me know if you want more of this story!)

[wandaslullaby]

Power Run || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: the turn of events ignites something inside you.

part 2 of test track

warnings: lactation kink

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

There was no doubt that you were a vivid dreamer but, the events that happened last night surely wasn't real. It couldn't be, there was no way you would infantilize yourself for Wanda. You weren't exactly attracted to women, but something came undone when Wanda outed you for essentially being a creep. It wasn't intentional, you were a sucker for tits and prying on Wanda isn't something that's illegal, it just felt like the universe wanted you there to see them.

For a long time you weren't a heavy sleep but how fortunate is it that after Wanda used her nurturing skills, something you always wanted from your own mother, you were breathing heavily and woke up freely without no disturbances.

"Y/N? You still asleep?" Tommy crept in, cup of hot chocolate with fresh cream and marshmallows in his hands.

You turned towards the voice, shaking your head as you watched Tommy come towards you. "Hot coco? I haven't had this since I was a kid."

Tommy frowned, he knew about your shitty homelife but never wanted to bring it up without you talking about it first.

"Mum usually makes this for us when we finally understand what we did was wrong. Bit strange since you haven't done anything." Tommy took a breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, right Y/N?"

The instant regret found you. You quickly shaked your head, taking the hot chocolate from him. "I haven't, has Wanda said anything?"

"Nope. She's been extra weird today though. Something must of lifted her spirts because before you came over, she was ranting to her best friend, Agatha about my dad."

You took a sip, moaning at the taste of the drink. "This is so good, how have I never had one?"

"Like I said, it only comes when you learn a lesson."

You stayed silent, taking small sips as Tommy started to tell you all the details of the party. As Tommy kept going on about Flash and how they made out in the garden, you couldn't stop thinking about last night. It felt like every time you fidgeted, you felt your panties getting wetter at the sight of how Wanda was with you. You weren't quite sure why you kept replaying the moments when you knew that it wasn't right.

"So now, I'm getting ready for a date with Flash. He is going to pick me up soon and going to head to the arcade."

"Is this my queue to leave then?"

"Definitely not." Tommy said. "Actually, I was thinking if you could help my mum out today? She really needs some help with house stuff and I kinda told her that you were good at that stuff..."

You signed, "I have to get back home, Tommo. Mum's probably going to go ma-"

"I just got off the phone with her, sweets. She is more than happy for you to be here helping a fellow neighbour out. Apparently, I've heard that you haven't done any chores for your neighbours in a while which is very disappointing." Wanda said, walking into the spare bedroom.

Tommy looked over at you, "Maybe that's why you got hot chocolate today?"

Wanda gazed at you, grinning at the sight of how dumbfounded you became. "I think Y/N knows exactly what she has done, baby. Isn't that right?"

You coughed, nodding trying to not look at Tommy's confused face. "I would be happy to help you. May i have a shower first?"

And that was Tommy queue to get ready. You both watched Tommy walk away, vanishing into the hallway. Now it was just you and Wanda, and for some reason you weren't exactly sure how to behave around her.

"I think you ought to have a bath, baby. We don't want to have another sticky situation, do we?"

"No, we don't" You breathed, and watched as Wanda held her hand out for you to hold.

"Hold my hand tight. Those little bambi legs can go so far." Wanda giggled, as you obediently held her hand and followed her. You thought Wanda would leave you for some peace but here she was, lifting you up to sit on the sink as she started to peel your clothes off.

Something about this felt invasive, but somehow you felt your head slump into her chest. Wanda didn't even bat an eyelid and carefully aided you until you were naked. She slowly unzips her t-shirt, something that nursing mother's would wear and pushed it to the side. "How rude of me, you haven't had any breakfast have you? You were waiting for Mommy weren't you?"

You didn't even respond and didn't fight when Wanda slowly lifted your head towards the direction of her tit. Wanda was about to explain her action but she hissed as you latched tightly onto her nipple, sucking aggressively. She tried to get you off but you only whined and carried on sucking.

"Slowly, baby. You are going to get a tummy ache." Wanda cooed as she watched from the mirror how well you were arched. She knew that you weren't stopping anytime soon, so she carefully took her phone out, and started to record you. The soft moans and whimpers coming from you was a sign that you were almost finished. She stopped the recording, placing her phone back into her pocket and stroked your crimson cheeks.

"You are going to drink me dry, baby." Wanda whispered into your ear but you didn't care, you were so drunk on her milk that you didn't want to stop. Wanda laughed not expecting you to be so open to this but as much as she wanted to watch the sight of you latching onto her tits, you needed a bath.

Your movements came to an end and Wanda slowly lifted your head, admiring the drunken state of you. She grinned, wiping the excess of her milk with her finger before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you like that?" Wanda whispered, stroking your hair.

"Mhm" you responded and detached yourself from her. Wanda waited until you were ready to get into the bath for the confusing to enter.

"W-What just happened?" You said, "Why does my tummy hurt and feel so full?"

