#im sorry i havent posted anything in so long...im so busy

[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

[internetscenarios]

PLEASE LCSCHLATT ANYTHING

yes anon!😛 i just realised this is lunch club im so sorry

schlatt x reader headcanons ·˚

• hand difference!!

• purposely holds your hand to actually see the difference

• i think someone did this with ted i cant remember but

petnames when ur alone, jay in front of people, and jonothan when your angry😛

• feel like he calls you petnames more than your actual name

• toots, doll, anything that sounds like a new york business man

• always buys u random stuff, like i feel like stuff just shows up at ur door

• jambo and burnt soup love u sm!!

is burnt soup even the cats name

• youll come to his house and the people answering the door are the cats

• lets say hypothetically you have a cat and that cat has a kitten. ur cat brings their kitten to schlatt all the time because its a sign of trust <3

sorry ive been watching so many cat videos

• as much as ur relationship might be private theres constantly hints like if ur a cc then ur constantly interacting

• i feel like u would have a minx and schlatt era.. miss them…

hi everyone.. i havent posted in so long or not a proper post.. i doubt ill be super active but i do enjoy writing so feel free to send requests and i can get to them as soon as possible :D

[rosemarybunnie]

AHHHH sorry ive been so busy! Just got to see my mom for the first time in half a year and christmas had me running around like a chicken without a head 😭😭 heres the Savanaclaw boys Genshin edition!

Leona just might be the laziest yet the most cunning member of the Children of Echoes! Hardly a time the other members of the tribe dont see him lounging about on the surface, soaking in the sun! Yet he somehow always stays on point with his work and skills.

I thought Geo suited him perfectly and was the closest reference to his unique magic as a vision! And Polearm because its similar to the main choice of weapon in the Sunset Savannah ! I dont imagine hes related to the chief or anything but perhaps his family is a long line of warriors who have held ancient names of especially famous fighters but Leona perhaps didnt get one? So hes ostracized from his family despite his hard work and dedication growing up. I like to think he actually gives Kachina tips on her training, part of him is jealous that she has an ancient name yet is so meek but he sees how people treat her regardless and grows a soft spot for her!

Also totally hangs out with Xilonen, its the law now, they have to be besties. I wrote somewhere (where ever those notes are please return to me 😭😭) that if Mualani thinks hes being too rough and mean eith Kachina that she'll dump water on him- good luck Leona!

RUGGIE

GUYS I CANT WAAAIIITTT TO DRAW HIS DESIGN. Somehow the one I'm most excited for (aside from Vil's 👀) he just looks so cute 😭🥰

Ruggie i made a member of the Scions of the Canopy! It feels pretty fitting in my opinion? Theyre all about thrills and action over there, Id imagine Ruggies slick nature and jack of all trades talent would be perfect for them!

Hes pretty easy going but that doesnt mean he wont try to swindle a traveller or two for some money or food while they travel to the city- ah but leave it to Kinich! He'll make sure to set him straight whether he likes it or not. Those two grew up together after all! Now i wasnt sure why, but Pyro sword felt perfect for him! Does he have an ancient name? I havent decided yet, if he does itd make for an interesting dynamic between him and Leona? 🤔 If he didnt then theyd both be two pouty babies about it XD

Regardless I love him so much-

Lastly, Jack! Who if you mightve noticed ISNT from Natlan! Instead I chose to reference his childhood home (didnt do that for everyone ofc- but its fine-) and I made him from Snezchnaya instead!

Oh and yes, he is a fatui member! He resides under Capitanos command though which is how he finds himself in Natlan for the mean time! The Captain's Blood Hound is what they call him amongst the troops. Fiercely loyal and strong to boot! No matter what Capitano chooses to do with his mission, if he sticks to the Tsaritsa or trades sides for his homeland, Jack will follow him without a moments hesitation. Definitely a soldier the others look up to! Some say theyve seen him spar almost on the same level as a certain Harbinger near the same age as him! Or that he is long time friends with the late La Signora's right hand, Vil (*wink wink* just a small sneak there for you guys to look forward to-)

Safe to say he quickly becomes a legend among the regular fatui soldiers. Same as Ruggie, I went with a vibe and his vibe said Cryo Claymore! Claymore for such an obvious reason- cryo itself tends to be in relation to family and loyalty (if you squint-) so it clicked in my brain, it could add to possible backstory you might hear whenever i get to his final copy!

Let me know what you guys think! Im sorry ive been gone so long 😭 ill try to post the next doodle set in the next few days to make up for it! And currently as final copies go, theyre gonna take much longer to do since theyre my complete artstyle and ive also decided i hate myself enough to attempt designing personal weapons as well! Currently ive completed Ace and Deuce is 70% finished, i just have to finish coloring him. It will only be flats color, rendering would take even longer- but this way if there are any other artists who wanna do fanart they could color drop the flat colors perfectly! (Or wing it, i dont mind either way-) As soon as the doodles are all posted ill start bringing in the final versions for you guys!

