#go somewhere else for a box and then drop it off. go to an actual ups store and see if they have boxes. idk.

[hotchner-edu]

I was thinking about a cute scenario where Hotch misplaces his Rolex and is kinda bummed about it but reassures his girlfriend that he’ll just get another one someday. She has been saving up to get a new car but instead uses her money to surprise Aaron with a new rolax and he’s all like 🥹🥹🥹

The thought of spoiling that man consumes me.

The Watch | Aaron Hotchner

The case of the missing Rolex came to your attention before it did to Aaron's, and you were probably more devastated about it than your boyfriend was.

"Sweetheart, it's fine. I'll just get another one soon." He tries to placate you as you practically tear through his closet. Knowing Aaron, soon meant close to never due to how hectic his work life could get.

"It's not fine!" You call out from your spot on his closet floor. "A Rolex submariner going missing should qualify as an emergency situation."

You hear Aaron chuckle fondly and come up behind you, crouching down to give you a kiss on your temple, his hands moving down to stop yours before you could claw through another stack of his folded pants. "Honey, you won't find anything there. Besides, I mean it. I'll just get a new one."

Frowning, you lean back into him and sigh as he wraps his arms around your middle and drops kisses around your face. "You stress me out." You say lightheartedly, sagging in his hold.

He lets out an affectionate laugh, his chest rumbling under your back. "I love you, too."

To the misfortune of your bank account, your love for Aaron spurred you to endlessly research the variety of Rolex series available on their website. You have to fight back a grimace at every comma in the price tags.

After logging out of your bank account app (to protect your peace), you settle on purchasing the oystersteel model which resembled the one he lost.

You ended up digging into your car savings fund to purchase the watch, but you had no regret in doing so. Although it created a bit of a dent in your efforts to replace your current car, Aaron deserved to be spoiled. Plus, you’d be receiving your next paycheck soon enough.

The watch takes a little less than a week to deliver. Taking no risks, you had the delivery fully insured and tracked the package’s movements like a hawk for days.

The hard part of the entire ordeal came with having to actually give the gift to Aaron. Of course, he wasn’t above accepting gifts, but receiving gifts that cost thousands of dollars, especially on non-holiday occasions, was something else entirely for him.

One night as he’s laying beside you, watching tiktoks with you on your phone, you decide to bite the bullet.

“Honey, did you ever find your Rolex?”

He chuckles a bit sheepishly, seemingly still a bit embarrassed to have misplaced something so valuable. “No. I think I might’ve taken it off during a case somewhere and left it in the hotel.”

Nodding, you suppress an excited smile as you suddenly sit up, causing his hands to grip your waist in surprise. “Where are we off to, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee really quick.” You say smoothly, giving him a sweet kiss. "And no, you can't come this time." He gives your ass a quick slap as you crawl out of bed, causing you to shake your head playfully as he chuckles.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you gently open one of the sink drawers containing your skincare items. Digging to the bottom, you pull out the green leather box containing the Rolex, taking a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice sounds from across the room immediately, noting how fast you left the bathroom.

"I forgot something." You say and hurry toward the bed, unable to hide the giddy grin on your face.

Aaron props himself up on his arm and raises an eyebrow as you practically launch yourself back on the bed.

"For the best boyfriend in the world." You coo sweetly and extend the box toward him.

Aaron stares at you like you have three heads for a moment before frowning and carefully taking the box. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to..."

Your mood dampens a little at that and your shoulders sag. Aaron picks up on it immediately and sits up fully, eyes widened as he places the box aside and cups your face. "Thank you, really. But it must have cost a fortune, baby."

"You deserve to be spoiled, Aaron. Besides, I'm still being conscious with my money, so don't worry about it." You say, smiling when he tucks you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

"It's my job to spoil you, y'know." He grumbles playfully, squeezing your hip.

Accepting his affection, you reach for the box again and wiggle it in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you want to see what I picked out for you?"

Before he opens the box, he showers you with more kisses, unable to ignore the fuzzy warmth that filled him.

"The watch, Aaron!" You protest in a fit of laughter.

He grins against your skin as he kisses your cheek. "Thanking my woman comes first."

When he finally does see the watch, he wants to just freeze time and take a picture of your expectant grin, thinking you look absolutely beautiful as you wait to see his reaction.

So while you fuss over putting the watch on for him, all he can do is stare at you lovingly and debate on whether to buy you a new car or an engagement ring first.

[gutterfuuck]

ok all i can think of is super pervy & creepy incel mark w a reader who lowk knows he’s super weird and creepy with her but is like…into it. like he steals her underwear and gets off on the smell of her and she knows and is just like 🤷‍♀️😊 like maybe she finds a fucking box of her underwear under his bed while they’re hanging out and he’s like oh fuck i swear it’s not what it looks like and she’s like :0 okay but do you want another pair? 😊😊

“ and in addition to my other ask; what would be even better is a reader who is so like fucked up mentally over being into it (bc uhhh she doesn't think she should be so into her best friend being a fucking creep) and mark can tell and he's like ok so ur just a little pervert like me!— ☆ “

this is so good anon omggg—- it would also be an interesting idea to have a reader who’s kind of a bully/mean girl towards mark + he retaliates (😉) but that is a whole other concept that i am not focusing on rn haha 😅

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

you were accustomed to it by now; mark’s calloused finger tips brushing past your neck, hands wrapping around your waist or pulling you almost into his lap at times. he was just a touchy guy, you were his best friend, he’d never look at you like that!! mark just loved playing with your hair, he was just affectionate!

you knew why his hugs would linger just for a bit too long, you weren’t stupid. that’s why you weren’t the least bit shocked when you had found out where your underwear had ran off to. you weren’t shocked, weren’t exactly disappointed either. you knew what had been going on, you damn near set him up by just leaving your clothes thrown onto his bathroom floor after you would use his shower and purposely wearing short skirts and low tops whenever you would hang out with him. you’d picked up on his behaviour for a while now, so had everyone else. everyone around you could see how often mark would touch and let you walk up the stairs first so he could see up your skirt, “well i’m not gonna look up there, you know that.” “if you fall or slip, i’ll be there to catch you, y’know?” “c’mon y/n, don’t you trust me? wouldn’t you rather me accidentally see up there?” “you already walk around my house basically naked sometimes.” he justified, eventually winning you over and getting the chance to pull out his phone while distracting you with talk, taking a video from underneath your skirt.

you’d found them when you had dropped your phone down the side of his bed, going to get it before mark could protest and offer himself to grab it, he hadn’t moved that one pair of cotton white panties, the ones he had pressed up to his nose the night before, getting off to the scent of your pussy still on them. mark almost died when his fear came to fruition, you holding up your own pair of underwear that you had left your phone for.

mark’s face turned red, hand shooting forward to grab at the pair of underwear; you snatching your hand away. “i-it isn’t what you think it is!” he shouted, your eyes locked onto his. the corners of your lips turned upwards, glancing at the panties and then back to mark, “i think these are my panties. no, i’m sure.” you spoke, mark’s hands flew to your shoulders. “they must’ve g-gotten there by accident…-you’re always here, you never know, you might’ve left them here-” he stuttered, fingers digging into your skin gently, moving up to hold your face so he could give you a look of sincerity, hoping that you would believe his lies.

“d’you want more?”

he swear he heard ringing in his ears. the world seemed to slow down, his vision blurry. did you really just say that or was he actually going crazy this time? a beat, two. “what?” he breathed out, voice quiet and getting lost somewhere on the way out. “i’m wearing pink. white polkadots, lace i think.” you wondered, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt, inching it towards your upper thighs. further, further. “wanna see?” and mark feels like he’s going to explode. he was already nodding before you had even asked him if he wanted to look at your underwear, you got off of the bed, standing in front of him and lifted your skirt up. lace, just like you had promised. crimson red trickled out of mark’s nose, dick throbbing in his pants.

he looked so disheveled, half lidded puppy eyes focused on your clothed cunt, blood slowly dripping down his nose and past his chin, red staining his shirt. “can.. c-can i…” he almost drooled, hand reaching towards your thigh, needing to hold you, needing to confirm that this was real and happening. “you’re gonna let me touch you here, yeah?” his hands stuck to your waist, pulling you closer as he moved to kneel in front of you, pressing his face into your cunt and sniffing feverishly, tongue lolling out to lick you through the cloth.

“s’good… smell so f-fuckin’ good, y/n..” he groaned, you giggled. you were so perfect for him, so fucking perfect. he slid one of his hands into his pants, wasting no time in stroking his cock, jerking himself off while he sniffed around under your skirt and put his mouth around your still covered pussy, wetting the fabric and licking up your juices as soon as they secreted from your heat and soaked into your panties that mark would definitely be keeping. your hands stroked through his hair, gasping lightly when he pulled your panties to the side and instantly began sucking harshly on your clit, rubbing circles into it with his hot tongue.

this was sooo fucked up. were you taking advantage of him? would it even matter seeing as he’s obviously been taking advantage of you, stealing your underwear while you weren’t looking? you didn’t care, neither did mark. you especially didn’t care when his fingers found their way into your warm cunt, pumping in and out while he gently grazed your sensitive bud with his teeth, your fingers tightening in his hair and your chest heaving, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he held you still with both hands now, teeth biting down just right enough for it to make you almost jump backwards, a light squeal leaving your lips.

“taste so good… so wet f’me, getting my fingers all sticky..” he talked into your clit, tongue flicking back and forth. mark pulled away, looking up at you with lust glazed eyes, putting his fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick off of his digits. he turned you around, mouth open while he panted, hands spreading your asscheeks as his tongue began licking circles around your asshole, making you almost jump at the unexpected action. “j-just wanna touch you everywhere…” mark told you, tongue pushing past your tight little back opening, your ass clenching around his tongue as you nearly fell over onto your knees, mark steadying you.

you were always teasing him, always. he pulled his tongue out, pulling you down onto the floor with him, positioning you onto your back, hands attacking your zipped up jacket and almost tearing the clean off. no shirt. no bra. fuck, you’d done this on purpose. “so fucking hot…” he said before sucking on your now exposed nipples, other hand squeezing as if he had no idea on how to handle tits gently. oh, that was because he didn’t. he was inexperienced, but it wasn’t something that made you upset. no, quite the opposite, you liked it; the hungriness of it. the greediness, selfishness.

“no bra… practically naked under there…-“ he huffed tapping your leg so you would wrap your legs around his waist. he bent down to lick your cheek, smiling when you gave him a look of confusion, “p-perv..!” you joked, laughing at him. his cock strained, his cheeks went pink. “again… fuck, call me that again.” mark muttered, humping against you on the floor, trapping you in with his teeth tight on your shoulder. you complied, gasping and nodding, “pervert..”

he lost it, getting to his feet and keeping his hand on your head so you knew not to stand up along with him, his hand anchored in the back of your hair, using it to pull you forward so he could rub your face in his bulge, throwing his head back when you opened your mouth, sliding your lips up and down the side of his cock through his pants.

in reality, maybe you were the pervert. you couldn’t care less, your hot best friend was trying to force his fat cock all the way down your throat with his gorgeous face all ruined and flustered with your lacey-pink-and-white panties held up to his nose, your scent drove him fucking crazy, your own face streaking of mascara and your lipstick smudged around the corners of your lips. you were beautiful to him, his hips unrelenting with his messy thrusts. “nghh aaaahh.. so warm… ‘s this what pussy feels like too?” he asked, gripping your hair even tighter. “b-bet you’re tighter in there… in your cunt-“ he continued to let his tip bully the back of your neck, your throat bulging ever so slightly with each harsh thrust, catching a rhythm that made his balls slap against your chin. “c-callin’ me the perv… you’re all soaked and sicky down there…” your eyes watered, nails digging into the meat of this thighs, your cunt gushing. this was so wrong, you should know better than to let your best friend throat fuck you after finding out that he had been getting away with stealing your items of clothing for so long. “you’re the real pervert, hah..- you look so messy, f-fuck, i-i’m gonna cumdownyourthroat—“ he choked out, dick pulsing as his head rolled back, his vision blanking and hips stuttering, thick ropes of cum filling your mouth.

he was right, you were the perv. only a perv would swallow their best friend’s load and beg him to shoot the next one into your guts.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Could you do the spiderverse characters reaction to meeting Male Reader who's banned from the spider society but keeps breaking in and his also a combination of Spider-Man and Deadpool

Caught Breaking and Entering , Again

Words: 821

Due to his current… situation, he doesn’t have the chance to see what you’re doing.

When he first met you though, he was so surprised and honestly kind of appalled when he was first told about you.

He wishes that he was brave enough to keep going against Miguel like you do and keep returning, but will leave that to you.

***

“So uh, what’s up with him?”

“Who are you talking about?”

Without answering Miles pointed up, Gwen followed his finger to find someone had pulled off a panel, and was now putting it back while sticking onto the ceiling.

“Not again…”

“He’s done this before?”

“Yeah, keeps getting kicked out but comes back.”

“Why?”

“That’s not something you need to know Miles.”

She really tries not to get involved with you whenever you break in.

Will distract you by any means, mainly has you two leave and head to her dimension.

Tries her best to keep you away from the other spider people, especially Miguel.

***

“Y/N!”

She only had seconds to hide you somewhere, shoving you behind some boxes laying around. Sweating when she saw Miguel stalking down the hallway, pausing right in front of her.

“Gwen, I saw him and you wi–”

“MIGUEL!”

Cringing away from LY.L.A who popped up right beside him, momentarily stealing his attention.

“Oh, you’re busy?”

“Yes…”

“Well too bad, there's a loose villain running around somewhere.” Typing away at her screen before pulling up the camera, “There he is.”

