#if you hate this color you're wrong. not sorry

[rinis-rift]

(Ok sorry I think i did this inthe comments sorry) so if you have the time to take this request, it would mean a lot. So Basically trans-male idol reader x baby saja, Art Nouveau and Surrealism, I think for song-wise placing the blame by self and vampire empire by big thief for the vibe but also for like the main characters stage persona I think like girls & boys is like a pretty good example basically the two (baby and reader) connect over their hated for the personas that were forced on to them (reader it's by the fans and baby it's by gwi ma) and basically reader is tired of the fans femnizing him and but he doesn't want to quit because his label treats him and his friends well and he likes being lead dancer and getting to be in a group with his best friends but it's getting to much and so baby takes him to a fairground and arcade and baby reassures that he is a boy (thx for reading feel free to change if you want and sorry again for doing it wrong I am just a little bit dumb) have a nice day/morning/afternoon bye

Placing the Blame (On the) Vampire Empire

ꕥ Art Nouveau with the element of Surrealism in Base Colors!

ftm!Reader x Baby

extra: i genuinely jumped when the "are you man enough?" part came on, and then i physically stopped when i started playing Vampire Empire. STAR, YOU'RE AN ICON- HOLY SHITTT- this is the music I thrive for. the disgusting feeling of dread that makes your surroundings fade to black

you didn't put what kind of format you wanted so I will make this bulletpoint form. i am not trans but i am agender, so i might not capture the whole feeling, so i genuinely hope i worded this as accurate as possible, i am so sorry if i don't+ i made this more [reader] centered and made baby's role more supportive & i didn't write them to go out bc i didn't see an opening (I'M SO SORRY I FEEL LIKE I CHANGED YOUR REQUEST SO MUCH)

anyway sorry for yapping, i just know this is a very real struggle that i also sometimes juggle with- so i hope i do it justice, you are valid. don't let anyone say otherwise

i am so sorry if i wrote something insensitive or simply inaccurate in here or if i worded something that twists the meaning- do not be afraid to call me out, I want this to be comfortable and validating, not vice versa

100 Follower's Event

You looked at the comments too long.

You know it’s not right, your label and your friends constantly advise against it, but that sick feeling rolled inside of you again. 

Validation. The want to feel validated.

Validated to be a boy.

A real bー

“[Name] is such a queen for that move”

“You can really see his feminine side come out when he dances”

“He’s trying to be so tough but you can really see how cute he really is”

“He’ll never stop being fem1!!!1!”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and it sinks like the fucking titanic at how heavy you suddenly felt.

Now here you were, cracked in half on the silent ocean floor like it. Suffering the consequences, you hunched over and stared blankly at the floor, passing the mirror too quickly on your way out.

As quickly as you could in this heavy disguise, you reach the house of your trusted friend, the one you feel like has any semblance of understanding the acidic feeling that never fails to burn and fry your insides.

Baby wasn’t doing anything meaningful inside his room, his thumbs mindless pushing the mechanics of his nintendo too quickly with a blank look

But he looks up immediately when his door opens. 

“Didn’t I tell you to kn-” He stops the moment he gets a good look at you, and puts away his games quickly.

That look in your eyes, hollow, wide, disgusted- he knew you looked at the comments.

He takes off your hat, it’s been shielding your upper face the whole time.

Your eyes look at the sage green sweater Baby has on, a stark difference from his bright pink sweater that he always wore under the guise of the public.

Your eyes eventually meet his, and in his eyes, you break.

Your face sniffles as you twitch, your eyes and cheeks and nose wrinkle into an expression that Baby hates to see.

“Hey, hey..” He whispers, slowly extending his arms to hold your face, the moment his cool hands reach your warm cheeks, your tears start to spill messy.

Like a broken faucet, the tears don’t stop, you fall onto Baby, you engulf him, and he hugs you back.

The clothes you wore to conceal your body seems to burn against your skin at how warm and hot they were, Baby notices it too. He wants to take them off and see you in your normal clothes.

You both have had intense meetings like this before, where you both rant and scream at how your fanbases treated you- like little girls and babies. 

Baby always described it like acting in a boring play in front of millions in a tight and itchy costume- You couldn’t agree more.

Baby has seen you cry like this before, and each time his hatred for that subsection of your fan base grows. You were a real boy, you’re valid, you’re not any less of a man than him.

Your past shouldn’t have any effect on you right now. It was in the past for a reason. And you’ve grown so confident into your current identity.

So why do these fuckers keep saying otherwise? Dropping subtle hints in their comments, slyly showing attachment to your former image like it was a vice? Why do you have to suffer so much because people saw you a different way some time ago?

He held you tighter, like if he held you tight enough, you’d ingest his mindset and never doubt yourself again at the hands of others.

Between cries that made his heart ache, you ask a question. Though it felt like it was more to yourself than him.

“Am I.. man enough?”

Baby’s eyebrows wrinkle at your question, of course you were! It’s such an obvious answer, and yet, thanks to these bitchasses on the internet, you won’t believe it.

The teal haired boy’s hands just stroke your hair, softly, he buries his nose into your hair.

“Of course you are.”

You don’t say anything, but you bury your face into the crook of your neck. Baby is lucky that he’s a demon so your intense body heat doesn’t affect him, but he can’t help but imagine how uncomfortable it is to be in those clothes.

In those heavy clothes, you already held such a heavy heart. Having to carry that under the weight of being an idol, of being seen by millions. 

“I- I don’t want to quit! But i- it’s just.. so… ” you hiccups make your entire chest vibrate with discomfort, you genuinely don’t want to quit just because of these comments- but why couldn’t they just see you as a man? Speak and act like you were any other boy?

“Never quit. That means they win. That means they have more agency than you on your own integrity.” Baby snaps too quickly, he hates to see you like this, cowering at words that discouraged your identity.

“You’re exactly what you sought out to be [Name], you’ll never be who you were back then, don’t even think otherwise.” Baby says, his hand slipping from your hair to your back, rubbing your back in order to soothe you.

“I see you, I see you rejecting what’s real, what is reality. On or offline, you are still you. The ‘you’ are right now.”

Your eyes shut at his affirmative words, you felt chills from how he drilled it with eviction, like it personally affected him.

Which for the record: fucking does. 

Baby notices your expression, a small sign that his words were getting to you, it relaxes him. His voice grows soft again.

“Even if the whole world doesn’t see it, I will. I will always be on your side, I’ll make sure you’ll never lose it.”

Baby’s words feel like an ice pack to your melting heart, but it actually cools you down, you get emotional at how powerful he speaks about you, how his support and love for you bubbles with molten lava when he defends you.

His hands gently tug at your thick sleeves.

“I see you in all the clothes you’re in, that you hide behind [Name].”

“And you’ll always be man enough.”

i have yet to hear a song that isn't fire from you guys, the 3 ppl who have requested gave me BANGERSSS

i didn't add mentions of surgeries or hair cutting/length because i know not everyone goes to those lengths/invalidate those who don't do those things

anyways, I really hope this brought the intended feeling.

again, i am so sorry if i wrote something insensitive or simply inaccurate about the feeling/experience or if i worded something that twists the feeling/meaning- do not be afraid to call me out, I want this to be comfortable and validating, not vice versa

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

incredibly sad to discover that my favorite color (#ffd700) is a little too bright to look good as the background of the blog. guess ill fade it a little...

[sp-growingpains]

The sketches are finished!! Had a lot of fun with this! I tried my hand at expressions Jean wouldn't make often.

All except for the little blush at the bottom.

Jean does that one when she's alone or when she thinks no one is looking! If she likes someone enough, she'll start to daydream about them, and that leads to her sucked into her own little world. She'll tap her pencil against her chest to a song she associates with them aaaaand she's gone.

[gaffney]

I really admire how you're able to ship every duck with Charlie lol

LMAO. look. is it my fault that charlie has chemistry with everyone on the team? no!!! heart of the team etc etc 😌 idk, i just love love. i love the idea of different types of relationships with different types of people, and the possibilities that come with each type of love. i love the idea of finding a 'true love' in different people (platonic or romantic). and i just love exploring different dynamics!!! like, for ex. charlie/jesse is a completely different dynamic from charlie/adam, so it's fun to be able to write that. HOPEFULLY i'll add to my growing charlie/duck collection in the future

[misayani]

— SQUID GAME WOMEN STRAP HCS

◜ featuring ... player 196 (bee girl), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), sae-byeok (s1 player 067) 

𔗨 author's note — didnt add junhee cos she preg and no hyunju bc i dont think she'll be comfortable w a male genitalia toy BUT LETS FUCKING GOoOO strap game hcs coming right up !! [lowercase intended]

p.s. thank u for all the reqs!! give me time and ill post my work one by one, i js have so many ideas in my mind its gonna explode

warning: smut [use of strap-on, taking pictures]

player 196 — 

- ! PINK STRAP PINK STRAP PINK STRAP !

- sweet talker during sex but her movements are definitely the opposite of sweet

- would DEFINITELY take pretty pictures of you while you drool over her strap

- has a special album for you with pink emojis on the side <33

- slows down right before you orgasm !!!

- she makes fun of your pathetic state :(( 

- you get even more turned on ofc

- mostly just her teasing you whenever she fucks you using her strap

- sometimes she'd add fun and use a vibrator on u alongside her strap!!

- one time she wanted to test the new mascara she bought if it was really waterproof like it said on the packaging

- .... guess what ....

- she applies it on your lashes, brings out the strap and fucks u non stop til u were literally crying

- lashes stayed bomb after sex though so she took note of that ! 

- loves to edge u COS LIKE I SAID SHE'S A TEAAAASE

- after a few edging rounds she'd finally let u cum

- she's not THAT mean to not let u !!

- LOVES hearing your moans !!! sometimes she'd get off herself by just that.

- AFTERCARE !! would make u feel like a princess and im talking about bubble baths, cuddles, and sometimes would even do your nails <3

"good girl, taking me in so well" 

no eul —

- doesnt rlly care abt strap colors but i can imagine her w the skin tone one 

- prepare to not be able to walk the next day

- ABSOLUTELY MERCILESS !!!!! 

- poor baby's stressed most of the time so fucking u with her strap serves as her stress reliever

- u wont complain though, her strap game has u crying out of pleasure

- though once you've had enough and said the safe word she'd stop w/o hesitation

- DOGGY STYLE?!?![[€=€{[€

- easier for her to hit the deepest areas inside u <3

- pulls ur hair while doing it 

- DARE I SAY she has an unnie kink...