[onefourone]

gaz x gn!reader drabble (no warnings)

also im sorry for not posting for a while, i havent been doing too great 🥲 but i hope yall like it + sorry for any mistakes

having been with kyle (or gaz, as he's referred to by his friends) for years now, you've come to appreciate every single way he expresses his love and affection for you.

the way he looks at you. kyle has always had this gaze that made your breath stutter in your chest. but you feel safe. you feel protected under his watchful eye. not a single thing goes unnoticed as long as he's there to see it. sometimes even when he isn't. he maps out every part of your body and soul with his eyes, committing every inch of you to his memory. he loves making eye contact with you whenever it's possible, just so you can see the extent of his devotion.

the way he touches you. gaz is a military man. his hands have caused so much death in his service, which is something you hate thinking about (and so does he). those same hands come home to you and cradle you like you're the most precious jewel on the planet. his hands dig into the knots on your back. they rub lotion onto your skin after a shower. they rub your stomach when it's upset. they care for you.

the way he cooks for you. it's not an uncommon sight, seeing gaz in the kitchen. he loves to cook for you more than anything. he loves to bust out his mother's old recipes to make for you. he's always keeping you fed. nothing makes him happier than the seeing the thankful smile on your face before eating what he prepared. while he would never turn down a cooked meal from you if you wanted to make it, he never wants you to feel like you're forced to make anything if you don't want you. he wants you to relax and eat good food like the royalty that you are.

the way he speaks to you. kyle's voice was a big part of why you fell for him in the first place. it's silky smooth, and so relaxing to listen to. you often ask him to read to you or tell you a random story just so you can sleep. you could hear him speak forever and never get tired of it. you constantly run out of space on your phone because you save every single voicemail and voice message he leaves you, just so you can hear his beautiful voice when you're feeling anxious.

the way he's loyal to you. you know that loyalty is supposed to be a given in any relationship. but kyle is loyal in a way you've never experienced before with previous partners. he actually advocates for you. family putting you down? he tells them off and reminds you of your worth. "friends" treating you badly? he tells them to fuck off and let's you know they don't deserve you. you've never had anyone put you first like this before and it's such a refreshing feeling with him. if you ever feel like it's too much, he will never push it. but you know he always has your back regardless.

the way he comes back to you. it's no secret that you hate kyle's work. you hate that he constantly had to leave. you hate barely being able to contact him while he's gone. you hate stewing in your anxiety for weeks, not knowing if you'd ever get to see him again. but he always comes back. he says as much whenever he can. there's no "if" or "maybe" with him. he says he will come back to you, and he always does.

the way he spoils you. kyle makes a decent amount of money from his work. decent enough that he constantly begs you to quit your shitty office job. you refuse on account of needing a way to busy your mind while he's gone. to compromise, he buys you gifts constantly. it never works to try and pretend you have nothing you're interested in. he is extremely perceptive and pays attention to everything you say and do. you'll constantly find yourself on the receiving end of all your favorite things.

the way he marries you. when you bring up the idea of getting married, he practically collapses onto his knees in relief. he's so incredibly happy that you want that with him, because he can't see a reality where he isn't yours for all of eternity. when he eventually proposes to you under the stars in your favorite park, you can just tell he is going to make you the happiest person in the world. when you get back home, he reveals (the most sheepish you've ever seen him) that he actually bought the ring ages ago, but he was afraid he'd been moving too fast. he couldn't help but laugh at the adorable look of shock you had.

the way he cherishes you forever. the married life with kyle was really not that different. he still treats you like he just fell in love with you, even years later. he finally took you to meet his team, after years of brief greetings while you video called kyle. you felt indebted to this group of people for keeping the love of your life alive (though, his captain was quick to let you know that kyle does the same for the rest of them often). you smile when his other teammate, soap, tells you about how kyle never shuts up about you ever. he even carries a picture of you on him at all times for good luck. you try your best (and fail) not to cry.

[fireandkimstone]

haii... i drew again for the first time in BILLIONS OF YEARS! do you like it. i hope so! as you can SEE ive "redesigned" my sona but its moreso just updating that little dude to reflect me as i am NOW. the outfit is my current outfit what im wearing RIGHT NOW as of posting. yeahh some call me a fashion genius but i stay modest about it. this is an update post, big text wall incoming!!! keep reading... if you DARE

sorry fireandkimstone nation ive been neglecting you lately. you guys are all so awsome i heart all of you!!! i never really talk about this publicly or even privately that often but this past year from around april to now has been really hard on me. end of a 2 year long relationship, lots of lost friends and a huge workload at school has rung me dry entirely of motivation to do likeeee anything but shitpost online lol. overall just a big drag of depression my room was messy as shit i did the bare minimum in taking care of myself i was losing interest in all of the things i enjoyed slept through all the days i could etc.

but!!! im not sure what changed but i feel a lot better at least for now!!! got a short-term project to keep me busy, weeded out all the friends that were bad for me, im more interested in my passions again, buying more free time for myself and taking better care of myself generally. probably will be posting a lot more personal stuff on here!!! i tried to make sure all the shit i was going through wasnt affecting how i acted around people or the quality of anything i was doing but this fall i kinda failed on the matter lol. but now that im feeling better i shall be better about that... i return to you, fireandkimstone nation...