“Fine,” Now turning back to Gwen, “But I better not see him around here again.”

When he left you finally walked out from the boxes.

“Well, that was close.”

“You idiot.”

He is in love at first sight. (Which was Miguel yelling at you and trying to get you to leave, which he was failing at.)

Whenever he asks what you did you give him a different answer each time, and no one else dares to say anything.

If you can’t ever get in or just need his help just call, is 100% down every time.

***

“So what did you actually do? Take his mask? Break something?”

“Again? You didn’t believe me last time?”

“Mate, you told me that you were too good and he felt threatened, does that sound believable?”

“Yes! Except for the last part, Miguel would never admit that.”

Tries her best to control your habit of breaking in, it’s only decreased slightly.

She’s stern enough to have you not get in any more trouble.

Manages to keep Miguel away from you most times, but from time to time let’s you two sort it out on your own.

***

“Y/N.”

She watched as you entered the building, the spot which was luckily out of the view of any cameras. Pausing when you heard, then saw her waiting.

“Oh, Jess, hey!”

Fixing the entry point quickly before dropping down, causing her to panic. Rushing over when you landed safely.

“Don’t you do that again!”

She enables you to a certain degree.

Will (playfully) blackmail you, and how she could reveal your entry spots.

Although she is very adamant on not destroying anything. (If it’s unimportant and no one will notice then sure.)

***

“C’mon Y/N!”

“Absolutely not, do you really think I’d go that low?”

“Well, only if there was something at stake~”

Watching your mask move, so she could only assume that you were glaring at her.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

Huffing at her words.

“Fine then.”

Absolutely despises you.

Hes now on constant surveillance due to the fact you keep breaking in [still unsure how you keep doing it]

He’s so close to strangling you at this point, he’s so done with you.

***

He was so focused on his work, Miguel managed to miss the sound of someone entering and swinging up to the platform.

“Ay, Miggy!”

In an instant, he had turned around, launched himself at you but missed due to you hanging off by your web.

“Calm down bud, I’m just here to talk!”

But he didn’t. This is the fourth time today that you’ve returned, and he’s just done with you.

He would really like for you to stop doing this. (So touched if you ever did it to see him, but still.)

Would prefer to not have to fix and bandage your wounds after Miguel had to throw you out again, injuring you once again.

If you have nowhere to go or would like to stay with him, he’ll let you.

***

“प्यार, what have you done this time?” Letting you sit while he searched for anything that could help, quickly returning once he did. “Did you bother Miguel again?”

“NO! How could you ever think that lowly of me!”

He laughs at your antics, slapping a hand over your mouth to shut you up. When you finally did he started tending to your wounds.

[userchai]

“CALL ME, BAMBI.”

Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader smut

this idea came about from a conversation that Mariah and I had @reidsbtch she also beta read for me for this one ((and helped me out so much I love you mar mar!)) I hope you all enjoy it I am so nervous about this, but have poured myself into it! Once again, only read if you’re 18+ please!

Warnings: basic dirty talk/name calling, mutual masturbation, mentions oral male receiving, degradation, if there’s anything I miss just let me know!

Summary: Eddie gives you the best gift you’ve ever gotten before heading out on tour.

word-count: 2.4K

“What’s this baby?” You ask curiously, looking up at Eddie his smile was so big you didn’t know how his face wasn't hurting. “Your last present, had to get you one more Doll and this one is very special.” You squint at him, slightly nervous at the tone of voice he was using. You shake the box slightly, hearing something heavy thump around in it. “Go on Bambi, open it.” He says, sitting down next to you on the plush carpet of your bedroom floor, your cat rubbing up against his leg lovingly before walking away somewhere, seemingly uninterested in the gift exchange.

You slowly rip the paper off of the box in your lap, smiling fondly at your boyfriend, you had emphasized that you didn’t actually need anything for Christmas but Eddie couldn’t stomach not getting you something. He spoiled you instead, before taking you to your room for your ‘big surprise’ or at least that’s what he called it. Once the wrapping paper is scattered over your floor you gently pull the box top off, looking down inside of it as your mouth drops open. “Eddie….” You trail off slowly reaching inside the box and pulling out a silicone dildo, only it wasn’t a store bought one, this was custom made. It looked just like Eddie’s cock, same vein on the underside, it even had the piercing at the top. You slowly looked over at the devil sitting next to you known as your ‘boyfriend’, shaking your head. “Baby, how did you even make this?”

He smirks at you while launching into this story of how he had to order this special kit at the sex shop, and wait until he was hard so he could stick his dick into the material, creating an exact replica of himself. You can feel your cheeks getting hotter and hotter the more he talks, you put the box down next to you quickly before grabbing onto his shoulders, swinging your leg over him to straddle his lap. He stops his rambling to look at you, his eyes full of the mischief that you fell in love with the first time you saw him. “I love it so much, love everything you’ve given me, baby, but I have to ask why? I already have the real deal right here.” You say, giggling slightly as you grind your ass down against his lap. He groans quietly, grabbing onto your hips and digging his blunt nails into them.

“My tour is coming up soon, and I just didn’t want you to go without. Couldn’t leave my sweet little Bambi with nothing to play with now could I? That wouldn’t be very nice of me.” He said darkly, his eyes lighting up at the shiver that physically made its way through your body. “I want you to have fun with this baby, want you to ride it and think of me while you do, it’ll fill you up just like me, well I mean it is me, but it still won’t satisfy you enough. I want to leave you aching for more.” You slowly pull your face away from where it was resting against his chest, looking up at him and biting your lip, running your hands down his chest down to his belt, playing with it gently. “I promise I’ll think of you every second, there’s nothing else I could think of, baby, you’re all that’s in my head.” He kisses you softly, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear before you’re slowly getting up from his lap. The both of you were exhausted after getting up early to start your Christmas traditions together, there would be time later for intimacy for now you needed sleep, all you could think about was calling Eddie while he’s away, taunting him with the fact that your dildo is deep inside of you, this was possibly the best present ever.

“Have everything you need baby?” You ask, mentally going through the checklist you had created to make sure that your sweet metal head didn’t forget a single thing he needed for his tour. He nods, pouting slightly as he stands by your front door, shuffling his feet around nervously. “No I really don’t, I need you to come with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, one that makes your heart skip a couple of beats. You sigh, feeling a lump in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to drop everything and go with corroded coffin on tour, but you needed to work and your job wasn’t accommodating for extended vacations. “I wish I could baby, but you know I have to stay here, besides who’s going to keep Steve in check with the kids, Robin’s at college so someone has to help out.” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes playfully. You wrap your arms tighter around him, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll miss you so much, call me as soon as you get to your hotel so I know you’re safe.” You whisper as he lifts your chin gently, planting a firm and wanting kiss against your lips. “I’m gonna miss you too babydoll, don’t worry I’ll call as soon as I get there, we can fall asleep together on the phone just like we used to.” You smiled at the memory, when you first had met you spent a lot of time apart so long distance phone calls were all you could cling to. You feel yourself tear up as he kisses you a few more times , whispering goodbyes over and over before opening the door and slowly making his way over to the tour bus sitting in front of it, the rest of the band already on board and waiting for him. He turns around as he rests one of his hands on the bus door, smiling at you. “Bye, bye Bambi my love, don’t forget to call me.” He yells, blowing you a kiss. You giggle before blowing one back, he dramatically catches it and pretends to fall back against the bus as he holds his chest. “Bye, bye rockstar!” You yell, watching him get onto the bus, the door closing behind him. You sigh quietly, walking back inside and closing the door, slowly making your way to your room to make use of the gift Eddie just gave you on Christmas, you weren’t sure how you’d last months without him.

It’s been four weeks since Eddie left on tour, you haven’t used ‘the gift’ much to say the least, each time you look at it all you can think about is how you want Eddie here. You needed him, his touch, his kisses, his actual dick. You had made up your mind one night to call him and use it, he had been waiting this whole time for you to finally let him hear what you think about when you ride it, and if you were being honest you missed hearing how he talks to you when you were all worked up. You glance at yourself in your bedroom mirror, you look good, dressed in your best lingerie even though Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. You ran your hands down your chest, teasing yourself before shuffling your way over to your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand and pulling out the pink silicone toy, before you’re slowly laying back on your bed, grabbing the phone to punch in Eddie’s room number he had given you before their show tonight. You bite your lip nervously as your other hand that’s not holding the phone slowly makes its way into your panties, teasing your own clit as the line rings. Your breathing picks up every second, partly from touching yourself, but the anticipation of hearing Eddie speak to you like you’re some cheap whore also has you reeling.

The phone rings a few times as your heart pounds nervously, you aren’t sure why you are this worked up over phone sex with Eddie, but you needed him to pick up now. On the other side of the phone call, Eddie is rushing over to pick up, he knows it’s you and he can’t wait to tell you all about their show tonight. “Hey Bambi, I’ve been expecting your call.” He says into the phone, your breath hitches, his deep voice causing shockwaves throughout your body. He sounded slightly raspy from singing, and it was extremely hot. “H-hey Eddie.” You whimper out, trying to keep your moans at bay as you pull your panties off, throwing them across the room before you grab the dildo next to you. You run it up and down your slit a few times, teasing your clit before you’re sinking it into yourself slowly. You let out a quite ‘fuck.’ That doesn’t go unnoticed by your metal head. “What’s that sweetheart?” A knowing smirk breaks out over his face, he can hear you, the desperation, the way you’re trying to hold yourself back so he won’t catch on. He caught on very quickly, it wasn’t hard when all he could hear as soon as he picked up was your wet pussy and your breathy little moans that slipped past your lips without you realizing. “I- said fuck.” You mumble out, pushing the toy deeper inside of yourself as Eddie lets out a raspy laugh. “Oh baby, you’re finally using it huh? How does it feel, sweetheart? Are you all stretched out and ready for me?” He asks, you nod and realize he can’t see you before you let out a soft ‘yes’ as you buck your hips up, pulling the fake cock in and out of yourself as fast as you can go. “Need you.” You whisper, moaning as you hit the spot you’ve been searching for. Your legs shake as you try to keep moving your arm but it’s all becoming too much. “You sound so cute baby, all needy for me, it’s too bad I’m not there honey I would have my cock so far inside that cunt, fucking you so deep you’d feel it in your fucking stomach.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, you quickly pull the toy out of yourself before you’re sliding off of your bed, bringing the phone down with you as you push the dildo against the floor, suctioning it before you’re hovering over it. “Are you going to ride it for me like I asked you to?” He says, you can hear a slick sound from the other end of the call and you know his fist is wrapped around his cock right now, furiously stroking himself as he imagines exactly what you look like right now. “Yes-sir.” You say, sinking yourself down until you’re resting against the fake balls at the bottom of the dildo, you’re so full you can feel yourself throbbing harder and harder as the seconds go by, listening to your boyfriend tell you every dirty thought he’s had about you while you’ve been away. There’s one particularly naughty one that has you reeling, he’s telling you how he wants to fuck you on stage, in front of everyone to show them who you belong to, he asks if you’d like that and you can’t even get out words. You’re a babbling crying mess as you bounce yourself down onto the cock, over and over, tears rolling down your cheeks as Eddie taunts you. He loves it when you’re this way, he’s laughing at you as you whimper, and beg him to let you cum. “Hmmm, I dunno sweetheart, do you think you deserve to cum on a cock that’s not mine?” Your legs ache as you hold onto your nightstand with your other hand, going as fast as you can without falling over, your body is getting weaker by the second, you can hear Eddie trying not to moan, his breathing is ragged and all you can imagine is his sweaty chest heaving up and down as he tries to hold back from cumming for you.

“Yes! Fuck yes please sir, I can’t do it anymore let me cum on this dick Eddie please.” You whine, your own slick is running down your thighs, causing the floor to be a mess, your heart is pounding as you look up, catching a glimpse of yourself in your floor mirror, your pussy is stuffed full, clenching around your toy. You look like a complete whore, cheeks flushed, your hair is stuck to your face, drool is running out of the corner of your mouth that you didn’t even realize was there. “Fuck, you can cum Bambi, I know exactly what you look like right now and it’s delicious, I can’t wait until I come back home from tour baby, gonna fuck you on every surface of your house.” You almost drop the phone as you stop bouncing, your clit throbs as you begin to cum harder than you can remember cumming for a long time. “Thank you, Eddie oh-oh my god!” He laughs again on the other end, jerking himself a few more times before his jaw is clenching, his stomach tenses as he cums to the sounds of your pleasure. “That’s it baby give me all of your cum, little whore.” He moans, his fist now covered in his own release.

The only thing that can be heard is the both of you coming down from your highs, your heavy breathing in sync as you pull yourself up and off of your floor, the dildo slips out of you easily as you stand up on your wobbly knees, gripping the phone as if your life depends on it. You fall back onto your bed, shockwaves still running through your body as you curl yourself up with Eddie’s pillow. “I miss you so bad.” You say, closing your eyes and sighing. “I know baby, I miss you more, we only have two more months and then I’ll be home for a while, I don’t think we’ll leave the bedroom if I’m honest.” You both laugh, as you roll your eyes at him. “Okay horndog.” He snorts, “Says the one who just rode a replica of my dick so hard that she couldn’t speak.” You feel your face heat up as he laughs on the other end. “Okay Mr. Rockstar, no one asked you.” The both of you bicker playfully back and forth, talking for hours slowly slipping into a blissful sleep. You couldn’t wait for Eddie to come home, you knew his jaw would drop when you tell him that you want to ride your dildo and suck him off at the same time. Your little rockstar needed to hurry up and get back to you, so you could thank him for the best Christmas present you’ve ever had.