- call her that = prepare yourself for the best fuck of your life

- DONT GET ME WRONG!! she may be rough but she fucks u like she loves you

- feels relieved after sex, she's glad to have someone like u :((

- i personally think u'd actually be the one giving her aftercare

- cause she deserves all the loooove and care

- <3 

"shit— just like that, just like that."

se mi — 

- BLACK. 6 INCHES. CURVED

- im sorry but if u think she'll go easy on u well you're so so wrong

- COWBOY 

- she loves u on top cos that means she'll get to see your pretty face

- AND ur boobs ;)

- explores ur body with her hands as u bounce on her strap

- if u dont know what ur doing, she'll guide you

- such a dirty talker

- would make u feel like a slut and a princess cos she'll degrade and praise u at the same time

- fucks you like she hates you

- BRAT TAMER !! HELLO

- another edger 

- she'll edge you until you're a crying mess begging for her to let u cum :(

- "se-mi please"

- "stop fucking complaining. you take what i give you."

- se-mi has a playful personality so it's no surprise if she teases u the whole time you're having sex

- loves to overstimulate u

- she'll make u suck it after 

- would literally pound into your mouth til you cry

- aftercare w her's the best though

- she's slight of different in and out of bed so expect her to be gentle right after fucking u so roughly

"oh did you think i was done with you? we're not stopping til you squirt on my cock."

sae byeok —

- NOW she'd be the one who's gentle during sex

- her cold and stoic persona vanishes the moment she fucks you

- you'd be surprised actually about the way she's gone so soft on you

- if you like it slow, she'll go slow. if you like it rough, she'll go rough

- she just wants to show you she loves you

- making out while she's pounding into you >>

- would feel satisfied when you finally orgasm

- doesn't really speak during sex but she'd let out small praises from time to time

- she'll eat you out right after

"i love you."

@misayani

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it. 

[freak-accident419]

party 4 u

Rocco Gauthier x Reader

Summary: You attend a frenemy's pool party, only coming because your boyfriend Rocco was invited and wanted you to tag along. He doesn't know you're uncomfortable with the host because you didn't want to seem like the obnoxiously jealous partner. With only a few drinks to impair your judgement, you finally tell him what's wrong. Ensuring that you don't doubt him like this ever again, he finds a convincing way to reassure you. (Riff Raff Rocco x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, gender neutral language for reader, Lewis Pullman's Character Rocco from Riff Raff 2024, few uses of Y/n, graphic depictions of smut, pool party, jealousy, missionary, penetration (no specific genitalia for reader), creampie, reader is a bit insecure in here, random made-up side character for the sake of the plot, half-inspired by Charli XCX's 'party 4 u', I haven't finished the movie so I'm sorry if he is slightly ooc

Taglist: @funkyfable Happy reading! <3 Reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated!

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You didn't even want to come here in the first place.

As you looked around the colorful fluorescent lights that were reflected across the pool's surface, you felt like you were being judged. Watched. It made you feel so self-conscious.

Rocco was your boyfriend of several years. He loved and cared for you like any man should for his partner, except he was blind to one predicament you faced.

Your friend group was complicated. Well, not the whole group, but just one person in it. You didn't really get along with Leah. You tried to, you swore it, but it was just not meant to be. Complimenting, conversing about things you had in common, and friendly smiles just didn't seem to work. The primary issue was her crush on your boyfriend. She specifically despised you for dating Rocco, as you entered the friend group late as a result of becoming his partner.

She liked Rocco. Who wouldn't, though? He was charming, sexy, and incredibly sweet. You didn't blame her for crushing on him, after all she probably knew him longer than you did. However, respect goes both ways. She would flirt with him shamelessly, as if you weren't already his. And that terrified you. Leah was different. To you, she was prettier. Funnier. More extroverted and outgoing than you were. She could easily steal his heart with her charms, taking him away from you.

You never spoke to him about your concerns, however. You didn't want to seem like the typical jealous and insecure partner with major trust issues. Even when she would drunkenly admit to you how much she feels that she deserves your boyfriend more than yourself, you still felt like you didn't have the authority to call her out. You didn't want to be obnoxious. You didn't want to seem insecure. You didn't want to lose him.

So you stood there on the patio with your hard seltzer in hand, watching the two interact in the hot tub with the rest of your friends. You could see them laughing, joking, and it made your heart burn more than your throat did from the alcohol.

You didn't want to be here because of this. It was Leah's party, celebrating God knows what, and she invited Rocco. You even tried to give him excuses not to come with him, but he insisted, practically begging you to accompany him. Of course, you felt like you couldn't tell him about the whole Leah-wants-him-and-hates-you situation, so you eventually gave up on refusing. You were only here at this stupid party because of him. Not for her. Not for whatever the hell she was celebrating. But for him.

Your feet were sore. You hated distancing yourself like this, just standing here and being a witness to an imminent crime of thievery.

As the evening progressed, you drank enough alcohol to be more tipsy than before. From afar, you continued to see her flirt with your boyfriend, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt glued to the ground. Stuck. As if your throat was restrained by barbed wire and your lips were sewn shut. It wasn't right for you to talk to Rocco about your concerns. You were just being dramatic. It wasn't a big deal. You were being a stupid, jealous, insecure partner. And if he found out about these feelings, he would break up with you and run into Leah's arms.

You couldn't handle watching this anymore. Her touching his shoulder, their shared laughter. Dammit. You dried your feet as you walked back inside the house.

After snickering at a joke, Rocco turned his head and noticed you disappearing inside. He barely interacted with you tonight, feeling both guilty and needy. Earlier, you told him how your migraine weakened any desire of entering either pools, so he didn't question your isolated state. But enough was enough, and he missed you. So he stood up, excusing himself out of the bubbling jacuzzi.

Inside, you gripped the handle of the refrigerator, opening it to find a bottle of water. Before you could take the cap off and hydrate yourself, you felt a pair of warm, large hands grasp your waist, as well as peppered kisses on the back of your neck. Rocco's chin rested on your shoulder, letting out a soft hum. "How're you feeling, baby? Better?"

You sigh in relief, enjoying the short-lived comfort of your boyfriend's affectionate embrace. "I'm fine," you answer quietly, finally sipping some water before placing it back in the fridge.

"Are you sure?" He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. "You look like there's something on your mind, babe."

You knew he wasn't the one at fault, you knew he was concerned for you, so you should've been kind to him. But just thinking about how he and Leah interacted with each other in the hot tub compelled you to be cold towards him. "I said I'm fine," you repeat indifferently, walking away from his arms.

Rocco huffs irritably, rushing after you. "Y/n. Don't be like that. Come on, you've been quiet and distant all night, what's wrong?"

"I told you, it's nothing," you run a hand through your damp hair in exhaustion, entering one of the guest rooms as you wished he would just leave you alone.

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist gently to make you look at him, his deep blue eyes burning through yours. "I know when something's up, I'm your boyfriend, for fuck's sake. Just be real with me. Please," he nearly begs, eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

“Rocco, there’s nothing—”

"No, no, don't give me that 'nothing' bullshit—"

"I'm telling you the truth, there is no—"

“Y/n—"

“I’m serious, there’s nothing—”

“Goddammit, Y/n, just tell me what’s going on!”

“It’s Leah!” You exclaimed, the alcohol in your system and the intensity of the moment making it easier to confess. You felt a tinge of instant regret, knowing that Rocco would disapprove of your jealousy, and therefore be tempted to break up with you. Your eyes shut tightly in shame, sighing from fatigue. However, that scornful reaction you were expecting just didn’t happen.

Rocco pauses silently. "That's what this is about?" He mutters, searching your eyes for clarity.

“Yeah... I just..." you mumble before raising your voice, beginning to pace back and forth, "She likes you! And hell, everybody in our friend group knows that! And I really, truly, desperately tried getting along with her, but she's always hated me, and that’s because I’m dating you! And—and I don’t want to seem like the paranoid, jealous partner, but god, if only you heard the things she told me when you weren’t around!”

You finally ceased your pacing, standing in front of him with glassy, bloodshot eyes. “I didn't want to tell you all this because you would think I'm jealous and possessive, and then you would leave me for her... Hell, I'd get it if you did. For starters, she's known you longer than I do. She’s pretty, and charming—”

“Y/n—”

“And funny, and cool—”

“Y/n—”

“And I just can’t be at her level, so I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for—”

Rocco silences you by pressing his lips against yours in a brief, yet strong kiss. His face was close to yours as he spoke, "You're always gonna be good enough for me. Shit, you're way too good for me. If anything, I don't deserve you."

His hands were still gripping your shoulders from the kiss. “Look, I know that Leah likes me. It’s fucking obvious. I just figured that as long as she was respectful about our relationship, then we can keep being friends. But clearly, she hasn’t been, and I’m glad you told me about this. I’ll go talk to her soon. And if shit goes down, we’ll stop hanging out with her—the both of us. Okay?”

You frown, feeling a shameful pang of guilt. "I don't wanna be the reason your friendship with her is ruined, I don't—I don't want to affect your relationships just because you're with me."

"Baby, she's always been kind of an issue. I dealt with it in the beginning because I thought I could see past it, but clearly it's affecting you. And I don't like knowing how she makes you feel, directly or indirectly. You said she tells you about her feelings for me?"

You nod hesitantly, recalling the conversations you had with her. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes she would even make jokes about her stealing you from me—"

"Babe!" He exclaims, almost chuckling from how ridiculous that was. "Are you serious? You should've told me about this, I didn't know she says these kinds of things to you behind my back!"

"Yeah, well, that's why I didn't want to come. Just being around her makes me feel, I don't know... shitty about myself. I only came for you," you explain reluctantly. "I didn't want to seem paranoid and jealous to you, so I kept all that to myself. She knew I thought that way, too, so she always felt permitted to say anything about you to me... Riling me up on purpose."

Rocco huffs in exasperation, rubbing his forehead. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, baby, I should've seen the signs... I should've—should've—"

"Rocco, it's okay—"

"No, it's not! I didn't know how terrible she was treating you! Whatever bullshit she fed you, it isn't true." He cups your face. "Baby, I would never leave you, not for anybody, let alone for her, okay? There is no one else in this world that is more beautiful, funnier, and intelligent than you. I love you. You're everything to me, you know that?"

"Yeah," you mumble, your faltered response not convincing him.

He scoffs, looking back at the crack of the slightly open door, then at you. "Do I seriously have to prove it to you?"

"No, no, I do know, it's just..." He silences you once again with a deep kiss, his hands dropping to your waist with a light squeeze. You kissed back without hesitation, feeling him back you up against the door so it slammed shut behind you. He expertly locks the doorknob beside you before grabbing you by your thighs to lift you up, laying you down on the bed.

His lips don't leave yours as he undresses you and himself, which was a simple procedure due to the skimpy nature of swimsuits. He was used to seeing your naked body after having sex with you multiple times over the years, but he couldn't help but run his palms down your skin as if experiencing it for the very first time.

Rocco's lips traveled to your neck, leaving wet kisses there. You giggled softly at the ticklish sensation, in which he smiled, crashing his lips against yours once again. He was in love with the sound of your laugh. In fact, he was in love with everything about you. Obsessed, even.

