#god what a creepy world we live in
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we live in a horror dimension
#it is the daycare livestream for her own child#but i am deeply uncomfortable with the idea of daycare livestream at all#askamanager#ask a manager#god what a creepy world we live in
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Unsolved
Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader
summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker
a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!
a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if theyāre actually real
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others
scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fansā questions!
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user1: god do they look good
ā³user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww
ā³user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl
user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point
ā³user4: god can we get charles to take notes???
ā³arthur_leclerc: it wouldnāt help
ā³charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook
ā³arthur_leclerc: you canāt
ā³user4: we saw that pasta videoā¦unless youāve gotten vastly better no you canāt
user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh
ā³user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now
ā³user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them
ā³user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill
user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?
ā³user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!
ā³user8: can you blame him? Theyāre hot af
user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate
ā³user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???
ā³arthur_leclerc: šššš
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others
unsolved: Letās talk death and disappearances this month ā three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, ā¦more
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user11: chillingā¦
user12: ok but why do they match so wellā¦did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?
user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi
ā³user13: wait what???
maxverstappen1: good stuff šš»
ā³user14: what in the earth is this crossover???
ā³user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??
ā³charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT
ā³unsolved: shame š
ā³charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They donāt.
ā³pierregasly: šš
ā³user16: what in the worldā¦
oscarpiastri: interesting, interestingā¦
ā³charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
ā³oscarpiastri: thatās no way to speak to your sonā¦
ā³user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???
ā³unsolved: thatās what we would like to know as wellā¦
ā³charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!
Private Emails
scuderiaferrari
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others
tagged: unsolved
scuderiaferrari: COTA here we comeā¦with a mysterious guest!
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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???
ā³user19: they did! I bet itās gonna be a really interesting raceā¦
charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!
ā³user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??
ā³arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!
this comment was deleted
ā³carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars
this comment was deleted
ā³pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea
this comment was deleted
ā³maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him š
this comment was deleted
user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You donāt understand my NEED for this to happen
ā³user21: god Iām just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!
ā³user22: sorry but can you explain? Iām new to unsolved and am working backwards!
ā³user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)
ā³user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!
ā³user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!
ā³user22: oh! Thatās so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places ā maybe theyāll do it again here!
unsolved has posted 3 stories
[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]
user23 replied Iām so excited!
scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!
ā³unsolved thanks for setting this up!
ā³unsolved Iām very excited!
user24 replied oh my god thatās such a pretty photo!
user25 replied go get your man
ā³unsolved whaat??
ā³user25 oh my god you donāt know??
ā³unsolved ???
ā³user25 oh this is gonna be funny af
scuderiaferrari replied ā¦youāll have both our drivers back in one piece right??
ā³unsolved of course!
charles_leclerc replied thatāsā¦thatās where we are staying??
ā³unsolved yup!
Bluesky
Bluesky
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths
unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name wasā¦Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!
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user26: spookyā¦
ā³user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick successionā¦
oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night
ā³charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever
ā³unsolved: Iām pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrongā¦
ā³charles_leclerc: you donāt āŗļøāŗļøāŗļø
ā³maxverstappen1: ohhh share?
ā³unsolved: thatās no footage I guess
ā³pierregasly: shame
ā³charles_leclerc: thank you š
ā³user19: hmmmmm user53??
ā³user53: i see it. I see it
arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???
ā³unsolved: all of them!
ā³charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 š„¹ļæ½ļæ½ļæ½
ā³unsolved: sorry just one!
ā³carlossainz55: compaƱero?
ā³charles_leclerc: just 1!!!
ā³unsolved: sorry š¤
ā³user19: hmmmmm
ā³user53: adding it to the folder now
user28: that was such a fun episode!
ā³spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!
ā³user28: Iām sitting. Iām sat. Iām ready.
sebastionvettel: never thought Iād see the day after that incident in 2019
ā³landonorris: share!
ā³oscarpiastri: donāt you mean the inchident
ā³maxverstappen1: another inchident??
ā³carlossainz55: it was for a love interest
this comment was deleted
ā³charles_leclerc: this time it wonāt be just an inchident
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
scuderiaferrari: And thatās our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!
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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me
ā³charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?
user29: man he moves fast
ā³charles_leclerc: very fast!
ā³charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!
ā³user29: oh my god im so jealous right now
ā³yourprivate: š¤š¤š¤
carlossainz55: congrats mate!
ā³charles_leclerc: you too!
ā³charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!
ā³carlossainz55: shush!
ā³user30: oh??? user19, user53???
ā³user19: ā¦Iām on it
ā³user53: Iāll start the coffee
ā³user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????
ā³user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
ā³user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA
ā³user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge ā failed
pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out
ā³charles_leclerc: stop. talking.
ā³yourprivate: awww were you nervous?
ā³pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?
ā³pierregasly: yes
ā³charles_leclerc: im going to run you over š
ā³scuderiaferrari: you canāt actually say that Charles!
ā³charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke
ā³charles_leclerc: ššš
ā³pierregasly: ā¦I donāt like that emoji calmar
ā³charles_leclerc: šššššššššš
user33: the way he sprinted over to herā¦
ā³user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now
ā³yourprivate: ehehehehehe
ā³user34: ok no need to rub it our faces
ā³yourprivate: why wouldnāt I?
ā³charles_leclerc: š„°š„°š„°š„°
ā³yourprivate: ššššā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø
ā³user34: right in front of my salad???
user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonightā¦
ā³user36: sleepover!
#f1 smau#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 instagram au#formula 1 smau#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one
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"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 š
Six months had passed since that nightāthe night you let Sladeās 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 didnāt question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because thatās 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.
āYouāre staring,ā 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. āIf you say so, sweetheart.ā
The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you werenāt 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.
Sladeās 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.
āYou call that a punch?ā he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. āPathetic. Iāve 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.
āYou hesitated,ā he said, standing over you. āThat hesitation will get you killed.ā
You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. āOr maybe I just donāt care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.ā
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.
āOh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ā he murmured, voice dangerously soft. āIf you didnāt, you wouldnāt be here.ā
He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. āGet up. Weāre not done.ā
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 didnāt coddle you like they did. He didnāt 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 wasnāt much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm
āWhy did you take me in?ā you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.
He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. āBecause I saw something in you,ā he finally answered. āPotential. Something youāre too afraid to admit to yourself.ā
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 didnāt 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 werenāt 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, youād find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if heād 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.
āYou really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?ā 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 beenā¦ 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 hadnāt 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 callsābrief, 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 cityās underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadnāt 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 hadnāt spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldnāt 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. āYouāve got a ghost,ā he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. āOne that doesnāt know how to stay buried.ā
You didnāt ask him what he meant. You didnāt 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 didnāt question it. Slade had always been territorialāwatchful, 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 didnāt 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 wasnāt. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Sladeās 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 wasnāt 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 wasnāt an accident. You hadnāt 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 wasnāt it. Because he didnāt 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 hadnāt 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 werenāt 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 didnāt pause. Didnāt even look up. āPlanning on keeping you alive.ā The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.
Your breath caught. Because he wasnāt hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasnāt a mistake. This was intentional.
You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. āRight. Because Iām just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.ā
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 wouldnāt be having this conversation."
Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasnāt 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 outāor so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.
Your fingers curled around the knob.
Turned itā 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, calmātoo calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.
The door was still closed.
Your heart stuttered. You hadnāt heard him come back. Hadnāt even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didnāt let him see the panic creeping up your throat.
"Didnāt realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didnāt smile. Didnāt smirk. Just watched you.
āYou donāt.ā He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didnāt move. Didnāt step aside. Didnāt let you leave. The silence stretched too long.
Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. āThen Iāll be back in an hour.ā Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.
āIt's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.ā
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. āWhat are you talking about?ā He didnāt answer. Didnāt even move.
Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And thatās when it hit you.
He wasnāt stopping you because he was afraid youād leave.
He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.
Something he wasnāt telling you about.
Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.
And thenā
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 wouldnāt 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 werenāt sure if it was to keep someone outā
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. Itās just someone else wearing it. Itās just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.
Harveyās drink.
It wasnāt until you came home that you truly realized. Because thatās when you saw the rose.
A single red rose on the kitchen counter.
Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasnāt from Slade. It couldnāt 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 didnāt say anything. And thatās when you knew,
He had seen this coming.
āWhere did that come from?ā 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 didnāt 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 didnāt 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 werenāt 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 wasnāt a prison but it wasnāt 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 werenāt trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You werenāt chained to the walls, werenāt 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 thatās 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 Gothamās 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 armās reach. It wasnāt 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 werenāt stupid. You knew the real test wasnāt 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 timeātraining, 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 werenāt 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.
āGoing somewhere?ā
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 hadnāt heard the door open. Hadnāt heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasnāt even angry. He wasnāt trying to intimidate you, wasnāt raising his voice or blocking your way. He didnāt 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. āDidnāt realize I needed permission,ā 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.
āYou donāt.ā He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. āJust wondering if you really think itās safe out there.ā
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 didnāt.
Your grip on the doorknob tightened. āWhat are you talking about? You said this last time.ā
Slade didnāt 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.
āIf you want to go,ā he said, gesturing toward the door, āgo.ā
Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.
But you didnāt.
Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldnāt 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 didnāt 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 didnāt 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 didnāt 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.
āLet go,ā you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
He didnāt.
Instead, he reached for the letter.
You pulled back.
Sladeās grip tightened. āLet me see,ā 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 didnāt let go, but it didnāt 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. āYouāve got to be fucking kidding me.ā
Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.
āDo you miss him?ā 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 didnāt 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 werenāt 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 hadnāt 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 didnāt make sense.
Except it wasnāt.
He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didnāt. You couldnāt. 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 werenāt 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 didnāt say a word.
You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Sladeās presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasnāt 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 didnāt.
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.
āTook you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.ā 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. āHow did you find me?ā
What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?
Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. āSweetheart, I never lost you.ā
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 didnāt. Because you had to know.
āWhy are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?ā Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.
Harveyās fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. āBecause I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.ā
Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.
āYou think Iāll forgive you?ā 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 itāthe 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. āI donāt deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.ā
You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached outānot touching, not yet, but close.
āYou donāt know whatās happening,ā he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. āYour familyāTim, Dick, all of themātheyāre figuring it out. Theyāre 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.ā
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.
āNo,ā 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. Harveyās fingers brushed your wrist.
Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.
āAnd when they realize what they did to you,ā he murmured, ātheyāre going to come running. Crawling back like I am.ā
Your stomach twisted.
āTheyāre going to act like they care,ā he continued, voice soft, insidious. āLike theyāre sorry. But theyāre not. Not like I am. You know that, donāt you?ā
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, āYou donāt have to go back to them.ā
Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. āIām not going back,ā 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. āYou think youāre free?ā he murmured.
The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasnāt kind. āYou think he just let you leave?ā
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 dangerousāāHeās not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.ā
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 Gothamās 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.
āI made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.ā He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.
Your pulse pounded. āWhat do you want from me?ā You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.
Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. āNothing from you. ā
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. āWhy?ā
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,ā he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. āI 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.ā
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.
āI 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.ā 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. āNothing I do or say can make up for what I did.ā His jaw tightened. āI know that.ā
You should have walked away. But you didnāt. Because Harveyās voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. āBut I need you to know something,ā he whispered.
You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. āShe wanted to be you, she tried so hard.ā
Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.
Harveyās voice was soft, almost reverent. āBut she never could.ā
Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?
āShe dressed like you,ā he continued. āTalked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.ā His voice hardened. āThe way you loved.ā
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. āShut up.ā
Harvey didnāt.
āShe wanted to take everything from you.ā His expression twisted. āAnd maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.ā
Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. āBut I couldnāt. I had to go digging, looking for clues.ā
His hands clenched at his sides. āBecause she wasnāt you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.ā
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. āEvery time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasnāt hersāā his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and brokenā āI was thinking of you.ā
Your breathing came too fast.
Harvey stepped closer.
āEvery time I kissed her,ā he whispered, āI wanted it to be you.ā
You squeezed your eyes shut. āStop. I don't care.ā Lies.
āShe wasnāt you,ā he repeated, voice almost pleading. āShe never could be.ā
Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.
Harveyās fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.
āI never wanted her, not reallyā he murmured. āNot once.ā
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. Harveyās voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer
āTell me, sweetheart.ā
You forced yourself to look at him.
āIf you donāt care,ā he whispered, eyes burning, āwhy are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?ā
You shouldnāt have come.
But you hadnāt 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 rooftopās 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. āYou donāt get to ask me those questions.ā
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.
āDo you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ā His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to itāsomething dangerous. āHow many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?ā
Your chest tightened. You werenāt sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. āI didnāt 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.ā
Harveyās fingers twitched.
āNo.ā His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. āNo, you didnāt.ā
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.
āShe used her little snake charm but somehow,ā he continued, āafter a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.ā
Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw itāthe 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.
āI love you,ā he murmured. āI never stopped loving youā
Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. āShut up.ā
He ignored you. Again.
āI love you so much,ā he said, voice low. āYou love me too or you wouldn't be here.ā
āI said shut up.ā He was right, he always is.
Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.
āI never loved her,ā he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.
āShe wanted me to,ā he continued. āShe wanted to take everything from you.ā His jaw tightened. āAnd maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.ā
The thought of it made your skin crawl.
Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.
āBut I couldnāt.ā His voice cracked slightly. āBecause she wasnāt you.ā
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 shouldnāt care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.
āYouāre lying,ā you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. āYou used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.ā
Harvey let out a sharp breath. āYeah.ā His eyes met yours. Unflinching. āI did.ā
There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.
āBut it wasnāt revenge, sweetheart,ā he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. āIt 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.ā
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.
āEvery time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.ā His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. āEvery time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.ā
Your breathing came too fast. This wasnāt 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 yetā
Yet.
You couldnāt move.
Because deep down, a part of you knewāyou had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.
Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. āYouāre smart, sweetheart,ā he whispered. āYou always were. Choose carefully.ā
You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.
āYou donāt have to go back to them.ā He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.
You clenched your jaw again. āI wasnāt planning on it.ā
Harveyās eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, āThen why are you still with him?ā
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.
āYou think he's better than me?ā
Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadnāt you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.
A slow, knowing smirk. āHeās 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.ā
Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadnāt been careful. You had been playing into Sladeās hands all along.
Because Slade always knew. And if he hadnāt stopped you?
That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.
The moment Harveyās voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a loverās touchāyou should have walked away. But you didnāt. 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 Harveyās presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadnāt 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 wasnāt 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. āI have to go.ā Before you did something you couldn't take back.
Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didnāt move. He didnāt stop you. But he wasnāt letting you go, either.
āYouāre going back to him.ā It wasnāt a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming
Your pulse stuttered. āItās not like that and you know it.ā 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. āSure it isnāt.ā
You took a step back. He didnāt reach for you, didnāt 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.
āIām letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.ā
Your throat tightened. He wasnāt chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didnāt 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 didnāt turn when you entered. Didnāt move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You werenāt 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. āSladeāā
āI knew youād come back.ā
His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. āOf course I came back.ā
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.
āDid he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?ā
Your stomach dropped. You didnāt let it show. āI donāt know what youāre talking about.ā
Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. āDonāt insult me.ā
Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You werenāt sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finallyāSlade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.
āTell me something,ā he said lowly.
You didnāt move. āWhat?ā
Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. āDid you hesitate?ā
The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldnāt matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.
Slade was quiet for too long. Thenāhe 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.