[mxlti-lover]

Sick ~ pt. 2 {P.L.}

Summary: You’re sick with a bad cold, but you didn’t want your werewolf of a boyfriend to cuddle you, only to end up having to fix the feelings that you hurt.

Warnings: maybe a small bit of angst if you squint.

Word Count: 1099

Note: Hey, sorry this took a while to write, I know a few of you wanted a pt. 2 to this, so here you go! Hope you enjoy!

*Do not steal or copyright my work pls and thank you*

~ ~ ~

You ran your hands over your face as you sat there contemplating on what you were going to say.

You knew you hurt Paul bad, your words coming off a lot harsher than you had anticipated, but you needed to get out of his hold before your skin started melting off.

Okay…that was dramatic, but you get the point..

After a few more minutes, you finally got out of bed, first time all day, grabbing the tray that Paul had brought up half an hour ago, and a box of tissues as you headed downstairs.

You shivered softly as the house was a lot colder than you thought - though it was the mid December - your mind slipped freely of that idea.

You peeked around the doorway, seeing Paul in the recliner watching whatever show was on TV. You could tell by his expression though he wasn’t actually paying any attention to the show. You could tell he was somewhere else in his thoughts, whether it was about what you said to him, or something else, but either way you felt bad one of the options was because of you.

You snuck quietly into the kitchen, placing your bowl and glass into the sink. You took a wet wash cloth and wiped down the tray before putting it back in its usual spot.

You turned around determined to go talk to Paul, only for you to let out a little squeal and jump 5 ft. back as the man you wanted to see was already looking over you in the doorway.

“Jesus Paul, you scared the shit out of me!” You whisper-yelled as you knew your voice would fail you if you actually attempted to yell, your hand still resting on your chest.

“Oh, so now I scare you too, that’s great.” Paul mumbled to himself. It was very quiet, but you could still barely hear him and your heart broke at his words.

“What?! No, no, Paul, stop that. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean for it to come off so harshly, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to even before we cuddled, but there was no way of doing it without hurting you.” You tried to explain, looking up at him, his facial expression dropping even more.

“You mean…you didn’t want to cuddle with me at all? I mean, sure it would’ve hurt me, but I’m not upset about what you said, I’m upset with myself for making you feel even more uncomfortable than you already feel.” He spoke sadly, his eyes averting to the floor.

You frown walking over to him placing your hands on his cheeks, “Hey, look at me..” You spoke softly as his head slowly rises to meet your gaze. “You shouldn’t be upset with yourself over that. It was my fault to start, not telling you how I felt, and what I did and didn’t want. I let you cuddle me. I knew I didn’t want it because I knew it would make me uncomfortable in the long run, but I put myself in that position. So stop blaming yourself my love.”

Paul let out a small whimper before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him.

“I can’t help it. You’re my lover, my soulmate, and the idea of making you uncomfortable in any situation just makes my heart sink into my ass.” He expresses, his lips meeting the top of your head with a gentle kiss

You couldn’t help yourself to laugh at the wording he used at the end.

“What’s so funny? I just admitted my feelings to you and you’re sitting here laughing at me?!” He asks pulling away looking at you amused.

You could tell he wasn’t mad, no, he was being sarcastic with you, and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh harder.

“Your- Your heart sinks- into- into your ass?! Then what? Do you shit it out?” You asked through your laughter, your arms wrapping around your stomach, thinking you were the funniest person in the world at the moment.

Paul ran a hand over his face, shaking his head as he let out a small chuckle himself.

“This-this is why we can never be serious little miss.” Paul says reaching out tickling your side softly.

“Oh, i’m sorry, I’m not the one that just said his heart goes into his ass.” You say swatting his hand away that tickled you.

“And to answer your question, yes, i do shit it out and place it in a jar to keep.”

“Then you would be dead dumb ass!”

Your guys’ laughter echoed throughout the house, your heart feeling warm in that moment, appreciating how the two of you can communicate, pushing the hard feelings away within minutes and replacing it with love - or laughter in this case.

“Can you come cuddle me now?” You ask quietly once the laughter subsided, staring up at your imprint.

“But I don’t wa-“ He started but you cut him off. “I’m asking you to cuddle with me Paul. You won’t make me feel uncomfortable, I promise.”

You squeal has his large arms pick you up bridal-style, carrying you back upstairs.

“I could’ve walked myself, ya know.” You mused, your eyes never leaving your imprint.

“I know, but my princess is sick and shouldn’t have to walk herself back to bed though.” He says looking at you with a small smirk.

You shake your head smiling as you rest your head against his chest.

He reaches the room as he carefully places you on the bed, tucking you in with the thin blanket you wore before.

You watch as he walks over to the closet, pulling one of his sweatshirts over his head, hoping it would keep some of the heat confined behind the fabric, before crawling into bed next to you.

You knew the sweatshirt wouldn’t help much, but you immediately wrap your arms around his torso, your legs intertwining with his like they always do. You bury your face into his chest, sighing contently.

“I love you so much. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings earlier.” You mumbled against his chest.

“I love you more sweet girl. No need to apologize, you’re making up for it right now.” He spoke softly, smiling, leaning down to plant a kiss to the top of your head.

Yet another Disney movie played, as the two of you watched. His fingers ran softly through your hair as you held him close. Both of you are feeling happy and content in this moment.

~ ~ ~

Ew, I feel like this lowkey sucks and I’m so sorry😭🤚

[idyllcy]

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch8 A Scarred Heart

(How many hearts can Y/n conquer? Let's find out on the next episode of Dragon Ball Z- Jk. Warnings for death mentioned.)

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml @tengensangel

@miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom @lavenderdropp

@mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

Your heart was fluttering. Soaring like a plane even. As you walked down the road with your head leaned against Gyomei's arm, arm wrapped around his own, and holding hands. It was the perfect start to your new morning and walking outside only to be surprised by Gyomei patiently waiting to walk you to work.

Although you both did stop by the cafe where you had your first date to grab some coffee and something to eat. Chasing after kids all day meant you'd be needing the energy, however you were surprised by seeing a small box next to the cash register. A sign above it advertised some kind of raffle.

"What's that?," you asked pointing towards the box out to the cashier.

He brightly smiled. "It's a raffle to celebrate Kimetsu Academy's fiftieth anniversary! If you leave your name and contact info, you get a chance to win a thousand dollars and a certificate for free cafeteria meals for the rest of the year! Only registered students can enter though." He nudged the box closer to you. "Would you like to enter? I just need to see a student ID to confirm you're a student and you can enter for free!"

"It's going on today?"

"Actually students have until classes are over this Friday to enter, and the winner's gonna be drawn Saturday. How about it? Wanna enter?"

A thousand dollars AND free lunches for the rest of the year!? You could use a thousand dollars to help pay off your car! Or pay bills for a while! Or get Gyomei a great present! And free lunches for the rest of the year would save you SO much money!...Buuut the chances of you getting picked within like thousands of other students was slim. Oh what the heck. It was a free raffle. Even if you didn't win what's the harm?

You did end up digging your student ID out of your bag to confirm your student status to the cashier before writing your contact info on a piece of paper, slipping it into the box, grabbing your coffee, and then leaving with Gyomei.

He himself felt his cheeks and ears burn up a bright happy pink as the smaller hand squeezed his. He was still half convinced that it was all just a dream and he'd wake up to no one being there. But as she held onto him as they crossed the campus and towards your workplace. You were surprised to see that he came inside with you until your coworker came up to you with a baby currently nomming on their hand in her arms.

"Y/n, there you are! Practically everyone dropped their kids off already and we've been swamped!," she grumpily said. "It's about time you and the new guy got here!"

You blinked staring at her confused. "New guy?"

He gestured to Gyomei behind you bouncing the drooling baby on her hip. "Yeah? Himejima. The boss liked his application so he got the job."

You blinked in surprise blinking before turning to Gyomei who still only smiled at you. "Is that what you meant by 'the job interview ' you had?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry for not telling you beforehand but I didn't know if I would get the job here. It's only going to be for a year anyways before I finish my last year and earn my degree."

You beamed. "Are you kidding?! That's amazing! I'd love to work with my boyfriend! This is like a dream come true for me-"

"Then would you two PLEASE get changed and help me with playtime?," your coworker interrupted with a raised brow.

"Oh! S-Sorry."

You two quickly got changed into the signature pink aprons (honestly you were surprised they were able to find one that fit Gyomei-) and quickly just got to work helping your coworker take care of the infants that the parents dropped off before going to classes as your manages escorted Gyomei somewhere else. Guess she wanted to walk him through his first day on the job, and help out considering the increase of children that came into the daycare last month. But I digress. You only busied yourself by helping in the infantry wing of the daycare. Getting to work changing one crying baby's diaper before going on to sit down and attempt to rock a stubborn baby down for a nap. However he was stubborn and kept waking up just as he started to nod off and give an angry babble in protest.

"Stubborn little guy aren't you?," you asked him still gently rocking him in the chair.

Again the baby made a noise pouting and waving his tiny hands in protest making you chuckle-

RING!!

Until the front desk bell rang out. The noise caused you to stop rocking and your coworker to look up from counting the diaper supply in the nearby closet, both of you looking towards the doorway.

RING RING!!

The noise came back louder than before and one of the sleeping infants gave a small noise of protest in their sleep.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Your coworker mumbled before lightly placing her head on the closet door.

DING DING DING DING!!

The constant dinging of the bell made her inhale deeply and turn to you. "Give me the baby and go see who the heck is there before I go and ding that thing against their heads!" She was already holding out her hands for the baby in your arms just as another two ding sounds sounded from up the hall. "And tell them to shut up before they wake up these babies!" She hissed already plucking the half asleep baby boy from your arms and heaving him onto one shoulder.

"Sure." You stood up with a smile. "I'll get right on th-"

"WAAAHH!!"

Your head whipped behind you as finally the previously stirring baby woke up and started crying. Your coworkers eye twitch as only more dinging came from the front desk. You only quickly scurried out promising to come back soon and help her.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING-!!

A rapid ringing sounded as someone repeatedly just mashed the bell at the front desk making you frown annoyed. What kind of Karen were you going to be dealing with today? With a frown you poked your head out the doorway making out half the figure of a man turned away from you looking around the front lobby, a toddler on his hip and two bags slung over his shoulders. You frowned before inhaling deeply and forcing a customer service smile on your face.

"I'm coming!," you called out making your way towards him to which he turned around sharply.

"Oh thank fu-.." He paused looking at the boy in his arms. "..Fudge! Thank FUDGE!! I've been standing here forever and I'm late for my da-..DARN classes! It's doesn't usually take this-.."

He paused seeing who came out from the back hallway and you also paused seeing who it was. You blinked once. Twice. Before the realization that SANEMI was the one standing in front of you hit you. The same thing must've been happening to Sanemi because he slowly blinked, face surprised. You both probably would've continued if the little boy in his arms didn't look up from his toy and gasped happily!!

"Y/N!!," he cheered tugging on Sanemi's shirt and pointing the toy at you. "Nemi it's da nice lady!!"

Sanemi jumped as his little brother squealed out and looked at him. "What?"

"Hi, Sanemi," you greeted making him look back to you sharply however you just smiled. "It's nice to see you again. Were you looking for Gyomei?"

He seemed to finally snap out of it before shaking his head. "No. I'm dropping off my baby brother for my mom. She's busy trying to fix an emergency at work." Without saying anything he leaned his little brother forward into your awaiting arms. "And I'm already late for my dam classes-"

"SWEAR!," Koto tattled pointing back to his brother hurrying to get the diaper bag off his shoulder.

"Here! He's got some clothes n' stuff. I'll pick 'em back up when my classes are done!" The bag dropped on the counter with a plop sound before reaching out to ruffle his little brother's head. "Be good. I'll see you later."

With that he turned and practically ran out with Koto waving at his big brother. "Bye bye, Nemi!" A toy was shoved up to your face. "Play?"

"Not right now. I have to work but I'll drop you off somewhere you can play with the other nice kids."

In the end you dropped off both Koto and his bag with your manager in the daycare room before you left back to help your frustrated coworker in the infantry wing. Luckily it wasn't too much of a problem afterwards to get both babies to sleep again and help her with a supply count. It was a bit of a pain to have so many children with a few workers but somehow you all made it. However you can't say you weren't happy when the day started to tick closer to a close and slowly parents started filing in, some carrying backpacks or books from classes, and picking up their kids after showing confirming identities. You waved goodbye to a little girl who was picked up by her tired dad after coming back from chemistry class and waved goodbye to you with a smile! You couldn't help but wave back with a chuckle before returning to the back to help clean up and disinfectant everything else for tomorrow, passing by your coworker hauling out some trash and stopping by one room which lead to what was essentially a giant playroom bigger than your kitchen and bedroom combined.

A few people were already in there sweeping, and picking up toys, and wiping down things with wet wipes. One being your boyfriend who was still holding a familiar toddler in one arm and wiping spilt grape juice off a table with the other.

"How was your first day?" His head turned to you with a smile already on his face as you leaned on the doorway. "By the looks of it, you had a wild snack time."

He chuckled and you swore his deep chuckles would make anyone blush. "Just an accident with a leaky juice box. Overall it was rather well." He slowly stood back up turning his head in your direction. "They seemed to like story time."

"You should've seen him!" Your boss proudly looked at him from spraying the toys with a disinfectant spray. "The kids all adored him! And he put them all down for naps in record time! I knew I had a good feeling when I saw you!"

He chuckled a bit flustered at the older woman's praise. "I thank you for the compliment."

"Is he the last one here?," you asked nodding at Sanemi's brother in his arms.

"Yes," Gyomei confirmed, "But Sanemi might be a bit behind today. He's been really busy with classes and helping his family these days."

"Oh no. I hadn't known about that."