Your eyes shut gently as you sighed deeply, feeling his hand reach between your thighs. You loved the way his warm, slender fingers would caress your flesh, knowing every place and stroke that made you feel good. He smirked to himself as he felt his fingertips dampen when they came in contact with a specific area.

With the smallest time possible in making you wait, his fingers finally slipped into your warmth, making you moan softly. You could never grow tired of that liberating feeling of Rocco's fingers stretching and exploring your tight walls. He didn't just use his digits to prepare you for his length, but he also wanted to simply please you. He enjoyed massaging your velvety insides, fingertips reaching the places his cock barely grazed. And he knew it drove you wild.

"I'm all yours, you know that?" He mutters, nipping your neck before his eyes looked into yours.

You were too much focused on the pleasure to fully comprehend his words, only nodding in your dazed state. When his words finally reached your brain, you sighed, "mm—Mm-hm..."

A soft whine escaped your lips as his fingers left you, Rocco now positioning himself between your legs.

The shocking thing about Rocco was that his favorite position was missionary. Well, not necessarily shocking, but ridiculously unexpected. Everyone he could have told would be surprised to hear it, considering it was too much of a vanilla position for a guy like him. It was Rocco, for fuck's sake.

The 'why', however, is essential. The main reason why Rocco loved missionary was because he got to see your face every time he made love to you. The wrinkle in between your furrowed eyebrows, the way your eyes went half-lidded, the way your lips parted to let his name leave your throat. It was the most intimate position he could be with you, and he didn't give a flying fuck if that made him a vanilla loser. Sure, he was always open to exploring the most wacky and kinky positions with you, but nothing could top missionary. Compared to every angle you two experimented with, missionary made him cum the fastest. It was just so good to see every single facial expression caused by the pleasure he brought onto you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands propped himself on the mattress. Rocco kissed you passionately on the lips before you felt his girth stretch you open, making you let out a lustful gasp. Your hands gripped his forearms as you feel his cock enter completely inside you. He could never get over this feeling. Your body was incredible, and never failed to make him feel amazing. He was obsessed with every aspect of you. Obsessed with making love to you.

Rocco grunted as his hips pulled back halfway just to push against you again, starting to thrust at a steady, back-and-forth pace. You loved the way his length moved in and out of your hole, making your insides flutter.

"Fuck, baby... You feel so fucking good," he murmurs under his breath, "there's no way I could ever think of leaving you, fuck no..."

Eventually, his pace increased to the point where the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small bedroom with every thrust. The loud, wet plaps turned Rocco on, driving him to move faster. Both of you were pretty vocal, and you usually were when it came to sex; something your friend group would complain about if they ever had the misfortune of being in the area. As Rocco slammed into you roughly, the bed creaked repeatedly, its frame hitting against the wall.

"This bed sucks ass," you snicker under your breath, making him chuckle in response.

His hands moved from your hips to your limp wrists, holding them in place on each side of your head against the pillows. You whined softly, enjoying the control he had over you. Being under him was always a moment you indulged in.

Rocco's movements never faltered, his cock hitting deep spots that made you cry out his name. You felt yourself closer to the edge every time his length would piston in and out of you. Sensing how close you were with the way you pulsed around him, he released one of your wrists to bring his hand down, touching your sensitive flesh. Your body nearly spasmed, moaning louder than before as these overlapping feelings of pleasure drove you to the edge.

"I—I'm close," you whimper, clenching around his thick girth.

"I know, baby, I know," he mumbles, burying his face into your neck, "me too."

You both panted and breathed heavily, letting out lewd groans of arousal. Rocco's thrusts began to stammer, growing unsteady the closer he got to his orgasm.

"Fuck," he huffs, desperate to cum at the same time as you, "oh my God..."

"Mmm," you whine, out of breath, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming—"

"Fuck!" Rocco groans, spilling deeply inside you as you cum at the same time, your tightness gripping his cock. The sensation drove him insane as his release concluded with brief, remaining spurts that coated your walls. He held you tight, pressing his body close to yours, still snug inside of you.

He loved being inside of you. He loved cumming inside of you. He felt like it meant something much more than sex or lust. Like it meant something greater.

He slowly pulled out, huffing in disappointment at the loss of your warmth. He kisses your lips deeply, continuing to hover above you, tasting you sensually. His tongue parted your mouth, carefully slipping inside to move with yours. Your taste was addicting. The two of you had then made out for a long, breathless time, a passionate way to come down from your highs.

Soon enough, the kiss ended as Rocco finally rolled off of your body. Unable to function without your touch, he brings you in close with your head resting on his bare chest. You heard his heartbeat, unintentionally adjusting your own breathing to sync the rhythm.

His lips touched the top of your head, lingering for a bit. His palms stroked your bare shoulder and bicep affectionately. “I love you so much, baby...”

You kissed his chest gently, overwhelmed with reassurance and satisfaction.

“I love you too.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

─ SILENT TREATMENT ♥︎

...or the one where rafes explains himself.

♥︎ pairing .ᐟ nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♥︎ summary .ᐟ rafe reveals why he didn't tell the reader he loves her.

♥︎ warnings .ᐟ angst, fluff, comfort, mentions of death wc: 1.3k

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ *evil laughter*

PERVERT MASTERLIST ♥︎ RAFE MASTERLIST

pissed off. collins dictionary defines 'pissed off' as meaning annoyed, irritated, or disappointed, yet none of those words seemed good enough for what you felt towards rafe. he had humiliated you. you had given him your heart and he had stomped all. over. it. and he had the guts to avoid you? to ignore your calls and reply to your texts with 'sorry busy, speak soon.'? how dare he?

the other day, you had seen him in the hallway and you waved at him, only for the douchebag to pretend he didn't even see you. he's probably laughing at you. laughing because he made you fall in love with him, when in reality, he was probably just playing with you, just like every other guy.

"god, i'm so sick of him!" you groaned, throwing back yet another shot of vodka, "he's infuriating! i could have anyone! anyone."

your best friend brit's idea of 'making you feel better' was to dress you up as slutty as possible and bring you to a party, to ‘get your mind off of things’. but the drunker you got, the more you thought about rafe. his annoying sandy-colored hair that was so soft, his stupid glasses, his infuriatingly beautiful eyes you could get lost in...

"god, i hate him." brit refilled your glass, the two of your clinking the small shot glasses before throwing them back, the alcohol making you turn up your nose.

"girl, you should just find some guy and hook up with him to get revenge!" brit shouted over the music before she started dancing. "you're totally right!" you grinned, "why should i care about him when he doesn't care about me?!"

the last thing you remember was going up to some guy.

your eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling nauseous as soon as your eyes were exposed to a sliver of sunlight through your blinds. you groaned, stretching your arm wide in your bed. until you made contact with bare skin.

you immediately sat up in bed, pulling the blanket up as you looked at the figure next to you. the person was sleeping on his stomach, a pillow covering the back of his head, but you could clearly tell it was a man.

a pit dropped down into your stomach, and you felt bile rising up your throat. it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. you'd blacked out and gotten with a guy. you'd cheated on rafe. your eyes started to sting with tears as you scooched up to the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

quiet sobs escaped your throat as tears trailed down your cheeks. you had no idea how to explain it to rafe. the one guy you had actually cared about, the one guy who had actually wanted you, not because of your body but because of who you were... and you fucked it up. just like you fuck up every good thing in your life. rafe would never forgive you, and you couldn't even blame him.

"hey, what's wrong?" you heard a groggy voice say, making you sob even harder.

"i'm such a shitty person..." you mumble through your throaty sobs as you try to wipe the tears off your face, "i've ruined everything!"

"hey, hey, baby, calm down."

you turned to slap away his hand, "don't call-!"

but when you saw the pair of familiar ice blue eyes looking back at you with nothing but utmost gentleness and adoration, your eyes widened.

"rafe...?" you said his name softly, as if any moment he might disappear and turn into someone else. the boy let out a chuckle, shaking his head, "who else?"

you threw your arms around him and threw yourself at him so harshly that rafe was thrown back down to lie on the bed as you squeezed him, starting to press kisses all over his face as rafe laughed, his arms wrapping around your torso. "is there a reason you're being this affectionate when usually when you're hungover all you want to do is suffocate everyone with a pillow?"

you pulled your face away from rafe but still kept your arms around him as you pursed your lips in thought, considering whether or not it was a good idea to tell him what you thought had happened. clearing your throat, you let go of him and sat up, still keeping his hand in yours as you took a deep breath, "i thought... i thought i did something stupid last night." you admitted, only to be faced with a soft smile from your boyfriend.

"you thought you cheated on me, right?"

"how'd... how'd you know?"

"well," rafe chuckled softly, "some guy called me from your phone. told me you were trashed. said that he'd been hitting on you but you just kept talking about your 'bastard boyfriend who you love more than anything' and he told me i should come pick you up." he snorted, warmth creeping up your cheeks in embarrassment. "the entire walk to your dorm you were confused about who i was. you literally said 'hands off me! i have a boyfriend'."

"oh god. kill me now." you laughed softly, shaking your head, "i'm too embarrassing when i drink."

rafe sat up, taking in a deep breath, looking down at both of your hands in his before looking up into your eyes, "about what you said-"

"rafe, let's just forget it, okay. it's no big deal."

"it is." the boy squeezed your hands, seeking for eye contact, "the thing is... it's not that i don't feel the same way towards you that you feel towards me." rafe cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to express what he wanted to say, "i just... my mom is the last person i said those words to. they were the last words i said to her."

"rafe..."

"she..." rafe took in a deep breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, clearing his throat again to try and get rid of the weak tone in his voice, "my mom was sick. ovarian cancer. i slept next to her every night, and just like every other night, i told her, 'goodnight, mom. i love you.' and she said the same. then when i woke up... the arm that was around me was cold."

you squeezed his hand, watching as rafe clenched his jaw, trying to hold back tears.

"after my mom... no one's said that to me. and i've never said it to anyone. it's like i was raised in a house where telling someone you love them was a sign of weakness. i do feel that way towards you, there are a thousand different poems, a thousand different words that describe the way i feel towards you, but... i just can't say those words, not yet. but once i can... i know they're gonna be said to you."

you withdrew one of his hands, moving it so it was cupping rafe's cheek, your thumb drawing small strokes on his skin. "i get that. you don't have to say it. i can be patient, for you. i'd do anything for you rafe."

rafe's eyes met yours, a small, melancholic smile slowly taking over his lips, the boy nodding softly, bringing your hand that was still intertwined with his to his lips and pressing a kiss there, making you chuckle softly.

"i want in fact more of you. in my mind i am dressing you with light; i am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then i give myself to you. i long for you; i who usually long without longing, as though i am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you."