Wanda breathed, she was totally excepting you to lash out. "You had too much milk, baby. You almost drank me dry."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Drank you? How could I-" That's when you realised what you had done. You were levelled to her tits, looking directly at the swollen nipple on her right tit. Tears swam in your eyes as you huddled yourself, "I did that? I'm so sorry Wanda, I don't know why I did that?" You cried, "What's happening to me?"

Wanda heart sank, she knew that you were troubled but watching you fuss burned something inside her. "Nothing is happening to you, sweetheart, you just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? I sucked your tit, Wanda. That's what babies do!" You said, "I don't know why I'm turning into a needy little girl. I've always been independent and now i feel like I need your touch, 24/7."

Wanda wrapped you into her frame, gently calming you down. "It's okay to have these feelings, sweetie. I think you just feel a little neglected from home and watching how i take care of my boys, i can't imagine how jealous you would be."

"They don't behave like that, like me. I've never seen them be nurturing towards you. Why am I?"

"You're a girl. A sweet, naivee and stupid girl that just needed some female attention." Wanda laughed, almost turning it around to make you feel more embarrassed than you were.

You signed, not really understanding. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Wanda only agreed, but she knew that her remedies were taking effect quicker than she excepted. She knew once she poured a special something in your hot chocolate that something inside you that you tried to hide would come to the surface, and now that it has, Wanda needed a chat with Agatha, the town's secret witch.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Okays for one I'm just now following and discovering your stuff and I am eating it UPPP I'm vibing with it yes!

Secondly! I loved this blurb of yours in particular! Obv feel free to ignore if you aren't up for requests or anything but I'm so down for this?? Idk how you feel about poly!141 though I think I've seen it mentioned a bit so far, but I would honestly just love to hear more of your ideas regarding that with poly 141.

Maybe Simon amd Price are the beginning of it, Price taking care of Simon and things going from there, then eventually Soap and Gaz get involved because of course they do! Maybe they fond out about Price and Simon's after mission care, maybe Ghost sees that Gaz is beyond stressed and tells him he should go to Price for 'help'! Maybe there could be a litttttle hint of angst and Soap having self esteem issues and he gets a little withdrawn because he can tell something is going on with the others that he isn't a part of, but he doesn't know what, Price would fix that real quick and make sure Soap feels loved and included. They all end up taking care of and looking after eachother, they're used to looking after one another but now there's more to it! They all end up involved with eachother and they get a happy ending because I (and the entire community) say so.

Also random bit of talk, but I just love the idea of 141 retiring together from the military, living together, even working together still! Coffee/tea shop for shits and giggles of course, but I think maybe something like a mechanics shop or even some construction or renovation stuff would suit them more! They're used to keeping busy and using their hands, fixing problems, they do well with the labor involved it's what they're used to.

Anyways!!!! Just thought I'd word vomit all of this out there lmfao, sorry for the novel written 🤣😭 I haven't touched Tumblr in a while which is crazy bc the cod men have not left my brain since I was last here. Anyways!!!! I hope you have a wonderful day thank you for reading this far!!!

hehehe! Thank you so much! I'm glad people are enjoying. None of my baby soap yet, but I wanted to post this before I go to

bed :3

Gaz was the first to know what was happening between his lieutenant and captain, having had the … misfortune, although he wouldn't really call it that, of walking in on Ghost with price's dick in his mouth.

He hadn't even realised it was Ghost at first, with no mask on, and Jesus he was pretty.

And Price all flushed, and god the size of his dick. Gaz was happy for them obviously. But he couldn't say he wasn't a bit jealous.

Not of one or the other in particular, he'd love to be in either of their positions. But it wasn't a clawing nasty jealousy.He didn't get sour seeing them together.

It was just more of a, ‘Well buggar’ I can't get with either now. But all in all, Gaz didn't give a shit, he was happy they were happy.

But right now, he didn't want to think about it, his brain would twist it. He was sitting out by one of the fields in the rain. Just needing the fresh air, the getaway, something.

All the back to back missions, and then family drama did not have him in the best headspace, he was tired and exhausted and just wanted to shut his fucking brain down.

He was so in his head, he didn't even notice Ghost coming up beside him, until a large warm hand was on his shoulder, causing him to jump.

“Alright Kyle?”the voice came soft.

Gaz froze, unsure how to answer, he couldn't exactly be honest, but he didn't want to lie.

He hated lying to those he cared about.“Uhm…. Debatable?”

The hand in his shoulder moved to his hair. “Hm, how about we don't debate your mental state, and instead get you inside and dry.” It was phrased as a suggestion, but Gaz knew it was an order.

He nodded mutely, allowing Ghost to pull him up to his feet. A hand on the small of his back, leading him. Well that was certainly the intention. For Gaz currently it was much more of a grounding force. Had that touch not been there, he genuinely thought he might have burst into tears.