It was then Koto looked up at you and gasped. "NICE LADY!!" He cheered making Gyomei blink at him. "Now we play?!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the two year old. "No sorry. I have to help clean up."

A loud whine escaped his throat but Gyomei only hummed. "I had no idea you already knew Sanemi's family."

"I don't. Well not all of them." You gestured to the boy in his arms still giggling in his arms. "I've been working here since Koto was a baby, but I had no idea that Sanemi was his older brother."

He nodded wiping the table again. "Yes. His mother uses his student discount for the daycare since his other siblings are already school aged. I'm afraid Koto still can't attend the local preschool until he's four or five years old."

"Oh, that's why he was dropping him off. But it's strange I've never seen him drop Koto off before."

He hummed brows furrowing slightly. "Well it could be because of the recent strain his family is going through."

Recent strain? What recent strain? You didn't think Sanemi looked stressed yesterday when you all went to the onsen. Other than arguing with Obanai on horror movies but with how those two acted you got the sense that's how they were all the time. So what could it possibly be? 

"He didn't seem that stressed when I saw him Friday or yesterday even. Is he alright?"

Gyomei looked at you before again his head tilted at the boy playing with a toy car. "... We'll talk later."

You weren't sure what he meant by that but you respected his choice. For now you you left to go help clean up the nursery room before it was time before you all left. By the time you got done helping to wash and change the sheets and wiping down the surfaces, Gyomei was already standing outside waiting for you still in his giant pink apron and still holding Onto who looked like he tuckered out and decided to take a nap in his large arms. He turned towards the directions of your footsteps and smiled brightly. 

"Ah. There you are. Are you finished with your duties?," he asked politely.

You nodded. "Yes. Oh." You stopped seeing Koto still asleep in his arms. "Has Sanemi not arrived yet?"

He shook his head no. "No but he'll probably be running a little late. He also tutors for an hour after classes to help make some extra money."

"What does he do for a living anyways?" 

"He tutors math lessons and currently works online part-time for a telemarketing company that sells magazines."

"Oh. He must be really good at math then."

"The best actually. He's smarter than he looks."

"I don't doubt that." You giggled at the memory of him using those skills to get more girls on Tengen's back Friday. "Did you want to come over to my house for dinner tonight? I can make a mean spaghetti with mushroom sauce."

He hummed and was about to say something but before he could say anything a loud shout from up the hall caused both of you to snap your heads to the left towards the front lobby. It sounded like a woman's voice.

"No identification! No pick up! Now leave before I call security!"

You knew that voice. Your coworker.

"Fucking hell! That's my student ID! You want my dam driver's license too?!"

Uh oh. You definitely knew THAT voice. Quickly you approached the front peeking around the corner and sure enough found the sources of the cussing. Sanemi was looking annoyed down at your coworker with gritted teeth and his student ID was laid out on the counter by his hand. You coworker looked angry but slightly intimidated by the way he was leaning over the counter. She remained firm crossing her arms.

"You're not on the registry for pick up or emergency contacts. You're not allowed to take any child unless you're on the registry or the guardian calls to confirm alternative pick ups which neither have happened."

"Fucking-" A hand gripped his hair before running down his face. THUD! She jumped as both of his hands slammed down on the counter and he leaned farther onto it to shout at her face. "We have the same fucking last name! I dropped Koto off this morning!! What other fucking 'confirmation' do you want?!"

"S-Sir, if you don't calm down a-a-and leave I-Ill  call campus security."

"I AIN'T LEAVING WITHOUT MY BROTHER!!"

Oh no. This was escalating quickly. You had better step in before things got out of control.

"Lacey." Said woman jumped up and both of their heads snapped up as you smiled walking in calmly. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh thank fuck! It's you!" Sanemi sounded relieved before snapping Lacey another accusing look. "This walking clown is refusing to give Koto back! Tell 'er that I dropped him off!"

"Sanemi, we are a daycare. I'll have to ask you not to use cuss words and foul language or I'll have to ask you to wait outside." You lightly scolded him with a smile which caught him off guard with a blank blink. You just hummed turning to Lacey. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

Lacey scowled. "He's not on the registry. No registry or guardian notice means no pick up."

Sanemi looked about ready to combust with an eye twitch and a few viens popping up on his body. 

"Here. Let's just take a look at it to confirm just in case." With a hum you just gently nudged her out of the way so you could have access to the computer. Humming to yourself you just typed into it with both watching you. "Koto Shinazugawa. Right here. Now let's see...Oh. it does look like only his mom is listed." Lacey sent a smug look at- "Let's see if we had any missed calls from her." You continued into your database and with a few clicks of a mouse found something. "Oh. It looks like we have two missed calls from Mrs. Shinazugawa."

"Yeah! My mom tried calling you guys to let you know I'd be here!"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Let's just call her back real quick just to make sure everything's lined up. Alright?" You stayed professional smiling at him as he continued to glare but slowly relaxed. Leaning off the counter and crossing his arms as you grabbed the phone and redialed the number. A few rings went by your ear before you perked up. "Hello, Mrs. Shinazugawa! I'm sorry to call you-...Yes. I know you are probably busy with deliveries. No. Your son is fine! Sleeping like a baby! I just wanted to call you back to make sure Sanemi was supposed to pick up his brother....Really? Great! Sorry for the missed calls. We were swamped today. You have a nice day, Ma'am. Sorry for bothering you." The phone hung up with a click as you smiled at Sanemi. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll go get Koto's bag for you."

Lacey's face dropped as Sanemi huffed. "It's about time."

"You're really going to give him the kid?"

You turned to Lacey. "Their mom confirmed it just now." She opened her mouth- You pointed at her. "You know you're supposed to check the database before denying or confirming anyone who comes in here. We provide good customer service which means we check first. You know that from training."

"It's not my fault." She hissed at you. Before half nodding back towards the now much calmer man. "Have you seen him?"

"I have actually. What are you getting at?"

She looked at you like you were crazy. "uh-..Are you blind? He looks like he just got out of jail!" Sanemi's eyes shifted over. "By the way he acts, I wouldn't be surprised if he's done some crap too-"

"Lacey. Do me a favor. Shut up."

Her face blinked at your happy smiling one. "I-..What?"

"You heard me. Shut up. I don't care what you think, discriminating someone just because he has scars is as stupid as saying that someone is dumb because they're blonde. And if I hear that again I'm telling our manager. So why don't  you just get the broom and start sweeping the front like you're supposed to?"

She didn't say anything as you turned to leave- Blinking at Gyomei standing there still with the sleeping toddler in his arms and tilting his head down at you. However you only patted his arm with a smile and informed him that you were going to grab Koto's overnight bag before leaving to go grab it from the cubby closet. He stood there still before tilting his head at Sanemi and could guess the surprise that was plastered all over the other man's face right now. Staring wide eyed in silence. 

You returned a moment later with the bag Sanemi left with you and by then Gyomei was already handing him back his baby brother. Koto yawned half way woken up by the jostle however lit up when he saw his big brother.

"Nemi!" He tiredly reached out to him and tiredly curled up on his shoulder with a yawn.

"Here's his bag." You smiled handing him the duffle bag he just slumped over his shoulder with a blank look.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Sanemi, are you going home after this?"

Said white haired man looked at Gyomei with a frown. "My mom doesn't get off work for another three hours. Genya and Teiko can watch the other three for a little longer. I'm just gonna work on my project until my mom picks up Koto."

"In that case do you want to join us for dinner?" The loom Sanemi gave you was like if you just slapped him. "I'm making spaghetti tonight."

"Sketti!" Koto peeked up immediately turning around to you with a smile. "YUM!"

Sanemi continued to stare at you.. before he shook his head and turned. "No. Kanae's picking up something. I'll see ya round Gyomei."

You frowned at him. Was it something you said? Koto waved at you from his big brother's shoulder and you waved back until they left out the door. Well safe to say that was strange, but you supposed that since he's been going through a lot it wasn't that out of the ordinary. You also decided not to pry Gyomei for answers. That was between Sanemi and his family and partners so you'd respect that privacy. Although you couldn't say you weren't curious about it all.

Tuesday went by better. This time you got there early enough to be informed that Sanemi and Koto's mom called. Apparently Sanemi would be dropping off and picking up Koto for the foreseeable future until she became available and to put him down as an emergency contact in the daycare's registry. You remembered Mrs. Shinazugawa. She was a middle aged woman who was oddly small and always looked tired when she came in starting to drop off Koto as a baby three years ago. At the time you assumed that she was going back to college to earn a degree and that's why she was using Kimetsu University's daycare.

But finding out she was using Sanemi's status as a student for a discount on childcare was both a more believable answer and only more curious about it. But again you respected their boundaries and only tended to Koto and the other kids until it was time for his big brother to pick him up. You thought it was adorable. He'd get so excited and shout 'NEMI' every time he saw him regardless of just seeing him that morning. 

Each time he'd give you a strange look before just taking his brother and leaving. You were confused about the looks but they weren't angry looks just almost confused. He probably just was still getting used to Gyomei having a new girlfriend. You were still getting used to having a boyfriend yourself so it was understandable. Lacey continued to give him and you dirty looks..but hadn't done anything since Monday's fiasco so you didn't worry about her anymore. It wasn't until Thursday morning that your curiosity was finally sated. You forgot your lunch at home while fishing out to work one morning, so again you decided to stop by the campus cafe to grab a sandwich to eat later when you ran into two familiar faces. One was a woman with long black hair and pink eyes. The other was a tall man with white hair and red wine eyes. They were shuffling around the side of the register as people walked by. 

Hey. Wasn't that-

"Kanae?" Your voice asked before the woman turned her head around with a blink followed by the white haired man. "Tengen?"

On cue he smiled. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the future Mrs. Himejima." He winked sending you a finger gun making you chuckle. "What's cooking good looking?~"

You couldn't help but giggle at him. "I forgot my lunch at home so I was just grabbing a sandwich for later. What are you guys doing here?"

"Entering that raffle. Tomorrow's the last day you can enter."

"Oh. Planning on getting that paint set you mentioned if you win?"

Tengen frowned shaking his head. "Actually it's for-" He paused looking back to Kanae and jabbing a thumb to you. "Actually it's ok to tell 'er right? Or is that stepping over a boundary?" She looked at him then at you.. before nodding. "Alrighty then." Red eyes looked back to you. "It's actually for Sanemi."

You blinked. "What?"

"Well if any of us win that is. No guarantee that any of us will." He waved a hand. "But the more of us that enter, the better chances there are of us actually getting it."

"Why does Sanemi need it?" You didn't think he was anymore broke than you were.

"It's not exactly for him really. It's so his mom can pay off that debt faster." 

That's when it all clicked. The mentioning of Mrs. Shinazugawa struggling, Sanemi helping to take his brother to daycare, Gyomei's reluctance to talk about it- You almost didn't catch what Tengen said next with a distasteful bite to his voice.

"Ever since that asshole died, his family's been having nothing but a hard time."

"Let's not speak ill of the dead Uzui," Kanae lightly scolded him. "He's still Sanemi's father."

"Wasn't much of a father in the first place."

"Wait. His father passed away?" You went wide eyed at them when Kanae nodded.

"It was an accident. A hit and run driver ran him over when he was crossing the road at night-"

"Right as he was coming back from the casino." Kanae shot Tengen a scowl this time. "Oh come on, Kanae. Don't sugarcoat it. If we're gonna tell her might as well tell it how it is." He looked at you with a mad look. "The greedy rats ass was killed coming back all high strung from the casino. Good riddance I'd say but because his mom wasn't divorced yet from the deadbeat now she has to pay off his gambling debt! At least they didn't have to pay for the funeral."

You could only stare at him in shock. "That's awful. How much was it?"

"Seven thousand dollars." Tengen threw up his hands. "How do those debt collecting sharks expect her to just magically come up with that money?! She's already trying to raise like six other kids!"

"Seven thousand dollars?!"

That was a lot of money! If Mrs. Shinazugawa was already struggling then this would've put a lot of strain on her already. 

"A thousand dollars ain't much but it'd be a thousand dollars she doesn't have to pay. ...*sigh* Anyways you said you wanted to get a sandwich?"

"Uh.. Y-Yeah. I was."

You made sure to be extra nice to Sanemi after that and play with Koto when he asked, despite the confused looks Sanemi still gave you. He wasn't ever mean to you and after finding out about his family situation you didn't have any reasons to be mean back. Soon Thursday and Friday turned into Saturday morning and you FINALLY got a day off to yourself to finish up some real work.

"Are you sure you don't want to come join us at the park? I heard there's going to be a vendor that sells delicious homemade ice cream."

You smiled one shoulder holding up your phone to your ear as you continued to write down on a piece of paper. "Sorry, Mei. I'd love to but I have to get this report done before Monday and I already planned on cleaning my house today. Maybe tomorrow."

"I understand completely. I'll swing by later today to make sure you're not overwhelming yourself."

You smiled. If there was one thing that you already loved about your boyfriend is was how understanding of you he was. "Alright. Have fun on your date with Giyuu and Shinobu. I'm sure you'll have lots of fun."

With that out of the way you were able to get your project mostly done. Mostly because of a second phone call you got right in the middle of trying to finish up your health class report. Which honestly did annoy you a little bit. You wanted to get this done TODAY and then get all of your household chores done TODAY so you could have TOMORROW off with your boyfriend! It continued to ring so with a sigh you dropped your pencil to pick it up and hold to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Y/n L/n?"

"Yes. Who is this?" You frowned but soon that frown disappeared and your eyes widened. "Shut up. You're kidding? Wha- No! I'm not busy! I can come over right now and pick it up! Where?" You stood up quickly nearly knocking over the papers on your table as you ran to grab your shoes. "Dean's office! Right! Are you sure this isn't a prank call?....Ok! Im on my way right now! Holy cow this is unbelievable! Yeah! I'll see you soon! Bye!"