"who's that by?"

"franz kafka."

"the bug guy?" you teased, making rafe burst out into a laugh "the guy who wrote about a guy turning into a bug?"

but rafe quieted you down by simply bringing his lips to yours.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hated Slade Wilson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

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

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

Harvey Dent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

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

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

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

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

Your fingers curled around the knob.

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

"Going somewhere?"

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

The door was still closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

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

And then—

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

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

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

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

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

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

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

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

You froze.

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

Harvey’s drink.

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

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

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

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

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

He had seen this coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Going somewhere?”

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

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

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

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

Not this odd shit again.

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

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

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

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

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

You won't forget me.

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

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

Slade had already seen.

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

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

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

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

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

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

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

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

Except it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you didn’t.

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

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

Harvey knew you would come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you whispered.

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

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

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

Your stomach twisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should have never gone to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slade would be proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harvey didn’t.

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

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

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

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

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

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

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

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

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

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

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

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

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

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

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

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

He ignored you. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

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

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

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

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

“You think he's better than me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

You still loved him, that much was clear.

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

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

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

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

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

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

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

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

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

“I knew you’d come back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

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

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

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

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

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

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

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

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

You said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be loved.

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

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

The emotions clawed at your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

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

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

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you felt it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

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

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

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

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

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

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

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

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

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

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

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

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

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

"Say it," he demanded.

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

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

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

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

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

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

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

You needed Slade to live.

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

So you did what you do best: You ran.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go, Harvey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[irlyluvosamu]

in which ― reader is self conscious about their body; and freezes whilst making out with their partner.

featuring: dazai and chuuya

warnings/before you read: lowercase writing, crappy writing for this being my first piece of actual writing since august 2024, kind of suggestive, prefer 16+ to read

you took a sip of your tea upon entering the bedroom. you gently shut the door, expecting CHUUYA to be maybe on your bed, however he wasn't. in fact he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

the bed was nicely made from this morning. the sheets and pillow still reminiscing the smell from the washing machine.

the room was dimly lit, the only lights being the evening street lights of yokohama reflecting through the large window, with crimson colored curtains just a little bit open, to let the summer evening breeze cool up the hot room.

you walked deeper into your bedroom, placing their tea gently down the nightstand, careful not to accidently knock it over the carpets that covered the hard wood floors.

just as you were about to call out your partners name, you felt yourself get pushed softly onto the bed sheets. you let out a quiet squeal as you turn over to your back and see chuuya slowly climb on the bed after you; hunger in his eyes.

you let him sit on your waist, pinning you down gently to the bed as e leans down, face-to-face with your face. "you look gorgeous, baby~" he wasted no time kissing your lips.

soft yet sturdy. nothing to make you uncomfortable. he wouldn't want that, he'd rather spend a whole week stuck on a island with shitty dazai than to ever make you feel uncomfortable in bed.

you kissed him back, your hands cupping his cheeks as you turned your head to the side to kiss him better, to which he chuckled into the kiss― his hands often resting to your hips, then eventually your waist.

just as you two were in the heat of the moment, your felt his hands slowly raise your shirt up from your waist line. you tried to ignore the feeling; your stomach getting shown off.

you felt a sense of calm as gently rubbed your sides up and down, his lips suddenly parting from your own as he started to kiss your jawline down to your neck.

"chuuya-"

"i got you, don't worry~"

you let out a shaky breath when you feel his hands travel more around your body. your mind is flooded with random, stupid, questions.

you felt his fingers touch the spot just above your ribs, your shirt risen up higher then you would like and that's when you break.

he immediately stops everything he's doing, leaning back up just to sit on your waist with little weight to make you feel more open and free then pinned and trapped.

you felt your lip tremble as you spit out apologies. pulling his arms away from your body and quickly taking one hand to push down your shirt.

"sorry― sorry, i― i don't know..." he hushes you, stroking your hair away from your face to have you look up at him properly. "shh, it's okay, baby, got nothing to be sorry for. if you're not ready― "

"it's not that!" he raised an eyebrow in confusion, parting your bangs away from your now teary eyes. it breaks his fucking heart, ya hear?

"what's wrong, hm?" his tone still hushed, wiping your fallen tears with his thumb awaiting your answer.

you told him everything. everything you hated. everything you disliked about your body. how much you wished life would give you a second chance, a second option.

he listened. and oh, did he listen. he always listen to what you have to say; but this? he was staring into your eyes, shut closed; scared to face chuuya with the fear of being humiliated. why? it's just you're body protecting yourself, you assume?

he waits for you to finish, your hands letting go of his own moments before; covering your face as he sat in silence for a few moments.

"hey.." he started of softly, gently taking your wrists and pulling them away from your face. slowly, you followed his speed and his heart broke at your tears. "tch, get those tears out of here.." he spoke, leaning down and placing kiss after kiss on your tear-stained cheeks.

"whoever said those shitty lies about you and your body can kiss my ass. to me, your the most beautiful person i've laid my eyes on. and just me, i've met some really ugly people; you don't come close to them. who cares about what others say, they don't matter!" "you think i’m touching you because i have to? you really think i’d be here, with you, like this, if i didn’t think you were—beautiful? god, you drive me crazy.”

after that night, he's your personal cheerleader; loving each and every part of your body, teaching you how love it as well; one kiss and hug at a time.

the rain hitting the window gave a calm, soothing aura to the room you and DAZAI were both in. you were curled up in dazai's lap as he arms were wrapped around you, legs tangled. the movie softly playing from the tv long forgotten.

his kisses were feather-light— more teasing then needy— trailing from your temple, down to your cheeks then to your jaw and eventually getting to the corner of your lips. you responded, hesitant yet present, until his hand reached under your shirt; feeling up and down your smooth skin.

that's when it hit you.

that ugly, familiar coiled tight tension in your chest. your breath caught. your muscles tightened. it felt as is your body was suddenly tangled in giant metal chains. you didn't realize you were pulling back a bit from him until dazai's hand stilled.

his head tilted, just a little, to the side. his brown eyes flickered at yours.

"...you ok, 'bella?"

his voice was gentle, nothing like the lazy, dramatic tones he usually put on. that alone made your throat tighten. you tried to speak, but the words lodged behind your teeth.

"i'm sorry—" you whispered, "I just—i can't— right now.." you slump your shoulders down.

he didn't press any further. didn't ask what you meant. instead, he pulled his arms away from you completely. like placing down a delicate piece of glass to a table.

"it's not you," you added quickly, ashamed. "it's me. i just— sometimes...i don't like— i feel so disgusted with how i look. i just don't know— how you would want to even touch me when i can barely look at myself in the mirror." your words felt like knives in your throat as you opened up to dazai.

"i hate myself..."

dazai leaned back, arms resting behind his head. not casually— deliberately. like a gesture saying: i'm not going to make you uncomfortable.

"hmm," dazai hummed, his eyes on the ceiling. "funny thing, that. you look at yourself and feel disgusted. all while, i look a you and all i can think of is mine."

your eyes widened, looking back at him. his gaze shifted back to you, and the storm in those eyes quieted. “you think i haven’t hated my reflection too? you think i haven’t wanted to crawl out of my own skin and disappear?” he paused. “but when i look at you? all i feel is warmth. the kind that makes me want to stay.”

you swallowed hard, throat aching.

“and if touching you brings you pain, then i’d rather never touch you again than make you feel that way. understand?”

there was no flirtation in his voice. no humor. just quiet honesty.

“i want you to feel safe here,” he added, placing a hand gently over your heart. “not just in this room—here.”

the warmth of his palm made something crack in you. you looked down, blinking fast.

“i’m trying,” you whispered.

“i know,” he replied, without hesitation. “and that’s more than enough.”

you leaned into him, not kissing, not touching—just resting your head against his chest. he said nothing else, just held you close, letting the silence stretch between you like a soft blanket.

and in that moment, you realized something:

dazai didn’t want your body more than your heart. he wanted you—every broken, healing piece of you. even the ones you kept hidden.

and that was something real.

@ ɪʀʟʏʟᴜᴠᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ — 2 0 2 5

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: one

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x male reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, readers got truama, internalized gender hatred, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of being a breeding tool, self hate, reader doesn't really understand sex, sexual themes, omegaverse, male reader, mentions of mpreg

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

"HE STOLE THEM FROM ME!" (sisters name) Screeched out in a rage as she threw things around "they were supposed to be MY mates! And he stole them! That whore stole them!" She was hyperventilating at this point as her body shook, feeling robbed of her alphas.

Of her life, the thing she wanted more than anything.

"I know sweety but maybe we can set you up wit--"" I don't want someone else! I want the princes!"

And she was going to get them.

She swore it.

'fuck you (name)'

Holy shit this place was big.

God he felt under dressed, especially beside these alphas who were dressed so fancy and perfect.

The floors were marble and two grand staircases winded on each side and paintings that had to be centuries old hung on the walls "we will have one commissioned for you soon enough... Maybe one with us all" Belphegor yawned as he wandered the halls "for now, let's get you settled in" he said and looked to a nervous looking Leviathan who nodded.

(Name) Was nervous as he walked beside the demon who seemed to want to be anywhere but here "I-im sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting... I'll try and not step on your toes" (name) whispered, anxiously fiddling with his fingers and looked down "i-i dont-- fuck... I'm really nervous and anxious and just I don't really talk to omegas often so I'm just--" the demon seemed panicked and (name) felt relief flood through his veins as he pumped out calming pharamones for the Alpha "hey... I get it, if it's any consolation... I'm not great with people either-- hell I think this is the first time I ever left my families property!" He laughed a bit but Leviathan was shocked at his words "you never been into the capital or even your home town?" He asked genuinely and (name) shook his head "nah, my parents didn't trust me going out there-- you know how troublesome an Omega can be"

What the fuck? That's all Leviathan could think as he looked at the Omega worried "I- you're not troublesome?" He whispered and (name) just smiled "I try not to be" (name) giggled a bit as they continued to (name)s apartment, the Omega expecting a quaint bedroom but...

"I think we went to the wrong room.... This is awfully big" (name) said softly to the envy demon who looked confused "you like your apartment?" Asmodeus popped out from nowhere and pulled (name) close with a flirty grin "we had the butlers being your things in, don't worry we didn't let them unpack... Pharamones and all that ~" he pulled (name) into the apartment and (name) felt overwhelmed by all this "there's a nesting room there~ if you need help don't hesitate to ask"

"A-are you sure?"

"Sure of what?"

"That this is for me?"

"You are to be our mate, I personally wanted you with me but Luci wanted you to have your own space... Something about acclimating" his words teasing and (name) chuckled but cut short when his stomach growled and the two demons looked curious "oh yeah! Humans need to eat for survival!"