āTake off your coat,ā he said. You hesitated. Sladeās expression didnāt shift. āNow.ā
Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Sladeās eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.
You werenāt sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didnāt even realize you had carried home with you.
Then, after a long pauseāSlade smirked. And it wasnāt kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.
āYou donāt even realize it, do you?ā
You stiffened. āRealize what?ā
Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. āYou'll know soon.ā
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.
āDoesnāt matter where you go,ā he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. āYouāll always come back to me.ā
Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.
You lay awake that night. Not because you couldnāt 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 couldnāt 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 werenāt 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 didnāt demand answers. He didnāt press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadnāt watched you walk through the door smelling like another manās presence.
That should have been a relief. But it wasnāt. Because Slade didnāt 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 wasnāt 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.
Sladeās fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. āYou havenāt been sleeping,ā he murmured.
You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. āAnd you have?ā
A quiet chuckle. āI sleep when I need to.ā
You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. āAnd when do you need to?ā You missed teasing him.
Sladeās smirk was lazy, knowing. āWhenever youāre not around to keep me entertained.ā
You rolled your eyes, but he didnāt let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.
āYou think too much,ā he murmured, voice lower now. āKeeps you restless.ā
āMaybe I like thinking,ā 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.
āWhat are you thinking about now?ā 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.
Sladeās lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expressionāsomething darker, something expectant.
āYou can say it,ā he mused. āSay his name.ā
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. āThatās what I thought.ā
You didnāt break his gaze. Didnāt 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 hadnāt heard anyone come in. You hadnāt 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 itāfolded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasureāwas 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 hadnāt 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 didnāt hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.
His voice was smooth, dangerous. āSomething I should know about?ā
You forced yourself to breathe. āNo.ā
Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And thenāhe laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. āI should have killed him when I had the chance,ā 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. āBut you wouldnāt have liked that, would you?ā
You said nothing.
Slade smirked, shaking his head. āSoft spot for old flames.ā He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. āThatās your problem.ā
You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. āAnd whatās yours?ā
Sladeās gaze darkened. āI donāt have problems.ā
You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. āRight. Sorry, I forgot. Because you donāt feel anything.ā
Slade didnāt 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.
āI feel plenty.ā You swallowed. Slade smirked. āYou just donāt like what I feel.ā
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 werenāt sure who you were more afraid of losing.
Your phone wouldnāt 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 youād held in your chest for too long.
But you didnāt. 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 didnāt say anything at first. He just watched.
āTook him long enough,ā he mused, his voice casual, controlled.
You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.
Sladeās eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. āAnd let me guessāyou ignored him.ā
You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. āNone of your business.ā
Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.
āOh, sweetheart.ā His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. āEverything about you is my business.ā
You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.
āHeāll keep calling,ā he murmured. āHeāll 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. ā His lips curled into something mocking. āThatās what they do, isnāt 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. āWhat are you gonna do?ā
Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. āDo 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?ā
Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didnāt want to say it. Because you didnāt 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, āWhat if?ā 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. āYouāre a mess.ā
You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. āFuck you.ā
Slade chuckled, unfazed. āYou do it almost every night.ā
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 werenāt thirsty, but you needed somethingāanythingāto 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 didnāt register, āIāll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.ā
The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. āWhat?ā
Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. āYou donāt want to deal with them. You donāt want to make a decision. So Iāll make it for you.ā
Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. āYou canāt justāā
āI can.ā His smirk deepened. āAnd I will.ā
Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you werenāt sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didnāt 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 hadnāt waited for you to argue. Hadnāt 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 thatās 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 didnāt matter. That you didnāt 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, āBe good while Iām gone, sweetheart.ā as you kissed him goodbye.
Like he already knew you wouldnāt be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasnāt 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 shouldnāt 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 justā
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 werenāt 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.
āGotta admit,ā Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry ādidnāt think youād be the type to shack up with a guy like him.ā
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 Sladeās bed.
Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasnāt the intruder in this equation.
Harvey sat there like he hadnāt broken in, hadnāt 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 towelās edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.
"Youāve 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, itās not breaking and entering if you used to live together."
You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. Thatās exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."
Harvey didnāt 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. āDonāt stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.ā
Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. āWhat the hell are you doing here?ā
Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. āRelax, sweetheart. Just thought Iād drop by. Say hello. You wouldnāt answer your phone, so I figuredāā he spread his arms in mock innocence, āāwhy not pay a visit?ā
You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadnāt 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. āYou always did have a thing for older men,ā he mused.
Your jaw clenched. Low blow.
Harvey smirked. āWhatās the matter? Did you think I wouldnāt find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gothamās favorite mercenary and Iād let it slide?ā He tsked, almost disappointed. āThatās not how this works, sweetheart.ā
You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? āYou donāt 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.ā
Harveyās expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. āFunny. Thatās exactly what I was thinking about him.ā
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 youāa part you hatedāwas 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?
Harveyās smirk widened. āYou think heās coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.ā
Your throat tightened. āHe'll be back tomorrow.ā
Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. āItās funny, isnāt it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?ā His grin turned sharp. Cruel. āWould be a real shame if something happened to keep himā¦ occupied.ā
Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasnāt coming home anytime soon.
Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, āWhat did you do?ā
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. āNow, now. Donāt go blaming me. I didnāt lift a finger.ā His grin widened. āBut that doesnāt mean I donāt know who did.ā
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 Sladeās mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.
Harveyās hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.
"You really think Iām gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasnāt 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 thatās 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 didnāt 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. "Didnāt know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"
Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didnāt 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 Iām 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 canāt 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 werenāt 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.
Harveyās 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?"
Harveyās breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "Youāre 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 canāt handle it? Because you canāt 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.
Harveyās 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 donāt know what youāre doing?" he murmured, so close now.
Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I donāt know what youāre 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, "youāre 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 donāt 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. "Thatās what I thought."
His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.
"Little desperate, arenāt 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. "Youād 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.."
Harveyās smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " Whatās it worth to you?"
Your breath hitched. Harveyās 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 Iām 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. Harveyās 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 couldnāt 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.
"Thatās 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.
āGoddamn,ā He laughed, amused, mocking, āyou really thought that would work?ā
You snarled, struggling harder, but he didnāt budge. His grip only tightened.
āLet me go, Harvey.ā
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.
āYou always run, donāt you?ā His voice was low, smoothābut there was something dangerous beneath it. āAlways running from someone.ā
His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, āFrom them. From me. From yourself.ā
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
#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere batman#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne#yandere x reader#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere harvey dent#yandere slade wilson#platonic yandere batman#yandere jason todd x reader
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I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.
The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.
However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.
It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.
There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.
So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.
How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.
That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.
I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.
You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.
Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.
Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.
I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.
#and that is why I will always. ALWAYS. be obsessed with her. writing that last line did make me cry a little. ohhh my godddd. naamiiiiii#my posts#one piece#nami#arlong park arc#east blue saga#op nami#op meta#op analysis#oh my fucking god nami. you forget sometimes because she's so happy and rambunctious and silly now but her life was a#nonstop nightmare horror show for years and years and years#she was all sharp edges and pain and gritted teeth and bloody determination and a hard laugh#for so long. oh my goddddddddddddd oh my goddd nami oh my god nami. oh my god nami.#sexism#implied assault#her life in that era is so fucking dark. you could write so many horror stories in there and they could all feel true
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Stop Saying it Like That
Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)
Summary: Just a little blurb based off the meme below (from Loki:intotheowenverse), hope you like it š
"Loki, you need to stop saying it like that," you laugh, shaking your head as he opens the door to the small bakery for you.
He follows you out onto the street carrying a small box full of treats, "Saying what?"
You stop, clearing your throat so you can do your best impression of your boyfriend's accent, "Enjoy the next twenty-four hours."
The God of Mischief chuckles at your poor attempt, "Was that supposed to sound like me?"
"I sounded exactly like you," you answer with a wide smile despite knowing it wasn't even close.
"Look, that's not my point," laughing as you try to get the conversation back on track. "Its really creepy when you say it like that," you inform him.
He wraps his free arm around your waist and starts walking again, leading you back towards the Tower. "It was truly awful darling," Loki shakes his head with a smile.
"Creepy?" he raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you.
"Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about," you roll your eyes. "It literally sounds like a threat, like they only have twenty-four hours left to live or something."
He chuckles, "Trust me darling, when I threaten people they know." You sigh, trying to look annoyed but he bends to kiss your cheek and your smile slips free. "What would you prefer I say?" he asks genuinely curious.
"Just say 'have a good day'," you tell him.
"Y/N, that's the same thing," Loki states and you shake your head. Before you can argue back he presses his lips to yours to silence you. "Fine, I will try that next time," he agrees and you smile.
Loki walks with you in comfortable silence for two more blocks, his arm still around your waist, slowing his pace when he notices your attention is caught by the bouquets outside a flower shop. "See something you like?" he asks as you both stop in front of the colorful display of mixed flowers.
You smile, pointing to a bundle of your favorite flowers. Loki picks them up and you follow him into the shop where he pays the employee.
She hands Loki his change, he looks down at you briefly then back at the woman behind the counter. "Have a good day, mortal," he tells her with a wide smirk that causes the florist to let out a nervous laugh before thanking him quietly.
You walk back outside, your flowers in one hand and swat Loki's chest lightly in a joking manner. He chuckles, "What did I do wrong now? I told her to have a good day like you insisted."
"Mortal?" you tilt your head and look up at him.
"Would 'human' have been better?" he smiles.
You ignore his question, knowing he is only asking to see your reaction. "And the evil smirk, really?"
"Evil?" Loki let's go of your waist, putting his hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me Y/N."
You laugh, reaching up to kiss his cheek when he tries to act as if he's offended. "You're cute when you're being annoying on purpose," you tell him and he chuckles, holding on to you again.
"I'm glad someone thinks so," he smiles.
"But stop talking to people when we go out," you add with a laugh.
I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did šš Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!
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#tom hiddleston#loki#hiddlestoners#loki laufeyson#tom hiddleston characters#twhiddleston#loki x reader#hiddlesarmy#loki odinson#hiddlesverse#loki incorrect quotes#loki marvel#loki mcu#loki memes#loki friggason#loki fanfic#loki of asgard#Loki blurb#loki god of mischief#loki of sassgard#loki being loki#random loki thought#loki x you#loki x y/n
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Okay! I don't know where you got the idea from and my best guess is that your brain is connected to mine via bluetooth but.
Me and Hoddie have a royal au and your animation made me think of it again.
Nothing crazy special, but...ah...I should probably give a little context yeah...hmm.
Uh, okay. There's a kingdom. whose king and queen have died, leaving behind several possible heirs who are not their direct children. Right now, the king's first general is sitting on the throne, because the power of the army is, you know, a pretty powerful argument in a fight for the throne, right? This creepy regent is Cass. And Cass came to power thanks to Hoddie, who's basically the king's heir too, but she's pretty distant and her chances of the throne are quite slim. This has made her a professional rat and back stabber. The whole palace is busy weaving intrigue and destroying each other in a competition for power. Contests in cunning and sneakiness. A maximally intellectually uncomfortable environment in general.
Until Hoddie finds the true heiress. The king's blood daughter, to whom the throne should rightfully belong.
Problem? The problem is that the heiress needs to be two years older to be old enough to rule. And Hoddie and Cass' goal is to make sure she lives to that age in an environment where every other person wants to frame or kill her.
That heiress is you, Tap. But we couldn't think of what you'd look like in this au ahaha.
MHHMMM I SEE ONCE IN A WHILE BRAIN BLUETOOTH IS A GOOD THING you left me a window for my part and I grabbed this opportunity with sharp teeth Since there was no mention of my part, I have the audacity to add my own version. Did I understand correctly that my existence as an heiress was not known? It would be strange if the king was not looking for me, if I was the only heir (by blood), which means they were hoping for a new child, or already had plans for an indirect heir, or wanted to hide me. What other power is there, besides the king and the army, that holds the common people? Church. The king could have sent me to be trained as a priestess in order to gain support from them (either I was not considered worthy of receiving the throne in the future, which is why they preferred to hide me, or the king so badly needed their support that he was ready to sacrifice his only blood daughter) . Thus, from a young age, the beauty of a non-existent world somewhere beyond the heavens was drummed into my head and, in general, āGod speaks all our actions.ā I have an inconspicuous appearance, a position above a simple servant, but such priests are usually considered to be the daughters of high nobles, but not the king himself, which is why not everyone could know who I really was. Thus, they forgot about my existence ~ After the death of the king and all the heirs, the church quickly realized what to do next, and crushed me to itself, hiding me from the world until I reached the age of succession to the throne. (But children could take the throne under a regent. Could Hoodi become my regent as one of the older contenders for the throne?) So, back to the turmoil. Hoodie found me at church. Since childhood, my worldview could have changed greatly under the influence of the church, so, well, you will have to hammer a lot into my head, in addition to the throneās education (You know... it's bit complicated to make a human sona not as a stupid little ball XDD... it literally can't get a shape at this point... maybe you will place a real bunny as the new king? It will be eating cabbage 24/7 and everyone will be happy)
#You know~ I'm sure you know that church isn't a very good place~#commoner servants or lowly noble servants do not dare to say a word against the nobles. (The laws are no better than in the kingdom itself)#Tapa saw some horrors in here~#I tried to make a look closer to the rabbit#but I guess it will be mostly about the way I behave#And sometimes the most beloved kind of hairstyle - rabbit looking one#But it's a bit complicated to get used to all these after strict rules of the church#Tapa#Cass#Hoddi#royal au#my little happiness
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So pretending Viv didn't retcon her own fucking lore drop on twitter by being like "omg!! If it wasn't obvioussssss, he was lying. Silly guy. Isn't the sin of WRATH such a egoistical, self absorbed PRIDEFUL guy"ā
I'm very into this idea that Satan, and the Imps and all the Hellborn are the indigenous people of Hell.
Which would mean, that Lucifer got banished to a foreign land, immediately claimed ownership of it, allowed/told his wife to manipulate everyone with her singing, and then proceeded to flood Hell with human Sinner's that he also made legally above all the Hellborn. And then got...bored?? And quit actively being king to go make ducks and emotionally abuse his daughter.
Like, holy shit is Lucifer being a metaphor for white colonialism fucking INSANE. The running assumption (and Viv's bullshit on twitter) has been that Lucifer and the other Sin's were together as a group. That the circus theme, and the rings, and the Goetia was just the world they built. But, if Satan and the Sin's were just the indigenous people who lived there, that sure as fuck makes the circus theme more creepy?
Circuses have historically been horrifying displays of human cruelty. Human trafficking, the buying and selling of people with dwarfism as toys or pets, physical torture and extreme conditions, racisim, rape, animal abuse, just like...bad stuff. There were probably some circuses that were fine, but the vast majority of the time it wasn't done humanely or with any dignity to the people performing.
Lucifer, showed up and just like, forced the Sin's into a Circus they didn't want to be apart of? The Circus isn't a thing anymore, because Lucifer isn't as into it, and all of the Sin's seem perfectly fine not doing it anymore.
Thing is, who the fuck was this Circus for?
The only thing I can think of is Lucifer wanting to feel in control again after being banished, and trying to establish the Sinner's as the deserving and dominate "race".
He would've forced Queen B to humiliate and abuse her hellhounds to do...tricks and dances on balls or whatever the fuck, to show how lowly and animalistic they are. Hellhounds aren't like Sinner's. Sinner's are just people with animal traits, they're REAL PEOPLE unlike these dogs.