You squealed in utter astonished happiness as you ran to go grab your shoes! What should you do first?! Pay off your car? Get that pet ferret you always wanted? Maybe take Gyomei out for a really fancy dinner? The possibilities were endless! You happily skipped out of your house and ran down the road towards the academy. Running and running and running...

But slowly your running slowed.

And the giddy smile turned to a thin line.

And you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Staring at nothing in particular until you blinked and looking back to your house.

......

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Nemi, chill! You're gonna give yourself brain damage if you keep that up!"

Two small hands on his head stopped Sanemi in his pursuit of hitting his head against the table repeatedly. Only stopping so he didn't painfully smash Suma's fingers between his forehead and Tengen's table. Not like it'd do anyone good even if they stopped him. 

"I just found out Genya and Hiroshi got a part time job to help my mom pay bills and Teiko started babysitting for money." His head lifted up to glare angrily at nothing. "HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM?! THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO WORRY ABOUT BEING KIDS NOT HAVING TO HELP MY MOM PAY BILLS!! NOW TEIKO IS STUCK TRYING TO WATCH THE OTHERS AND OTHER BRATS AT OUR HOUSE AND MY BROTHERS ARE FLIPPING BURGERS AT A WACKDONALDS!!"

He ended his rant by slamming his fists on the table and letting veins bunch up in anger. Most people would flinch but considering how used to his anger they were, his girlfriend and Suma only looked on in growing concern than actual fear.

"Honey, it's not going to be forever." Kanae attempted to soothe her boyfriend with a gentle hand softly rubbing his back. A small kiss pressing to his cheek. "They promised you it's only going to be until that big debt bill is paid off, and you guys already paid off a good portion of it."

That seemed to calm him down somewhat as he ate least unclenched his teeth and relaxed back a little bit. "I know. I just don't want them to get it in their heads that they have to work at an early age! They should be worried about school and getting good grades not paying bills... Maybe I should drop out and get a full time job."

"WHAT?! NEMI, NO!!" Sum hopped from one foot to the other. "You came so far! And you'll graduate after next year!"

"She's right! You only have a year and a half more then you'll graduate. Your mom wouldn't want you to quit."

"Maybe that's not what she wants.." Body deflated. Head hung. "But that might be what she needs."

There was silence as both women stared at him then at each other in lost. He couldn't just quit. He worked so hard to get to where he was at, already sacrificing lots of things. If he did this now..then he'll regret it later. But with his family struggling as it was how could they ask him to change his mind? They would've continued to sit there in silence if there wasn't a loud knock on the door that had them all look up. Again there was silence before the knocking came again but a bit louder. After exchanging looks, Suma eventually stop up and went to go answer the door. Pulling it open, blinking...and then beaming into a smile.

"Y/N! Oh my gosh! Hi! What are you doing here!?"

"Hi, Suma. Is Sanemi here?" Said white haired man perked up hearing his name. "Gyomei told me I could find him here."

"Yeah! You wanna come in?"

"Can't. I have to go pay some bills and finish cleaning my house. But can you give him this for me? It's really important he gets it."

"Sure! I'll do that right now!"

"Thanks! You're a life saver!"

They were surprised when Suma closed the door a moment later before turning and revealing a large manilla envelope in her hand.

"The hell is that?"

She shrugged. "No idea. Y/n said it's for you. OOH!! Maybe it's the recipe for that ohagi you liked! Y'know she ones she made that weekend."

"Tch. That'd be one good thing outta this dam day."

He mumbled under his breath as Suma walked over to him and he just bluntly took it from her. Giving a look at the front and back before just tearing off the top and peeking inside. In an instant his face went from bored and annoyed to cartoony shocked in one second. Both girls watched his expression change rapidly, looked at one another, before Kanae just reached over to pull the opening up more to look inside and VERY quickly gained the same shocked expression.

"Oh my," was all she managed to say.

"What is it?! Tell me!"

"Money."

"What?!" Suma quickly joined the two gasping out. "HOLY COW!! LOOK AT THE ZEROS ON THAT CHECK!!"

Sanemi continued to stare at the envelope blankly until Kanae pried it from his hands to peer inside with a raised brow. "There's a card in here too." Holding it up, narrowed pink eyes were able to read it. "It's a gift card of some sort."

"Hey. Wasn't this stuff like...the prizes for that raffle or something?"

Again there was silence as a realization of what exactly was sitting in Kanae's hands washed over them all...until a loud scraping of a chair caused both ladies to jump as Sanemi abruptly stood up and just..stared at the table. Silently stirring something around in his head before both hands landed with a loud thud sound on the table. 

"Sanemi?" "Honey, are you ok?"

"I'll be damned...Kanae."

"Yes?"

"If Gyomei doesn't marry that woman we will."

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Okay? Okay.

You end up needing to run a few errands at the same time Aegon has his weekly therapist's appointment, so you decide to drop him off and pick him up. But when he gets back in the car, he's desperate for affirmation. It seems the topic of his appointment was his parent's marriage

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, car sex, semi-public sex, discussions of Vizzy T x Alicent, Aegon is actually pretty tame here suprisingly

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

Okay? Okay.

Prompt: Reassurance & Car Sex

It was a dreary day, the skies a light gray that seemed to suck the color out of everything. You knew it would only get grayer and drearier as the snowstorm grew closer and closer. But you had a few hours before it hit. Which meant you had to go to the grocery store to grab as much as you could amongst the chaos of every person in town trying to do the same thing you were.

And also, that you had to drive your boyfriend, Aegon, to his weekly therapy appointment, as he didn’t have a car equipped to handle winter road conditions.

He would never risk his precious wrapped BMW M8, which he called “Sunfyre,” like that. It wouldn’t leave the garage attached to your small rental if there was even a one percent chance of rain. Which meant it pretty much never left the garage.

Your 24-year-old Mazda5 – aka “Zoomie” – however, could handle anything.

Indeed, she made it to the therapy office without issue. You were about to gloat to Aegon when you saw the glum look on his face. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching to pat his shoulder. “You alright?”

Aegon looked at you, obviously not alright, but he shrugged and gave you a half-hearted smile. “Fine. Just rather be back at home, you know? I’m almost done with my Dark Urge run, so…”

You nodded, assuring him he’d have plenty of time to finish up once the storm blew in. He seemed to cheer up slightly at that and opened his door.

“Want anything from the store?” You asked as he was halfway out of the car.

Aegon thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing and one corner of his mouth curling up. Then, his entire face brightened. “Cosmic brownies?”

You laughed a little, leaning over the center console to kiss him one more time. “I’ll get two boxes, just to be safe.”

-

You’d nearly had to fight a woman to get the last two boxes of cosmic brownies, but when you pulled up to the therapy office again, they were sitting safely in the front seat. But when Aegon pushed off the wall and got back in the car, he just tossed them into the backseat with the rest of the groceries.

It threw you off for a second. Then you saw that Aegon’s eyes were distant and red-rimmed, and he staunchly refused your gaze.

“Aeg? What’s wrong?” You were instantly in protective girlfriend mode. Therapy was supposed to help him, and you’d never seen him come home in such a state before.

He shook his head, “I just…” you watched him sniffle and rub at his nose. “Hard session today, that’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The left side of his lips quirked up for only a second. “That’s what the therapy is for, babe.”

This wasn’t his usual humor – that usually had some hint of suggestiveness or immaturity. He was only this witty, or at least nearly so, when he was upset. Very upset.

“Aegon, please,” you said softly. He understood what was left unspoken – be serious.

He finally turned to you, his usually bright, joyful face drawn and tired. “Babe,” his hand tentatively reached out to yours. “Can we go somewhere else for this?”

You nodded and put the car in drive. “Yeah, we should go home anyway, the storm – ”

“Not home, either. Somewhere like, random.”

Though you weren’t sure what ‘random’ meant, you just started driving. Aegon never spoke, never commented on the winding path you drove through town. You heard a few sniffles and sharp breaths, but you never looked his way. He felt so fragile, like even a wrong look could shatter him. What the hell had that therapist talked about?

Eventually, you found yourself at a relatively secluded park, utterly abandoned in anticipation of the storm. You pulled the car into a parking spot, and waited.

By the time Aegon began, the first few snow flurries had started to fall.

“We talked about my parents today,” he started. “Not about my dad or any of his bullshit, but about both of them. Their relationship.”

That was a subject you hadn’t heard much about. You knew about his mother’s overbearing nature and the pressure she’d put on him his whole life, and about the distance that had always existed between him and his father. The favoritism Viserys always showed his elder half-sister. You could count on one hand the number of stories Aegon had told you where his father actually spoke to him.

But their relationship was never something he talked about. You were under the impression that there wasn’t one at all, really.

“My mom…” a glint of reluctant affection shone in his eyes. “She’s a lot younger than my dad. I don’t remember exactly, but I know it’s something like twenty-five, thirty years or so.”

You had always just assumed his dad looked so much older because he was so sick. This was just gross.

Aegon took your hand and squeezed. “Before they got married, my mom was Rhaenyra’s best friend.”

Super gross.

“That’s why they don’t get along. Rhaenyra thinks my mom seduced her father, and my mom felt abandoned by her best friend. But it’s more than that, I think… I think my dad did love my mom, at least at first. I can see it in their wedding photos. He even looked at me like he loved me, in pictures from when I was a baby.

“But after Helaena was born, he looked different. Like he was only with her at the hospital because he had to be, or that he was only at my third birthday party because someone had forced him to. I’m not sure what changed, but it did. My mom still cared about him, but to him, the rest of us were just like, a job or something.”

You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your lips to kiss. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He shook your hand a little before continuing. “I don’t get why they stayed together. It only ever made the rest of us miserable. How Aemond and Daeron happened is honestly a mystery.”

Everything he was telling you sucked, sure. But he hadn’t started tearing up like he did when you first asked him what was wrong. So when he again went silent, you nudged him on. “Aegon?”

He took a deep breath and turned to you. “Are you going to get bored of me? Decide you don’t actually love me and just… treat me like he did?” Tears ran down his face faster than the snow falling outside your little car.

“Oh, Aegon,” you set your hands on his cheeks and pulled him close so you could kiss his forehead. “Never. I will never treat you like that. I will never get bored of you. I love you so much, Aegon.”

A sob escaped him at your words, and he draped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he cried. “I love you, too.”

You continued kissing all over his face as you whispered your reassurance repeatedly. Once he’d calmed, he started kissing you back. And since Aegon was Aegon, kissing could never just be kissing.

When he pulled you over the center console, you were very glad no one else was around – you weren’t graceful at all. But your embarrassment faded as Aegon's hands slipped beneath your leggings, one hand teasing your entrance while the other settled on your ass, guiding you in rolling against the harness growing in his pants.

“Can we get arrested for this?” He asked as he pushed your leggings down and frantically lowered his own sweatpants.

You sighed in delight as you sank onto his cock, savoring the stretch. He wasn’t the longest you’ve ever had, but he was thick, and it was wonderful. “We can, but only if someone sees us.”

He laughed, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth and pulling slightly as he brought his hands to your waist to support you as you began to ride him slowly. “Thank the gods for the snowstorm, then.”

Words were quickly abandoned. At first, you’d wanted to take this slowly, to show him exactly how much you loved him. But Aegon wasn’t patient, and soon began thrusting into you as fast as he could, the car rocking beneath you.

Aegon came first, biting down on his shoulder to stop his screams. One of his hands dropped to your pearl and began rubbing furiously, until you screamed yourself and clamped down on his length, pulling a pitiful whine from him.

“You okay?” you whispered, holding him as close as you could.

Aegon smiled slightly. “I’m okay.”

Thanks to your activities, the car windows had fogged. You leaned over to wipe away the condensation and saw the snow falling harder now, the ground completely covered. “Okay, help me back up,” you commanded. “We’ve gotta get home quick.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning back down to kiss your neck. “We can stay a little longer. Zoomie’ll plow through the snow to get us home.”

[kapeeshkapoosh]

wallet problems

a/n: a little oneshot kind of thing, bc i keep sentimental pictures and stuff in my wallet and it’s my favourite thing

synopsis: gojo loses his wallet, but his mind is more occupied on you rather than his money.

contents: fluff, petnames(barf), 1k words, gojo being corny, y/n and gojo are married, not checked

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

“I don’t have my wallet on me..”

Gojo muttered dejectedly, feeling his jacket pockets only to be met with a flatness in the fabric. The trio of students looked at the white haired man blankly in response.

“So you invited us out to eat and didn’t bring your wallet?!” Nobara was first to break the silence, her teacher could only smile nervously, not really bothered by the threatening glint in her eye.

He gulped subconsciously, tuning out Nobara’s consistent cursing from his head.

How could he lose his wallet?

He brought it with him to work everyday, looked at it when he ate lunch alone, reminisced with it whenever he was on break.

With a sigh Megumi put some cash on the table, “I’ll pay this time.” He said blandly, stopping Nobara in her long threads of enraged sentences. With the sudden stop of noise, Gojo pushed back his worries for a second and flashed a smile.

“I’ll repay you Megs’!” Gojo stuck his tongue out playfully at the raven haired boy only to be returned with a slight furrow of his brows. “Anyway- have any of you guys seen my wallet around?”

“No? Have you left it at home Sensei?” Yuji asked, genuinely concerned for Gojo. Gojo thought for a second, “I can’t remember.”

“Ring Y/n, she could check for you.”

“Right, good thinking Megumi.” Gojo quickly jabbed your phone number into his phone, hearing it ring 4 times before you picked up.

“hello?”