anywayyy back to the art. havent drawn anything for a while (read prior paragraphs), i hope this is good!!! she kinda looks like a mii. i luv her. while i was drawing this and my new pfp (do you like it btw. i do my favorite part is the hat) anthony " @azspam " zoxide fucking KIDNAPPED ME and FORCED me to watch his strange little minecraft guys. let this be a lesson in multitasking... tch. loser

[ashistired37]

...you said something about oc art?? 👀👀👀👀👀

i want to hear eerything about them please and thank you ^V^

Sorry it took so long i got busy and i wanted to show off proper refs! Let me introduce you all tooooooo

the names are obviously not theirs but these were the concept sketches!! Theyre all based on birds

Based on a brahma chicken, kingfisher, siskin and a mandrin duck! (This is the female the males really colourful and pretty look em up)

Unfortunate news. Theyre a boy band.

Corys based on a crested coua !

theres a mysterious ex fourth memeber based on a parrot! Ooooooo mysssteryyyy.

I havent given them proper names yet except Cory and Diana cause i looked at them and named them immediately so feel free to suggest some names!!! Please.

aditional oc - Siskin's little brother whos based on -

yup. A gloster canary. Can you tell why I made the jimmy post lol

Till i come up with names im not sharing anything cause I'll feel so silly writting

Kingfishers father - Kingfiser the 1st etc etc bla bla so

[fyodors-husband]

Hello! May i request sfw or nsfw headcanons for Arthur Rimbaud? Feel free to decline! I hope you have a wonderful day and take care ^^

Ive been so inactive lately i am SO SORRY 😭 Work has been kicking my ass. I hope you have a wonderful day aswell anon!

______________________________________________

Of course i can! I love Rimbaud so much and i need to write again so why not start with him?

Both SFW and NSFW for you anon!

CW : NSFW (below second cut)

°~•~○~°~•~○_FLUFF BELOW THE CUT_○~•~°~○~•~°

Arthur would be such a sweet partner, always attentive and makong sure youre looking after yourself

He'd definitely take you out lots

He'll usually take you where you like to go, but if you let him pick expect to go to lots of quiet and reserved places

His favorites are fields and/or parks that are closed off

He LOVES to sit with you and just admire you

Its also not like he wont take you out to public places at all, he just preferd quiet ones

If you go out to a resturaunt, trust you will not have to worry about prices at all

Remember he was a spy and port mafia vice exec, he can afford expensive things

Another date hed probably take you on is shopping, especially if its your birthday or a special event

Now, he loves to take care of and spoil you, but you'll have to remind him to do the same

Hed love if you took your time to cook and show him affection aswell, hed just melt

It also helps since he may forget to take care of himself sometimes

He would LOVE to take baths with you aswell, very very nice and warm baths

If you wash his hair for him he would just die, would find it so sweet and would obviously return the favour to you

°~•~○~°~•~○_NSFW BELOW THE CUT_○~•~°~○~•~°

Okay first of all this man lives for SERVICE, definitely for you more than him

Hes a switch through and through, just wants to do what you want

Hes pretty vanilla in terms of kinks, though, if you have one you want to try, hes down (if its in his comfort zone)

Very hesistant to bring forward anything he wants to try, dosent ever want to make you uncomfortable

Isnt very vocal at first but can get VERY vocal if you hit the right nerves

has a thing for praise whether he's top or bottom! Will praise you and how beautiful you look and will also get very flustered if you praise him

usually does it under a blanket so he's not cold, but dosent like it much since he cant see you

If you two havent seen each other for a while and he needs to relieve himself instead of you helping him, will do it under a blanket

Dosent like doing it himself AT ALL, very much prefers to do it with you, especially if youve been together for a long time

Speaking of being together for a long time, since hes a spy and/or port mafia exec (depending on when you get with him) hes out on missions sometimes

Will DEFINETLY call you on thoose missions and maybe even get a little bit needy if he's been gone for a long time

If hes gone a REALLY long time you might get some phone sex, but since hes busy its rare

When he gets back though hell immediately run to you

Soft and passionate sex from him all night, just happy to see you again

Remember when i said he likes baths with you? Bath sex, thats all

OH MY GOODNESS ANON IM SO SORRYYYY you sent this ask in SEPTEMEBER and it is infact october 4th at the time of posting, i got so stumped for a while im so sorry anon but here it is!

Likes and reblogs help and feel free to give me more requests since i need to get back into writing!

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

WHAT TERRIBLE THINGS ARE YOU DOING TO MY BUG [mallrad] [i saw ur repost of nhw mal lmao]

I NEEEEED INFROMATION RN PLEASE FEEL FREE TO INFODUMP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT PLEASE

HI KOI!!!!!!!!!! sorry this has taken me forever to answer ive had a busy work week ouagh. but its MAL TIME NOW. well. technically amity time bc im gonna talk about the setting in general because i love it. whatever go my scarab!