He would've forced Ozzie to make his Hellborn and Imps to do dangerous and unnecessary acts. The big difference between Hellborn and Sinner's, is that the Hellborn can actually die. So when the Sinner's see a Imp fall from a trapeze act, or end up set on fire and hurt, they'll see that they're inherently better because they aren't that frail. And again, historically circuses had a lot of human trafficking, sex, labor or otherwise. Ozzie runs the sex industry, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was overlap there in the start.
Mamm and Levi seem to be on the infrastructure side, building and maintaining the society and rings everyone lives on. We KNOW that Imps and Hellborn are underprivileged and lack resources. Hellhounds are forced into shelters where they're thrown out the second the little social funding they have runs out. Imps are basically constantly struggling, and never seem to have stable lives. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the support and care that the Hellborn need are being used to "fix" the "overpopulation" issue that Lucifer caused.
And Satan. Holy shit is forcing Satan, the original king to Hell, and the creator of the main indigenous peoples of Hell, to be the fucking "Law" absolutely horrifying. The fact that Satan is in such a high position of power(supposedly) and he's here, making an "example" of a Imp to get the bureaucracy off his ass and move on with his life. Well, if the god of Imps says that they're all disgusting rapists who are after the poor, innocent white Goetia then that must be true!!!! HORRIFYING. WHAT THE FUCK.
Lucifer forced the original gods of Hell to debase, and humiliate their peoples for the entertainment of his Sinner's, and then got fucking bored and left the circus to hide away in his castle. No wonder Ozzie is a consent freak and B is so concerned about people self harming.
There's a world, where Hazbin Hotel actually takes RISKS, and tries to do something interesting. But Viv backtracks every time. And also would never allow her villian characters to be...ya know....villainous. But Luci can't do more then be kinda a little abusive to his daughter but only in a sad way, otherwise he's not a gooodddd guyyyyyy nooooooo.
Anyway, I'm very attached to this indigenous Satan au. Fuck Lucifer, give the Imps their fucking land back you colonizing bitch, and let Satan be the king of Pride again. And stop forcing them to fucking celebrate your dad's son by claiming it's actually just about celebrating youuuu and your sinnn. Shut the fuck up you goddamn weirdo.
#idk where exactly the Goetia fit. if they're like the hellborn or if they came with Lucifer. im leaning to luci tho#this also works under the assumption that the rest of the hellborn are a product of lilith as the mother of demons#but thats ehh#normal hellborn might not be like the actual creations of Lilith idk#god i hate sinsmas#i hate so much fantasy cuz it just assumes so much of Christianity and colonialism is just....how it all works?? thats just how culture is?#stop adding Christmas to things i hate you#its like no one can imagine a world where modern Christian capitalism DOESN'T EXIST#why does every fantasy world have a Christmas equivalent#the toymaker luci au I've been rotating with the council fuks so hard y'all dont even know#this has absolutely been added to the show lion!au#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel au#hazbin hotel critical#hazbin hotel lucifer#helluva boss#helluva boss critical#helluva boss satan#racisim#colonialism
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yet another shen yi meta [uts2 spoilers]
hi hey hello everyone i continue to be tormented with obsessive thinkings about s2 Shen Yi so i must holler about them/him some more, feel free to stop reading if you have not watched through approximately episode 11 which is where i still am. it's taking me longer to watch because i keep pausing to rewind/screenshot and/or weep in anguish about Him and What He Is Going Through. and how NO ONE IS PAYING ATTENTION. or insufficient attention. cf. Ryan Gosling in the Papyrus sketch screaming WELL IT WASN'T!! ENOUGH!!
[more. much more. behind the cut]
let's start here, with shen yi's artwork. in this scene he competed with AI to paint a chosen image and, surprising exactly no one, he won, partly because he's brilliant but tbh mostly because AI art is garbage and always adds dolphins, rainbows, and hands with six fingers.
but here's the thing: is no one going to question this? does anyone think to themselves "ah yes, shen yi is absolutely the BEST person in the world to make a painting in 30 minutes that depicts, quote, a lonely man on a beach." so here is this miserably hunched, despairing figure, surrounded by murky howling early-picasso blue, LOOKING IN FACT QUITE A LOT LIKE SHEN YI HIMSELFāeven dressed like him (in the snowy white and dainty pastels he seems to favor this season)āand not a single person thinks: huh, wonder if this guy's okay?
in fact s2 seems to be repeated evidence of the fact that shen yi is Very Much Not Okay, and yet no one is really paying attention. he supports everyone else emotionally and they all seem to assume he either a) has no emotional blowback to deal with, or b) can deal with it himself unaided somehow. (through painting, maybe? but have you seen what he's painting lately? e.g. monstrous abusive parent figures, in some kind of breathless fugue state during which he can psychically hear lines from someone else's traumatic childhood?) he goes to li han's house to help her, which is so like him, and he says:
oh! you might think. well, maybe he will self-disclose a little? tell li han about some of his own personal difficulties that he's had to overcome, just to bond with her, get her to open up? HAHAHA ARE YOU NEW HERE, of course he doesn't, he just listens to her while she sobs out her tragic backstory, gives her a tissue, relates her struggles to a vaguely terrifying metaphor of his own device about a sealed room filling up ineluctably with floodwater, then smiles and takes her out for pizza. (totally unrelated but wow the product placement is heavy-handed this season. xiaomi! pizza hut!)
since we're talking about the li han case, consider this moment, too, when he interprets someone's house-person-tree drawing. does no one ever think, "for someone who talks constantly about love and connection, how interesting that shen yi has no family, refuses to date in very pointed and deliberate way, and lives alone with a cat."
shen yi knows all about love! never shuts up about love! constantly dispensing bromides about what real love should be like! and wakes every day ALONE from horrific guilty nightmares ft. creepy small girl in blood-red dress, pls will no one help this man pls he's drowning.
couple more bits and then i swear to god i'll shut up i'm starting to feel really stupid. but first consider this little story, in three parts:
"an image of despair" um okay wellā¦technically it's just a dead body, albeit after a fairly grisly stabbing, but sure go off i guess
2. du cheng: wow even for you that was unusually poetic and weird
3. also du cheng: back to investigating the murder i guess [wanders away]
this kind of thing happens again. and again. either no one notices assorted horrified/devastated expressions on shen yi's face (in the way of classic extradiegetic reaction shots, where the camera sees themāwe see themābut none of the characters onscreen do) or, when du cheng does notice, he's immediately distracted by his actual job, and/or the fact that he doesn't really know how to help his partner, because lbr he has all the emotional intelligence of a pony.
one more mini-story in three parts, and then i really will put a sock in it:
shen yi: why, what did i do. why are you looking at me like that
2. du cheng: bc you just lied your whole entire face off with alarming unsettling proficiency, since when are you that good at being dishonest
3. shen yi: hehe
in an earlier episode we also saw shen yi shouting at a suspect in the interrogation room, so convincingly that afterwards du cheng admits, you scared me. lol! says shen yi in carefree manner, i learned that from you! haha! agrees everyone, and they go about their business.
but ghastly things keep happening to and near him. at least once per episode, shen yi makes a face like this, because people are jumping off cliffs in front of him or abruptly smashing things with hammers or just lashing out with all kinds of antisocial behaviors in his vicinity:
to be fair, he has other expressions. for instance he also repeatedly employs his patented creepy ruthless smile, of the "i am going to fuck you up" variety, an expression reserved especially for criminals:
as well, i'm also leaving out all the ridiculously adorable/domestic scenes with him and du cheng, in which they share candy, roast each other about assorted nonsense, briefly co-parent a child, and, you know. are just generally disgustingly married. but that's a different meta.
also, admittedly du cheng does SAY things. he says, "are you still having trouble sleeping," he says "do i not care about you?" and "don't push yourself so hard" and "if you run into troubles, don't try to take them on alone." (i am sparing you all these screenshots since this is a meta about shen yi but trust me i have carefully accumulated every single shred of evidence in which du cheng is protective.) but, as frequently as du cheng expresses concern, he also just keeps clapping shen yi on the shoulder in a brotastic way and then strolling out. which i fear is just not going to be adequate. ("i donāt think this is literally papyrus. maybe that was the starting point but they clearly modified it?" "well whatever they did, IT WASN'T!! ENOUGH!!")
i leave you with two final images of shen yi, seen here continuing to be very much Not Okay, and to quote the bernie meme, i am ONCE AGAIN ASKING YOU, drama, is anyone going to care enough about this man to stop him going over the edge of the cliff with Evil Art Critic Eugenicist Moriarty Weasel Man? because he will, he will do it. because he's lonely and he's misunderstood and he'sā
[cane comes out and drags me offstage]
#shen yi#under the skin 2#tan jianci#ēē½Ŗå¾é“#ę²ēæ#under the skin spoilers#ęŖå„ꬔ#ēē½Ŗå¾é“2#under the skin meta
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List of Games Turning Twenty (20) Years Old in 2025
Advance Wars: Dual Strike
Advent Rising (they started planning the trilogy before the first game was out lmao)
Age of Empires III
Animal Crossing: Wild World (the DS one)
Arc the Lad: End of Darkness
Area 51 (the FPS that was low-key kinda creepy)
Banjo Pilot (the Banjo-Kazooie racing game on GBA).
Battalion Wars (the spin-off of Advance Wars).
Battlefield 2
Brothers in Arms: Road to Hill 30
Brothers in Arms: Earned in Blood (yep, they released two mainline games in one year).
Burnout Revenge (this cleared Burnout 3, and I will fight you on that).
Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth
Call of Duty 2
Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow (go play the Castlevania Dominus collection. It has this game and a few others and it's GREAT).
Castlevania: Curse of Darkness
Civilization IV
Cold Fear (answering the age old question: what if Resident Evil 4 was on a boat and not as good?)
Condemned: Criminal Origins (a launch title for the Xbox 360 and a pretty solid horror game).
Conker: Live & Reloaded (maybe a controversial opinion, but this is WAY better than the original).
Crash Tag Team Racing
Dead or Alive 4 (aka, the one with not Master Chief in it).
Destroy All Humans!
Devil Kings (all the sequels would be under it's non-translated title: Sengoku Basara).
Devil May Cry 3: Dante's Awakening (let's rock, baybeeeeee)
Donkey Kong: Jungle Beat
Dragon Ball Z: Sagas (I saw a stream of this game a few months back, and oh my god, this looks so shitty/funny).
Dragon Quest VIII: Journey of the Cursed King
Dynasty Warriors 5 (who's excited for Origins???)
Far Cry Instincts (a console version of the PC exclusive original game)
Fatal Frame III: The Tormented
F.E.A.R. (if you haven't played this before, change that. it's fantastic)
Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance (the one with Ike the Bisexual in it).
Forza Motorsport (the very first one).
Gauntlet: Seven Sorrows
Geist (the rare M-rated Nintendo game).
The Getaway: Black Monday
God of War (the very first one).
Gran Turismo 4 (one of the few PS2 games that could be played in HD, along with... Jackass: The Game...)
Guild Wars
Guitar Hero (the very first one).
Haunting Ground (a very rare PS2 horror game from Capcom).
Hot Shots Golf: Open Tee
The Incredible Hulk: Ultimate Destruction
The Incredibles: Rise of the Underminer (since the second movie came out, this game is now considered non-canon).
Indigo Prophecy/Fahrenheit (the second game from known hack/fraud David Cage).
Jade Empire (the last game that BioWare made before they got acquired by EA).
Jak X: Combat Racing
Judge Dredd: Dredd vs. Death (there was a for real-ass Judge Dredd game on the GameCube).
Kameo: Elements of Power (another Xbox 360 launch title, this one made by a post-acquisition Rare. It's pretty fun).
Killer7 (from the greatest to ever do it, Suda51)
Peter Jackson's King Kong: The Official Game of the Movie (you guys think it's based on the movie or what...?)
Kirby: Canvas Curse (a really fun DS game that only used the stylus)
Klonoa 2: Dream Champ Tournament (i think klonoa would get along really well with sonic)
The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap (the one where Link gets really small)
Lego Star Wars: The Video Game
Lunar: Dragon Song (one of the worst RPGs I've ever played. Don't play it).
Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time (the one with the Baby Mario Bros.)
Mario Kart DS (the first one with online play).
Mario Party Advance
Mario Party 7 (my personal favorite)
Mario Superstar Baseball (we didn't get a Mario Baseball game on the Switch. Because they're saving it for the Switch 2).
Mario Tennis: Power Tour (so many Mario games...)
Dance Dance Revolution: Mario Mix
Marvel Nemesis: Rise of the Imperfects
The Matrix Online (an official continuation from the movies)
The Matrix: Path of Neo
Medal of Honor: European Assault
MediEvil: Resurrection
Mega Man Battle Network 5 (the only one in the series to have a DS version)
Mega Man Zero 4
Mercenaries: Playground of Destruction
Metal Gear Acid (a launch title for the PSP, and a card game set in the Metal Gear universe. It works better than you might think).
Meteos (a puzzle game made by Masahiro Sakurai, the Smash Bros. guy)
Metroid Prime Pinball
Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks
Myst V: End of Ages (the final Myst game)
Need for Speed: Most Wanted (did you know that this game outsold the entire Halo series?)
Neopets: The Darkest Faerie (is Neopets still a thing?)
Nicktoons Unite! (a crossover between Spongebob, Fairly Oddparents, Jimmy Neutron, and Danny Phantom).
The Nightmare Before Christmas: Oogie's Revenge (an honest to god sequel to the movie that plays like Devil May Cry).
Ninja Gaiden Black
Nintendogs
Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath
Pac-Man World 3
Perfect Dark Zero (yet another Xbox 360 launch title, also made by Rare, and a sequel to one of the best FPS games ever made. It was fine).
Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (it had been out in Japan for a few years, but us Yankees got this four years after it came out).
Pokemon Dash (a Pokemon racing game. It was not very good).
Pokemon Emerald Version (I sunk like 500 hours into this game).
Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness (a sequel to Pokemon Colosseum where you could capture other people's Pokemon).
Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones
Psychonauts
The Punisher
Quake 4
Ratchet: Deadlocked
Resident Evil 4
Serious Sam 2
Shadow of the Colossus (one of the best games ever made. Play it if you haven't yet).
Shadow the Hedgehog (pretty good to be a sonic fan right now).
Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga (parts 1 and 2).
Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves
Sonic Rush
SoulCalibur III (RIP, SoulCalibur. Tekken is just too powerful.)
Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory (RIP, Splinter Cell. Ubisoft just sucks too much to make you anymore).
Spyro: Shadow Legacy
Star Fox Assault
Star Wars: Republic Commando
Star Wars: Battlefront II (this game's story mode is permanently etched into my brain).
Stubbs the Zombie in "Rebel Without a Pulse" (presenting it to you with no context. Look it up. It's hilarious).
Super Mario Strikers
Super Monkey Ball Deluxe
Tak: The Great Juju Challenge
Tekken 5
TimeSplitters: Future Perfect (RIP, TimeSplitters. Embracer Group killed you before you could come back).
Trace Memory (got remade in 2024 as Another Code)
Twisted Metal: Head-On (another PSP launch title)
Ultimate Spider-Man (you could play as Venom in this one)
WarioWare: Touched!
WarioWare: Twisted!