“hi sweets! Do you know if my wallet’s at home?”

There was some rustling on the other side of the phone, he could hear you walking around the house.

“no, I don’t see it anywhere. Satoru did you really lose your wallet? You might’ve left it somewhere at school.”

“I’m not sure, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have left it at anywhere else but our home!”

You huffed on the other line, he could tell you were rolling your eyes at him.

“I’ll call you back if I find it ‘Toru.”

“thank you sugarplum!”

He could hear you slightly laugh at the pet name before ending the call.

“So?” Nobara asked inquisitively - who else was supposed to pay for her shopping?

“funny thing, but I think I’ve lost it!” He exclaimed in a chirpy tune, his conscience eating his brain fully. Megumi scoffed and Yuji could only laugh at Nobara as she fell dull.

“How about we just go back to school then?” Gojo suggested carefreely, however he creased his eyebrows anxiously as he thought on where he could’ve left it.

♡

As you ended the call, you groaned in response. It wasn’t normal for Gojo to leave something behind, but usually if he did it would be for a stupid reason. Most of the time he would pull the act so you would show up at school, but this time you could tell from his voice that he was actually worried.

You started searching for a bit, looking in all possible places until you gave up and carried on with your day.

Whilst you were fixing a snack later that day, you popped open the fridge for some juice only to see the problem behind your stress today. With a sigh, you picked up the strangely dark leather wallet and the box of kikufuku next to it.

Now you had to go drop it off, as you stumbled into your car, you rung his phone. It didn’t even ring once before instantly being picked up, excitement gliding through his voice.

“Did you find it?!”

“yes Satoru I did.” You laughed as you heard him sigh in relief, “I’m coming over to drop it off now.”

“Thank you my sweetie weetie pumpkin spice-“

“Satoru!” He went quiet, “save it for later.” You giggled, making at turn to the school.

“Whatever you want Y/n.” He said playfully.

“don’t be upset you crybaby, I’ll be there soon.”

“okay you bully, love you?”

“love you too Satoru.” You laughed as you heard him giggling like a highschool girl, “see you in a bit.”

“goodbye my loveeee.”

“Satoru end the call, I’m driving.”

“no you first!”

“Satoru!”

—————

The school was quiet as it usually was, with the slice of laughter and noise coming from the training grounds. There Gojo was with his students, probably spewing some nonsense as he waited for your arrival.

As you walked over, with both the kikufuku and wallet in hand, Gojo’s eye lit up.

He smiled happily at you, waving excitedly as if he had a small crush on you. “Y/n!”

You cracked a small laugh as you made your way over, greeting the students.

“Here’s your wallet and kikufuku.” You put out both items, expecting him to take the snack first.

Instead, Gojo quickly took the wallet from you, opening it up and sighing contentedly as he saw what was inside.

“What?” You asked, Gojo only shrugged at you before pushing the wallet safely into his jacket pocket. “Did you think I ransacked your wallet Satoru?” You questioned teasingly, amused at his exaggerated expression of relief.

“nope!” He pops the ‘p’ as he’s always done, “Just had a lil’ something important in here, can’t risk losing it sweets!” He then leaves a giddy peck on your cheek, leaving you confused and curious as to what was so important in his wallet.

Then Gojo took the kikufuku from you, munching on it ravenously as he always does.

-He had originally placed his wallet next to the kikufuku in the fridge so that he wouldn’t forget his snack, but instead he forgot both his wallet and food.

-

Later that night, when Gojo was long gone in sleep, you reached over to his night stand. Quickly swiping his wallet noiselessly. You then open the black leather wallet, unusually dull for the lively man.

You were taken aback as you saw the familiar film from yours and Gojo’s first date at the arcade.

‘This is what he was so worried about?’ You scoffed, unable to help the lovesick smile on your lips. Satisfied, you closed the wallet and returned it back into it’s place.

‘He’s an idiot’ You thought.

You had an exact copy of the film in your own wallet.

[froot-batty]

(most of) The sewer squad!

Surprisingly, Clay and Croc were super fun for me to color. Rat was the one that kicked my ass this time

(P.S. sorry about the lore being so long down there)

Waylon Jones was originally born in Louisiana. He was born into a relatively low income but very big, very loving family. He was also born with Epidermolytic Ichthyosis, which caused patches of his skin to blister or thicken, sort of like scales. This would be the first thing he'd be bullied for as a child, and it would only grow worse as he went through school and his undiagnosed ADHD and dyslexia would make it ten times harder for him. He would eventually decide to drop out of school, both because of his learning difficulties and the bullying.

One thing Waylon had always loved was boxing. His father had taught him and all of his siblings the basics of boxing, and Waylon was one of the ones who really took a shining to it. It helped that he was a naturally bulky guy who could put on muscle pretty easily. So now that he was out of school, he decided to put his free time towards participating in amateur boxing matches. It didn't rake in very much money, and usually took place in some guy's backyard or a junkyard, but he thought it was a lot of fun - and, most of all, he was good at it.

He made the choice to move to Gotham after he'd collected enough money to start a life somewhere else. He loved his family, and it hurt to move away from them, but a big city like Gotham provided more opportunity than backyard brawling. And indeed, it did! He graduated from probably illegal homemade boxing matches to actual, professional matches - still nothing above amateur, but it was something, and it made a lot more money!

It was during this time when he'd gain the nickname Killer Croc, from a combination of his skin condition, how big he was, and where he'd been born. (He didn't actually kill anyone though, he was a sweetie. He's just killer at boxing).

Things started going downhill for him when he finally won enough matches to go up against another relatively popular name in the amateur boxing league. This opponent, not wanting to lose against what was still a fresh face in Gotham, conspired to cheat in order to win. Because it's Gotham, and anyone can be made to look the other way, no one caught the man as he mixed plaster of Paris with his hand wraps (which hardens into something similar to concrete) before the match.

Safe to say, Waylon lost the fight pretty badly. While he would have been a good sport about it, he knew that who he'd fought had cheated, and he was pissed. As soon as he was out of the hospital, and his face was healed enough for it, he caught the other boxer as he was leaving the gym. He tried to convince him to admit that he had cheated and forfeit his win, but they'd end up getting into an argument that'd turn physical when he tried to punch Waylon.

When the cops arrived, instead of breaking up the both of them and taking them both in, they instead arrested just Waylon. Because the other boxer chose to press charges, Waylon was shipped off to BlackGate Penitentiary after a hasty trial. But he didn't stay there for very long.

Doctor Hugo Strange, head of Arkham Asylum, had followed Waylon's arrest closely in the news. He took an interest in the boxer specifically because of the irony of his nickname. Strange would go on to convince the superintendent of BlackGate that Waylon was unfit to be housed in a regular prison because of how dangerous he might be - Arkham would be a much better fit for him.

Strange promised Waylon that being in an asylum would greatly reduce how long he'd have to spend incarcerated, as he could get out of an asylum when he was proven "sane". But Waylon was given a cell in the lowest pits of Arkham - in the basement, where Strange made his monsters. And he would become the living test subject for what would become Kirk Langstrom's own bat-serum; his nickname, Killer Croc, once a source of pride, becoming a cruel prediction of what he'd become.

Unlike Kirk, however, Waylon is permanently trapped in this new form; shunned from society and now living as Gotham's monster in the sewers. Forever a Killer Croc.

??? (Nickname: Rat/Rats) was born in....Well, actually, no one really knows where it came from. Rats was there the first time Waylon escaped into the sewers, and it seemed it'd been there a long time before that, too.

Rats is like a cryptid to most of the Gotham population. But, like, the kind of cryptid where everyone knows it's real, you just don't encounter it that often. 12 year old rat child in the sewers? Yeah, everyone knows about that

They're shy, unnerving, and tend to be nonspeaking, their only appearances to most of the public coming from brief glimpses in the sewers or, occasionally, guiding people lost within them back out.

To the rogues, though, Ratcatcher is a source of information. It seems to know far more than it should, due to communication with the all-seeing eyes of it's many rats. But how much it's willing to help depends on how much it trusts you, which is usually not very much at all.

And if they don't want to talk to you, then Waylon will be sure to escort you quickly out of the sewers.

(Fun fact: Rats communicates mostly in ASL!)

Basil Karlo was born and raised in Gotham. A lover of performance from the moment he could join the theatre club in school, he was dead set on pursuing an acting career after he graduated from college. His first experiences were small background roles or roles in commercials, but even then directors could see the acting potential lurking within him.

Small roles grew into more major roles, as they grew from background actor, to minor actor, to eventually starring in major roles. And they were a popular guy! Pretty face, charming voice, they became Gotham's own star!

In one of these movie roles, Basil would grow very close to one of his co-stars. Their relationship would move very quickly from friendship to romance, as it does when you work so closely with someone. It might have even moved a little too fast, as they decided to get married the moment they returned to America from their filming location. She moved into his home in Gotham, and things were good, for a little while.

But a lot of cast romances end up not working out, and this was one of those cases. Basil and his wife began to drift apart, focusing on their own careers and neglecting one another in the process. Their relationship began to decay, and with the nature of Basil's career, there began to be...people on the side.

They thought he kept these escapades a secret. They did everything they could to not let their wife or the public know about their cheating.

Of course, this was a pipedream.

This all happened around the time J's Red Hood Gang was at their peak. They figured out Basil's secret, gathered material, and would present the evidence to Basil himself. To keep their secret safe, Basil was forced under the Red Hood.

Basil...did not take well to what he had to do as a Red Hood. But he was desperate to save face amongst the well-to-do of Gotham, so he continued doing the bidding of J and her gaggle for a good while.

Until the day, with no interference from the Red Hoods, their wife left them. She had apparently been contacted by one of Basil's partners, and now they were going to leak that to the press during the divorce proceedings.

Basil's life was ruined. His reputation was in shambles, and he was doing more work for criminals than directors. But he decided he was going to change that. What was the point of working as a Red Hood if they had no way to blackmail him anymore?

So they attempted to leave. They confronted J and demanded that she let them go, and without waiting for her response, left.

Red Hoods were waiting at their home when they got back there. They kidnapped them, dragged them to Ace Chemicals, and proceeded to pour an experimental chemical onto their face. This chemical made flesh like clay—moldable, which the Hoods used to their advantage as they toyed with Basil's face. Morphing it into different shapes and expressions for their own amusement.

When they were done, they dragged him to the vat where they were developing that chemical and threw him into it, expecting him to die.

Unfortunately for Basil, they did not.

[poppy-metal]

art leaving creep!reader a note to meet somewhere to see what they look like, but he only watches from a distance and essentially stands them up.......... reader doesn't take kindly to that at ALL

SLOW YOUR HORSES ART CANT KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE YET !!!!

i imagine he he eventually does cave in and writes her a note back - eventually persuades her into getting a burner phone - she'd outright refused to give out her real number, shes not stupid, art would absolutely track her down that way - but she'd agreed to a secondhand one. art even payed for it. money rolled up with a rubber band in his last note, i just wanna talk with you more. dont you want to talk to me?

and she'd caved.

the first time they spend texting you're sweating bullets. chewing your nails to absolute stubs. rocking back and forth on your bed almost sick with nerves trying to figure out what to say.

it all feels..... so real. which is stupid. your plan has always been to meet him face to face one day - to have him see you. how else are you supposed to get married and have his babies??

but before it was one-sided and you were protected by complete anonymity. art still didn't know who you were, but he'd learn about you. it would be a two way communication. a conversation..... this made your stomach twist in knots.

what if he didn't like how you talked? what if he took this opportunity to tell you to fuck off and tell you what a creep you were and how gross he found you and how you needed to leave him alone forever. you'd kill yourself. you'd genuinely just die.

deep down you knew what you feared the most - you feared being perceived at all. it was safe to fantasize from afar, and it was safe to leave him notes. it was safe to envision a life with art donaldson and imagine how he'd touch you and love you for who you were and want you and not think you were a freak or ugly or less than.

actually engaging with him like this - you'd risk it becoming a reality. you'd risk being found out. you'd risk being hated you'd risk being.... liked. and how scary a thought was that? when you'd spent your whole life unnoticed by everyone around you, to finally be noticed by an angel?

you sit in the same spot on your bed for hours. just staring at the empty text box with arts number in it - fingers hovering over the keypad. you'd chewed your lip raw. you could taste the iron of blood in your mouth.

you typed, hello, art. its me....

what else could you say? hello tis i your stalker? your one true love? future mother of your children?

breathlessly waited with your heart in your throat, your hands so slick with sweat the phone almost slipped out of your hold. you wanted to throw it across the room and forget the whole thing. you could go back to the notes.

but then the phone pinged. lit up with a text. it could only be from one person, as you only were using this device to talk to one individual -

it read.

you're always so formal! i thought it might be a bit in your letters, but you actually talk like that, huh?

...do you not like it? i can change it.

no, dont. i like it. a second text under that one. i think its cute.

the phone did drop then. slipped right out of your slack fingers and onto your bed. your cheeks burned so hot so quickly you had to scramble over to your mini fridge and open it - cool your face.

cute......cute......

he'd called you cute.

[granolawriting]

A change in fate ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your toxic ex kicks you out of your place without another word. Only hiring a mover to get your stuff somewhere else. And when Joel finds you in a state of disarray, and stays indifferent, you butt heads until it comes to a head when your paths cross again after that night. That time, much more complicated.

Content warning: age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers.

word count: 4k

A/N: this is the first of a two-part series inspired by an old movie I grew up with. If you can recognize it, I'll like, give you a really big treat. no nsfw this chapter, but the next one will. And as always, let me know if you like my work or if you have any suggestions for anything else I could write :)

Part 2 out now!!: to make you forget

“NO. No. No no no no no no no NO!!!” 