(Name) Felt embarrassed as he silently cursed his stomach for exposing him like this as the demons looked at one another in a silent conversation.

They were definitely having a sibling meeting later.

(Name) Dissociated during the rest of the evening, eventually ending back in the rooms he was given, the size of his old house if not a bit bigger...

Everything was pristine as he took out his belongings, his prized possessions and small hobbies to occupy him.

A few heirlooms and books and his childhood stuffed toy 'this will go in my nest' he thought as he looked at the nesting room doors, two ornate doors in a rose gold shade, the apartment all light colors unlike the rest of the palace.

It was a strange contrast, almost like they didn't know what to expect so they just made what they thought humans liked. It was funny really, demons trying to understand what humans wanted or needed as he was doing the same, wondering what these demons wanted or liked.

Getting up he went to the nesting room and was overwhelmed by the nesting supplies he was given, piles and piles of blankets and pillows and soft things, his purring could probably be heard from outside the apartment as he snuggled into them, a sense of safety he wasn't quite used to washing over him.

He was excited to make a large nest, spending half the night making it perfect for him to rest in and just not think about the fact he was to be mated on his next heat to seven strangers that were also fucking royalty! Well there goes not thinking about it because here he was!

Also his sister! Holy shit she was mad! And like at his wedding she will be there! Fuuck!

(Name) Was just sitting there head in hands as he processed the fact that within 24 hours he was now engaged and now in the public eye!

(Name) Curled up closer into his blankets and let out a shutter of a sigh, he wondered if he would be able to do the things he enjoyed before... Would he be allowed to garden? Would he have to dress more Omegan? Or would he be able to wear clothes that were comfortable?!

He needed to walk, movement to process this.

Getting up he walked out of his apartment and into the hall, dark and grand, ceilings at least 15 feet tall and paintings lined, some he recognized as the siblings and some unfamiliar as he walked around curiously.

Somehow he made it to the kitchen "I hope they don't mind..." (Name) Whispered as he sliced an apple, careful and gentle as his stomach growled a bit.

"Can I have some?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts causing him to slice his finger "shit!" The voice said and (name) looked to see Beelzebub who in turn looked a bit startled as he took (name)s bleeding finger and put it in his mouth, the Omega looking thoroughly concerned as Beelzebub sucked on the blood "I feel like this is incredibly unsanitary" (name) whispered worried and beez released his finger "demons saliva can heal amongst other things, depends on the demon really"

"Oh " (name) said dumbly as he looked at his wet but healed finger "what else does your saliva do?" He asked curiously and Beelzebub smiled at the others cute and curious expression "ah, well besides healing my saliva can work as an aphrodisiac if ingested!" (Name) Looked concerned and Beelzebub laughed "don't worry, it only works if I were to like make out with you or eat your ass!"

And now (name) was flustered as the gluttony demon kept laughing at his embarrassment "so why are you up so late?" Beelzebub asked after calming down and sealing some apple slices and cutting up some more, handing (name) an orange "just... It's stupid"

"Oh please!" Beelzebub pushed and (name) sighed "I'm just... I'm having trouble processing this stuff, it's stressful and like-- I never left my property let alone this! My sister wanted to be with you guys and she's already insufferable, this is just worse! I'm just paranoid that you guys are going to realize that like this was a mistake and reject me and like the fear of being an Omega in general! Will I be able to do the things i enjoyed before? Will I be a breeding tool?!" He was hyperventilating now as Beelzebub panicked "hey hey, calm down! It will be alright and-- no we aren't making you a breeding Omega.... shhh" beez tried to calm him as footsteps quickly made their way to the kitchen.

"What is happening?" Lucifer and the others seemed startled as the smell of distress was heavy in the kitchen "he's worried we will strip him of his rights and make him carry our young" Beelzebub explained as he lifted (name) into his arms and set him on the counter "were demons but we aren't monsters" Satan said disgusted and Asmodeus smiled "we would never do that unless it's what you're into~" he teased the Omega as they crowded him "I know it's an incredibly hard adjustment but know we mean well, it's literally impossible for us to not fall for each other" it's true soulmates would eventually fall for one another due to the bond "and we are sharing one mate so that means you have seven people to love you" mammon said in a rare moment of genuine care "what do you mean?"

"Oh yeah, he knows basically nothing about secondary gender or soulmates" Levi said softly and the demons looked horrified "well I know what we are doing tomorrow" Satan said simply and (name) looked ashamed and couldn't meet their eyes, feeling stupid for his lack of knowledge.

"Well his town is backwards" Belphegor yawned and wandered off back to bed now that the problem was solved "goodnight...."

(Name) Was led back to his room by Beelzebub and Asmodeus and looked confused when they put sweaters in his arms "the smell of your alphas will calm you~" Asmodeus said simply and the two wished him a good night.

And for once?

He sleped peacefully.

(Name) Spent the next few days learning about soulmates and secondary genders, the two interlocking "when your heat comes, it will be dangerous for you to not mate with your soulmate" (name) read the book in his off time, the book explaining how the bonding is key to not cause rejection symptoms or a drop, he definitely didn't want that. Fuck how does he have sex? Fuck.

Time to go figure that out, he really felt behind on this shit.

(Name) Made home in the library as he looked for any books that would aid him "Hmm? Looking for sex books ~ didn't know our omega was like that" Asmodeus seemed to love just appearing out of thin air and scaring (name) who dropped the book "i-i it's not like that!"

"Hmmm? And what is it about? Oh you're so cute when your flustered!" He cooed and (name) huffed "I am trying to figure out like, how sex works and stuff... I wasn't exactly taught... Just put on suppressants so my family could avoid it" he just constantly felt ashamed with them, their faces of realization and pity as (name) tried not to cry "well, if you like I could teach you~ don't worry I won't touch you where you don't like" Asmodeus could get used to his omega so flustered as he got closer, his alpha giddy at his mate being untouched "the first thing one should know is their body after all~"

"I- uh... I'm not sure..."

Asmodeus let his lips barely touch (name)s as he caged him against a bookshelf and smiled, his tail flickering and (name) seemed a bit startled by it All as the demon gently kissed him "that was... Uh.." "your first kiss?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you like it?"

(Name) Could only nod as the lust avatar giggled sweetly at his adorable Omega "oh, you're going to fit in nicely here~!" He doted on (name) a bit "don't worry darling, we won't do anything your not ready for but if you're willing... To experiment a bit, I'm always a summon away" and with that he was gone, (name) left with nothing more than the smell of his pharamones, sweet Jasmine and warm vanilla.

It wasn't till after lunch that Lucifer brought him to the gardens, a small greenhouse and a garden plot stood "we had it cleaned up, you said you liked gardening" he said simply and looked down at (name) who looked like he was given the potion of youth "really? Thank you so much..." (Name) Was releasing the happiest pharamones and Lucifer kept composure but god damn did that boost his ego as an alpha, making his mate happy.

"Just clean yourself off after you finish" Lucifer said calmly and (name) beamed at this "of course!"

(Name) Puttered in the greenhouse and began planting things, thankfully it was early in the season so he had time to make a nursery for plants "oh, sor--" (name) immediately shut up as he saw Belphegor sleeping in a sun beam, cozy and calm. Looking around (name) found his cape that Satan had made for him and covered the demon with it "it's still chilly" he whispered and went back to work, unaware the demon was awake and watching intently at the Omega who was carrying heavy pots and sacks of soil around.

(Name) Kept quiet for the Alpha, he must be so exhausted to fall asleep in a greenhouse of places so it would be best to let him rest! Eventually (name) moved outside, it was less chilly but a slight chill but movement will keep him warm! Using twine he found in the greenhouse he sectioned spots of the garden plots for various things like carrots and garlic amongst others, they were still in the nursery but it's good to get things ready now, he reasoned with himself.

"Your Highness! It's quite cold!" A servant panicked as she saw (name) in nothing more than a shirt and pants and apron, dirt on his cheek "don't worry! I'm alright!" He reasoned but she was not having it and removed her cape "it's not good for an Omega to be cold like this!"

Before she could drape the cape on (name), he felt fur on his shoulders as Mammon smiled with a warning "don't worry, he's warm" his eyes telling the servant to leave and (name) looked confused "oh hello!" (Name) Smiled at the demon who felt annoyed at how sweet the other was, his bond making his heart beat fast "Luci wanted me to take you into town so get ready" he grumbled and (name) nodded, a simple smile on his face as he wandered to the palace "where's your cape anyways?! It's freezing for mortals!" He chastised and (name) chirped "Belphegor was sleeping and I wanted him to be cozy!" (Name) Couldn't explain why he felt so calm and comfortable with the princes but they made him feel safe, even if they were sometimes like angry chihuahuas.

"You're weird" mammon said with no bite as they walked to (name)s area.

The tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly to put together some clothes for (name) and his new class, the maids commenting about how the seamstress always kept embroidered sleeves on hand as the brothers always tore clothes during training--- well save for Asmodeus and Belphegor who couldn't be fucked to do stuff like that.

(Name) Felt regal, a beautiful vest made of silk and embroidered with birds and roses and a linen powers shirt and nice pants and expensive boots "you look wonderful your Highness!" A maid commented, (name) growing fond of his personal maids who cheered him in, them all being mated and married betas.

(Name) Was curious as he looked around the city, never really interacting with so many people who looked at he two in awe, the guards keeping a fair distance as he looked at stalls "you seriously never been in a city?" Mammon said incredulously and (name) looked confused "no? It's not right for an Omega to be by himself around alphas, I would be a temptation" reiterating his parents words and Mammon was horrified at the omegas genuine belief that HE was the problem and not alphas who couldn't keep their hands to themselves "well we are unpacking that later"

He didn't even want to get into the family thing, remembering the chat he had with his brothers when (name) had his meltdown and the acceptance that their Omega came from a very problematic living situation but he seemed to be acclimating well.

Or at least he hoped.

Mammon was confused as (name) handed him a stuffed bunny "what is this?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his circular sunglasses "well we didn't get to actually court because of being soulmates so I got you all courting gifts" he chirped out innocently, remembering what he was taught by Lucifer and deciding to put it in action though he seemed to have gotten it backwards as it was supposed to be the Alpha who gave the courting gifts.

"I- uh... Thank you?"

(Name) Seemed pleased as they continued their walk through the cities market, a giant hub of the equally giant city as Mammon stared at the bunny that was made of fabric the same color as his eyes, a small detail that made him flustered.

He noticed (name) budgeting, a soft smile on his face "you know we have basically endless money, right?" Well mammon didn't, he was cut off and put on a strict budget but (name)? He still had his money privileges "that's your money, this is so much!" To (name) it was a lot of money as he did the budgeting of the house back with his family, this was ten times of what they made in a year! "I am fine with this"

Hell, how did they get the exact opposite of them?!

A nervous Omega who was innocent and naive and sweet as honey!