We Love Katamari
Wild Arms: Alter Code F (a remake of the first game)
Xenosaga Episode II
X-Men Legends II: Rise of Apocalypse
#video games#anniversary#10 years old#advance wars#age of empires#animal crossing#arc the lad#banjo kazooie#battlefield#brothers in arms#burnout game#call of cthulhu#call of duty#castlevania#sid meier's civilization#condemned criminal origins#conker the squirrel#crash bandicoot#dead or alive#destroy all humans#sengoku basara#devil may cry#donkey kong#dragon ball z#dragon quest#dynasty warriors#far cry#fatal frame#f.e.a.r.#fire emblem
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That second flight
part 4 to That one Christmas flight
summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.
warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely
Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.
Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.
The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.
He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.
Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.
"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.
"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."
He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.
"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"
"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."
"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"
From now on, there was no way back.
//
The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.
It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.
"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.
"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."
"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."
Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.
"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.
"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."
Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.
"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.
Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."
"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"
Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.
"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."
"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."
Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."
//
She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.
He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.
Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.
She walked and sat opposite to him.
"Hey," he smiled.
"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.
"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.
"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."
"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."
Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.
"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.
"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."
"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."
It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.
"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"
They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.
"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.
Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.
"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?
"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."
"Creep."
"You love it."
And she did.
He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.
"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.
"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.
"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.
"Hello, you must be Dario?"
This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.
He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.
When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can see your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."
They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.
"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.
"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"
"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."
"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.
Once Dario brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.
"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."
"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.
Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."
They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.
"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."
"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."
"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."
"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."
"Jesus, why!"
"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."
There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.
They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euros for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.
part 5
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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamonĀ @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1Ā @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother
#there will be more#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#lando norris angst#meet cute#fluff#slowburn#slow burn fic#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#i'm sorry#that one christmas flight#that second flight
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š Moon Phases š
Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1365
Chapter 24:
The sky was beautiful at that time, and you let Teen in charge of the broom as you fell on the stars and the bright red full moon.
Your eyes closed, and you spread your hands, feeling the intense power of the full moon heating you with invisible waves.
A red full moon was rare and was the most powerful of moon phases, capable of even thinning the veil between living and dead.
Ironically, it was when your magic was also the most volatile but you still took pleasure in it's beautiful shade and that feeling of power that was bubbling inside of you liked a filled cauldron above a powerful fire.
"Mmm" you moaned faintly.
"Okay, this is creepy," Jen commented, watching your moon bathing with the ominous red mood.
You opened your eyes and looked at her, feeling amused, and it showed by the twinkle in your eye and that smirk you gave... one that definitely made Jen question your sanity for a moment.
The moment was interrupted by Teen, who had gotten the handle of controlling the broom.
"Why haven't we been doing this all along?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
Before anyone could answer him, the world started to spin literally. As if someone was turning everything upside down, you all felt the gravity pulling you down and fast.
"It's's The Road. It's forcing us down." Lilia shouted amongst the screams of fear and shock.
"I don't think it's the Road," you exclaimed as suddenly you all started to fall straight for the ground, the brooms no longer able to fly.
"We're going to crash..." Alice exclaimed.
Screams followed, and only Rio cackled like a true evil witch from a children's fairytail; enjoying the ride and the thrill of adrenaline.
You leaned forward against Teen's back and grasped his hands, helping him steady the broom.
"Everyone pull!"
By your order, everyone did their best to pull the brooms, and somehow, you managed to avoid crashing. You kept flying, the ground far closer now to you, but at least you were alive and unharmed.
Up ahead, you all took notice of a wooden cabin with lighten lights in the middle of the dark woods; your next trial.
However, before you could reach it, one of the Salem Seven appeared and blocked your path. They opened their mouth, letting ouf a swarm of bees.
More screams followed for as you passed through the cursed witch, hundreds of bees tried to sting and blind you; causing you all to fall to the ground.
Left with no choice, everyone rushed for the wooden cabin while trying to push away any bee too close to their faces.
You entered last and closed the door with more force than intended, panting heavily as the adrenaline was slowly leaving your body.
Agatha groaned, making you glance at her.
"Oh, my God!" She exclaimed. "Okay. All right. Okay. Okay. We're okay."
Jen did not agree, not that it surprised you. "No, we're not! The entire Halloween aisle's outside waiting for us."
"And it doesn't look like they can get in, does it?"
You turned your back on them and placed your ear against the wooden door, trying to listen. There was no sound outside, and you did not sense any magic whatsoever; making you leave a sigh of relief.
At least for the moment, you were safe, and you could breathe.
Agatha took your silence as an answer. "See, all good. So all we have to do is complete the trial and continue on before they can reach us. Okay?"
"How? Kiss, Marry, Kill?"
Her rhetoric question made you focus on the others, seeing their latest outfit change, and this time, you did not hide your stare.
Everyone was wearing some sort of pyjamas or night clothes, though you were uncertain from what era and for what age it was meant to be.
Everyone looked like teenagers in a sleepover, with their bright and funny outfits; not to mention the odd choice of hair styling.
You glanced at Rio and Agatha, seeing them, both, for the first time dressed in something like this.
Agatha had an oversized shirt that passed little after her waist, and you wondered if she had shorts beneath. Her legs were exposed, and she had white shocks, buggily pooling around her ankles.
Rio had a matching set of t-shirts and shorts, both revealing enough skin to make you stare; unwillingly.
You swore the road was doing it on purpose, to test how long you would hold without making a move; or perhaps testing if you could prevent yourself from staring.
So far, you had lost twice, and you felt you would not win any of the future ones; especially if Agatha and Rio had the most extreme of outfits.
"Aaaww, look at you," Rio said in a mocking voice, and for a moment, you thought she was commenting on your staring and roaming eyes. However, you soon realized her words once she moved behind you; handing holding your outfit. "Isn't this cute on you?"
You dared to glance at yourself, and it was immediately clear on your face that you did not share hers or the Road's humour.
"Seriously?" You exclaimed as you observed your chosen outfit.
It was a matching pyjama set consisting of long pants and a buttoned up long sleeved shirt. What irked you was, actually, the design in it. White crescent moons, yellow stars, and was that some sort of cow?!
"I think it's fitting," Rio commented, gently tugging the side of your pants, but you pulled yourself away.
"This is humiliating," you groaned, ignoring Teen who had lost his spellbook somewhere on the crazy flight with the brooms.
Left with no choice, you all started to explore the cabin; taking notice of how everything was styled like a teenage slumber party.
It had games, posters, light decorations, and pretty much everything else screamed teenage girls. All that was missing was fresh popcorn and maybe some hot cocoa, if not a projector for a movie.
The place did not look that bad, though you were not sure you would like to sleep in such conditions. Something about it felt odd, keeping you on edge.
"Whose trial is this?" Teen asked, wondering if perhaps this was his for he swore he saw some things he also had back in his rooms.
Suddenly, Rio chuckled. "Agatha's."
"How do you know?"
"A blood moon." Lilia informed him. "When the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest."
The boy was confused for a moment, evident by the deep frown on his face. "Wait. I thought talking to the dead was your department." He focused on the older witch.
"Oh, common misconception. I read people, I read time. But talking to spirits was just a con. And who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave?"
Agatha held back her tongue but did not hide her glare towards Lilia, clearly not happy with the comparison.
Like she was the only one having killed people.
Teen turned to you. "Shouldn't that be your expertise?"
"Hmm?" You exclaimed, drawing your attention from some unlight black candles to the boy. "Oh, no. I am a moon witch. I can dab in spirit magic, but I prefer not to. Don't like meddling with the dead"
Just then, a fake cough was heard, and you immediately knew who it was. You sent a side glare at Rio, who was amused.
"So, if it has to be your trial; what would it be?" Jen asked as she eyed you and Rio carefully.
"A new moon most likely," Rio answered for you, earning another glare that she brushed off like it was nothing.
"Why?"
"Long story," you commented. "Let's focus on this trial first,"
Just then, Teen spotted the next clue... an Ouija board.
"We have to, Ouija!" He exclaimed.
The watches on your wrists beeped, a count down starting the moment those words left his mouth.
"Guess we found out what we have to do," you said, trying to keep the focus on the new clue and not on what Rio said about your trial.
Chapter 25
#agatha all along#just finished the series#i am in pain and need therapy#tiring day but couldnt leave you without chapter#let it be known#i wont follow the ending of the series#i will improvise#and this fic will remain#agatha x reader#with some flirty Rio#agatha harkness#agatha spoilers#agatha fanfic#agatha harkness x reader#moon phases fanfic#kathryn hahn#aubrey plaza#marvel
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How about if the reader (that's us) were Samara Morgan (from the movie The Ring)?
Y'know what, I can see it. Chronically online loser boy with a fixation on horror manages to obtain an old VCR tape that's supposedly cursed. When it comes, he's practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. He went to the thrift shop all on his own to get a VCR to watch it on and everything!
When he pops the tape in, all that excitement drains away. He was expecting something spectacularly creepy, something he could brag to his buddies on r/GenuinelyHauntedGoodies about. Instead it's just a low quality tape with shitty b-roll and bad sound.
When the phone rings the second the tape ends, he assumes it's the pizza guy getting lost again.
"I told you, it's Elm Street. Not Eve-"
"Seven days..." Your voice is scratchy with static and his heart jumps in his chest.
"Yo, I think you've got the wrong numb-"
Click.
For someone so into horror, he's real slow to pick up on the signs in his own life. Nightmares about a well and a dead girl? He just had too much Mountain Dew before bed. Doors creaking in the middle of the night? Must be the humidity messing with the hinges. The guy who sold him the tape calling him in a panic two days before his obituary shows up in the paper? Weird, but definitely a coincidence.
It's only when the tape starts playing on its own that he starts to get a little sketched out. It's probably just the VCR being old and stuff, right? He forces the tape out of the slot and the screen goes black. See? Just the side effects of old, obsolete technology. He's halfway out the door before he hears it.
Click.
He freezes. He can hear the static again, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet. He turns and there you are, getting closer and closer to the screen, your dress soaked and sticking to your skin.
Holy shit. Holy. SHIT. Haunted dead girl and she's a total babe.
When you put your palms on the glass and start pushing your way into the real world, he almost can't believe his luck. It's finally happening! A genuine haunting! He's been waiting for years.
You expect him to scream, to run away, to start praying to a God he only half believes in. Instead he squats down so you're on eye level and asks...
"Can you do the back bend thing from the Exorcist? 'Cause I think that would be like so hot."
You growl, throat still waterlogged. He tuts and waves the tape in front of your face.
"Full words babe. You want to keep haunting people right? Want to get back to your cozy little well?"
He looks you over and can barely believe you're real. A hot girl on her knees is his living room? Hell fucking yeah!
"Listen up hot stuff. You do what I say and I won't crush your little tape into dust, 'kay? I'll even let you keep killing people in your spare time, if it's that important to you."
You blink. What is wrong with this guy? You've seen plenty of coping mechanisms, but this is just taking the piss.
He gets impatient waiting for you to answer. "Fine. If you want to do things the hard way..."
He stands and brings the tape down on the edge of the coffee table. Hard. The plastic cracks right along the centre and small black chips scatter across the room.
You flinch and pull backwards. He follows you, opposite edges of the tape in each hand like he wants to snap it straight in half.
"What do you say gorgeous? We got a deal?"
There are some things not even a ghost is equipped to deal with.
"Fine," you rasp, "Deal."
"Sweet!" He shoves the tape in his back pocket. "Now about the back bend thing..."
The world is full of freaks and horrors. And you make the mistake of thinking you're the only one.
[What popped into my head when I read the ask]
#r/genuinely haunted goodies is not an actual subreddit (at least i hope not)#Total shitpost#Thanks for the slightly unhinged ask anon#There's a serious story somewhere in that prompt#I might try and find it eventually#Yandere#yandere imagines#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#yandere blog#yandere thoughts
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Chrollo Lucilfer Yandere Analysis.
Yan Chrollo x F Reader.
Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW (both non-con and dub-con), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, forced tattooing, Chrollo having a god complex but that's nothing new lol, Stockholm Syndrome, stalking, parallels to religion (mainly Judeo-Christianity), implied body transformation (using Chrolloās book), masturbation, manipulation, and violence/gore.
Word Count: 13k.
credits to @ddarker-dreams for the yandere MBTI and like everything she writes for this creepy greaseball (check her out if you havenāt already!!) <33333
another thanks to @depravitycentral for the inspiration! check them out too!!!! their general profile and nsfw profile for mr. chrollo specifically BUT everything they write is pretty good! <33333
one last thanks to @phasmophobia-territory for the ultimate yandere types list and @blughxreader for the yandere personality meme. both have inspired the unique qualities part of this analysis, so please be sure to check them out! <333
also, for quotes i tried to do something like genshin impact/honkai: star rail voicelines so i apologize if they arenāt good (ļ¾ļ¹ļ¾)
*~*~*~*
I look forward to living life with you from here on out. However, just know that there will be many different roads we will walk together on. Their lengths will depend on you, for better or for worse. As time goes on, however, I know that they will all end eventually.
ā Introduction.
The very definition of an empty shell, Chrollo has had his humanity stripped of him from a very young age. The only people who have ever made him feel something are all members of the Troupe or are buried underground, burning in hell or soaring above the clouds as angels, either one a much better existence than the life they all spent in Meteor City. So, when he sees you, someone who has been able to make him feel something without interacting with him at all, without the use of Nen, without even brushing your shoulder against him while running to your train in a hurry, he does not know what to do.
He feels like he is back to being a small child, roaming the streets and looking through dumpsters for anything of value trying to ignore the pain of the cuts and infections all over his body. You bring up a feeling he has not felt in years; fear. Despite this situation being far, far different from those times, his brain thinks otherwise. It sends him a fight or flight response every time he sees you, as much as he hides it, much like he hides himself among the crowds and crowds of people as he follows you home. You have resurrected a beast thought to be long dead, something innate, animal, almost carnal, without even lifting a finger.
Is this who he is, he wonders? He finally feels something, for once, a sense of belonging and identity andā¦ humanity.
It fills him with a sense of euphoria, while you view it with dread every time his Zetsu slips for just a moment. You always look over your shoulder during those times and start walking faster, but definitely not enough to deter him, and it will never be enough.
ā Darling Character Analysis.
Creative.
Chrollo has a deep curiosity about the world and appreciates a darling who shares this thirst for knowledge and intellectual growth. The form of expression doesn't matter to him, whether it's through writing, music, or eloquent speech. What truly matters to Chrollo is that his darling can communicate uniquely and authentically.
In a concerning manner, Chrollo imitates his darlingās behaviors to an extreme degree, devouring everything they do with an insatiable appetite. It doesn't matter how his darling presents their interests to him, whether it's straightforward or not. For instance, if his darling mentions their love for playing the violin after spending days alone with only Chrollo for company, the next day a brand new violin will mysteriously appear on the table beside their side of the bed. Chrollo will secretly learn to play the violin himself, the one he purchased as well as the one he gifted to his darling, practicing when they are not paying attention or are fast asleep.
As a result, his darling may find themselves obligated to reciprocate this behavior by learning Chrollo's favorite musical pieces.
He will experience immense joy, perhaps so much that he will hold them down on the bed and shower their face with kisses while they squirm and kick. Even when they eventually stop, he will continue, disregarding their pleas for him to stop.
As always, his strength is overpowering, leaving you with no action to do other than to say no.
At least there is some form of care after it is all over and done with, although it always somehow involves blending with whatever activity preceded it. For instance, if it was playing the violin, he would play you with both your favorite pieces on the gramophone he put near the bathtub while giving you a massage and preparing a relaxing bath for both of you.
It is painful, more so than the usual ache between your legs, because he pays attention to your desires and exploits them, even when he appears to be gentle. The pain lingers, no matter how hard you try to disconnect from everything happening around you.