IM GOING TO ANSWER THIS ASSUMING U KNOW WHAT NHW IS. IF YOU DONT IM SO SORRY but also the masterpost is HERE which has basically all the context u need i think.

awesome place to start is reading This Post because it basically lays out the essentials for amity in general and gives you a good idea of their whole deal (theres also this one. which is a joke. but its my favorite ever and i think you will appreciate the clarence)

since i mostly ran thru the basics of their plot timeline super quick in that post i can get into details in this one :] putting a lot of it under the cut so its not 12 miles long hehe

i really like leaving a lot of the amity stuff to be mystery partially because it will literally NEVER come up in the "canon timeline" or whatever since it all happened x number of years ago and partially because giving it an air of mystery makes it seem more myth/legend than anything concrete. which!! since its supposed to be the nhw equivalent of the spirit world i love the idea that its vague and mysterious and hard to comprehend that the Chaos Zone (colloquial name for the quarantine area around the city where they keep the trickster trapped) used to be like. a relatively peaceful idyllic city with only a small handful of capes and not a lot of action. that being said i do in fact have clam flavored brain worms which means i cannot help thinking about clarence and mal in so much detail that is SO unnecessary to the rest of the story other than serving to make what happened to them more tragic.

ANYWAY. all that being said that is my excuse for not having any solid ideas on mals trigger event. ive kind of played around with the idea that he's a case 53 (cauldron dropped him into the city mid-ghoul transformation and full of amnesia so he had. basically no identity before then and no idea where or who or what he was so he just kind of started breaking things) but honestly i havent thought abt it all that much bc its just not that important. either way. he started out as an unaffiliated rogue/villain. as ghoul, he was in his brute form like 90% of the time and behaved pretty much like a less cannibalistic venom. just kind of like. causing damage just because he can. really the ONLY two capes in amity at the time were Whisperer (clarence) and Afterlife (duck) (<< first duck mention btw!). Afterlife is a lot more apathetic to things like this (hes old. hes tired. hes survived WELL past the cape life expectancy but theres no real protocol for capes retiring because usually they just. die. so hes still here) and he really only responds to things he deems an emergency, and some rando causing property damage isnt enough to put ghoul on his radar. so that left Whisperer to deal with him. his powers are very nonviolent non-confrontational so his way of dealing with villains is to use his. basically tranquilizer powers to get them to stop doing whatever theyre doing (its a good thing amity is peaceful. this is NOT a. super great awesome offensive power and he can get very easily overwhelmed against more than one target). so he does this to Ghoul and since his he's a new cape and is not fully under control of his changer powers yet, his brute form drops as soon as hes calm and hes just. some sad disheveled looking guy.

so clarence sees this guy who is just. so incredibly lost. whether thats because of case 53 amnesia or like. post-trigger, post-changer state disorientation, hes just. like. pathetic. hes not being a villain because hes evil hes just doing things because he doesnt know what else to do. so clarence, who is way too kindhearted for his own good, offers to help him. and mal, who has probably never given this sort of softness in his life. just immediately fucking melts into it. of course he accepts that offer he has nothing else to do! he doesnt really care about being a hero or a villain or anything like that (having a morality crisis is boring and a waste of time) but this man is literally glowing and offering him a hand to hold and a purpose and something other than just mindless destruction

so mal drops the name Ghoul and gets his changer powers better under control and properly develops his master powers instead of his brute powers and becomes what essentially ends up being Whisperer's sidekick under the new name Purgatory (which. i really made on a whim at the time but now that i have had time to think about it really has a lot of significance to his character and state of mind and it makes me SICK)

mal has a sort of hero worship crush on clarence like. thats His Hero. thats the guy who picked him up off the ground and helped him stand out of the kindness of his heart and they know each other out of costume now and even in his civilian life clarence is funny and laid back and so easy to talk to and. mal is not those things. god he is so down bad. relationship wise i will point to this convo which i still stand by

but i think like. both in and out of costume theyre kind of inseparable. mal is like. suuuper super protective over clarence to the point where its kind of an intimidation factor to other people. scary dog privilege or whatever. i like to refer to it as like... if clarence was a prince mal would be his loyal knight. if mal was an animal he would be a falcon (fast, sharp, dangerous, always returns to its master etc etc etc).

its also really important to me that clarence DOES NOT see their relationship like this at all he is so. oblivious. or if hes not oblivious he just doesnt do anything about it or puts it out of his mind or whatever. i think one of clarences big flaws is that hes almost too laid back about certain things that he maybe should care about a little more? big "itll be fine" in situations where things . PROBABLY will not be fine if he doesnt do something about it. so while he doesnt really purposefully encourage mals weird hero worship with him he also doesnt really do anything to dissuade it either. so thats how we get to. where we get to. with them. ouhghhh boy.