He barely realised where they were going until they were within the Superior officers building, but… they weren't going to Ghosts room?Gaz frankly didn't have the energy to question it. He trusted Ghost, whatever he was doing, Gaz would follow.

He blinked as Ghost led him into Price's room. He hadn't been in here much.but it was cosy, warm toned, many pillows around, blackout curtains, a few candles. All together something that already made Gaz want to relax.

Even as he shivered from the chill settling in. He had no clue why he was being brought here, but didn't argue. Price looked up from his bed, his eyes narrowing, at the state of Gaz.

He was pretty sure he looked shit. Eyes were probably red from crying, whole body drenched and shivering, being led by Ghost.He probably looked pathetic as fuck.

And now his captain was seeing this.

Before his thoughts could spiral more, Price stood up, walking over.Gaz wasn't quite sure what he expected, but it wasn't Price's warm hands gently cupping his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks.

And it especially wasn't the soft coo “Aw… sweet boy, your soaking. Come on, what's happening?” As the rough hands tugged him gently towards the couch. He vaguely registered that Ghost followed, the hand on his back not moving even as he was sat on the couch. It still being a warm, grounding weight.

Price knelt In Front of him, a hand on his thigh “How long were you in the rain love? You’re freezing cold.” Gaz couldn't even put together enough words to explain, he honestly wasn't sure.

Luckily Ghost spoke. “I know he was out there for at least an hour. The idiot” The last sentence was said fondly.

Price winced. “No wonder you are fully drenched, love. Come on” Price's calloused hands slide under the sergeants shirt. “You'll catch a cold” he murmured before directing his attention to Ghost “Si, you know where my spares are”

Gaz was so out of it, he barely registered he whined slightly when Ghost stood, stopping rubbing his back. Price immediately shushed him, in that same gentle quiet tone. “Shh relax darling, he is just grabbing something for me yeah?”

His tone was soft as he pulled Gaz's shirt off, chucking it aside. His hands trailing the skin warming it up, and gently soothing the younger man.

Soon Ghost returned, slipping one of Price's larger shirts over Gaz's head, and then slipping a larger soft pair of track pants onto him as well.

Gaz simply moved where they prompted, trusting them, as they dressed him in warm, dry clothes.He still wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't both men then standing and sitting on either side, but he was too tired to question it and just melted against them.

Price voice was sweet like honey in his ear. “That's it Lovie. Settle down, it's okay”Gaz's eyes absently tracked over to Ghost, trying to get a glimpse of his expression.

His… boyfriend? Sex partner? Whatever was calling Gaz love. Was he not bothered?Ghost seemed to immediately understand the look, one of his unique skills. “We aren't monogamous, you know? I mean we don't even technically have a label on it, but price makes really good stress relief, if you like subbing.”

Gaz blinked, finally speaking for the first time since entering the room “I.. are you.. encouraging me to fuck him??”

His lieutenant shrugged “Not necessarily fuck, but he is good. Even if you keep all your clothes on, he can get you relaxed and in a sweet headspace, and you clearly need something Kyle”

They weren't monogamous? Not only that, Ghost was encouraging it, and price wasn't arguing? Gaz felt like his head might explode, he couldn't believe it.

He definitely wanted to.. but.. he didn't want to leave Ghost's side. And then that fucking power of Ghosts kicked in again.

“I can stay, Kyle. I don't have to go anywhere” At the nod he received he continued “just relax and be a good boy yeah? We'll take care of you”

Gaz had never considered himself a bottom, or submissive in any amount, he always topped. Even with soap, when they fooled round, there usually was no one in control, but if anyone was, it was Gaz.

But at those sweet, sweet words of praise, and Ghost gently tugging him onto the thick soft thighs, he melted. Fuck he would do anything they asked.

Price huffed a laugh. “Oh the sweet boy, yeah? You're gonna be so good for us” He murmured, stroking Gaz's hair.

Slowly, gaz's head started to drift off into a much nicer place. It was softer, gentler. Mission reports and recruit files fell to the wayside, briefings and emails were long forgotten.

Family drama, and exhausting missions were not even a thought as he leaned against Ghost's chest as Price's hands trailed across him, gentle.

Treating him as if he was important.A hand made it's way to his hair, he wasn't even sure whose it was, but it scratched the crown of his scalp just right.

The weight a comfort, in his damp hair. He, much to his mild dismay, began to drift off, sandwiched between the two men. He tried to fight it at first, but when Price gently rumbled at him to rest, they could continue another day, his eyes flickered shut.

[artsninspo]

005 | Richmond Inc.

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⇚ 004

♠ summary: Lorence's unexpected 'crashout' has unexpected consequences.

♠ warnings: there is some backstory for Lorence that may be triggering to readers.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3K

⌖ - Various Locations

It’s been a week since I've been home or exercised, so I practice deep breaths as I slow my run to a jog and turn the corner into my cul-de-sac. Checking my watch I see my heart rate is higher than it needs to be. It’s one of the results of my recent unemployment. Random streaks where my heart races without due cause - like I’m under attack when my brain knows I’m safe and sound. I try to help my body out by walking when I see a cherry red Mercedes parked in front of my home. I take in more air to aid in the slowing of my heart rate. I take my phone from my vest and look over the outdoor surveillance, relief finds me the instant I recognize Cassandra.