He gives you everything you want, and it hurts because you always know why.
Bold.
A darling who never hides their intentions and just goes for it would spark some sort of admiration in Chrollo, especially if they use their boldness on him as a manipulation tactic.
He finds it entertaining most of all, but also there is a small part of him that is grateful for it because it makes his darling seem more human to him and not just something to own.
Boldness is quite a human trait, one that he so adores, especially with those he holds close like fellow members of the Troupe. It is also quite a trait that can easily be manipulated.
If you attempt to flirt to lower his guard, he will flirt back twice as hard.Ā
When everything is over and done with, he will admit he knows exactly what you are doing as he kisses you again, you not kissing him back this time, as good as your acting was, much to your horror.
Resourceful.
Chrollo sees himself above the rest of man, a God in his way, so a darling who is quite similar to him he would adore.
That is not to say he could not fall for someone the complete opposite of him, someone who is impulsive and wears their heart on their sleeve and everything else he does not and cannot do, but the probability is low compared to a darling that plans everything and keeps their cards close, much as he does.
That makes escape attempts though, quite common, considering how resourceful his darling can be, like using a file to saw the metal in one of his safes or the iron on their leg keeping them in his penthouse. But he loves it, it is one of his favorite things about them.
It is endless entertainment to him, a sort of fight against himself, albeit he is much, much stronger when it comes to wits most likely. You can think on your feet as much as you want, but so will he.
He will mirror their actions until the end.
Independent.
Much like his beloved's cleverness, he derives amusement from their self-reliance. He takes pleasure in dismantling their barriers bit by bit until they have no choice but to rely on him completely.
Indeed, Chrollo views his beloved as simultaneously superior and inferior to him.
There is no equality between them, only a shifting power dynamic that his beloved will soon discover. They will never be certain if his actions, like retrieving their favorite snack from the top shelf of the pantry, are expressions of love or gestures of mockery.
At times, it may be both. At times, it may be neither.
His thoughts remain inscrutable, and he revels in it.
Cunning.
Chrollo loves it when your eyebrows furrow, when youāre deep in focus, especially when you are trying to come up with an escape plan and not noticing him right behind you, because of that expression on your face.
Itās unholy, the way he worships you with sacrifices both living and not. He wants to ruin you, yet keep you as you are. So, after a long time of pondering, he concludes. He will remake your shape, not enough to completely alter it, but just enough for your walls to tumble down and let him in. That is why while he will let you try and try again to escape, he will still attempt to get into your head. He is like a poison, a parasite, imprisoning you in your fears, insecurities, and plans that are doomed to fail sooner or later. It is what he wants to be, but he also wants to be more.Ā
More and more he will be, and more and more he will take from you. It is only natural to want more than what is given, correct?Ā
It is how Chrollo and the other Troupe members survived so long in Meteor City. They take and take, not caring who they hurt because it is human instinct to want and seize. He will argue as such whenever you try to guilt him because you will soon know that he holds no shame in whatever he does. He is selfish, and he wants to stay that way. He wants you to do the same, so he loves it when you fight him or try to run away because he knows it is only nature. Nature will run its course regardless of who wants it to not. Nature does not care, so why should he? Why should you?
But he also wants you to not be as selfish as him, despite him knowing that it most likely will not be unless you are broken down enough. But that is fine, Chrollo tells himself because that time will eventually arise.
Mature.
Maturity is an elusive quality that characterizes Chrollo, yet eludes him as well. It ebbs and flows like a breeze, carrying seeds to unknown destinations, beyond the perception of onlookers. Unfortunately, you, the observer, are an unwilling participant in the multitude of games he plays and the various disguises he dons. Occasionally, Chrollo can act impulsively, adopting yet another facade acquired from others in the interludes of his life. However, there are moments when he patiently waits for the opportune time to strike, akin to a cunning serpent. But this outcome relies on your level of vigilance or innocence. Perhaps, one day, you'll find it best to surrender to his will. Chrollo eagerly anticipates that day.
Hardworking.
Chrollo feels a mix of jealousy and a desire for control when he sees someone truly dedicated to their pursuits. He wants to replicate their passion and adopt a similar persona. At the same time, he is intrigued by their determination and ambition, as he wants to understand every aspect of their character. This admiration creates a thrilling challenge for him, as he seeks to imitate their drive while also appreciating it. He wants to both admire and exploit this trait to engage in a game of cat and mouse until they submit. Perhaps it would be good to do just that, to prevent yourself from getting hurt again.
Observant.
Chrollo finds great pleasure in the thrill of the hunt, especially when his keen-eyed darling begins to notice subtle indications of being watched. These signs, carefully planted by Chrollo himself, make his darling increasingly cautious. For Chrollo, taking risks brings great rewards. Although these signs are intentional, they still hold, don't they? A lingering footstep behind them. A faint smile on a stranger's face, an unfamiliar figure lurking in an alley near his companion's residence. These signals confirm that they are being stalked, and Chrollo is entertained by the fact that their sharp instincts assure them that this is no mere coincidence or misunderstanding.
Logical.
Chrollo's beloved should possess some semblance of logic, even if it deviates from conventional understanding. The key lies in their thought process, rather than adherence to reason. This cognitive approach, be it driven by emotions or rationality, captivates Chrollo. They meticulously evaluate facts, evidence, and outcomes, exercising caution in moments of perceived advantage, as well as during bouts of insecurity and danger, where they must think quickly on their feet. This mental calculus can either serve them well or inadvertently lead to their downfall. They carefully weigh the pros and cons, thus fueling Chrollo's insatiable desire for the fun of the chase, which hinges upon ultimately catching his beloved in the act.
A Leader.
If you hold a position of leadership, whether at work or among friends, this situation will be even more perplexing and distressing for you. In an instant, you were no longer in charge, forcibly removed from your familiar surroundings and confined. Your authority, influence, and status, which held great significance, have been stripped away. You may experience a profound sense of helplessness and powerlessness as if all your hard work has been unjustly taken from you. Chrollo, as your captor, will seek to exert even more control over you if you possess the characteristic of leadership. He finds it ironic that you are now compelled to follow him, forever robbed of the opportunity to lead while you remain in captivity.
Confident Outside, Insecure Inside.
Chrollo takes great pleasure in this particular attribute, as a mere few words, be they soothing or otherwise, have the power to manipulate you effortlessly.
You find yourself compelled to dance and sing, controlled by invisible strings or some intangible force, as there seems to be no other recourse in this predicament. After enduring prolonged isolation, you will unquestioningly revere Chrollo's words, no matter how distorted they may be, treating them as a testament to be praised. And Chrollo eagerly anticipates the arrival of that day.
It instills fear in you, as both of you are aware that such a day will inevitably arrive.
With a few choice words, Chrollo can elicit tears or smiles from you, a feat that few others have managed to accomplish.
You despise it, while Chrollo utterly loves it. Intelligent.
Intelligence encompasses a wide range of abilities, making it possible for Chrollo to be drawn to various types. However, what truly captivates him is a darling who possesses either linguistic or interpersonal intelligence, or even better, both. He desires someone who can effortlessly decipher people's intentions, using words that ignite a fire within him, even if those words are aimed at him or others.
The type or types of intelligence his darling possesses greatly influences their relationship. How he presents himself in public, whether as a kind gentleman or someone who keeps his distance, depends on their emotional intelligence and intuition. Additionally, Chrollo finds it incredibly appealing when his darling shares a specific interest that is completely new to him. This not only allows him to learn something new but also adds another mask to his ever-expanding collection.
Someone who is emotionally intelligent, like his beloved, would pose a challenge for him to manipulate. They possess the ability to understand him better than most, making it all the more satisfying for Chrollo when they succumb to his desires. After all, as Chrollo often says, the greater the risk, the greater the reward.
ā Yandere MBTI: CAMS. (Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict)
Chrollo possesses great skill in dismantling individuals but lacks the necessary expertise to reconstruct them according to his vision. Unfortunately, you have become an unwilling participant in his experiments. Share with him your deepest anguish and vulnerabilities. Chrollo also portrays himself as a universal remedy, claiming that he holds the power to alleviate all your suffering and resolve your troubles, provided you heed his advice.
However, he waits until he has captured you, and your defenses have crumbled. In that moment of vulnerability, when you are cut off from the world, consumed by sorrow, unable to eat or speak, he reveals himself as a deity. He extends his hand to you, leading you along a path he meticulously constructed. This path is filled with suffering, a never-ending cycle of waiting for both of you. But at the end of this dark tunnel lies Chrollo's ultimate desire: your affection.
What is your ultimate pain, what is your ultimate wish? I can provide anything and everything for you, beloved if you do not stray away from the light.
If you happen to encounter him in public before he abducts you, it is because he willingly allows you to do so, aiming to create a favorable impression that will prevent you from suspecting his true intentions. However, if you do find yourself growing suspicious, it is not without justification. Nevertheless, he will persist in attempting to dispel your doubts by showering you with more gifts and displaying gentlemanly behavior such as pulling out your chair and kissing your hand or inner wrist. Yet, everything appears excessively flawless, to the extent of inducing nausea. Everything is soā¦ flawless all of the time, but only when you are around him and him alone. Ironically, despite Chrollo's desire to dissuade your wariness towards him, his tender and kind gestures only evoke fear.
Chrollo effortlessly switches between portraying himself as a divine figure and a malevolent force, adapting to the circumstances at hand. On one hand, he displays an uncanny perfection, never making a mistake and seemingly possessing an understanding of your thoughts and emotions even before you do. On the other hand, he reveals his true nature as pure evil by casually initiating a bet to see who can consume the most alcohol, leaving you as an unwilling participant in this game of his. As soon as you become intoxicated, he unveils himself as the embodiment of wickedness, groaning as your clothes rip off and you cry his mouth is on yours and he keeps murmuring things into your ear that are so much more terrifying than sweet and-
Panaceas are eternal, refusing to fade away, regardless of your preferences. And so is this situation with me, my dearest.
Chrollo often repeats the phrase that he would sacrifice his life for you. However, there is doubt as to whether he truly means it. His actions, whether they be subtle or overt, inflict daily harm upon you, both mentally and physically. He disguises his hurtful behavior as casual conversation, a serious one, and everything in between. Chrollo's self-centered nature raises the question of why he would make such a claim.
You remain unaware of his true intentions, as Chrollo holds the knowledge of what is genuine and what is fabricated close to his chest. He perpetuates this ambiguity, ensuring that you will never uncover the truth. Once again, Chrollo finds himself in a position of guilt, but the specific charges remain unknown. As an impartial judge, you can't discern between deceit and honesty when you have never been taught the difference. Chrollo, determined to maintain this state of uncertainty, ensures that the truth remains elusive, no matter what lengths he has to go to to make sure it stays that way.
Chrollo possesses the ability to assume various roles. He can portray himself as a reliable partner rather than a deceitful captor, a compassionate individual rather than a mass murderer, a savior rather than someone in need of rescue... The possibilities are endless. This charade is not merely a game to him, but a necessity to maintain his faƧade. Even if he desired to, he could never remove these disguises, as he is oblivious to his true identity, because who is he without his lies? Nothing? It is a sorrowful predicament for both me and him, you will think someday, one that may prompt you to ponder whether it is Stockholm Syndrome or your inherent empathy for others.
At some point, you will allow him to take what he desires, whether it be when he reaches a breaking point and loses control, or when you become desperate for any form of human interaction.
Whenever you are in need, call out my name. I will be there to provide whatever cure you desire for the ailment at hand.
ā Unique Qualities.
Yandere Type:Ā
Possessive.
Chrollo in one word would be selfish, and he himself would not deny that it suits him quite well.
Whatever he touches turns to gold in the most metaphorical sense. Whenever he sees something he wants, he will take it. Everything Chrollo takes either has rhyme and reason to it or none at all. He turns them into gold as a sign of who owns them. Even if you have fallen or will eventually fall prey to this touch. The golden touch immobilizes you so you never ever leave him.Ā
Like King Midas, he is selfish, and he takes pride in it. He is never humble in anything he does. That much is certain. He holds you in his arms at night like he knows your weight in gold, that he could never lose you as he lost himself all those years ago. His kisses are gentle when he wants them to be, or they can be as aggressive as he wants them to be. Youāll come to learn that it does not matter what you want, what matters is what Chrollo wants. Does not having a say in your hell hurt? Or does not having a choice help you justify to yourself that you must escape this?
Monitoring. (Watches From Afar / Direct Contact)
Really, it is Shalnark that does most of the work here, but it is still worth mentioning, especially since what Chrollo cannot get through traditional stalking alone, he asks a very teasing Shalnark to get for him. Though, if Shalnark fails, Feitan is put to the task, much to Feitanās quite less than subtle annoyance, not that he would ever voice it. Through this trio, the work is separated into three strategies.
Chrolloās way of finding information is as classic as it comes. Either he is observing you go about your usual day, to that coffee shop you visit before going to work, to the library you frequent on the weekends, to a park you like walking in to see the birds and to get a change of scenery while you read, or he is inside your home, looking through drawers, sampling some leftovers even from your fridge, and making a literal list of things to buy you either later or in the present moment and things to take with him when he inevitably steals you away. Shalnarkās way comes through the internet, through placing cameras in your home and showing Chrollo the footage day in and day out, and perhaps even making an online friend of you if you are that social with other people. To him, itās all childās play, especially with finding family members and friends of yours for later, to perhaps ask them questions under the guise of a fellow friend of yours even. But the information that neither Shalnark nor Chrollo can get from stalking alone relies on Feitan, which is where all the finding people you know and love trickle down and puddle at the bottom of this sort of vial of differing plans. This is a last resort, sort of, because there are better things that Feitan can be doing, really, but he is nothing less than loyal to Chrollo and the other Spiders, so heāll find people who may know the answers his boss was looking for.
He does not blame Chrollo, because if the information was something even Shalnark could not find, it is something so secretive that it could metaphorically be so beneath the waves that it is on the bottom of the ocean floor.
Feitan takes on the role of the more experienced diver because he wants to make Chrollo happy.
Thankfully for most of those you know, only a maximum of perhaps five people are flicked off before you are brought to whatever penthouse Chrollo has bought for the next month or so. The rest can continue with their lives as it was, not that Feitan cares or Shalnark cares or Chrollo cares, except for poor, poor you.
Removing Nuisances. (Murder Likelihood: 8/10)
Similarly to gathering information about you, dealing with rivals follows a similar sort of hierarchy. Chrollo follows them, albeit with far less care and perhaps even stealing a few things along the way, if the rivals are rich enough, though that is quite rare to happen. Instead, he would try to threaten them through anonymous emails or letters, perhaps even with a photo of them sleeping thrown into the mix. But if that does not work, Shalnark is up next, digging up past searches and buyings that the rival perhaps regrets or wants to remain hidden. It could be anything, really, and soon this information will start to spread like a flame until the rivalās reputation is utterly ruined. If the rival is still stubborn about wanting to be romantically involved with you, Feitan is last, burying a corpse underground that looks far from the human it once was by the end of it all, and Feitan, unsurprisingly, likes this sort of business rather than simply lying in wait for a friend of yours to unfortunately cross his path.
Perhaps even Chrollo will join Feitan in this session or sessions. It sometimes happens, when Chrollo is too pent up or feeling especially angry, although he hides it well with a smile that is a bit too wide, at this rival in particular. By the end of it, when both he and Feitan look like they took a bath in blood with their clothes on, Chrollo laughs, and Feitan snickers. He feels good, both of them do. Maybe this is why Chrollo is so taken with you, Feitan wonders. The power and control that comes with youā¦ itās utterly addicting, isnāt it?