i already talked abt this pretty in depth in the other post but trickster appears, kills clarence in front of mal, and it just BREAKS something fundamental in him. once the trickster throws him out of the city i think the prt has to drag him away kicking and screaming because theres NO way he would willingly walk away from that (ESPECIALLY because... clarence's body is still there. he never got a proper funeral or burial or anything hes just.... there on the street or on the roof of a building like hes nothing). they probably put him in some kind of custody which he inevitably breaks out of and goes out on his own. i think he tries to go back to the city only to find the walls already in place and no way to get in without fighting a LOT of soldiers and ripping through a lot of anti-cape measures. which he is emotionally willing to do, but hes not stupid. he knows he needs backup. so he seeks out the worlds most dangerous most awful notorious capes ever. and thats how he ends up with the slaughterhouse 9! his eventual goal with them is to manipulate them into helping him get back into amity and kill the trickster. which is OBVIOUSLY not how things turn out, but thats his motivation at least.

when wraith ends up in the public eye with the new haven wards and his costume is sooooo so eerily close to the whisperer, mal kind of Leaves the s9 for a bit? hes still a member and everything, he doesnt actively quit or betray them or anything bc thats like asking to get killed, but he stops travelling with them in order to. whats the nicest way i can say this. research? the wards. specifically wraith. that little unhinged piece of his mind that snapped when clarence was killed gives him this horrible idea that wraith is just.. clarence reincarnated. its probably been close to 20ish years since the amity incident at this point, so the timing even lines up close enough for him to be convinced. so that starts his weird obsession with william, which eventually involves him nominating william as a potential candidate to join the s9 in the trials (william has a Complex about this) and other fucked up things like the tide fridge (<< our loving name for when mal kidnaps tide and keeps him in jars or whatever in the spirit world in canon etc)

hes my favorite fucked up little guy!!!!!!! i hate him so much i want to hit him with hammers but also ive had a specific stained glass art piece depicting the biblical purgatory that i really want to draw as him and clarence so like. take that as you will. im obsessed with them i think abt them so much even though clarence has like no bearing on the actual plot of nhw since the whole "william is the next whisperer" thing is nonexistent. i got distracted writing this a FEW times so i maybe forgot some things so if theres anything else u want to know about them... hmu. i love 2 talk abt them so much <3

[frownyalfred]

hi res,, im a huge, huge fan of your fics and i've been scrolling through your tumblr for the last hours/day while falling in and out of a weird stomach pain that is totally ruining my winter break! i also don't really know how tumblr works but i had to express my love for you, I feel so much better reading your stuff 😍 your tumblr posts are also amazing, thank you so so much for all your contributions to this fandom AND to ao3/fandom culture in general!! (wow that was a lot of exclamation marks, i swear i know how to end a sentence with other punctuation 😃 namely emojis 😃😃)

I had a question about your opinions on some ships, IF YOU'RE AMENABLE, feel free to ignore; i know you're a super busy person and this is going to be a long message, I'm overwhelmed looking at it myself 😅

Firstly, shipping the batkids together??? I've seen a few fics like that, especially the robins (e.g. dick/jason, jason/tim??) but I generally avoid them bc they make me feel uncomfy personally, even if they're not characterized as brothers/sisters in that particular fic - cuz i cant kid myself into thinking that i'll ever see them as anything but siblings 🥹

then there's also the stephanie/tim thing?? my understanding of stephanie's dynamic in the batfamily is limited since i got into the dc fandom mainly through fic, but i'm under the impression that some canons have that, and stephanie is not totally considered part of the batfamily (as in bruce's daughter). while other times it's tim/kon, and I'm very supportive of the increasing inclusion of queer representation in the "dc canon", but i guess it's just that the batkids all feel like children, like babies even 🥺🥺

yea so that was a pretty long winded explanation for a quick question😭 my bad

and finally, my otp, ghostbat 🥹🥰 i've never really seen you post anything about them, it is definitely a much rarer ship, but i'd love to know your opinion 💙 i would absolutely recommend taking a look into it if you haven't already, their dynamic is so unique (imo) and heart-wrenching! i havent found that much content about them, so if there are any suggestions for content for them, i will take literally anything 🥺

yeah so thanks for looking through all of this mess, i love you and your beautiful brain so much, sending positive vibes and well wishes your way <3

Hi anon! Thank you so much, and sorry you're not feeling well. Some quick answers to your questions below:

People do ship the batkids together, in a variety of related/not related scenarios. It's not everyone's cup of tea. Some people like it. Some people get very squicked by it. All reactions are valid. I am a big proponent of ship and let ship -- people are going to write what they're going to write. If you don't like to read that, hit the back button. Like you said, you have already identified that you don't like it, and now you avoid it. That's awesome!

Tim/Steph vs Tim/Kon can also be a touchy subject in fandom. Steph's inclusion in the batfamily depends on the fanon and/or canon. People have strong opinions about this. My reaction is always, teens have relationships. Messy relationships. Tim and Steph and Tim and Kon can all happen and it doesn't make anyone more or less deserving of love or a relationship. They're kids figuring themselves out -- it makes sense that it's messy.