“You haven't been poached already have you?” she asks getting out of her car, stilettos hit the pavement. I expect her to be holding a box of my things cleared out from my office but she’s only holding her briefcase.

“Hey” I smile and she does too.

“How are you? You look fantastic” she says like the last time we were in each other's presence it wasnt disastrous. That was a little over a week ago now.

“Thanks, so do you” I force a smile feeling awkward.

“Can I come in so we can talk?” she asks, walking up the front steps behind me. I nod until a bark sounds from inside. I turn to see she looks terrified. 

Snickering, I shake my head. “Just give me a moment to let the dog out”

“Take your time” she nods, taking a step back. 

“Back” I say before unlocking the door. I look down at Beau who pushes past me to look outside. “Outside Beau” I tell my four legged protector. He looks up at me before giving me an annoyed chuff and following me to the back door. I let him out to the backyard and he stays by the glass to observe my guest. I find Cassandra on the porch waiting patiently and let her in. She enters my home with wide eyes.

“Wow, this is not what I expected” she remarks looking up like most people do when they enter my home. The skylights are a distinctive feature of the entryway, as is the conversation pit in my living room. People usually don't expect this to be my style. I bet Cassandra’s home is something straight out of architecture's digest. There’s nothing sterile or outwardly luxurious about my space with the exception of the space itself. The more eclectic decor style is in direct contrast to my occupation which is what I need to stay balanced. 

“Coffee?” I ask walking into the kitchen only to hear Beau bark again. Cassandra jumps.

“That's a bear” she comments and I smile glancing at Beau who stands at attention ready for duty.

“Teddy bear” I laugh looking at him. “You’re scared and he can be a bit of a bully” I explain withholding that Beau knows i’ve been off my game and has been more protective than ever lately. Cassandra casts the dog another look before placing her briefcase down onto the island. “Is this my release?” I ask.

“No,” she scoffs. “This is your contract.” Cassandra smiles, throwing me for a loop.

“But … I quit” I remind her and she shrugs.

“Those big ears never listen” she scoffs mocking my outburst and I feel blood rush into my cheeks, she heard that too. I shouldn't laugh but I do remember my insult to the Bos- Terry. “Don’t hate me because I didn't know. Take it up with Terry and Joel. It was all a test. Usually at the director level there’s a lot of bullshit that gets thrown your way. Your testing had almost no gaps - except for one. Dealing with dominant figures or confrontational men. It was fine but then Terry was gonna keep you out of certain circuit line ups. Joel didn’t want that and pushed for you to have your cull clearances. Believe me I had no idea Lorence. The assholes made a bet. Joel had faith in you standing your ground. Terry didn’t. It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it did - You passed with flying colours” Cassandra says and I sit. My head spins as I try to replay her words in an effort to make sense of what the fuck just came out of her mouth.

I raise an angry and judgemental brow. “So they send you here?”

“You were never supposed to quit. You were supposed to just either cave or hold out. Holding out would’ve meant you get full clearance, caving would mean it was limited. Terry was trying to be antagonistic but I think he was expecting sparks at best not a bomb.” Cassandra smiles like the memory of my crash out is a five star film.

“So they just decided to play with my head?” I ask.

“No, no things went too far. Every Director gets tested before they can be trusted with a full mission. It's Terry being overly cautious. It’s important to him that his company’s leadership is capable. Joel saw an opportunity to get you on the spring circuit with him and proposed it to Terry after you declined the promotion from my understanding.” Cassandra says with an eye roll. 

“It’s so idiotic I know it made sense to them” I swallow a bitter taste knowing exactly why there’s a glaring gap in my testing. The idea that Richmond is aware of it gives me an instant headache.

“Well, they threw money at you first and it didn't sway you. Money is the biggest barrier to loyalty in our field since we’re all for hire. Glory doesn't usually sway us women - we aren't as ego driven. Love/sex/attraction whatever has never swayed you so the prospect of rubbing elbows with elite men and becoming compromised was no worries either. Richmond was content moving forward after that but apparently barred you from a few locations because of the personality types. Joel advocated for you apparently there's a weakness in your testing there. Richmond agreed. You were just supposed to stand your ground or leave - I don't think he expected you to blow up on him or to get so angry. He didn't think you had it in you. They’re assholes” Cassandra remarks and Richmonds smug smirk as the elevator doors closed returns to me. The reverie makes sense now as the puzzle pieces click into place. It hadn't been amusement born out of cruelty - he was impressed. I find myself pacing as the truth of the matter comes to me and I think of Joel. I look at Cassandra who’s eyes show remorse. 

“So the contract stands and I can keep my job?” I ask and she nods.