Adam and Eve. (Absolute Isolation) (Kidnapping Likelihood: 10/10)
Before he takes you away, Chrollo makes sure that whatever he cannot replace he takes with him. This includes memorabilia, photos, family heirlooms if you have any, and even annotated novels you have on your bookshelf with notes sticking out of them like sore thumbs. He manages to take it all away easily, just like he does with you. Chrollo, despite how selfish he is, still wants in some capacity to make you happy. In your āadapting stageā, you may be able to hide away from him in the bathroom and lock the door, but at least you will have the choice to continue whatever hobbies you had before that Chrollo allows you to do while you are self-isolating.Ā
He sees this small reason for you not to hate him entirely as a win. A triumph followed by many others to come.
Collectorās Habit. (Comfortable Imprisonment / Chains + Cages)
Chrolloās penthouse is lined with things both of significance to him and you. Almost all of it is stuff that he has stolen, however, not that he cares. The paintings lined up in the dining room, the many pretty dresses put in your closet and you are forced to wear, the jewelry that he clasps onto your neck and fingers and wrists like chains, all of them are stolen in some capacity or another.Ā
The things that he had stolen from your home all look like they belong there, almost. Your favorite pink beret placed next to a porcelain plate of macaroons and fruit a note telling you to get ready for a date later in the evening, an old photo of you placed in a frame that ought to be at least three hours worth of your salary, your most cherished books all lined up next to Chrolloās own, all the covers and sizes somewhat similar to one another that it almost drives you mad. It brings Chrollo comfort, while it brings you ire.Ā
Possibly, youāll read one of his Dostoevsky pieces when you think he is gone, or youāll try on one of his many fur coats when it gets too chilly or when you are curious. But curiosity always finds a way to kill the cat, because when you think you are not going to be caught, Chrollo finds a way to sneak up behind you and simply observe, smirking, even when you see him.
Attention-Seeking.
Chrollo has always been one to utterly enjoy being in the limelight. He loves acting parts, playing parts as classy as a Prince Charming to a part as scheming as a villain that has locked the princess in a tower. You get both, the unlucky person you are. He gives you roses and proclaims poems and confessions of absolute love and undying loyalty, but you then remember that he is the one that trapped you here, to begin with.
This life that was forced upon you is a fairytale very close to cracking and falling apart, but never does.
You are forced to be a helpless maiden waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but unfortunately for you, that knight is also the very evildoer in this story. So, you try to be your own knight, your own prince, but it will never be as close or as real as an actual hero. So, your attempts fail, regardless of how long they were in the making. You are not strong enough, not fast enough, and you simply cannot write your own ending in this whimsical tale if Chrollo is always aware of them.
But you come up with a plan that takes weeks upon weeks and months upon months for it to bear fruit.Ā
You'll comply with his desires and make your getaway when he least anticipates it. Thus, you're compelled to dance with Chrollo, flawlessly and without objection, to safeguard your plan. However, with each movement, it feels as though nails are penetrating your foot, for you're uncertain if Chrollo is aware of your actions, and it fills you with immense fear.
But it is too late to back out of this, so you keep on doing this waltz.
Eliminating Rivals.Ā
The basement, as always, is filled with dust and dirt with insects both alive and dead scattered on the floor next to Feitanās equipment. Chrollo does not mind it, though, despite him still wearing the suit he wore when he was following you to the train station, the route you usually took to get back from your best friendās house to your place. He does not like her, but he decides to let her still do whatever with her life as she pleases, unlike the person currently zip-tied to one of the rusty chairs with broken legs. As long as she does not try to seek to be more than friends with you, sheāll be safe from harm. Even though Chrolloās gut is telling him that she will try, that she will kiss you, say āI love youā to you and maybe go on top of you in bed and-
He tries not to think about it, he is already behind schedule enough as it is, though he could just make Feitan do the work by himself. He tries not to think about it because he has to start preparing his penthouse for your arrival soon to come. He has already purchased some new comforter sets for the bedroom, along with some of the skincare products he knows you use in the bathroom. Heās busy, too busy to involve himself with something other than torturing this man and getting back on track. He focuses on the scene ahead, trying not to think about that friend of yours or the barista who always looks at you for a tad bit too long. If he let his emotions and not logic control him, he would have murdered half this town already and left love notes on their headstones.
He looks at the man, covered in his own blood, his own vomit, his own feces from being confined there for days before Chrollo arrived, deathly thin from starvation and dehydration. From what Feitan told him, Feitan gouged out one eye one day and the other eye the next day, leaving him blind and weeping, his vocal cords far-reaching past their limit, crying out gibberish like some sort of animal, something not too conscious enough of its surroundings to be anything considered even near human.
āFei, do you hear that?ā
ā...I do.ā
Sexual Drive: 5/10.
Chrollo knows most of what there is to know about sex, but not for his own pleasure. He uses this knowledge mainly in intelligence gathering, when Shalnark, Feitan, and even Pakunoda are not able to get the information the Troupe needs for their next heist. He holds sex with little to no emotional value because of this, since his love for the other Troupe members is high above what little admiration he could possibly hold for those people that he subtly interrogates while fucking them as gently or as hard as they want him to, whispering in their ear when they are feeling their most euphoric, asking them what dons are trading with each other and with what, asking them how the president of this company makes so much when the value of their imports and exports donāt exactly match up, asking them how exactly many secret passageways this mansion hasā¦ itās endless, really, how much information he can get out of them. The human body is so vulnerable, especially when pain mixes with pleasure or pleasure mixes with pain or pain is alone or please is alone. Chrollo is grateful for it.
But when it comes to sex with you, Chrollo then finally sees the emotional side of this spectrum. Your bodies bond and become one, melting into one another as you both moan out each otherās name, lovingly yours and lovingly his.
This development does not surprise him because he does want an emotional bond with you in some sense of the word, he wants you to worship him just as much as he does with you.
Let us go, shall we? Before you could answer, his hand grabs your wrist, his grip making it impossible for someone like you to break away. Weā¦ have plenty to talk about and do, correct?
Violence Towards Darling: 3/10.
Donāt take this as a sign that he will not use violence on you at all. Believing that Chrollo's violent tendencies towards you are limited to slapping or ignoring you is a naive assumption. You soon realize that attempting to strike him is futile due to his lightning-fast reflexes. Fighting back against Chrollo will not resolve anything. Instead, you come to understand that he wants you to be like a pet, constantly performing tricks and obediently following his commands.
You wonder if he would also display you like a trophy. Uncertain, you contemplate whether or not you want to find out. Eventually, a few nights later, you dream of a life without Chrollo's constant control, where he does not touch you possessively and parade you around expensive events. You recognize that you are nothing more than his lapdog, his pet, his trophy.
However, Chrollo claims to see something more in you. Is he being genuine in his belief? Do you really desire to uncover the truth?
Violence Towards Others: 8/10.
In his search for you, he maintains his usual calm demeanor, though his eyes reveal his inner turmoil. Anger fills his vision, overshadowing any light. Surely, you couldn't have gone too far. He frantically scans the penthouse until he finds you on the balcony... in the company of someone else.
āFeeling intrusive, are we?ā
He pays no mind to the identity of this person, although it's likely they are a former lover or at the very least, a love interest. Your declarations of love and reciprocated kisses leave no room for doubt. How they managed to reach this height is irrelevant to him.
Without uttering a single word, he opens his book, channeling an unseen force from his hands to your ill-fated companion, causing them to plummet to the ground amidst screams from both of you.
After a few moments of tears, mumbled apologies, and the utterance of their name, he informs you that a serious discussion will take place later. With that, you silently follow him back inside. He will contact Shizuku to handle the cleanup of the body in due time.
Vanilla / Kinky
Favorite Kinks:
Begging.
Both inside and outside the bedroom, Chrollo likes having you beg, from you begging him to let you orgasm to you begging him to get you that new book in that series you were quite interested in before you got stolen away. Itās a power dynamic no doubt, it makes him feel wanted by you, needed by you, loved by you. Thatās all he wants, really, your love and devotion and for you to promise to be his sun and moon and stars, for you to say he is bigger and more important to me than the sky, for you to hold him, for him to hold you.
No matter how much time passes, how many different places you both stay in and leave, how many countries you visit for leisure or for Chrollo's next big scheme, he refuses to break this unhealthy pattern, even for your sake. He enjoys this routine, so why would he alter it? He will occasionally tease you for being rather selfish, even as you both grow older and wiser and your hairs both white and your skin wrinkly. He will even say it to you when your corpse is resting peacefully in its coffin, as he sheds tears for the first time in many years.
Every time please, Chrollo, please, Iā¦ comes out of your mouth, it sounds like to him, the most beautiful martial vow.Ā
He locks each and every one into the deepest crevices of his heart like unwilling prisoners, despite how small and cold and dead his said heart is, at least to you. They donāt want to stay, but they have to because I want them there in remembrance. Just like you. Poetic, is it not?
Voyeurism.Ā
The screen in front of him showed you coming out of the shower, your body dripping with soapy water with a towel on your body that barely covered anything and a smaller towel covering your hair that was put up in a clip. Shalnark placing cameras all around your place made things much easier to know things about you that he could not find out through traditional stalking alone. He is grateful for him.
Slowly, as he smiled, one of his hands went into his pants, then his boxers as he caressed the half-hard thing beneath them both. He kept groaning as it got harder and harder, his breathing getting faster and faster. He is not sure how much time had gone by, but he knows that there was now liquid, slow and warm, running down his legs and is all over his hand, and as always, you were none the wiser.
Oral. (Receiving)
Your knees are on the floor, having been there so long it hurts. Your neck is curved backward and your mouth is in pain from his large manhood in there like an unwanted intruder, as you desperately gag and choke and cry. The only reason you have not successfully gotten away is because one of his hands is grabbing the back of your head and pulling you every time you pull, hopelessly still trying to fight.
Your hands are tied behind your back with silk to not damage the skin of your wrists, while you desperately try to claw your way out of them.
Youāre in the clothing that he wants you to wear, as usual, though calling it clothing would be an overstatement as it hardly covers anything. A black thong with a short skirt, along with a low-cut bralette. As always, you have no say in the matter, and even though you are unable to utter a word, he showers you with affectionate words, as fake as they seem.
Favorite Parts:
Your Thighs.
It is more of a comfort thing than anything else, really. The way that it is one of the softest parts of you, one of the meatiest parts of you, and, most of all, the easiest parts of you to grab and hold and kiss and press hickeys into and fuck.
Itās only natural for a thief to want to keep their prized possessions close to them, is it not, my darling?Ā
While Chrollo still places you all of his mementos and diamonds and paintings among the many, many other things he has hidden away in his current penthouse, seeing you as better than all of those things combined, he still sees you, in some ways, as something to be sanctioned, whether it be for your own safety or just his pure, unadulterated selfishness, or perhaps both.
So, he holds onto your thighs at all times pretty much, squeezing the flesh for either attention or just because he needs some security that you are still there with him, no matter how close you physically are to him.
He will occasionally rest his head on your lap, reciting his book aloud while you are obliged to listen. He never dozes off because he is too cautious for that, although he yearns for it. His desire to lie down and have you run your fingers through his hair as he gradually drifts to sleep almost surpasses all his other needs. It may sound like a fantasy for him, no pun intended.
However, it would be a nightmare for you, whether he falls asleep or not. But as always, Chrollo hardly cares. If you dare to object, your longer skirts, shorts, and one pair of sweatpants will vanish for approximately a month, only to be replaced by outrageously short clothes that barely qualify as attire.
Theyāre soft, just like your lips, your voice, just everything else about you, you, you. Itās the parts that most perfectly describe you, heāll say, forcing you to tolerate all his touches because his hand is not going anywhere, just like the rest of me, sweetling.
Just stay still and let me see how plush you are just for me, alright?
If he ignores all the goosebumps and the shivers, he can assume that this is what heaven feels like. It must be, right, dearest?
Your Collarbone.
Despite everything else about him, Chrollo can be a sort of traditionalist when he wants to be. This applies quite rarely though, only really affecting the relationship he has with you, both inside and outside of the bedroom.
He likes how the bones stick out, the crevices just so perfect for him to slide the tip of his fingers across, just so perfect for him to kiss and bite, just so perfect to hang necklaces from so they are on a sort of diagonal and reflect the light, making them shine and making them highlight the hickeys that have been pressed into them, right below them, and right above themā¦
He forces you to wear all kinds of accessories and low-cut shirts that he can find, not caring how much money it would cost, just to see some diamond-encrusted choker on your neck. He says in the calmest voice he can muster that it is no big deal, darling, just trust me and I got this for you and you alone, now why donāt you be a sweetheart and put it on? You might think that a choker and a collar are essentially the same, as they both tightly grip the neck like a suffocating hold. However, Chrollo pays no mind to this, as owners don't concern themselves with their pets realizing they're wearing such a sign of possession.
Your Feet.
Chrollo appreciates art in his own unique way, specifically when it comes to sculpting and realism. He finds your feet to be truly exquisite, along with the rest of you. Despite your attempts to ignore it or cover them up, he has a clear fondness for your feet. Your toes are round, your heels are perfectly shaped, and your soles fit perfectly in his hands when he places heeled shoes on them. In secret, he also enjoys the scent of your feet, although he would never admit it. He would rather die than confess.Ā
Your feet are cute and can become sweaty and sticky, making them easy to hold onto, just like your thighs.Ā
Those traits really remind him after you orgasm, with you of course begging repeatedly for it a few moments before he lets you.
It's a hidden pleasure for him, even if you were to discover it, he would keep it to himself. You won't be able to get any information from him. If you do happen to find out, don't be surprised when a substantial portion of your jewelry drawer is filled with anklets.
His Fingers.
Chrollo admires his hands more than most other parts of his body. He trims his fingernails every two weeks, putting hand cream every time he steps out of the bath, never skipping this routine of his. The reason he admires his hands so much is that despite all the bloodshed and other dirty acts he does with them, they remain on the outside clean. It boosts his ego, in a way.
There are just so many uses for them, he loves flipping the pages of his favorite novels with them, he loves cutting food for both you and himself with them, he loves squeezing your thigh as either a warning or a sign of loveā¦ there are just endless possibilities, at least from his perspective.
But his new favorite thing is to fuck your clit with them, and yours alone.
Is it a privilege, then, that only yours can bring him such joy? Whether you believe it to be so or not, it holds no significance, for Chrollo finds pleasure in this, and only his satisfaction matters, given that he is the one who has taken you captive.
Please, Chrollo, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I canāt take this anymore I-
His movements are flawlessly executed, almost unfairly so. They are deliberate yet unhurried, demanding your submission. However, he will only grant you this pleasure if you plead for it. The act of begging will consume several minutes, perhaps even a minimum of two, leaving you in a state of desperation. Meanwhile, he will revel in your discomfort, relishing the power he holds over you. This perverse satisfaction is what he adores the most.
As you wish.
Inevitably, you will find yourself succumbing to your desires, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he provides. Despite your stubbornness, your willpower will eventually crumble under the weight of his expertise.
He derives immense pleasure from knowing that he alone possesses the ability to bring you such ecstasy. This knowledge fuels his ego, heightening his sense of self-importance.
His Words.
Chrollo has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but he also derives great pleasure from imparting knowledge and amusingly embarrassing others. And when it comes to you, he takes it to another level.