"Oh you are absolutely precious!" Asmodeus cooed at the stuffed rabbit that fit in his hands "I hadn't even thought of courting!" He said with exaggerated sadness and (name) watched the others alphas reactions, though it wasn't the fanciest courting gift, it was a genuinely thoughtful one.

"He was worried about spending the money, he literally budgeted it" mammon groaned and Lucifer snorted "you could do well to learn that" he said as (name) seemed reminded and handed him back the coin bag, the Omega barely dented it "I got a few things for my hobbies but I brought back the change!" He said sweety and Lucifer had cute aggression at that moment as (name) looked at him with so much pride "you know you could have spent all of this right?" He said a little slow, (name) nodding "but that would be rude, I'm spending all your money without care... I don't like that"

Seriously, how did they manage to be fated with the sweetest Omega?!

"He didn't even but himself actual things for himself! He bought things to make us things!" Mammon groaned out but they all knew he equally swooned at the fact their Omega was so sweet.

But also he didn't buy himself anything, Asmodeus has had to bring him to eat and Beelzebub would put food on it.

"Rural Omega culture is different than cities, they're treated more as a commodity" a maid explained to Asmodeus one night as she helped him get ready for bed, she herself being an alpha from the boonies "an inconvenience would be a better word though, everything your saying shows he was treated like how my love got treated, need to make them feel genuinely valued" she went to explain how omegas need regular scenting and assurance to keep mentally regulated and (name) probably never had that.

Which would explain why he seemed like he was constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop despite growing used to them.

Like it was all going to go away.

His dreams were often that, every night he dreamt of waking up in his old room as his sister lived the life she wanted and he was stuck in that musty bedroom where he would rot.

"Your dreams are noisy" Belphegor mumbled as he crawled into bed with (name) and held him close, pumping out pharamones as he thought smugly about the fact he's technically been in bed with (name) before the others. (Name) Snuggled in his chest and physically relaxed, chirping in his sleep as he clung helplessly to him and he was hooked.

He wanted this more and was already annoyed he would have to share with his brothers.

(Name) Let his mates to be plan the wedding though he and Beelzebub thought of food together, the demon horrified at how little foods he got to experience and made him try everything for the wedding and smiled at his happy face with good food "these are mirangue cookies! Like eating plaster that loves you!" He exolained and (name) basically melted at now delicious it was.

Beelzebub was more than happy to share food with him, his alpha wanting the Omega to be well fed to carry his pups after all.

They were all anxious for mating, their bond slowly making them VERY intense about (name) who after weeks, finally sat close to Satan as he read with him though (name) did struggle a bit "omegas being taught to read is laughable, I taught myself as much as I could" he explained and that's when Satan decided he would read for (name), the two spending an hour or two in the library reading together like how Lucifer spent his time teaching (name) new things when he wasn't busy or just dragging him along with things.

(Name) Was always well behaved, he thought of (name)s family and how they were... How did this come out of THAT.

But now, (name) had one worry...

Would he invite his family to his wedding?

[bumblehoneybee]

I saw you take requests and I was soo happy!! I rlly loved that “easy smiles” Drabble u wrote abt curly n reader, so I’d like to request (pre-crash) having a late night conversation with him where reader is getting burnt out/struggling mentally and he can kind of tell? Romantic/platonic r both fine, maybe js some comfort from our fav captain? :) augehghh i want a hug from him so bad. if u don’t feel like writing this that’s more than okay, have a great timezone!! <3

You Can Talk To Me

He doesn't mean to catch you in such a vulnerable moment.

Curly only meant to get some water after hitting the john, but as he shuffles into the lounge, all he can hear is your shaky breathing. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, heart picking up speed as he spots you sat on the couch with your head tilted over the back, staring up at the ceiling.

You only notice him when he calls your name, stood at the edge of the couch.

"Ah," you snap your head up, obviously twinging the muscles of your neck, "oof." You rub the knots out, flashing a weak smile for Curly as he settles onto the couch next to you. "Aha. . . hi, Captain."

"Are you okay?" Curly asks, hands raised and unsure of what to do. Anya is asleep, and he's no real doctor himself, so the options for immediate help are limited.

"Oh, I'm fine." You waft your free hand at him. The lights of the fake window douse your skin in an almost sickly color, like all the blood is gone from your face. Your eyes look dull too. "Just, y'know. . ."

There's a long pause. Seems you can't think of anything to make an excuse out of.

Curly sits next to you, and tries to think. You've always been so. . . jolly, quick with jokes and ideas to lighten the mood. He knows you can't always be happy, but he's never been privy to the moments when your guard falls. This is a first for him, and he's surprisingly nervous.

He's comforted most everyone on this ship. He knows how to do it. So why does the thought of comforting you and doing it wrong scare him so much?

"You know. . ." Curly starts, frantically grasping at the words that are usually so easy. "I know it may seem. . . unprofessional, since I'm technically your boss-"

"You're captain." You agree with a nod that you immediately regret. The rubbing gets faster.

Curly huffs at you, burying amusement under concern. "You can talk to me. I'm higher up, but I'm not one of them." He gestures to the nearest poster of Polle. You shoot the horse a glare on instinct, but your face is quick to fall. "I just want you safe and happy."

The quiet returns, and with it his offer hangs heavy over the two of you. You stare down at your lap, hand still loosely clinging to your neck. Curly tries not to stare at you, but god, your eyes just look so. . . sad.

He wishes he could take your hand, show you he's here for you. But that wouldn't be smart, would it?

A heavy sigh rushes out of your nose. "I guess I'm just getting a little tired." Your face pinches as you say it, so Curly lets you piece your words together. "It gets repetitive, y'know? Everything is the same, day in and day out. I try my best, cause I know everyone here is feeling the same kinda stir crazy I am, but. . . I'm tired."

Curly lunges forward as your shoulders sag, palm pressed to the space between them before he can think better of it. "Yeah?"

"I miss plants." You tell him. "Trees, flowers, grass. I miss the sky and the sun. These damn monitors-" You throw an arm towards the screen in front of your both, face screwed up in disgust. "I hate them. They're not even close to something real. Hell, I'd take looking out into space over them."

Curly's thumb has started rubbing into the base of your neck without him realizing. He can't bring himself to stop, though.

"Back home, I could just visit somewhere new, meet new people, pet a dog and smell enough flowers to give myself asthma." You laugh a little at yourself. Curly smiles, and you return it, sheepish. "Sorry. I do like all of you. I hope I don't sound like I'm sick of ya."

"We like you too." Curly says with a pat on the back. "I get it, though. Days can blend together here, drive you crazy." An idea wiggles into his head, one he can't dismiss, even if it's technically against protocol. "If you want a change in scenery, I could show ya the cockpit?"

Your head snaps up again, and this time Curly is the one to rub the wince from your neck. "Really??" You flounder suddenly, and it strikes just how close he is to you. His face burns as he eases back, hand tingling from the touch of your skin. "I mean. . . if it's alright! I don't wanna impose if you're busy."

"Nah," Curly waves the worry away, "it's nothing. Hell, I could teach you how to fly, if you're interested?"

"Very much!" You chirp.

The lights dim further, probably a code Pony Express programmed to save energy while the crew slept. It doesn’t matter, though, for your grin and bright eyes light up the entire damn spaceship.

You have never smiled at him like this before. Curly desperately wants you to do so every day, though.

"Then we'll do a lesson tomorrow." Curly says. He stands up, a hand offered to you. You take it, squeezing his hand before you let it go. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Aye aye, Captain." You do a mock salute, striding off with a wave. "Sweet dreams!" As you pass through the door, you make sure to bow. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow!"

With you gone, Curly lets a grin take over his face, hiding it behind his hand.

Seems he's getting some alone time with you tomorrow. He's going to be having sweet dreams indeed.

[churipu]

FAILING A TEST BECAUSE OF GOJO INCLUDES . . . 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. gojo being clingy (again), gojo being a tutor, serious gojo wow, cursing.

note. this is a part 2 on studying with gojo includes, took long enough i'm sorry kajsksks

[ PART 1 : STUDYING WITH GOJO INCLUDES . . . ]

failing a test because of gojo includes him practically being on his knees and apologizing for being so clingy to the point it was impossible to study with him.

"'m so sorry, please don't hate me. please still bring me to study with you — i can't stand being so far away from you," he dramatically apologized, hugging your leg.

"i never said i hated you, 'toru." you muttered, trying to brush his grip away from your leg, he was latched onto you like a magnet. it was impossible to pry him off, "get off me or i'll step on you, satoru."

"are y'hearing yourself? i can feel it in your voice, you hate me now!" he whines out softly.

if it weren't for the constant shot of worry and oddness from people passing by — you swore you would have kicked his ass already, "satoru, stop this. don't you have any shame in you? we're in public," he shook his head and buried his face into your clothed thigh.

"it's fine, 'ts not your fault 'toru. i was sure i'm gonna fail that test anyways," you found yourself telling him, tousling his hair back, "so stand up before i kick your ass."

the male begrudgingly stood up, brushing his pants, "well, why didn't you say that? so, 'ts not me but you. you're the problem," he joked, rolling his eyes, brushing his hair back hastily.

"you're not coming to study with me anymore, and i hate you."

cue the color draining from his face, and in a second, gojo was back on the ground, gripping on your leg harder than ever. whining and throwing a temper tantrum over your statement, "take that back, baby. take those words back, you don't mean that."

"y'r right. i don't," you flicked his forehead before pushing his grip off and then sauntering away from him.

failing a test because gojo includes him actually trying to help you study for the make up test — because if you haven't realized, he really does feel bad for being over your head while you were trying to study.

"no, no, baby. you put the x over here, and then just did what i told you before, step by step." he explains softly, pointing the tip of his pencil to an equation.

you mustered out a sigh of exhaustion and did what he told you to do. and miserably failed while trying to do so, your fingertips scratching your scalp in apparent frustration — the material incensed you.

maths. equations. numbers. they weren't really your forte, so even if gojo tries to convince you that he was the main reason for you failing your test; you think it was your brain capacity that failed you during this important test.

"'ts alright baby, don't stress yourself over this — y'know i'm gonna be here helping you, right?" he rubs your nape, squeezing your skin gently, "you're doing good, you just forgot to move the x, 'ts okay. everyone does that."

as much as you try not to overthink about it, moving the x was the first step of the equation. and you got it wrong.

failing a test because of gojo includes him trying to make sure you get at least a fifteen minutes worth of break to ease yourself from the stress. the male doesn't really take no for an answer — so when you tell him no to breaks, gojo manhandles you forcefully (and gently).

"y/n, take a break. you've been studying for four hours," he mumbles into your ear.