“Yes” she responds.

“Would it be wrong to call bullshit, he said I overestimated my importance-”

“He didn't expect you to quit AT ALL or the insubordination. I mean the shit you pulled” Cassandra smiles shaking her head. “ Too Good! I don't even go that far with him. I honestly think he likes you, because that restraint was TOTALLY unlike him" she remarks.

“Likes me? He can't stand me! If that was restraint the man needs a tranquilizer!” I snap and she giggles in agreement.

“The only reason I didn't meet you at the lobby was because he was smiling and told me to let you cool off. The smile threw me and I made him explain. All this time he thought you were scared of him.”

“I AM!” I shout. “He’s NUTS!” I add.

“When none of us could get a hold of you he asked me to do a housecall personally and I’m nobody's gopher. He likes you.” she insists.

“Then I don't know if I want to be liked,” I confess.

“Fair enough. You can take another week off if you want but please don’t quit. I want you around for the summer circuit - it’s too much of a sausage fest.” she says making a face and I feel like the contract in front of me is an answered prayer.

“What if I failed?” I ask, still thrown by lifes new reality.

“Like I said, the Boss was willing to keep you on in a more limited role. It was Joel who knew you wouldn’t just sit there and take it” Cassandra explains and I sigh deeply. It makes sense. Joel’s meddling and willingness to be a third party negotiator on my behalf, his pushing for me to join his ranks. No one else knows my story better to exploit it. He always said I was a great operative - I should have believed him.

“So when am I scheduled back?” I ask.

“You can start Monday if that works for you.”

“It does” I agree, resigned to make it work.

“See you Monday,” she smiles, closing her briefcase.

“See you then” I mutter walking her out. When her car pulls off I head to let Beau in. My nerves are shot but I manage to make breakfast. After a day of looking  over the contract sporadically I sign my name across the dotted line. Lorence Cole.

…

“So, how are you gonna swing it on Monday?” my cousin Sincere asks as we sit enjoying cocktails. I’ve told her everything I know to be true about the past few weeks and she's as disturbed by the games at hand as I am.

“I don’t know - I’m still not so sure all of that argument was acting on his part” I confess taking a long sip.

“Me neither but I mean if he’s never yelled at you before then maybe he’s a great actor” she says making a point. I think back to most of our discussions in the past month or so and most of them have been with his tablet handy with my file. He’d been looking into me so it’s hardly a stretch to consider my greatest weakness was used against me.

“It just sucks that my boss has to know my biological mother let her asshole boyfriend verbally abuse me as a toddler and then picked him over being a mother to me” I confess. Sin holds my gaze. It’s not something I bring up, ever. My grandparents stepped in the moment they found out what was going on. My mother gave me up without a second thought. My grandparents legally adopted me at five and they’ve done everything humanly possible to make up for the two years my mom had subjected me to mistreatment.

“It is,” Sin agrees, shifting in her seat. “But you stood up for yourself” she smiles, holding a hand out for me and I nod. Overwhelmed by the past. 

“I didn't realize those wounds were still so raw” I sigh looking into my glass. The older I get the more angry the situation makes me. Sure my mother was a young mom but there’s nothing I can conceive of that would ever justify how she treated me. When her boyfriend started coming around I was two and I had to become silent and fend for myself. He’d slap her for not ‘training me’ right and rant for what felt like hours. The more I cried the angrier he got. He'd have me stand in the corner for what felt like hours if I made too much noise or asked my mother for something. By four the cost of needing my mother was too high and she started spitting his rhetoric back at me. His cheating, his absence, his abuse was all my fault. That Christmas my entire family knew something was wrong when I didn’t say a word unless spoken to and couldn't maintain eye contact. When I arranged my christmas presents in a line and smiled at them silently from far away instead of playing with my cousins. They knew something was seriously wrong, four year olds don’t have that kind of restraint. But I was far from alone in this world. My grandfather was madder than anything I've ever witnessed when he heard my mother tell him I was trained right - like a dog. My aunties, great aunts, uncles and cousins rallied around me. I’d never put it together that the reason Richmond rattled me as much as he does was because of my childhood.

“Lo, you’re human, don’t be hard on yourself” she says, giving me a hug and I sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with you, at ALL. You're the cutest, smartest, nicest, smartest, sexiest, bravest, badass I know - there’s too much to love” she says and her kind words mean a lot to me.

“Don’t tell mom and dad - I don't want them to worry” I sign.

“Worrying is our job - we’re family,” Sincere says. Though she may be right I don't want anyone to worry more than they already do. So I put on a brave face and we celebrate my promotion and I brace for monday.

_________

Monday, HQ

No one spares me any second glances as I head in after my week long leave. It’s business as usual as I cross the floor and head to my office. I don't even make it there before my coworkers are asking me for assistance with their upcoming projects. When I sit down I find myself thankful for the discretion employed by Richmond. Knowing no one knows what transpired in Switzerland is a relief. I look out my window after signing in and see my inbox has imploded with emails in my absence. I spent the first half an hour of my day organizing what I can and delegating the rest. I’m due for a break when Joel knocks on my office door. He’s lucky we’re at work because if we were anywhere else I'd swing on him for the circus he created in Switzerland. I scowl instead and he raises his hands.