I like ghostbat! I will admit I'm not as familiar with the ship as I could be. I mostly consume secondhand info here on tumblr. @allgremlinart's blog is a great place to start if you haven't already.

Hope that helps! Feel better soon, anon.

[alientimes]

so... uh... i may have not been posting anything for months.

my bad!

im actually so sorry though (╥﹏╥) i've been SUPER busy w school for the past few months, and there's been a bunch of drama w one of my close friends that ive been very involved with that kind of blew up recently (its a long story).

i havent been able to focus on writing or really doing anything i love, but im trying to get back on it! im still doing a bunch of stuff, so updates will be few and in between, but hopefully i will actually lock in for once and do multiple things at once ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )

ive started writing the newest chapter of all curses go to earth again, and im a little less than halfway done. ill try my best to get it out by the end of next week, hopefully sooner! i might post some oneshots or headcannons in between or something but probably not lol

but yeah! its been really tough for me but i hope this will also help me recover or at least kind of give me an escape. ive still got a bunch more to get through, but i hope everyone is doing great and lets get through all of it together (pls dont cringe)!

fighting!!! (ง•̀o•́)ง hope to see y'all soon!! '

[domjaehyun]

I agree w you girl jaemin cannot easily be dethroned in my world..something about him having both a kind and a menacing smile at the exact same time...i need to be manipulated by this man RIGHT NEOW. Also your more mysterious-dubious-thrilling-unhinged fics scratch a corner of my brain like no other so asking with NO PRESSURE AT ALL just a loving curiosity are there any of the sort of the list? 🎀

i am deeply and madly in love w jaemin 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ he’s soooooo sexy and unhinged I NEED HIM!!!!!! OMG IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THEM

my response ended up being lowkey v long i got a lil very carried away….. under the cut 🧌

fun fact whenever i post a dubious/dark fic i actually. just do not check the app afterwards for like 2-5 days (sometimes it depends on the dubious level of the fic and also how busy i am in my life LMAO) bc i get anxious 😭😭😭

they scratch an itch in my brain too fr but i fear i can tell that i’m still holding back :p bc ppl can be . So Gosh Darn Horrid and i’m always on edge like lowkey on the defensive abt posting dark content bc . ppl are very very judgmental :/ awks right :/

but yeah back to my point i def held back in pl4yg1rl is live and also in there’s a stranger in my house 😭😭😭 not to copy dr martin luther king or anything but i also do indeed have a dream !!!!!! that one day i will post one fic or two or seven perhaps of my wildest fantasies *dreamy sigh* it’s just that when i write dubcon/noncon, i like them. Evil and Manipulative and Sleazy and Perverted and most ppl prob aren’t rocking w my vision idt… yknow?

also while i’m at it i loooooooooooooove when dubcon/noncon is like. like the aggressor is lowkey a pleasure dom 😋 like they get off on making the target/victim cum over and over and over even if they struggle and cry and scream 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but no violence!!! no mean words!!!!!!!! well maybe some 🤔🤔 hehe 🤭🤭

AND FINALLY TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION i have a noncon johnny fic coming out hopefully soon not this month though :P and i’m ruminating on ghostface!jaemin (to the anon that asked me abt scream a while ago I STILL HAVENT WATCHED BUT I WILL) and that’d def give stalker dark vibes but tbh i don’t think that fic’ll be that dark…… if you want dark, i’d say stay tuned for the johnny fic i’m working on!!

also while i’m saying things i feel the need to mention that at one point like at least 3-4 years ago, i was contemplating making a side blog for dark content but alas. Too Much Work… but i still have the note in my notes app of most of my ideas *dreamy sigh* maybe one day? prob not though at least not on the side blog but i had designed it and set it up and everything but then i went …Nah… bc my attention span and motivation had both run out :p and i ran outta steam :p too bad so sad (not sarcasm at all. i do wish i would’ve played around w that idea more … now i have virtually no time ☹️☹️☹️)

if i were to consider doing another dark fic, who would you wanna read abt? reminder that i only write for haechan, jaemin, jaehyun, mark, johnny, and jeno!! (sorry jungwoo i’ll be back pooksters)

OKAY IM DONE if you read this far teehee hi 👋 have a great day stay hydrated i care abt you 💖

[achoshistor]

[ff7cc] is this symbolistic?

ff7cc SPOILER until like ch 6 (but really a ffvii spoiler bc thats the only reason how i know what happens next)

i need to WRITE WRITE WRITE. every essay i write now sounds like garbage to me. same with music tbh i havent played a full song in over two years now and its honestly kind of sad but i have no motivation. it feels like my fingers dont work like they did before and im too easy to give up on things bc i literally made it through the first time so it should be easier the second time but im lowkey really busy (100% procrastinating on calc) but im like whatever i need to get it all out of my head. im really shocked people read the last brainrot post like wow people are really seeing whats going on in here.

anyways ive been listening to the cc(r) ost while studying (around up to right before nibelheim because i want to make a flower wagon for my beautiful queen Aerith (i dont get the hate? madame M calling her homely like WHO's homley? wait lmfaoo off topic but why was cloud whimpering and moaning during the scene i had to take my headphones off cause i couldnt take it anymore...)) i should start a medium account and write like those pretentious tech bros that say things like "college is for LOSERS!" (ur going to a top school for cs?) (i didn't really like that guy cause he was lowkey weird too) but i think it'd be really funny. lowkey i forgot where i was going with this because the parenthesis reminded me of the chain rule which reminded me of that guy but anyways back to the main point...