"'m fine, just a few more questions."

gojo does not take no for an answer, wrapping an arm around your waist — he pulls you back from the short legged table, tugging you up from the floor and tosses you onto the plush mattress. that was not all, the male wrapped your cotton made blanket around you, solely trapping your body inside it.

"fifteen minutes, and i'll let you go." he mutters, placing a kiss onto your lips before laying on top of your covered body, "stop kneeing my head, i'll get a concussion."

"unhand me." you muttered out in spite.

"stop moving, and stop talking. you're fine with a fifteen minutes break, y/n." gojo muttered back in reply.

failing a test because of gojo includes a "fifteen minutes" break, which in his vocabulary was apparently a two hours nap time together. even then, if gojo hadn't woke up first — it was going to be at least a four hours nap time.

"shit, y/n. wake up," he shook you gently, realizing you had been under his weight all this time, not moving; in the same position, the blanket around your body refusing to give you the access to move even an inch.

gojo unwraps the blanket delicately as you snored your exhaustion away, you had your arms by your side, and your legs were stiffly straight. it was a weird position, like you're standing — but horizontally. psycho.

"baby, wake up. we have to review the materials," it's a little ironic coming from the male who insisted that you should be the one slipping in breaks. he flicked your nose, making your eyelids twitch, "wake up, big baby."

"what time is it?"

gojo grimaces, "don't be angry but the sun isn't up anymore."

you sat up straight, looking at him. eyes tired, "what?"

failing a test because of gojo includes him reviewing the materials one more time before he has to leave — it didn't take long, because he actually took his sweet time correcting you, not even getting angry when you made a mistake in the same equations.

"that's right, you're gonna ace this make up test, baby. i just know it," he mutters out, kissing the side of your head, "'m sorry i made you fail."

"'ts okay, i suck at maths anyways. even if you didn't bother me, i'd still fail — thanks for being patient with me, 'toru."

"'m proud of you," he brushes your hair aside as you focused on the last two questions on the book, "good luck on the test," he whispers, leaning to the crook of your neck, burying his face in it like he belongs there.

"oh, i will. don't worry." you tell him confidently.

spoiler: you did in fact aced the test.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[dragoneyelashart]

just friends 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

authors note: sorry to twist the knife twice, i looove angst

warnings: angst, love for someone in a relationship

you think about her more than you'd ever admit.

not in the obvious ways, not in the blushing, giggly, teenage-daydream kind of way. no—your love for billie sits deeper. it’s tucked into the corners of your bones, resting beneath your ribs, pressed tight and hidden like something shameful. like something sacred.

every time you text her “i love you,” you mean it like a scream underwater. muffled. desperate. never loud enough to breach the surface. never meant to be heard in the way your heart intends it. she always texts it back—"love you more 💕"—like it’s easy. like it doesn’t tear anything open.

you wonder what she’d do if she knew. if she saw the way your hands shake when her name lights up your phone. if she knew how many nights you’ve fallen asleep picturing what her mouth might taste like between i love you and goodnight.

today is one of those days where you’re trying to forget. you’re doing errands. folding laundry. pretending you’re fine. and then her text comes through:

billie 💕: come over?

your heart drops.

you don’t even hesitate. everything else evaporates.

you: "rn? ok give me 5"

you throw on the first hoodie you find, barely register the color. it's hers—she lent it to you months ago and never asked for it back. it still smells like her. you don’t let yourself think about that too long. you just grab your keys, tell someone in your house you’ll be back soon, and leave. you don’t know what you’re going over for, but it doesn’t matter. it never matters. when it’s billie, it’s always yes. always.

the drive feels like nothing and forever all at once. your fingers tremble on the wheel. you’re trying to calm your breathing, trying not to imagine her answering the door in a tank top and sleepy eyes, the way she always does. you try not to imagine what it would be like if she pulled you in by the collar, whispered something soft and wrecking against your cheek.

you hate yourself a little for it. for wanting more. for being so goddamn pathetic about her.

you pull into her driveway, and your stomach sinks.

her girlfriend’s car is already there.

you swallow it down. no. you don’t get to be upset. she’s allowed to be happy. she’s allowed to love someone. it’s not your place. it’s never been your place.

you put your best smile on—it feels like pressing broken glass into your cheeks.

billie opens the door with that same grin, the one that used to make you feel like the world was okay. like maybe she was your safe place. she’s barefoot, hair in a messy bun, skin glowing. “hey!” she beams. “you got here so fast.”

“you said come over.” you shrug, try to laugh it off. “you know i’d drop anything.”

her girlfriend’s on the couch. you recognize her—pretty, sharp-jawed, the kind of girl who always knows what to say in a group. she waves politely and offers a tight smile.

you smile back, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

they're watching some show, talking about nothing, laughing in the way couples do. you sit off to the side, legs tucked under you, trying not to shrink into yourself.

billie tosses a blanket at you like she always does, like she knows you're cold even when you don't say it out loud. it should feel like home. instead, it burns.

at some point, her girlfriend gets up to use the bathroom. billie turns to you immediately, eyes narrowing.

“okay,” she says quietly. “spill.”

your heart jumps. “what?”

“don’t play dumb. i’ve known you my whole life, y/n. something’s up. you’re breathing weird. are you okay?”

you almost say it.

you almost say, i can’t stand watching you love someone else.

you almost say, i’m in love with you and it’s killing me.

instead, you shake your head. “nothing’s wrong.”

“bullshit.” she leans in closer. you can feel the heat of her next to you, the way your body reacts on instinct, like you’re drawn to her by gravity alone. “you always get this look when you’re upset. like your heart's too heavy for your chest.”

you want to cry.

you want to grab her by the shoulders and scream. tell her that she’s everything. that she’s the reason you get out of bed some mornings. that no one’s ever made you feel more like yourself and less like enough all at once.

but instead, you say, “i’m just tired.”

she stares at you for a second too long. like she’s trying to read between the cracks. like she’s waiting for something.

“you sure?” she whispers.

you nod.

you think your lungs might collapse.

she reaches out and squeezes your hand. just a second. just a flicker of touch. but it wrecks you.

you look down at your knees, suddenly too aware of how your hoodie smells like her. how it still feels like something sacred and stolen.

her girlfriend comes back and billie pulls her hand away, just like that. like it never meant anything.

because to her, it didn’t.

the three of you sit there for another twenty minutes. laughing. making dumb jokes. pretending this isn’t hell. and when you finally stand up to leave, your legs barely hold you.

“text me when you get home,” billie says. “you know i worry.”

you nod again. you can’t speak. if you open your mouth, something might come out that you’ll never be able to take back.

you get to the door. her girlfriend’s in the kitchen. billie follows you, just for a second, hand brushing your wrist.

“hey,” she says softly. “you know i love you, right?”

it hits you like a truck. she doesn’t mean it the way you do. she never has.

you force a smile. it feels like something’s breaking.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i know.”

you turn to go, and she says it behind you—

"thank you, y/n. you're such a good friend to me."

you don’t remember walking to your car.

your feet move but you’re not in them. your body goes through the motions—unlock, slide in, start the engine—but your head is somewhere else. still on the doorstep. still in her eyes. still in the echo of that fucking sentence.

“thank you, y/n. you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve heard her say i love you a hundred times. sometimes in texts. sometimes whispered during late-night phone calls. sometimes at sleepovers when you were half-asleep and warm under the same blanket. it always meant something.

but tonight—it meant nothing.

or maybe it meant everything.

just not the kind of everything you wanted it to.

you pull out of her driveway too fast. you’re shaking. the streetlights blur. your vision goes glassy. you blink hard, but it’s no use.

you’re crying before you’ve even turned the first corner.

not the loud kind. not the sobs that shake your whole body. this is different. it’s quiet. it’s shameful. it’s all your ribs caving in at once. it’s your throat closing up like it’s trying to save you from speaking the truth out loud.

you drive in silence.

no music.

no noise.

just the sound of your own breath stuttering in the dark.

you don’t go home. not yet. you can’t. you wouldn’t know how to walk into your house and pretend you’re okay. not like this. not when everything inside you feels like it’s splintered.

you pull into the parking lot of some random grocery store. leave your engine running. sit there in the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlight, clutching the sleeves of the hoodie like it’s a lifeline.

her hoodie.

her scent.

her warmth.

her name pounding in your chest.

you press your forehead to the steering wheel and finally let it all go.

the tears come harder now. like your body’s been waiting. like your heart’s had enough of holding everything in. you sob into the silence, mouth open, breath hitching, hands trembling.

why did you have to love her like this?

why couldn’t it just be enough to be her friend?

you would’ve done anything for her.

anything.

but you never stood a chance. not against someone like her girlfriend. someone beautiful. someone bold. someone who could touch her in all the ways you weren’t allowed to. someone who didn’t flinch when billie leaned in close. someone who didn’t fall apart every time she said i love you like a knife disguised as kindness.

you squeeze your eyes shut and try to rewind it all. try to pretend you never came over. that you stayed home. that you never saw the way billie’s hand fit into her girlfriend’s so easily. that you didn’t hear the words that finally killed the last stupid hope you were clinging to.

“you’re such a good friend to me.”

you’ve been her friend your whole life.

and now, it feels like a prison you built yourself.

you want to hate her. god, it would be so much easier if you could. if she were cruel. if she strung you along on purpose. but she didn’t. she just… loved you the only way she knew how.

and it wasn’t the way you needed.

your phone buzzes beside you. you already know who it is.

billie 💕: did you make it home safe?

you stare at the message for a long time. thumbs hovering over the screen. there’s a pressure building in your chest like a scream you’re not allowed to let out.

you type.

you: yeah. thanks.

you don’t say i love you. not this time.

you just toss your phone onto the passenger seat and let your head fall back against the headrest. your eyes are still wet. your heart’s still breaking. your hands are clenched into fists around the fabric of her hoodie like maybe, if you hold on tight enough, you won’t completely come undone.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @ifnot-foryou @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[mooningningg]

"You're insufferable." part i, jjk.

-in which you got in a heated argument with jjk men.

part ii.

toji, satoru, and nanami, (f).

warnings, genre. swearing! not proofread! | angst to fluff! |

notes i. this was requested from like a year ago so... yeah.

Toji. the scarred man was flaring up your temper for sure, you sat at the your side of the passanger seat. drowning in your own sea of thoughts whilst you looked outside the window of the moving car. tiny drops of water was plastered right on the car window. the sound of pitter-patter by the rain can be heard but slightly muffled.

the car however was silent, toji, your boyfriend was driving with a deadly grip on the steering wheel. you both were driving home after a disasterous date. it was going on fine at the beginning but all of a sudden, your meticulous boyfriend and you were suddenly fighting with him over something you didn't seem to think about now. you were just fuming in your seat because he had raised his voice at you in front of many people, "are you going to keep up this being a bitch act of yours?" he bites, you can feel the venom seeping through his voice.

you stayed silent, trying to send him the hint that you weren't going to talk to him any sooner. he hisses beside you before slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making you look at him with a flinch, "damn it!" "what the hell is wrong with you, toji!" "now you decide to talk to me."