“I come in peace” he says before taking a seat.

“You're a real jerk, you know that?” I snap.

“You were gonna get benched from all the good stuff, now you get to see the world. Monaco’s Grand Prix is coming up” he shrugs without apology. “Besides Richmond was impressed, didn't think you had it in you - he didn’t want to push”

“So Richmond cares about my feelings more than you do I see?” I comment and Joel sits forward. Now I've gone too far.

“I told you a hundred times I’ll put that fool out of his misery quick and easy or slow and cruel for you.” Joel whispers repeating the open ended offer he holds for my moms ex-boyfriend.

“You’re not just my mentor Joel, you're my friend so you can't just put me in that headspace because you think I can take it” I explain sticking to the issue at hand.

“Was I wrong?” Joel asks and I sigh because he’s missing the point. “You’re non confrontational and I love that you're always considering alternatives and collateral. You can fight but it’s your last resort and you act like it. You aren't a small fish anymore Lo. People have to know when they swing you're swinging back. I mean if I’m around i’ll swing for you too but some aggression is your friend - you don't want anyone mistaking your passivity for weakness. It’s dangerous at this level.” he says, ever the mentor.

“It was still mean.” I tell him and he sighs, shaking his head at my sensitivity.

“I’ll make it up to you” Joel promises.

“Swear?”

“Swear it” he says and I nod, conceding this round. He gives me a hug. “Congratulations” he smiles before heading off to whatever he has going on. I’m in the middle of taking notes on one of my team's presentations when Richmond knocks on the door. The team shuffles smiling and muttering greetings as they scatter without being asked. That’s the kind of impact Richmond has. Unfortunately now I can no longer leave too. His expression is typical as he closes the glass door behind him. He’s dressed down today, the glasses and black cashmere sweater somehow make him look less intimidating. He smirks, taking a seat at the table my team was just occupying in my office.

“You don't have to apologize,” he says, breaking the silence as he slides a tablet my way. “Get to know your team more intimately for the next few weeks then make your picks for upcoming assignments wisely.” he instructs in the same level tone as always. I take the tablet and it unlocks  showing me my options.

“Sir” I nod like I always do and he nods.

“Any issues, questions, comments or concerns can be directed to Jameson or myself” he explains.

“Okay” I nod, maintaining eye contact for the first time. 

“Cassandra has placed your acceptance of this post in tomorrow's newsletter - so if you have any reservations now’s the time to object” he says.

“I’m fine” I tell him not wanting a do over of our last discussion. The playing field between us seems more level now that he knows what I’m made of.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes” I nod and he swallows.

“I’m clear on what you think of me but my anger and management of this company isn't to indulge self-importance. I know how people think and I understand the risks of carelessness. Everyone here has signed up to do the job, not to be the casualty of poor preparation, exhaustion or laziness.” Richmond explains calmly. 

“I know and I always put my best foot forward.” I tell him.

“That’s why we’ve never had an issue and we aren't likely to. I’m excellent at self-regulation” he says, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I swallow feeling put on the spot. He gets up without forcing me to sit in it. “But if you have any feedback Cole, It’s welcome my big ears are quite receptive” he adds leaving and I place my head in my hands cursing my big mouth.

authors note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the little plot-twist I put in there. Let me know if you saw it coming. Now that Lorence can no longer run from Mr. Richmond things should get ... interesting. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. Is Lorence ever gonna live the big ears comment down? Reblog, Comment and Like.

[m-jelly]

hey! I wanted to request a fic so if you're not taking any, pls ignore this. So i wanted to ask for a Levi x fem!reader (she's the same age and levi's second in command in the og levi squad)where they're already dating long term, they love and trust each other a lot. She's loving and doting to him but she's grumpy,quiet,stoic like him(he loves it tho). 1 day she gets insecure about her nature because of a trigger(u decide)and hopes she can be more bubbly n cries but levi comforts her

Comparison

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, being a couple, insecure reader, fluff, romance, Levi comforting you.

After hearing some cadets talking about romance and couples, you become very aware of how you are with your love, Levi. Filled with guilt and worry you talk to Levi and he comforts you.

"I got into a fight with my boyfriend." The blonde sighed.

"Again?" The red hair raised a brow. "What was it this time?"

"You make it sound like it's all the time." She snapped. "It's not."

Red lifted her hands. "I didn't mean to offend. So, what now?"

"He's just so cold and uncaring." Blonde sniffed back tears. "I told him I need him to connect with me more." She patted her chest. "I need him to be present, but he's so emotionless and distant."

"Like he's mentally checked out?" Red tilted her head a bit. "That's not good. It's hard when they're so stoic and quiet. It's impossible to love someone like that."