I usually listen to game osts when studying (lie im listening to deftones right now) but the track "True Motives" (ill link it somewhere here) when genesis and angeal beat up sephiroth lowkey got me thinking during calc practice... like theres three instruments (piano cello violin) and its got a call and response format but its like all three are doing that (i told you i havent touched anything music related in a long while LOL sorry if the terminology is wrong). in the cutscene we start out with sephiroth with the violin and then like half a second later we get the piano take the upper with the cello playing the secondary melody? but the violin immediately kicks in... TBH i wonder then since im assuming sephiroth is the in between since hes "still around"—i dunno what happened to angeal—im at the point where ive killed the angeal creature but zach mentions him being possibly around and im assuming genesis is a total goner cause hes not around for anything else afaik (or he might im not that well versed in ffvii canon) and angeal reminded me a little too much of sonon so im gonna assume hes dead. as we know violin = treble cello = bass piano = both so i guess genesis = violin and angeal = cello just cause they seem like that to me. right when sephiroth pushes angeal back and genesis is about to go crazy the piano and violin lowkey come in and cello is just playing the bass notes for tha chords and the last half is lowkey just piano and violin plus a little cello right before angeal tries to stop genesis and gets thrown off into the junon sea or whatever u call it (i lost the submarine mini game in vii and i had to look up help and every tutorial was like " youre a total IDIOT if you failed this..."). maybe this is a whole lot of nothing and im just mkaing things up.

anyways thats enough for today i think. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[skybristle]

hello! your ocs look really cool but i dont know a lot about them and am a bit lost, do you have any sort of lore introduction to them all?

HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS GOING TO BED AS YOU SENT THIS. im going to assumeeeeee you mean bending horizons ? if im wrong let me know but ive been meaning to make a masterpost like this anyways

im just gonna ... compile all the posts ive made so far in a cohesive order. but other things/ all of my content for them are in my tag: 'story tag: bending horizons' !

local group map and relationship chart

my bending horizons toyhouse folder [i should make basic bios thats on my to do list]. the iterator folder is in seniority order and the slugcat folder is in timeline order!

otherwise, in general timeline order:

ash being a peice of shit [this happens a lot] [comic form]

abt maw but also has a ton of info on events / sparks past / etc. the events described here become the catalyst for all of the local group's problems eventually.

literally just ochre and chimes being cute pre mass ascension

whispers incident . kind of. i need to make a good post abt it but i havent gotten the right ask this is the second big catalyst for Shit Going Wrong

sparks starts to mcfucking lose it

more of me talking abt sparks losing it

the method of which sparks uses to fuck ash's shit up [this is how she gets seniority status. finally. and also being busy with this leads to nobody being able to do anything abt whispers until chimes does which leads to disaster]

this is definatrly how the confrontation goes after whispers ascends themself trust me [this is a joke but whatever im proud of it]

post-whispers arguements/the final breakdown of the local group. but /srs this time

ochre's collapse, chimes being sad and pathetic again

my animatic !!! also about ochre's collapse but also shows like. saint's time and chimes state after everything

[official-osha]

alright, so im gonna continue to be less active on here for a while - probably. we'll see. explanation of things below the cut. its long and rambly im typing this up at midnight in between discussing saw with someone sorry

im at a crossroads with this blog. i feel an expectation to live up to the OSHA thing, and i want to, but also... i want to continue offy's story, and roleplay.

theoretically, both could coexist, but i know the larger part of you all dont care about offy very much, and i feel deeply embarrassed when i do roleplay because of this. i appreciate the following i've amassed, but it's... a lot. and i'm tired and busy.

i haven't felt motivated to roleplay like i used to here for pretty much almost two years. the OSHAverse is pretty inactive these days. and i don't know how i want to close out offy's character arc.

diving into the roleplay thing more - i started this blog when i was a mentally ill 14 year old going into public school for the first time since the first grade. a lot of offy's earlier interactions and behavior reflects this, because i projected onto them and used them as a way to vent. i'm deeply unhappy with how i used to write them. if i could, i'd reboot them, but with the OSHAverse being the way it is... that's not easy. i'd have a hell of a lot of people to have discussions with, some of whom i haven't seen roleplaying in a year or more. and because the organizational system on my blog is a fucking nightmare, that adds another layer to the mess.

so im faced with a few decisions: keep going even though i really am unsure, move offy and their roleplaying onto another blog, or just do a mass retcon on this blog.

as to why i havent made another blog for roleplay in the first place - tldr i like attention. longer version is this has always been a roleplay blog so if you remove that its like. alright. what am i doing with myself now. i have all my followers here and shit, and i also value audience participation in offys story [even if i uh ... dont make it easy for you guys to participate]. but at the same time, i know you people arent here for roleplay. also im unfortunately deeply aware that a large part of the site considers the OSHAverse cringe

ill probably make a poll sometime in the future to see what the people want, if anyone has input they want to offer now itd be appreciated. no matter what though, the blog will stay up if i dont get any copyright infringement notices or anything. if anyone has a link to one of those mass taggers that would allow me to tag a post that comes from a specific date or earlier itd be appreciated so i can tag older posts.