"if you were just being so fucking easy back there, then maybe i wouldn't have yelled." the man beside you fills you in, trying to point out your mistakes from the fight.

"oh so now it's my fault that you have anger issues that you can not somehow get a hold of? you're a fucking assassin, toji. yet you act like you can't color inside the lines with a gun to your fucking head."

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice grumbles, and just in time for a thunder to roar in the sky, light flashes in a second before the rain came down heavier. toji took a glance at you, his eyes were filled with anger and you can tell, you calmed yourself down. looking out from the window again you wrapped your own arms around your body to provide warmness, you couldn't handle it anymore. there was never a day where you don't find yourself arguing with the scarred man over and over again, you were tired, to an extent.

"you're a fucking jerk." you mumble, resting your head on the window as you feel your tears starting to build up. it hurts you, him being too comfortable yelling at you in front of a crowd, it shatters your heart into millions of pieces. you knew you were hard to love but... toji made you feel like there wasn't hope at all.

"I hate you." it came out like a whisper, your voice vulnerable and weak. toji's grip loosened, his eyes softening in an instant with his face muscle finally relaxing, but not in a good way. damn did those three words, eight letters, stab his heart a million times repeatingly, over and over again. he was hurting you, and now he realizes it, he has gone too far now, "y/n."his voice was gentle now, no sign of anger or irritation.

you didn't answer, you felt so weak now. you felt like you were going to burst into tears within a second, " 'm sorry." your boyfriend says, your heart warms up in an instant, it was unfair, he had this effect on you and you just can't ignore it, "whatever." you replied with a sob at the end of your sentence, you had been crying again... because of him.

toji didn't like seeing you like this so he swore in him, he would kill anyone that made you cry, and if he did make you holler again, he'll end his self instead.

Satoru. "This is crazy." you say in frustration, looking at your lover as if he has grown tw heads to make your eyes shine with horrid, "oh this is crazy? you're

crazy." the silver haired exclaims with his tone sharp and absolute, you were taken a back by his response, "oh wow, don't try to point this on me when you're the one who flirted with a girl." "it's like I can't even do anything in this relationship anymore, you have this fucking vision in your head that im so fucking wrong all the time."

"you're just making up excuses, satoru. it won't cover up the fact that you flirted with the girl." you pointed at him, your eyes glared at him with your voice slightly raising. smoke was basically coming out of satoru's ear, he was fuming, "you're insecure, that's what you are." "what did you just say?" "you make a big fuss whenever i talk to another girl, you're afraid ill le...

there was the sound of your palm hitting his right cheek, it echos through out the room with your eyes tearing up. who am i kidding, it already rolled down your cheeks, your eyes held betrayal. satoru, never in your life did he point out your insecurities in an argument.

"what happened to you. if that's what you think then I'm afraid we're better off by ourselves." you say calmly, your tears still can't help themselves from falling, "y/n." "no, you don't say those hurtful things and expect me to be okay."

"im sorry, i know i crossed the line." the silver haired exclaims with a saddened voice, the slap was like a slap from reality. truly the reason why he realized his mistake. "i would never do that to you." your voice cracked, you couldn't anymore, the burden rose up to your throat and it made hard for you to say something without finding it hard. you were crying now.

backing away from your boyfriend your back hits the wall and you slide down to the floor whilst trying to calm yourself down. and just like that you feel your boyfriends familiar scent crouch down to your level, grabbing your hands gently to replace his slender hands to wipe away your tears. "im sorry baby, im so... fuck, i hate seeing you like this."

Nanami. "im just trying to calmly apologize to you, i dont want to fight anymore." the blonde says, he brings his hand up to his mouth in a frustrated manner, you stood there, your arms crossed in front of your chest with your eyebrows furrowed. your face was bear but the outfit you were supposed to wear to your date with him was still on your body, "how is that going to help me, is it going to bring back the two hours i waited for you!" you exclaim, you were frustrated, the man forgot your date because he went to a party at work. and he didn't even tell you he was going, so it caused a misunderstanding, and you waited fir him like a fool.

"did you get hurt? i said i was sorry didn't i? can i go to bed now." he says in almost a monotone voice, you were offended by the way he reacted. it was almost like he didn't even care about your feelings. your eyes by now had widened, "so you're invalidating my feelings now? so what you said sorry?" "god your voice it's so..." "its so what." "...." "answer me!"

"fucking annoying! that's what it is, you yell, you yap do you ever get tired?" nanami finally loses his composure and his words were like daggers stabbing your heart. and if you listened closely, you can hear your heart breaking into pieces, and shattering beneath you. "you... you're the least man i have ever thought to say those words to me."

"wait." but it was too late, you had slammed the door in your shared room, nanami was left inside the cold atmosphere of the living room. he drops his self to the couch, placing his elbow on both his knees as he runs his finger through his blonde locks in frustration, he fucked up.

he needed to calm his self down before comforting you, in case he hurts you again.

[eph3merall]

Okay okay hear me out. I soooo badly need a dealer!chris x reader where he gets jealous and/or possessive. It can be smutty if you’d like but I’d think it’s be funny (and hot who said thatttt) to see a reader who doesn’t like parties and she starts talking to some guy, not realizing he’s flirting with her, and Chris is fumingggg (I tried to leave this kinda vague so you could have more creative control, sorry kinda new at the whole tumblr thing too)

anon i love u. i think i maybe wrote something similar to this b4 but i literally dont know

the ice in your cup clinks with each shake of your hand as you laugh at your friends' words. you've abandoned chris for the night to be with your own friends and group of people, and chris had some stuff do with his clients anyways. you'd rather drop dead than sit through more drug deals and boring conversations, so you wandered off to entertain yourself.

the bright, colorful lights are honestly blinding you a little, and you hate the way everything and everyone is so loud. people are yelling and laughing, and the music feels like it's shaking the deepest parts of you inside your body. you have to strain your ears to hear the words people say to you half the time, and the whole party crowd never interested you.

it was always too rowdy, too much. you remember old friends used to coax you to a random house party to try and warm you up to them, only at the end of the night you're found standing anxiously in a corner and said friends are nowhere to be found.

you tolerate these types of environments after meeting the right people and hanging around the right friend group, and after meeting chris it got easier to come to functions like these without groaning or rolling your eyes just at the word 'party'. it doesn't mean you necessarily like them, but it's not like you'd rather burn alive than attend one for the night.

"god, and he was the cutest," your friend is practically gushing, droning on about how her recent hookup was some cute guy interested in photography. he had the "sweetest smile, loudest laugh, and biggest dick ever". you stared blankly at her, because you did not really need to know the last part.

"some things are good to keep to ourselves, y'know?"

"sure.. you just say that cause you dont get dick."

you roll your eyes and punch her arm, feigning offense. really though, a blush creeps up your face and makes you feel hot in the cheeks and all over your body, scorching coals seemingly getting thrown all over you and making you feel burning hot to the touch.

you don't say anything, because you do get dick. just, from the one person she probably wouldn't expect it from.

"okay, sure. you, you know i don't go around... with guys every night like you," what follows is your friends just scoffing and waving her hand at your face.

"oh, please! im not that bad. god, you should see how many men have rochelle hanging off their shoulder in the span of a day."

you don't need to hear it, honestly. rochelle, or, ro, is a frequent buyer from chris as well. you've seen a fair share of her character and personality, and how much cash she carries in her pockets. she's bitchy and rude, but you feel immediately guilty even thinking that way afterwards. using the word 'bitchy' sounds wrong too, she was just.. incredibly confident.

getting pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder, a cute guy with black curls is grinning at you. your eyebrows raise and confusion overtakes your features, because no one ever really walks up to you like that, no less a guy. if chris isnt scaring them off, there aren't many special, outstanding physical qualities you have.

before you know it, you're roped into a conversation. whether or not you even wanted to talk to this guy in the first place, he didn't give you much of a choice. he insisted on sharing his name, smooth talking his way into your little bubble with a mention of the necklace adorned around your neck, glimmering gently in the lighting.

you don't see your friend eyeing you a little, rolling her eyes around to search out some people to take shots with. and, not long after you start talking, enthusiastic grins are sent the guy's way. you learn that his name is mason, he's studying law and he has great taste in bands and music in general.

you notice the little things immediately, how his hands keep fidgeting, one shoving inside his pocket or scratching at the back of his neck, occasionally running a hand through his long hair—the action subtly reminding you of chris. what you don't notice, is chris eyeing you down like a hawk from across the room. his eyes are peering over the rim of a beer bottle at you, not at you, but at the guy you're talking to.

he knows that social cues aren't exactly your strong suit. it's like if a stranger were to hug you, you would just brush it off and say they were 'being nice'. it's ridiculous, because the guy in front of you was so obviously into you. who wouldn't be? you're a ball of sunshine, sweet and all smiles. hell, he found himself drawn to you the first time he met you. even after repeatedly telling himself he wouldn't be good for you, it was hard to stay away.

your moods were infectious, just like your laughs. sometimes chris doesn't understand why he has the urge to grin at just your giggle. he hates you a little for it, actually.

his fingers tighten around the neck of the glass bottle, rubbing his thumb around the bumps and indents in the glass to try and calm himself down. his jaw was tight, and every loud sound seemed to fade into a calm background hum.

chris knows that going over there wouldn't really be logical. it's not like the guy's doing anything to you worth fighting him for. you two are just talking. you'll lecture him later if he does, all confused and scolding. why'd you do that? are you like, kidding, chris?

he doesn't recognize the surge of possessiveness in him, lighting up his veins and making him feel wound up—like a jack in the box toy ready to burst open. it's not like he had a right to feel this way, because you two weren't anything more than best friends. his eyes scan the two of you up and down, surprisingly finding himself ignoring the bills that are trying to get shoved into his hand.

you're having a good time talking to this guy. mason is nice, and he enjoys the same things you do. he has great arguments, and even better ideas—not afraid to share them with you either. you think he's just being friendly, missing the brief way his eyes looked you up and down for a second and how his fingers twitched to reach out and touch you.

and then he did, a careful graze against your back that had you freezing up, tense. his hand slot behind your back, gentle on your body yet missing the way you seemed uncomfortable.

and, that's when chris was tumbling through people. shoving bodies aside and missing the swears thrown his way, his only goal right now to reach you. make sure you're okay, and then make sure he doesn't ever touch you again, because with the way your body was wound up like a tight coil he was sure you didn't want him to touch you. he felt hot with anger, rage filling him up—practically fuming.

then, chris' knuckles meets the guys face.

—

hai do we like do we hate im trying to write more ( this req was from like. multiple months ago .... )

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