You walked away as a sob caught in your throat. A strong deep guilt wrapped its horrible hands around your throat. You couldn't, no matter how hard you gulped or tried to get air. Your love for Levi was so deep and unbreakable but the words of the young ladies played on your mind so much.

You wanted to be more perky and outgoing around Levi. It's not like you neglected him, you did cuddle often, you were loving to him and doted on him in your own way. However, those girls' thoughts made you consider the way you acted.

You grabbed some pretty wildflowers, like normal for Levi, before rushing over to him as he finished training. "Levi!"

Levi flinched at your cheery greeting. He blinked a bit as it took him to register it was you. He softly said your name. "Everything okay?"

You gave him the flowers before kissing his cheek. "Peachy!"

He gazed at the stunning flowers, his heart always fluttered when you gave him some. As he admired them a moment a thought crossed his mind, you were smiling but your eyes held pain. He reached over and caressed your cheek allowing him to really look at you, he was right you were close to crying.

He took your hand. "Come with me."

You trotted behind him. "Sure.

He dragged you through the halls as you chatted with him in a very upbeat way, which wasn't like you at all, but he replied and was sweet back. Levi knew you so well because you'd been a couple since he joined and that'd been a few years now. You were incredibly strong together and he knew you were his soulmate.

He fixed his flowers in a vase as you carried on chatting happily while making tea. He approached you and called your name making you sweetly look at him. "What's going on?"

"I just..."

He picked you up making you squeak before carrying you to his sofa. He sat with you on his lap. "Talk to me. You're acting like you've got a painful shit."

You laughed at his comment. "You always know how to make me smile."

"I know my darling brat."

You released a long sigh and told him about the two girls. After a bit of silence, you spoke again. "I guess I'm just worried that maybe I'm too grumpy, or stoic, or quiet." You pulled at the straps on your thighs. "Maybe you want someone more fluffy." You sniffed back tears. "Someone positive and bouncy. Someone who is more present. I'm impossible to love like this."

He squeezed you. "So, you're not fluffy? I thought you were. You're my fluffy cuddly sweet brat that I always want to eat." He kissed your cheek before wiping your tears. "You're not impossible to love because I've been loving you all these years." He kissed you making you hum. "I love you, all of you." He clicked his tongue. "Tch, damn it brat I fell in love with the woman sitting on my lap right now. You are the most perfect woman for me."

Your eyes sparkled with tears. "Really?"

He cupped your face. "Yes. I don't like, brat. You know I'm blunt and honest." He wiggled your face. "I adore you for you. You dote on me so much. You're incredibly loving. You get me gifts, write me love letters, gift me flowers, cuddle me and give me a lot of kisses. You're always asking me if I'm okay and checking in on me. You communicate all the time and help me. You're my dream girl."

You hugged Levi tightly and hid your face. "You...you..."

He rubbed your back. "I've flustered you, right?"

"Mm."

He played with your hair. "Ignore those shitty girls, they're only talking about what they want in a partner. Their views are different to others. What I want in a partner is you. All of you. There is no one else for me."

"I love you, Levi."

"I love you too." He squeezed you as he said your name. "Don't ever change. Keep being your wonderful self."

Tags under cut

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @abiatackerman @minminroie @dreamerofthewest

[ajmakoko]

Because of a beef of 2 possible psyops happening on TikTok that blew up in the last day or so.

Where one creator was anti-Democrat and explaining why they voted 3rd party. Then was told that they hurt trans ppl if they didn't vote for Kamala because Trump will hurt transppl more including with medicaid cuts. The first creator said they didn't care because to them Kamala still supports genocide in Gaza so they couldn't vote for her but they understood why other trans ppl might due to their medical needs.

Then another creator got mad about this and said that they weren't really trans, they look cis so they aren't affected by trans legislation, that ciswomen aren't harmed by anti-trans laws, that transitioning should be equated with medical transition partially for medical treatment reasons and partially for reasons relating to how society sees them. They also emphasized AGAB a lot, even though this info wasn't disclosed or particularly relevant (they assumed AGAB) and then went on a rant about specifically AFAB people who are nonbinary (some TERFy rhetoric tbh). When called out for this, they and their defenders say that the 2nd creator is a black transwoman, the most in danger of all trans ppl from Trump's policies, so no one is allowed to disagree with her. And to go back to the voting topic, ig they don't see the inherent fascism in demanding someone vote how you demand - that that takes away the point of a vote in the first place.

This has caused an explosion of transmedicalism debate. It's still ongoing. Unfortunately, the transmedicalism side has significantly more creators making videos and talking about it. Like really really unfortunately. And the takes are so bad - tbh I didn't expect the regression I'm seeing in education, civil rights, food safety, science, history, etc, to also affect trans education/discourse online but it really has.