Your fist hits solid wood once more. Every slam that pounds upon its impenetrable front leaves a mark on your hand in the shape of bruises and soreness-- you try the door once more. It's locked, as it had been the last ten times you attempted to open it. Desperation laced in the fruitless fervor that played its sound of metal clanking on metal as the knob refused to turn. 

The thump on the ground follows a fall of your knees. Defeated, hopeless, in a dress that isn't even yours. Tears stream from your face in such passion you can't even feel them anymore as more of you is wet than it is dry. You imagine you look a mess, hair disheveled as you held it as you screamed at him-- makeup once beautiful and elegant streams down and across your face in the motion your hands chose to wipe away your tears. 

A screeching of tires followed by the shutting of a door is what knocks you out of this pathetic display. A man walks over to you and begins to pick up the boxes right beside you, carrying them to the back of his truck that has the title “MOVERS” painted on its side. You clamor to your feet, disorientation doesn't help the heels strapped to your feet as you chase after him;

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with those? Who the hell are you?”

Rancor coats your tongue as your anger spits out onto him, He stands in the middle of an empty parking lot with only the light emanating from houses and lamps decorating the street are you able to take him in. 

He was tall, perhaps 6ft, an older man. Salt and pepper hair covered just above his forehead and a stern face was complimented by equally gruff facial hair of similar color, and a frown that seemed natural for him. He wore an old jacket-- probably made in the same year you were born with plaid linings on its inside to support a Carhartt branded outside. All the clothes upon his body seemed worn, from the stained jeans and a belt fitted so many times it might as well have been made for the exact curve of his body, to the heavy worker's boots with every scratch telling a story beyond your years. He looks at you. Up and down his eyes register curiously the woman that stood before him. He scoffs, and with a low Texan drawl he replies in kind; 

“Well princess, looks here like someone was kind enough to get yourself a mover for all them boxes outside the house. ‘Supose you know where i'm to drop em off?” 

“They can stay right here.” 

It comes out of you not in a literal sense, but you guess a plea of desperation. You can't imagine that this is actually happening. You can't just leave. After all the years you spent with him, all the hours you poured into his care and the best he can do is call up some old guy to take your shit somewhere else? 

“Now you know I can't do that. I ain't come all the way down here just for’ nothin. Now, I was hired to move, least you can let me do is my job.” 

His palms outstretched to you as he finishes putting the first box in the back of his truck, looking to you with little care for what you’re properly going through, moreso just a plea to let him go home sometime before 1 in the morning. 

your breath grows uneven again, you feel something build up in you again as you just refuse to accept this. Turning your back to him, you storm over to another box untouched by him and kick it, screaming and crying and truly just making a mess of yourself as you collapse once again on the curb of the sidewalk. Folding your arms across your knees, and with a head buried deep in your chest you sit there for a moment as you listen to the crunch of his boots against the loose gravel along the pavement trail back and forth past you as each box is stored into the vehicle. 

“Still haven't given me an address. Or were ya’ thinkin' of just sitting here and lettin' me take yer’ things?” 

Irritation follows his tone as he becomes increasingly impatient about your behavior. 

“I don't have anywhere to go.” 

“Surely you got someplace. Now get a move on, I'm bout damn tired of all this.” 

He drags you up by your upper arms, feeling his calloused hands hold onto the smoothness of your body as he lifts you to your feet. Shocked though, you push him away from you in haste;

“I can get up by myself. Thank you very much.”

You dust yourself off for just a moment before continuing, he looks at you with impatience.

“And I need a ride.” 

He stammers a bit as he begins to speak, 

“A- fucking,? Damn. alright then. Just get the hell on alright? Sure you wouldn't want em’ having to pay me extra.” 

He walks back to his truck as you follow, The two footsteps upon the concrete road are all that can be heard in the neighborhood as your pain slowly wells into your chest, and the outbursts cease. 

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

“Now, listen here. We've been drivin' for damn near an hour now, and ain't nothing come of it. Where the hell am I takin you? Or I'm about to leave ya on the side of the damn road. I've got a kid at home.” 

“Just take me to the other side of town.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Now, I don't know what you've got goin on and I truly, don't want to. But you're real damn selfish ya know that? Makin me drive all over town like this like I'm some goddamn taxi. This place best got some money to pay me for.” 

His voice is deep, gruff, and when laced with the anger of a despondent woman who seems as if she has all the time in the world he's not keen to hold back judgment anymore. His hand grips the steering wheel firmly and doesn't look at you for a moment as he speaks to you. 

You're taken aback, to say the least. After the pain you've felt, the torment you've faced the only thing to greet you is the unwanted mouth of some old man who doesn't know what he's talking about.

“I'm selfish? You don't know the night I've had. How can you call me selfish? You were hired for a reason so why don't you just do your fucking job okay? As long as you’re getting paid it shouldn't matter a damn to you.” 

You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms in his passenger seat, watching him with disdain as he grips the wheel and drives relatively carelessly through the empty streets just to get you out. 

After a few minutes more, and by a few you mean around 30, you find yourself in front of a home you’d never think to see again truthfully. As you take in the sight of it, a simple house facing an otherwise unimpactful street, but you held memories of all your years within the confines of these blocks. You were home, after so many years away. 

“Get out.” 

He says bluntly. The clock shines a bright 1:47 on its dash, signifying that you definitely didn't meet his “before 1” pleas. But damn, could he have been any nicer about it? 

You watch as he hops out of the car himself, to the sound of a hard opening of the back that held all your belongings. And as you made your way ever so slowly out of his truck, trying to not fall as the step was coated in the darkness of the night that was no longer politely illuminated by street lights. As you made your way to the concrete below you, rounding his truck was he almost done putting your stuff back out, only on a different curb this time. And without a second to spare, he gets back into his truck, and leaves. Not a word said to you, not even an exchange.

What an asshole. 

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

“So you’re telling me, that the man you were with for how many years, kicked you out for what?” 

The voice of your childhood friend rang once more through the old walls of the house, in the kitchen where you two sat. this was her family home, one that she now inherited, and one that after many years of silence on your part, she gladly opened up to you as well. 

“We were together almost 3 years. And he just, found another girl I guess. But she was in my closet, filled with her clothes. It's as if he’d moved me out overnight. He didn't have a word to say to me, it's like I never even mattered to him. But I've told you this time and time again, what more can I even do at this point?” 

She repositions herself with her legs crossing over one another as she looks for a response, taking a sip of coffee before having it dawn on her. 

“Today. 3 pm. Uncles holding a barbeque. You remember my uncle right? Everyone will be there. Maybe we could find you a good little rebound to bring you down to earth.” 

“Are you- a rebound? Seriously? Is that all you can think of right now?” 

“Listen. The only thing you can do with a broken heart is fix it. And that doesn't happen in a day. Least you can do is get something tasty to chase the pain with. Like hot old guys. You’re only 21! This is the prime time to do whatever you want.” 

You think for a second. Letting this wash over you as you try and figure out the next thing to do. Do you really doll yourself up after the most traumatic evening of your life is not even 24 hours in your past, just to eye all of your friends older relatives, and family friends that you’ve been ogling at since you were 16? 

I mean fuck it, what else are you going to do. 

Following your friend up the stairs, she lets out an excited giggle at the prospect of having you back after so many years. There's so many things to tell, different people to see, and subsequently laugh at, but the best of all her skills with a brush have gotten much better since the last time she helped you look good. Much better, apparently for as you looked at yourself in the mirror you could barely recognize the woman looking back at you-- let alone any trace of the girl sat in a torn dress the night before screaming outside her ex’s house. 

You put on a pretty yellow dress, adorned with flowers It's hemmed all properly frilled to some level, and the flow of the skirt portion barely getting over your back end does the top also treat you well; a low neck cup to shape your chest perfectly as the daintiness of your outfit, paired with little yellow heels, made you look properly irresistible. 

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

“Guess whos backkk!!!”

The excited shrills of your friend beside you make everyone who'd arrived at the party thus far to crane their heads back to look, all of which subsequently smiled with shock as they looked upon you. None of them had seen you since you were 17, about 18 years old. That's when you left, the moment you could. Looking back you missed all of this so much, the community, the story told in every face that looked upon you. But all is lost now and the most you can do is make the best out of the time you have right now-- and as it stands you’re at the center of it all. 

They approach you by the droves, asking every question they can that have undoubtedly had rumored answers to in your absence; detailing from where you've been, what you’re doing, where you go to school, where you work, and most hurtful-- how your ex was doing. You briefly told them all that you and him had since parted, and that you were just getting back on track, spending some time at your friend's house in the meantime. They all looked upon you in sympathy, but as more people entered the party the more they dispersed to greet other guests. 

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?” 

A low, familiar tone enters the backyard where you stand, and turning around to face you is your friend's father. Who, for most of your life was like a father to you as well. He opens his arms and you follow suit, embracing him in what feels like a much-needed hug, before setting you down again to continue talking to you. 

“Oh, honey if, if I'd known you were coming I'd have brought you something. How long has it been since I last saw you? God, you seem so grown up now. It's like I barely even know you.” 

His head moves to look behind him for a second, and soon he ushers someone forward to join in the conversation. 

“Ah, there's something I'd love for you to meet. This is a good friend of mine, Joel. I haven't had him around any of these much, he just moved back here from Texas a couple weeks back. But he's someone I've known my whole life. Kinda like you and my daughter in a way!” 

Though as the man who emerged behind him reared his head, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him, of course, it was him. That asshole that drove you home like you were the greatest burden he's ever had to carry. 

“Yer fuckin kidding me.” 

He looks at you in shock. Nothing more. However, you see that to his side is a young girl, no older than 12 who seems to be in awe over you. Her hair was tucked into each side of her face to illuminate it in a crown of curls that came to her shoulder and stretched all the way to her ears in volume. She wore a small shark tooth necklace, and some form of singer on her shirt that you didn't recognize.

He-, Joel, looks down at her; 

“Sarah how bout you go say hi to your friends for me. I'm gonna be busy a moment” 

She runs off, and your friend's dad begins to speak again. 

“Do you, know each other from somewhere? I can't imagine you do.” 

“She's that insane little girl I told you ‘bout. The one kickin n’ screaming all over the place. Reason why Sarah hadta’ stay the night at your place.” 

“The insane little girl?” 

You chime in.

“There's no way- Joel, you’ve probably got the wrong girl” 

“No, he has the right one.” 

You stare directly at him, sending daggers into each of the brown eyes that look back at you. 

“He kicked me out of his car at almost 2 in the morning without a single word. Isn't that right?” 

Though no matter how piercing your gaze it fails to impact him as it should, for with equal level tone he snipes back; 

“Yep, after makin me drive all the way cross’ town just cause she wanted to. Knowin I got someone waitin’ for me. Clearly, something she don't understand all too much anymore.” 

That was unnecessary. 

Something brews inside of you as you glance upon his finger void of a ring, even a tan that would indicate its recent removal. Though as the only sane-minded person seemingly left to observe watches your eyes as you make such a connection, he swiftly puts an end to it. 

“Now, Joel. you know how young girls are they-” 

“I'm not that young.” 

“Alright well, they. Are just passionate, that's all. She was with him for how many was it now? Three years? Left the moment she turned of age. Clearly she just doesn't know how a mans supposed to be. This is all she really knows.” 

This is all she really knows.

That's all that rang through your head as the conversation died and Joel exchanged brief apology. That in a way, he was all you really knew. And now you’re back home, and you don't know what to do with yourself, really. You don't know what you like, or what you don't like. It was all just, him. For so long. You vowed to yourself that day that, no matter what went on you would say yes to anything. To embrace kind of, anything that came your way as some divine fate, or at the very least a fun experience. 

As the night droned on, and you fielded the barrage of squeals, hugs from people you don't remember, and a bit more liquor you could've accounted for, the night came to a slow end. Feeling eyes on you constantly was one thing, but feeling the eyes on the man with who’d you'd had a comfortable reunion was even worse in a way. Although, as you looked upon him in your own moments you saw in him something unveiled after the veil of hatred and sorrow fell off of you. Something, interesting about him. Attractive. Obviously nothing you were going to personally indulge in, but an interesting assertion nonetheless. He stood in the light of the evening, fairy lights covering the backyard as it illuminated his now more time-appropriate outfit; one of marginally better jeans and a plaid shirt, rolled to his elbows to reveal what were impressive forearms, and with the proper fit of his shirt, showed an impressive physique for a single dad.

… … …

 Thats stupid. Anyways, the night drew to a close and as you saw your friend too wrapped up in the conversation of someone relatively older than her, you decided to take the few blocks walk home, especially since you didn't have a car anymore either. Though as you exit the front door to travel down the sidewalk you hear a familiar accent call out to you after only a few feet have been made distance between you and the doorframe; 

“Ya’ walking home this late at night?” 

“Yeah, I am. Not like I've got a car do I?” 

You turn your body to look at him, but only after you've finished your sentence, using the body language of someone unequipped for any more stupid banter to cue him into leaving you alone. 

“How’s about I drive you home. Least I can do after what I’d said today. It wasent quite my place.” 

His voice has an unfamiliar tune of sympathy as he lets out that apology of sorts, so you engage. Though, begrudgingly. 

“Don’t you have a daughter to take care of? That seemed what got you so mad before.” 

He sighs a little, you notice you've hit a bit of a nerve. 

“Well, she’ll be stayin' at a friend's place for a few days, really hit it off. Got nothin but time on my hands now.” 

“Well in that case I'm not gonna say no to a free ride. Obviously.” 

You smile a bit, a first with him. Other than ones of sarcasm, every interaction you've had with him thus far hasn't been all that pleasant. And he smiles back. And, as the light of the moon shines down upon his weathered face, the smirk on his makes your smile grow even more. 