He constantly showers you with compliments, comparing you to famous heroines like Juliet and Ophelia from classic literature. He insists that you possess the same beauty as any damsel in distress from those timeless tales. To prove his point, he even offers to acquire paintings of these fictional princesses and damsels for you to admire and compare yourself to.
Wanting a break from his constant attention, you agree to his proposal. Besides, you get the bonus of owning some exquisite artwork. What could go wrong, right?
Well, it turns out to be a colossal mistake.
Upon waking up, you find yourself surrounded by what feels like an entire museum filled with paintings of fictional damsels, duchesses, princesses, and queens. The overwhelming presence of these artworks threatens to suffocate you. And to make matters worse, Chrollo insists on meticulously going through each painting one by one, forcing you to endure this ordeal that could very well last for days.
Your legs resemble hers, your lips resemble hers, your feet resemble hers... every aspect of your physique and the muse's physique that he remarks upon, leaves you feeling incredibly exposed, more so than ever before.
The duration of this process is absolutely exasperating. It leaves you feeling as defenseless as a lamb anticipating its fate in the hands of a butcher.
His Knowledge.
Chrollo truly treasures his knowledge, viewing it as divine nectar from the heavens, if indeed it exists. This belief is so strong that he occasionally overestimates it, taking every opportunity to display it in a way that impresses you more than anything else he does, both inside and outside of the bedroom. Whether intentionally or not, he will state the obvious, like pointing out that the creature you're observing in the rose garden during your ādateā is not a slug, but a snail.Ā
It frustrates you, but you acknowledge that it could be worseāhe could forbid you from venturing outdoors altogether.Ā
Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it?Ā
ā¦Doesnāt it?
Fantasies. (Consent / Non-Con) (Coercion / Brute Force)
If one were to make a comparison, they would compare you to a piece of art so beautiful, that it is instinct to witness, praise, and worship until their bodies all turn to mere dust, in which they will be swept away by those alive who do not want your refinement to be stained by those who have passed on. For what is a beauty without a beholder? Chrollo will gladly take up that role, as he is the only one worthy of seeing such a piece. You, leaning on the pillows, legs crossed, hair put up in a neat bun, wearing makeup that he has said he likes on you before, looking up at him like he has come to bless you with a mere glimpse of the divine power he holds, wearing the black lingerie he chose for you to wear this evening, made of lace with patterns of roses scattered about.
This is his welcome home gift, from both himself and you. He may have requested that you could partake in this, but since you are doing it without any complaint but instead loving doing the task at hand, he could consider him soon becoming one with your body for the evening to be an award from you for all the work he has done for the Troupe these past few days.
If such a prize is laid before him, ripe for the taking, why wouldnāt he? So, without so much as uttering another word, he starts to undress as you watch, a mix of genuine joy and interest laid out on your face. He hasnāt even touched you yet, and with this simple act, you are bound to him with the invisible thread of lust.
When his boxers are all the way down, he approaches, and you donāt blink, wanting to take it all in. Shall the fun start? When your lips meet, all reservations that you once had dissolve, as few as they are now.
(But donāt think Chrollo respects your boundaries completely when it comes to sex; if you deny him enough, over the course of months and months, he will break his composure and show you where you belong; underneath him.)
ā Strengths.
Realities. (Your Own, His Avow) (Patient / Impatient)
The being that is above you in this bed is unlike any human you have ever met before. His looks and personality are all artificially crafted, like some automaton made to resemble actual living things, but do not stray far from their roots, what they were made for, and what they were made of. Iām real, you think, Iām real. Chrollo is not.
Heās aware of everything you do. Every step you take. Every word you say.
He is aware. He possesses knowledge of all things, much like the god he feigns to be. His understanding of emotions is as keen as his logical reasoning, resulting in a situation of dread that pertains solely to you.
It instills fear within you because he holds the key to all knowledge, while you remain in not-so-blissful ignorance.
ā Weaknesses.
Lotus Eater. (Dreamy Idleness)
Chrollo, despite his attempts to appear superior to others, is not without his flaws. If those around him stroke his ego, he becomes overly confident. Yet, if one were to try the opposite approach, it would have the same effect as boosting his ego. He is cursed with arrogance, always believing he is superior to others, even some members of the Troupe. Perhaps you can use this knowledge to your advantage. Faking affection could lower his guard and further inflate his narcissism. It is a strategic move, preferable to engaging in a physical fight that you cannot possibly win.Ā
Therefore, when you believe you have the opportunity to escape when his guard seems lowered enough that he won't immediately pursue you, you run. At that moment, his facade will crack, his eyes will grow emptier, and the hollow husk chasing after you will not resemble the Chrollo you once knew.
ā Daily Life.
Welcome. (Day One)
Chrollo remains a mystery begging to be left unsolved.
He rises at his usual hour each morning, and it's a rarity to witness him actually sleeping. His breakfast consistently consists of sausage and eggs, seasoned solely with salt and pepper, as he avoids other spices. He purchases fresh bread from whichever local bakery happens to be closest for the week or a few days ahead. Occasionally, if you're fortunate, he may bring back something sweet while out and about, such as a chocolate-filled croissant or a cherry jam-filled danish. However, trust, whether in platonic or romantic relationships, is something that must be earned.
Interestingly, it appears that regardless of the circumstances, Chrollo seems to possess a certain level of trust that you won't make any foolish choices. On your initial day in this penthouse, he simply greeted you, patiently waiting until the effects of the drugs wore off, allowing you to cry on the bed until your tears ran dry. He comforted you, softly shushing you and gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb.
Yet, he never becomes too intimate.
Was that his motive? Is that why he opted to masquerade as a compassionate gentleman rather than a captor? Instead of asserting his authority, he chose to console you, demonstrating that such solace could be snatched away in an instant. You were oblivious to his true intentions. On that initial day, you wept more than any other day, the taste of mint on Chrollo's breath and the aroma of coffee still etched in your memory. He would inflict further harm, and for the sake of your sanity, you believe it is preferable for him to remain an enigma, shielding you from the repulsive monster lurking beneath his attractive facade.
What Could Be. (And What Is)
Strangely enough, there are still parts of your life after Chrollo has captured you that would still sort of count as normal enough that you could turn the other way and ignore all other cosmic horrors that are happening in the general vicinity. You could still decide what you want to eat and drink that day, what to watch, what to read, what time to wake up and what time to go to bed, what to write in your diary (that not-so-strangely has its lock missing now), listen to the morning birds or to the music that Chrollo allows you to listen to (which is most of it, shockingly)... the list really is endless, really, aside from a few things that you forget sometimes, much to future youās horror.
But sometimes you forget on purpose, to divulge in the fantasy Chrollo has carefully crafted for both of you, either to fool him or your walls really are as broken down as he wants them to be.
He finds it nice when you ask him questions about whatever place he has rented for the two of you for the time being, the location at hand most likely being related to the Troupeās plans to steal whatever is of value. He likes to show off, and to listen to him talk for hours requires the patience of a saint.
ā Punishments. (No Punishments / Tortuous Punishments)
Welcome Again. (Failed Departure)
The penthouse looked to be the same after you ran out the entrance door that you lockpicked. The fireplace was still lit. There was still a smell of peppermint in the air along with some scent of coffee, lattes maybe. Everything looks the same, just as it always has. It nearly scares you more, how calm and warm this place is, than the hand that has a grip on your wrist so tight that you feel like he will dislocate it in the very least.
But he does not look angry, but that smile is not good at all either.
He does not say anything as he closes the door behind him, turning the lock on the door so it will remain that way. He does not say anything as he continues to drag you, albeit a bit more tight in his grip now that you are within his grasp once again. Whatever you say goes in one ear and out the other, and you know better than to struggle and scream, because you do not want this day to result in yet another bloodbath, and it would be useless anyway, even if someone came to rescue you. That is why, like the sort of pet you were trained to be, you bite your tongue and obey. He seems to not be angry now, but who knows what awaits you once you are in the bedroom, where most talks and actions are the consequences of your supposed crimes. You canāt really breathe, but that is alright. Chrollo will help you every step of the way after all, as the dutiful owner he has come to be.
Perhaps a pet is all you will be.
He wants you to look up at him like some god, some deity that you worship with all your being. But you canāt, not yet, and Chrollo knows that. Perhaps some methods unknown to you but known to him can help, canāt it?
He hopes so for your sake, but what do you hope for, wish for? You donāt know, and maybe never will.
Venus Fly Trap. (Temptations of a Liar)
Chrollo is well aware of the diverse array of predatory flowers, each manifesting in its own unique way. Perhaps you too possess such characteristics, with your alluring fragrance and honeyed speech, deceiving him into a false sense of security before stripping it all away. However, there is one crucial detail you seem to have overlooked. What transpires when a venus fly trap ensnares a prey that surpasses its own size and devours its own kind and others, rather than the typical fly it ensnares?
Undoubtedly, they suffer. Yet it appears that this lesson has eluded you thus far, hasn't it?
You have displayed kindness, sweetness, and a willingness to comply, within certain limits. Undoubtedly, you possess some degree of skill, though not enough to deceive him, the enigmatic masked orchestrator of this theatrical production.
Therefore, it is without much remorse that he renders you motionless with delicate silk and persuasive words that possess the potential to sting, should you ever dare to push him too far.
However, deep down you are aware of the truth, just as he is aware too. If he doesn't take a firm stance, what other undesirable situations will you find yourself in? With a single hand, he flips open the book, while using the other to shush you.
āA shame,ā He says, turning the pages. āA crying shame, really. The sky is so lovely tonightā¦ Who knows when we will get this scenery again, hmm?ā
You donāt know what he will do to you.Ā
ā¦Does he?
ā Quotes.
Hello.
Greetings. It is truly an honor to meet you face to face like this at long last, [First]. There is no need to introduce yourself to me as I already know who you are. That, andā¦ hmm. That, and I think you are not all there right now. Please, I recommend relaxing and listening to what I have to say. But just to make sure, try to speak to meā¦ as expected.
Chat: Ballet.
All dancers must put themselves fully into whatever moves they do. I suppose that can be the same thing for you and me.
Chat: Athenaeum.
Libraries and archives are some of the places I enjoy going to the most. Maybe if you continue behaving, Iāll take you to one nearby.
Chat: Reimbursement.Ā
Quid pro quo, darling; I assume you know the best ways to compensate me for the broken locks?
When It Rains.
The rain is perfect for a day of staying inside. Though, heheā¦ youāll be indoors no matter what, right? Good thing you have me as company today. ā¦What do you mean? I leave sometimes, mainly to get you things might I add. I suggest being more grateful if you donāt want that koala plush to disappear.
After It Rains.
Sighā¦ the smell of morning dew and the sounds of birds chirpingā¦ simply marvelous. Letās go dance on the balcony, but be sure not to get your new shoes wet and slip. I would hate to have to bring Machi again.
When Thunder Strikes.
Aw, are you going to cling to me so cutely whenever there is a storm? I wouldnāt mind that, Iāll even give you more blankets to hide in if you wish. ā¦Wait, dearest, come backā¦ sighā¦ of course she hid under the bed again.
When It Snows.
So cold out there, isnāt it? If you ask nicely, Iāll give you back your socks and slippers. Go on.
When the Sun Is Out.
Letās go on a walk tonight when itās not so hot out. The sunsetās beauty will only be second to your own.
Good Morning.
Good morning, love, I made coffee. Feel free to use one of the creamers I got you, and there is oat milk near them somewhere in the fridgeā¦ Hm? I have never really been a fan of sweet drinks, so black coffee tastes good to someone like me.Ā
Good Afternoon.
Sure, you can cook lunch. But allow me to cut the ingredients and heat sources. We know how you used them last time.
Good Evening.
Itās so quiet you can only hear the crickets chirping. Itās quite a romantic atmosphere, isn't it?
Good Night.
Ah ah ah. No bed for you yet. Give me a goodnight kiss first. No, you canāt sleep on the couch either. Or the floor. If you keep refusing, Iām going to ask you more questions than yesterday. ā¦Thatās better.
About Chrollo: Tattoos.
There is something comforting about them, I think. No matter what the person does to reject it, it will stay. The permanence of such an act should also be what you should be. Now, bite me again and you will sooner than later find yourself in a tattoo parlor. Am I understood?
About Chrollo: Lies.
Donāt say that, my love. Iām not lying to you, Iām just picking what parts of the truth to show and hide. There is no harm in that, I think.Ā
About Us: Home.
This place is much more human with you in it. Do with that as you wish.
About Us: Cull.
Life and death have a sort of agreement. A contract if you will. The more lives taken by your hands, the more your own life is put at risk. Quite poetic. Like everything else in life, there must be balance.
About Us: Matrimony.
Being bound by just a few wordsā¦ The very idea is beautiful in my opinion. If you want, we can get married. It is not like anyone else is going to put that pretty ring finger of yours to good use, anyway.
About Us: Panoply.
Anything you want you shall receive. Just say the word. Unless it is already here, which is a possibility.
About You: Humanity.
The human psyche is truly fascinating, donāt you agree? All it takes is a few words or a few actions and it all comes crumbling down. Like you.
About You: Epiphany.Ā
Not a man, not ten men, not a hundred men can ever provide me with the same joy you give me. Youāre special, you know? You make me feelā¦ alive.
Something to Share.
āBe glad as children, as birds in the sky.ā A quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky. Butā¦ birds are constantly migrating to better places, so really, are they grateful and glad for the gift of life?
Interesting Things.
I see you are doing experiments with pH again. Just be sure to not use all of the vinegar, please. And no, vinegar cannot melt a door, for the final time.Ā
About Nobunaga.
He thinks more with his heart than his head. But he means well for the Troupe. Or himself when he makes someone call to order takeout for him.Ā
About Feitan.
I learned a lot of torture methods from him. He truly is the best at what he does. As for social skillsā¦ not so much. But everyone has their ups and downs, and that is Feiās.
About Machi.
One of the most loyal people I have ever met. Also one of the most in tune with their wants and needs. If she thinks of something to say, sheāll say it without a doubt. She is very transparent when it comes to that kind of thing.
About Hisoka.
Hisokaā¦ he is veryā¦ out there, isnāt he? But he is valuable to me, so I give him free rein to do whatever he wishes.
About Phinks.
One of the physically strongest. Though also one of the only ones to ever get a laugh out of me. Shizuku once asked him why he did not have any eyebrows, and the way he stopped talking and stared at the ceiling caused us all to snicker. Feitan did earn a blow to the head by the end of it because Phinks does not hit womenā¦ He is much more gentlemanly than he appears.
About Shalnark.
When it comes to computers and such, Shalnark is the person to do it. He was the one to convince me to get a newer phone model and taught me how it worked. He kept chuckling as he did, and every question I had asked earned a wide smile in response but no actual answer. He says I am anā¦ āold man at heartā¦?ā
About Franklin.
He is not the most talkative one out there, but if ever comes to games to decide matters, he is the one for the job. Once, Uvogin betted fifty thousand Jenny if he ever beat me in chess. Franklin managed to almost win in the end, but he gave up at the last moment. He said he couldnāt bear to do that to me.
About Shizuku.
At long last, she at least remembers my name. She is quite charming in her own wayā¦ I see why Franklin took on a sort of caretaker role for her.
About Pakunoda.
Pakuā¦ Paku is one of the sweetest people I know. Whenever I didnāt feel well, she was the first one to come and help me feel better. She even fed me her rations, regardless of the tough times we were put through. I should ask her to make me soup again, I have missed the taste of itā¦
About Bonolenov.