For the record, I am genderfluid, do not support transmedicalism, understand gender affirming care can look like many things, hang with homeless trans ppl and trans ppl from many different backgrounds, voted for Kamala. I strongly believe in civil rights and making sure everyone gets the right to vote how they want. I think it was obvious Trump was and is horrifyingly bad. I have had a hard time being chill with people who didn't vote out of apathy (not protest) or who voted for Trump, but truly I tend to blame the Democrats for not earning those voters, and even if they had gotten everything 3rd party vote, they wouldn't have won most likely. Attacking 3rd parties does nothing politically for Dems.

The solution is not then to police votes, but to earn them. Like do your jobs, Dems.

But instead they policed the first creator's trans status and tried to argue with them via appeal to authority for some reason (arguably emotional abuse), and invalidating and gatekeeping them. Like with really transphobic stuff, too. Ig the 2nd creator is an established trans creator (I've never heard of her but I do more in the drag scenes than whatever this creator is involved in), and have been accused of transmedicalism in the past. This creator I guess also has a LONG history of saying TERFy, self hating trans things (according to critics, idk, its just what I read) and has been in controversies for years about hateful things she said about NonBinary folx (I have since learned).

And so maybe at least 1 creator is a psyop meant to make trans ppl want to die. I certainly felt extremely extremely shitty after reading that discourse, when previously I was happy with who I am and my gender as described (and I am doing better now that I've regulated some). Particularly upsetting was the alienating transmedicalism trying to gaslight me that, for instance, homeless trans people who cannot access doctors are somehow advantaged. Brandon Teena was somehow advantaged being AFAB when he was murdered, because he wasn't on hormones so technically he could have passed as a woman if he wanted to or needed to. Really seemed to help him a lot, all that privilege (/s). And if he were still alive, would he be forced to vote how random people tell him who claim they are more disadvantaged than him, even though there's no real way to compare? I mean, that he was murdered kinda shows he was less advantaged than the annoying content creators making money off our suffering demanding we vote in a particular way.

Fuck this timeline.

Why am I seeing a rise in transmedicalism and truscum bullshit? I thought we were past this.

[entities-of-posts]

I found a staircase when I was in middle school. Maybe 11, 12? I can't remember. I remember the staircase, though. It was shiny new and I knew it was bad news, but… I don't know.

I started going up them. Only sometimes. I'd go up a few steps and then come back down and leave. Not like they were going anywhere, and I think I might've just been hoping someone would stop me. Eventually someone did; they told me the staircase seemed dangerous, and I agreed with them.

I don't know why I'm telling you this. Exposition, I guess? Context?

I saw the stairs again. They looked different, polished wood replaced with concrete, but I recognized them immediately. This was a few days ago — maybe a few years? I'm not sure. I wasn't in a great place. But I saw them, and I decided… what the hell, right? I mean, it's just a staircase. And I never did get to see what was at the top.

There were so many steps. Sometimes it feels like there were hardly any.

I could feel my sanity slipping the higher I got. I didn't trust anyone. I didn't trust myself. I remember thinking, quite a lot, why am I still climbing this staircase? And the more I thought it, the closer I got to whatever horror was waiting for me.

Are you sure we're still going the right way? I mean, I know this one's going down now, but sometimes they loop around and — okay. You know, it's sort of nice to let someone else take the lead for once.

It was a door at the top. A big, black door. Heavy. I don't really know how to describe it, but looking at it… it was just so obvious it would swallow up everything about me, and it wouldn't matter, because once I opened it I wouldn't be able to tell anyways.

I… I wanted to open it. That sounds horrible, doesn't it? I mean — I knew what was behind it. Sort of. I could hear the incoherent screaming through the wood and — like, I knew, okay? I'm not some idiot that sees a terrifying door and thinks "oh wonders! A mysterious door! Maybe there's a tea party on the other side!" I'd just… sunk cost fallacy, right? I'd made it so far that I didn't want to turn back without knowing.

I opened the door — just a crack, a tiny amount — and I swear to you, behind it was death. Not the grim reaper, I know how this sounds, but it was just… nothingness. A true and total absence of everything. And I realized that all the screaming I'd heard must have just been an echo, seeped into the doorframe by everyone who'd ever walked through it, because past the boundary was just silence.

I closed the door. I mean, obviously, I closed the door. And I started trying to get back down the stairs, and that's when I saw you. I've just been wandering around, trying to figure out which stairs lead down. Every so often my feet just start carrying me up again? Force of habit, I suppose. It's easier now that I have someone to follow. So, thank you, for that. Not sure I'm convinced you know the way out, but it's nice to have someone to talk to.

Statement taken directly from subject, in the staircase of my Archives. They had not entered the building, and did not leave it. When I attempted to get them to come through the door to the first floor with me, they sunk into the hardwood step by step, phasing through it with no contact, still descending on stairs that were not there. Their head disappeared through the floor, and I lost sight and Sight of them.

Ever since the Incident, the dimensional instability of my Archives lends itself to such tricks. The Spiral sometimes seems convinced the building is still part of it.