[minnielvr]

ROSES - CHAPTER 17 : "micheal jackson room" ─────────────────────

y/n left the cafe and made her way over to the jyp building. she called felix and asked him to come out and get her.

"y/n!! hii" felix came running to her

"hey babe" y/n went in for a hug

the couple hugged and walked into the building, then got into the elevator. while they were going up, y/n started thinking about meeting his members, and what would happen if they didnt like her.

"felix im like actually really scared to meet them, what if they dont like me?"

felix grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her towards himself. "hey no no no dont think like that, im sure they are going to love you. your funny and pretty and your really chill"

y/n nodded her head and just hoped felix was positive about this. the elevator reached the floor of the dance room the boys were at and the couple walked out, and then headed towards the room. they stopped infront and and both took a deep breath.

"you sure you're okay with this?" felix asked y/n just to make sure

"yea..i think im fine"

felix them knocked on the door and peeked inside, mouthing something to his members then looking back at y/n and told her to come in. y/n walked in the room and said hello, trying her best to mask her nervousness with a bright smile.

"hiii im y/n"

"OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN WAITING TO MEET YOU IN PERSON FOR SO LONG" han yelled and ran up to her and gave her a hug.

she laughed and hugged him back, after that, all the other members came to greet her and they all got acquainted very quickly.

"so y/n i know you have a job but are you in college or anything?" chan asked y/n

"ahh i actually just graduated college this year! im planning to go to grad school."

y/n and the boys conversed a bit more before y/n remembered the cookies she made.

"oh guys! i made cookies for all of you!" y/n pulled out the contained from her bag and started passing them out. all the boys thanked her and ate them, complimented her baking skills.

later y/n realized that she had completely overstayed her stay as it was nearing 40 minutes that she was there.

"oh my god! sorry for staying so long! i really have to get back to work though." y/n started packing her bag and got up.

"awww okay it was nice to meet you!" a few of the members whined.

"here y/n let me walk you out" felix got up and walked towards you.

y/n and felix walked out the door and y/n waved at the members. the couple started toward the elevator and got inside. talking about the day. the elevator stopped and dropped them off at the lobby. felix walked y/n to the front door and then gave her a squeeze on her hand while trying to be discreet about it, as he didnt want anyone to catch on.

"call me tonight yea?"

"okayyy bye felix!" she made a little kissy face at him and walked out the door, still waving her hand. felix laughed and did the same, then sighed and walked back. oh how he wishes he could just tell everyone that your his and hes yours.

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a/n: hahahahha hi guys.. sorry i havent been active😓 i got an internship + im hella busy but i'll try posting more 🗣️

taglist : @felinows @hannahs-docx @peter3sgf @sunoo-bby @marcillfll @kaizny @linocvp1d @n03llez @grayscorner @amara-mars @mrsseochangbin @imasimplol @2200am @rosa-emerson @l0ve-joy @escapetheash @seochangbins-wife @khocoholic @xrvrqs @hoeinthehouse @lovingmny @mloyer @notmebutyouu @sserafimez @veedoesntknaur @your-platonic-gay-lover @felixrealbabymama

[confesspinkfloyd]

(NOT A CONFESSION/ you don’t have to post if you dont want to!)

okay so i just wanna reply to your post asking if you’re a bad person for the nsfw posts and my reponse is your not at all! like if you were to ask the members of the band i doubt theyd gaf like they would not care at all like roger and David are to busy beefing up in eachothers asses to notice what the hell is going on in this page so no your not a bad person i wouldn’t worry about it at all AND if it was the case theyd probably speak up on it by now which they HAVENT. ppl been talking abt them like this for years and they havent said anything so they don’t gaf😭😭 the person complaining is just weird don’t stop what your doing🤍

I can also guarantee you the person complaining probably reads fanfic smut of their favs but have beef with ppl posting/saying nsfw things. its crazy how fast people spread their negativity that is so uncalled for, if the person was that bothered they couldve left a long time ago but instead they stayed for attention and drama. anyways i hope your doing okay mentally after people being cruel and mean and i hope you dont let it get to you and im sorry that this was such a long read. Anywho You matter and don’t stop what you’re doing!🫶<3

(reason im making this anon is mostly because some one will probably be offended and try to argue with me or some other stupid reason. but still id like to remain anon!)

Thank you ❤️❤️❤️ I was just thinking about that. I get anon reads RPF, fantasizes and hornyposts themself so honestly that was just a very hypocritical thing to say imo