When he trusts you enough, he has quite a humorous and proud side. He is very proud of his culture, and as someone who did not have one as a child, I find it very admirable.
About Uvogin.
I swear he could drink enough beer to kill a whale and still not be satisfied. The same goes for fights. Any challenge goes, whether that is an eating or video game contest.
About Kortopi.
His copying ability is quite useful, and Nobunaga wanted to give him a haircut using his sword. He declined of course, much to Nobunagaās disappointment. ā¦Hm? A copy of you? No, you are priceless, and nothing can ever compare, even a version of you that does everything I ask. There is a charm to your disobedience. That, and Kortopi cannot make living copies.
More About Chrollo: I.
Come. I got you some books for us to read together. But before you touch them, I must tell you that you can only read them while on my lap. Isnāt that such a great deal, dearest?
More About Chrollo: II.
āBetter to reign in Hell than serve in Heavenā¦ā Yes, I can see the parallels between this line and myself. Is that why you decided to show me this? ā¦Oh, you just wanted an excuse to call me Lucifer again. Do what you wish, I suppose. But please put that book back on the shelf where it came from when you are done. You know I hate it when you mess up the categories. ā¦Hm? Donāt do that, or I wonāt get you any more mochi. ā¦You know my threats arenāt empty, my dear.
More About Chrollo: III.
ā¦Do you need something from me, dearest? No? ā¦Why am I asking? So you just happen to be pressing your chest against my arm for no apparent reason? ā¦I see. Well, if you want my attention so badly, who am I to refuse?
More About Chrollo: IV.
Yes, that note is from me. That gift is also from me. Open it, please. ā¦You should try wearing that set next time. Your thighs will stand out better. You were the one that was asking last night, not me. Ah, you are feeling rather adventurous these past few weeks, arenāt you? ā¦Looking for something? Is this it? You know, Iām disappointed in you, to put it frankly. I thought you were coming around. You know what happens now, donāt you?
More About Chrollo: V.
Time has certainly sped by, hasnāt it? Let me give you a word of advice. No matter what happens, always remember those who have gotten you to where you are now. As a result, your situation can prove to be much less isolating that way. ā¦Yes, that includes me. For when you are alone, my dear, your mind always finds a way to eat you whole.
Chrolloās Hobbies.
Leading an orchestra and executing a grand theft operation share fundamental principles. It is imperative to maintain a commanding presence, ensuring that others adhere to your lead. Collaboration becomes the pivotal factor in achieving triumph during such endeavors.
Chrolloās Troubles.
I find it perplexing how some individuals effortlessly navigate life with a serene demeanor, rooted in their unwavering sense of self. Maybe it stems from a twinge of envy, or perhaps there's another elusive element at play. But being envious is part of being human, is it not?
Favorite Food: Black Squid Ink Carbonara.
It is briny, and salty, like the sea. Quite refreshing as well, especially paired with homemade pasta. Only the best quality is allowed. ā¦I am not being too picky. Do you know how many children in Meteor City have grown up never eating from a fast food place, much less a local restaurant? I simply am greedy because I can now. I couldnāt before, and that is why I do so as an adult.
Favorite Food: Opulence.Ā
As an adult, my current ability to indulge in greed is a newfound privilege that I couldn't have experienced previously. Hence, I find it impossible to resist the temptation of adding an extra serving of truffle or caviar to my plate.
Least Favorite Food: Canned Cabbage.
One of the very few foods I refused to eat unless absolutely necessary was canned cabbage. It was slimy and always came in watery vinegar with mostly moldy partsā¦ I was desperate, but not desperate enough to eat that. Machi, Nobunaga, and Phinks all agreed. Feitan didnāt, much to everyoneās annoyance.
Least Favorite Food: Waste.
Paku, Machi, and Feitan had a sort of pact that they forced on the rest of us to never throw away things that were still edible. According to Shalnark and Uvogin, moldy food is still edible. Phinks and I disagreed butā¦ we got outvoted.Ā
Receiving a Gift: I.
Indulging in scrumptious meals truly possesses the power to alleviate all worries. So, how can I express my gratitude?
Receiving a Gift: II.
Oh? Thank you, dearest. ā¦For your own good, you better not have put salt instead of sugar this time.
Receiving a Gift: III.
Ah... considering you seem to have a moment to spare, would you be interested in sitting down and enjoying a shared reading session? The choice of material is entirely up to you, of course.
Chrolloās Birthday.
You are such a prize, you know? Youāre in an outfit worth its weight in gold, actually, now that I think about it, diamonds. Autumn has set in, the weather gets colder, and the food gets warmer. Perfect time for spending quality time with someone, wouldnāt you say so? Please, allow me to do this with you, [First]. I have never really cared for this day if I am being honest, butā¦ now that you are here, I feel like new opportunities are around every corner.
Birthday.
Happy birthday, [First]. Within reason, I would like to treat you to whatever your heart desires. Food, art, wine; anything, just tell me, alright? I will see to it. ā¦Heh. Iām afraid a fall from this penthouse will not be enough to kill me. ā¦No, I am not going to put it to the test, since I am certain about it. Please think of something else. The world is your oyster, dearest. Butā¦ remember that I can always close it before you can get to the pearl.
Feelings About You: Ethereal.
This feelingā¦ I havenāt felt something like this sinceā¦ Hmm? Am I? Quite the observation.
Feelings About You: Euphonious.Ā
ā¦I miss your voice, you know. I always like it when you get caught up in a topic that interests you, no matter what it is. ā¦But last time I took the gag off and took you out, you behaved quite terriblyā¦ Here, Iāll tell you what. Iāll take the gag off, and Iāll get you something related to your interests, and then we can talk about it. Does that sound good to you?
Feelings About You: Eternity.
We shall be together forever, bonded at the hip if we must be. I promise you. Do not worry about the details. It does not matter if you like it or not, because I will take care of whatever obstacles get in our way. Whether that obstacle is you or anyā¦ outsiders.
Feelings About You: Elision.
Do know that I do mean it when I say that I do want to make you happy. Yes, our relationship is less than ideal, but in the end, just know my feelings for you are indeed sincere. ā¦Iām not exactly willing to take criticism, but I could try, perhaps. If you like to do so, I am willing to compromise, though.
ā Conclusion.
You never hear Chrollo in his movements, but you do in his actions when he wants you to.
He puts far more effort into the little things, the details than outright saying his feelings for you, or just telling you his threats. That mysterious gift that appeared on your bed while you were away at work, that just so happens to contain some of your favorite sweets?Ā
The bouquet on your kitchen table that was placed while you were asleep? The box of dozens if not at least a hundred pictures of you by your mailbox when you tried to file a police report?Ā
Chrollo is patient to a fault. You will never know what is happening, at its fullest, until it is far too late.
You can put as much blame on yourself as you want, and hate yourself as much as you want, for not realizing how dangerous this entire situation is. But this position under Chrolloās thumb is so much more horrifying than you could ever imagine, so do not blame yourself for not noticing everything at once.
That is not to say Chrollo wonāt try to degrade you into thinking this is all your fault.
Your walls will be as good as broken and crumbled down sooner than you think.
#aya analyses#yandere hxh#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere hunter x hunter x reader#yandere hxh x reader#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere chrollo lucilfer#chrollo x reader#hxh x reader#yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader#hxh smut#hunter x hunter x reader
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Why is Hellfire (AND JUDGE CLAUDE FROLLO'S PERSONALITY) creepy in itself?
Take it from a Theater Major! Let's dive in his song breakdown!
In a musical, there are 3 types of songs. There are "establishing/new songs", an "I am song", and an "I want" song.
Establishing/new songs are made toā self explanatoryā establish the existence of the set and the characters without getting much depth as it focuses on the build up of the world the characters are living in or what the center of that place is supposed to be.
Let's not stray too far. Let's use The Bells of Notre Dame. Clopin, as the narrator, elaborates that an object, or a phenomena is linked to the character but doesn't really say what the character's in depth wants, needs etc are included (Which is the Bells and the Cathedral herself). 'The bells of Notre Dame' is played at the first part of the film/musical to establish a backstory or a character's focal point and a glimpse of moral standpoint (Claude's backstory and the Existence of Quasimodo) and to establish the setting (Which is Paris 1482 + 1462 flashback). That's the establishing/new song. It is also used as breathers like Flight into Egypt.
Next is an "I want Song". "I want" songs are automatically given to the main characters so the audience can get a peek of the beliefs of these characters and resonate with them in a sense. This kind of song elaborates the purpose and goals they try to achieve.
Quasimodo's "Out There" is a very good example of an "I want" song. He sings about his dream/goal to go down the bell tower without any consequencesā "Just to live one day out there" as he would quote (love you quasi). That's where he's at and that's what he wants. To feel like he belongs. (ALSO, GOD HELP THE OUTCASTS IS AN I WANT SONG)
Next is an "I am" song. Now, an "I am" song isn't directly given to villains/anti-heroes either. These can be used as a type of song to other characters. But in most cases, villains own these songs. Good example of an "I am" song is:
āGastonā from Beauty and the Beast,
āPoor Unfortunate Soulsā from The Little Mermaid,
āMother Knows Bestā from Rapunzel,
or āBe Preparedā from The Lion King.
All of these songs explain who they are not just on one fragment. But the entirety of it.
Villains use this to establish the dynamic and the power they are trying to uphold and "shove in" the viewer's faces to who they are.
Now, the problem (the situation, rather) in Hellfire, is Frollo gets an I WANT song instead of an I AM song. Again, An I WANT song is used for the protagonistsā to allow us to see the goodness in their hearts and what they want best.
He tried to just do an I AM song, given that the first verse is literally
āBeata Maria, you know I am a righteous man of my virtue I am justly proud.
Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common vulgar weak licentious crowd.ā
He tries to convey that Hellfire is an I AM song but eventually slips into the lines like he wanted her bad. Like... BAD bad.
And now since Frollo got an I WANT song, we saw what he wanted, which is lusting on Esmeralda + his moral dilemma. AND WE DON'T REALLY WANT TO SEE THAT, DO WE?? (I do. hehe). We saw things that we didn't really want to see. In this instance, his "little trouble at the fireplace."
And it's disgusting and disturbing to see how twisted a person is when left repressed and pushed. Not to mention that he's being sacrilegious himself because he blames that it's the Most High's plan that he made the devil "so much stronger than the man.". It's creepy. I know. sighs.
He's given a divine intervention (film), when he said "Let her taste the fires of hell or else let her be mine and mine alone!" Which he straight up rejects even if he asked for the sign himself AND PROCEEDS TO SING AND FINISH THE WHOLE DAMN THING.
So yeah, he's creepy, hellfire is twisted as it is. You get the gist. Thanks for listening to me yap. Take notes in case you wanted to write a musical. Yun lang! Mwah. HAHAHAHAHA
#the hunchback of notre dame#hunchback of notre dame#claude frollo#thond#disney#frollo#hellfire#the hunchback of notre dame musical#theater#musical tips#character design#musical pieces#out there#heaven's light
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bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.
the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.
children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.
then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.
then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.
people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.
suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.
new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope ā there's always hope ā but my god the pain is overwhelming.
there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.
faceless bears go missing.
faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.
suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!
but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.
everyone went through hell ā purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.
when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.
the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.
the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!
behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.
one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.
it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.
now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear ā again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.
every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.
a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.
and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.
there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.
luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.
those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.
my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy ā it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.
and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).
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[ Wow, you're seriously going to attempt reading about me?? Alright then, before we begin this long and tiresome charade, let's go over the basic information you NEED to know and understand.. ] [ NO! i do not want to subscribe to your OF] [ I don't "want" you. I don't "need" you. I don't want to "come see you". ] [ Please for the love of whatever you love most, do not bother telling me this post offended youļæ¼]
[ Aw you look beautiful when youāre smiling! Love those shoes too ;) ]
[ Alright, get comfortable my darling ] [ I love people, i just don't find many interesting. So technically, the law of averages works against you.] [ You might be awesome.. please, feel welcome to change my mind ] [ Okay, Lets go. ] [ My name is Arias ]
[ You pronounced that wrong! ] [ I like coffee ] [ I like people. I wouldn't be able to live without people.] [ I love talking ] [ You don't know me ] [ You probably wouldn't understand me even if you did ] [ I'm From London ] [ I also live in Los Angeles, Sydney and New york ] [ Because i can ] [ I travel a lot ] [ I'm 6'3 ] [ I like short girls ] [ Not midgets. Short girls ] [ My dad's white, my mum's spanish .. Incase you wondered ]
[ I love American accents! Theyāre so fucking cute!! ]
[ I'm English ] [ Yes i have an accent, it's london with a hint of sydney] [ I like it.. ] [ No you probably will never hear it ] [ I've played Piano, Guitar and Violin since i was 4 ] [ I write lyrics and music when i'm bored ] [ No i will not write you a song ] [ Yes i can sing ] [ No i will not sing for you ] [ I love to cook ]
[ No i will not cook for you ] [ I'm blunt so i can be an arsehole ] [ I'm quite nice in general ] [ I'm passive, i really don't give a fuck ] [ Unless i care.. then I absolutely give a fuck ] [ I won't suck up just so you like me ] [ I do what I want ] [ I do not like cameras, in case youāre wondering why my page isnāt littered with selfies ] [ No i will not be your trick monkey ] [ or your human puppet ]ļæ¼ [ enough. ] [ Make me smile, make me laugh, i'll get addicted to you ] [ I'm a cuddle whore ] [ I'm attracted to pretty faces and beautiful smiles ] [ I'm a dreamer ] [ I love to plan dreamy dates and sensational moments] [ I have sleep issues. I like my issues ] [ I love to read ] [ I think you're spiffy because you're still reading this ] [ I'm bored right now, so i may NEVER stop. ] [ I LOVE to cook. I even bake my own bread haha ] [ If you tak lyke dis, dun fuhkin tak 2 me mkay? ] [ Right. got that off my chest ] [ I swim, i run, i eat unhealthy, my body is so confused, but it's pretty to look at? ] [ I love music, i have way too much music for one guy ] [ I love kids, i have 3 god children and they rock my world ] [ I'm opinionated and judgemental, however, i will listen to your opinion and i will listen to your side of the story] [ I'm hopelessly romantic ] [ I'm very very very picky ] [ No. I'm not looking for anything or anyone ] [ Romance.. is so misunderstood ] [ I'm broken ] [ No. You can't fix me ] [ Wow. I didn't stop. You didn't stop. We're still here and we're meant to be *gushes* haha ] [ I'll probably adopt. ] [ I'm always bored ] [ I like conversation ] [ I love to read ] [ I don't like pictures, i figure that if there is something beautiful enough, it'll burn into my memory ] [ I however, do not want you to hit on me ] [ I can be very perverted ] [ No, this does not imply i want to talk dirty ] [ Or.. that i want you to talk dirty ] [ Please try not to be too creepy.. PRETTY PLEASE? ] [ I'm also very moralistic ] [ I love my imagnation ] [ I have a major oral fetish ] [ Do we have things in common? ] [ No, You could probably never be my dream girl ] [ I have never had a one night stand ] [ Yes, i'm very picky and fucking frustrating ] [ Are you Captain Entertainment? Sent to rescue me from the trescherous depths of boredom? ] [ Didn't think so.. ] [ I love cookies, they make me happy ] [ I love cold miserable rainy weather ] [ I'm cheeky ] [ I'm complicated ]
[ I'm curious ]
[ Did the brackets annoy you? ]
[ Stupid word count ]
[ Go on.. Judge me! ]
[ Message me if you still want more ]
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