Hopping into his car once more, you take the road to your place with a little more enjoyment than how it transpired the night before. This time, the sound of his music accompanied by a hum through his car is what played to fill the silence of the atmosphere. Something old, country, of course. You’d never heard it, and it sounded well beyond even his years. But despite that, there was a comforting air that was shared in the car-- cool air blowing in from the windows rolled down, watching as his arm held on to the side of the car door from the open window, tapping its side in unison to the beat. 

“This here is it right?” 

Pulling up to your shared home you felt almost a little reluctant to respond with a yes. Though when you do, he steps out of the car as you do as well. You watch as he awaits your circle to the front where he stood, as a means to walk with you to the front of your door. Looking at him curiously as you reach the entrance, he gives response to your motions, though you watch as his fingers fiddle with one another ever so slightly as he poses such a response;

“It ain’t right leaving a lady to walk all by herself after dropping her off. And, I just wanted to say again that it ain't my place makin assumptions about you like that. Wanted to know if I could make it up to ya’. Kinda seems like lifes dealt you a bad hand right now, thought to offer you a drink over it.” 

A drink? 

You thought about that for a second. The man that kicked you out of his car, literally less than 24 hours ago, is now offering to take you out for a drink. Well, it was as a means for apology. So that's something. Nothing more to it, it's a Southern thing. They drink to anything. Especially sorrow. 

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that. You’ll know where I’ll be.” 

You reply with a smile that grows just large enough to show your teeth. He gazed at you for a bit longer, as his eyes grew brighter at the prospect of an invitation accepted. He was a lot less harsh than meets the eye, it seemed. But you still weren't properly convinced. And, there was still much a mystery about him that although intimidated you, enticed you even more. You cock your hip to the side of the doorframe, leaning up against it as he spoke to you as a means to accentuate your figure just a bit as he looked at you. Just to see what would happen. 

“Oh, alright then. 7 alright with you? I’ll come pick you up course’.” 

“Seven’s more than alright with me. I'll see you then, Joel.” 

As you bid farewell to him, you watched as his eyes tracked your movements as you did so. The way your hips have shifted place, the tone at which your voice shifted ever so slightly. He took in your gaze, a small cat eye that sharpened your eyes paired with the sly smile of a woman your age was enough to catch his stare for a moments longer than it should've. You relished in that. 

He leaves you off with a nod and a smile, though you take the time that he walks back to his truck as a means to take in all that he was without interruption. He was handsome, to say the least. There was something to be said about a man with southern hospitality and an ass made from manual labor that reached deeper into a realm of attraction that was often untapped by the men of your age range. And you enjoyed greatly that you’d discovered such a thing. 

Tomorrow, 7pm, Joel. 

[fowlblue]

quick Artemis sketch for a new AU that I’ve been thinking about-

Kinda long and convoluted AU plot but I’ve been listening to TAI and the mental image of Artemis in a big old fluffy coat possessed me, so-

The Fowl Star deal’s been in the works for a really, really long time, and anger between Fowl Senior and Britva appeared pretty much immediately, as often happens with such criminals. Neither want to work with the other and Britva in particular is already planning on blowing the Fowls to smithereens whenever they come sailing over- but then while he’s wandering back down the Manor stairs after another meeting, he actually bumps into young Artemis, who Tim has largely tried to keep removed from Britva’s attention, because Britva is a dangerous man.

A fair caution, as it turns out, because Britva’s solution to hitting the Fowls where it hurts is to just kidnap the little Fowl heir.

Artemis is very young, enough so that he can be raised to believe just about anything, after all, and forget his former home entirely, which is wonderfully dramatic and no doubt a very painful premise to Tim and Angeline. Who knows? Maybe Artemis could one day be raised to kill his father- in the meantime, it’s a living warning not to encroach on Mafiya territory, because their son’s now in the line of fire.

Except Britva is shit at raising anything and largely just ignores Artemis’s existence, passing off his care onto any of his underlings who are free at the moment and making no effort to hide their criminal dealings. Artemis also lacks the sort of bloodthirstiness and toughness that anyone expects, raised in such a violent environment- instead of a potential heir to this new criminal empire, Artemis really just spends most of his time frightened and skittish. He’s also smart enough to easily know he’s “adopted”… he just has no idea who he really is, either, no last name, barely remembers what his parents sounded/looked like… for all he knows, they’re dead, and he’s in big trouble if he starts trying to figure it out.

I don’t know how exactly how Artemis would meet Holly, though he eventually would somehow- and given that Holly has some sympathy for humans, and Artemis wouldn’t be an antagonist to her in this AU and is moreso just… a very scared kid who just happens to be a genius, I’d like to think she’d at least want to help him, even if she can’t, really (not at first, anyways). I’m thinking Artemis wanders off while following around his latest babysitter (who’s probably disposing of some unfortunate victim or another out in the snow) and accidentally stumbles upon one of the few “fairy forts” up north and gets stuck there. Not ideal for a Mud Man, much less a Mud Boy so Holly gets sent up there to let him out of chute dock or what-not.

Foaly gets a little interested in the matter too, once he hears about it from Holly- after all, the Artemis Fowl II case was one of the largest missing persons cases in recent human history

Holly’s struggling with the weight on her conscious about whether or not they should somehow tell his parents (Foaly could always just drop the information in someone’s inbox, after all)- the centaur points out, however, that it’s probably not a matter of the Fowls not knowing who’s responsible- they just can’t get to Artemis safely. And it’s not fairy business.

(It could rapidly become fairy business, though- Artemis meets one, and suddenly, he wants to meet them again. It’s a welcome distraction from everything else he’s dealing with)

Artemis wouldn’t have the same resources, skills or the same criminal history as normal Artemis, since he’s never really been allowed to go anywhere else- this Artemis would, however, likely know how to use a weapon… even if he’s not very good at it. Instead of like… stealing priceless artwork or whatever, this Arty carries around a little box of matches, and whenever the criminal urge hits him, he goes and starts a small fire somewhere (always where there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt)

Other notes:

- Very few people in the Mafiya actually know Artemis’s first name (and they’re not allowed to call him “Fowl” under any circumstances), so a nickname that gets passed around for him is “Matchstick Boy”, due to Artemis’s aforementioned habit of carrying them around.

- What Artemis lacks in classical skills (no violin, piano playing or time spent painting for this Arty, no matter how much he really wants to learn), he makes up for in more street smarts than canon, such as picking locks or pickpocketing. Such skills come in handy for him in such a harsh environment.

- Upon eventually reuniting with the Fowls and Butlers, he’s most unnerved by Butler himself, simply because the bodyguard seems at first glance like someone Artemis has learned to avoid. Arty doesn’t even know where to start with Juliet- he’s interacted with other children even less than in canon.

- Artemis can’t be mind-wiped after meeting Holly due to the difficulty of navigating Russia’s cold and radioactivity for the People, so Holly and Foaly start humoring Artemis’s attempts at conversation in an effort to keep an eye on him and what he knows- the benefit of Artemis being a child is that no one would believe him if he did say something. Eventually, it becomes less about keeping an eye on him and more just checking on him in general, even if both don’t really know how to help him- sometimes, Artemis is injured, or behaves as if he’s in active danger. Sometimes, he just seems desperately lonely. He has no friends, no real parents or family… Holly is one of the few people to ever be kind to him, and actually help him out (if he hadn’t found the way out of that shuttle port, he may well have froze). Usually, Artemis has to look out for himself.

- While he knows he’s not Britva’s actual son (it’s fairly obvious, they look nothing alike), Artemis doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t really know how to. The man and his underlings are undeniably evil and cruel, but that’s all Artemis remembers, so he sees it as less a matter of right and wrong and more a matter of illegal/legal. Still, he doesn’t like hurting people- he knows that much.

And voila! There you go! Idk I just think it’d be a neat twist, “raised by villains” is a pretty classic AU.

[messylustt]

Hey! Could you maybe write a little something where the reader takes care of Ethan because he begins to come down with a really bad cold? Poor love is all sniffly and sneezy, so the reader just wants to smother him with affection during this time <3

this is so cute

✫ ;: .. TISSUES / ethan landry

kissing; this is pure fluff; established relationship

You knock on Chad and Ethan’s dorm. You had been worried all day, Ethan's text having been vague in his reasoning for not making it to class.

Chad opens the door, smiling upon seeing you. "Y/n!"

You smile, though it soon drops as you speak. "Is Ethan here?"

Chad's brows furrow. "Oh, he didn't text you?"

Now its your turn to furrow your brows. "About what?"

Then Chad breaks into a small chuckle, shaking his head. "God."

"What?" You ask, growing more worried.

Chad steps aside. "He's just in his room."

You narrow your eyes on Chad and his strange behaviour. You pass him, quickly making your way to Ethan's bedroom door. You knock. In response you hear Ethan mumble something before speaking louder. "Chad, please fuck off."

You glance back at Chad. "Did you do something?"

Chad raised his hands, proving his innocence. "He's just being a wimp. I don't know why he's so embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" You again question.

Chad gestures to the door, telling you to just go in, before he wanders somewhere else in the dorm. You grab the handle, twisting and pushing.

"Seriously, Chad—" Ethan pauses, seeing you standing in the doorway. He stares at you, his cheeks pinkening, but as you take in his appearance you notice just how red they were before. You then notice the tissues scattered in a pile on the floor.

Your face softens as you realise. Ethan's sick. You rush over, shutting the door, as you toss your bag to the side. You place the back of your hand against Ethan's forehead. "Shit, your extremely hot."

"No you are." He joked, trying to make the creases on your forehead smooth out, before a cough followed.

"Oh, Ethan." You softly chuckle, taking a seat on the bed, your hand moving to touch his red hot cheeks. He sniffled, turning away.

Now you realise why Chad had said embarrassed. "Ethan, why are you so embarrassed? You should have texted me. I would have come over."

"Because thats what I didn't want to happen." He mutters.

"You have nothing to be embarassed about." You say, taking out your bottle of water from your bag. "Everyone gets sick."

"Yeah, but i look..." He sneezes, having quickly grabbed a tissue from the nearly empty box on his bedside table.

You hand him your bottle of water after he had taken the tissue away. "Plus I don't want you to get sick." He says, eyes slightly widening as if just realising this, as he tries to move farther away from you.

"Ethan." You stop him, placing your hand over his. "I don't care how you look when your sick. In fact your red nose is kinda cute, actually." You smile before turning more solemn. "But I don't want you to be sick. So, next time text me, and let me help you. No room for emarrassment. Alright?" You say sternly.

Ethan hesitates as he again turns his head away. You sigh. "I'll kiss you." You threaten to which he whips his head back.

"That's not a great threat." He says, his eyes dropping to your lips.

"I thought you didn't wanna get me sick?" You question, grabbing the end of the woolen blanket, placing it better over his body.

"Well, if I get a kiss I think it'd be worth it." He smiles, a cute tilt to his head.

You fake feeling offended as you go to stand up. Ethan quickly grabs your hand keeping you next to him. "I won't kiss you. I won't." He says quickly, looking desperate for you not to leave.

A smile edges your lips. "Good." You say, before leaning slightly closer. "Because you can get one when your better if you let me help you, and if you tell me next time."

Ethan slowly nods. "Alright."

Your smile widens, squeezing his hand before you stand. "Where are you going?" Ethan quicky asks, his hand quickly having glued to yours.

"Just to get a hot cloth. I'll be back." You say, getting out of his hold and walking towards the connected bathroom.

You soon walk back with a heated cloth to see that Ethan has placed all the tissues that had previously scattered the floor into a small plastic bag.

"You didn't have to do that." You say, laying him back down as you press the hot compress on his forehead.

His nose scrunches up. "Yes I did. It's disgusting."

"It's normal." You correct. "And remember I really don't care."

Ethan slowly nods, as a large smile forms on his face. He stares at you as you press the cloth against his forehead, brows creased in concentration. He didn't know what he did to deserve you. You'd always been there when he needed or even just when he wanted. You'd always helped in, with whatever. And now he couldnt look away from your pretty face as you took care of him.

When it got late and you had planned to leave, Ethan grabbed your wrist. "Can you...can you stay?" His question was followed by a cough.

You nod. "Of course."

Soon Ethan managed to drift off with your hand tightely held in his own.

. . .

When Ethan awoke he saw you slumped in a chair, knocked out, your hand still holding on to his. He quickly sat up, noticing his lack of a headache, but also the fact that you had slept there the entire night.

His brows furrowed in annoyance at himself for not letting you sleep somewhere more comfortable. In his sick state he hadn't noticed that you sat in a seat when he was drifting to sleep.

He looked down at your interwined hand, a smile forming, as he rubbed his thumb over your soft skin. You were too good to him. He was thankful that his nose had cleared along with his head, because now he could kiss you. And as he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, he felt you stir.

You slowly blinked awake, stretching, but pausing when you felt Ethan's grip followed by a soft kiss to your wrist. You looked at him to see he'd sat up, colour back to his cheeks and his nose no longer red.

You smiled realising he wasn't sick anymore. You meet his gaze, and saw every emotion swirling within, making your breath hitch. Ethan grinned before pulling you towards him by your hand making you gasp. You land against his body, as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Ethan." You chuckle, as he quickly kisses you neck and jaw before hovering over your lips. "I get a kiss don't I?"

You purse your lips, hiding your amused smile. "I said one. You've already had...i don't know…four."

Ethan's smile grows larger. "Oh, I thought when you said kiss. You meant plural." In his own response, he kisses your lips, slightly knocking your head back, as he carefully sucks on your bottom lip.

Your hand leads to his hair, as he slips his hands to grab your thighs, spreading them over his lap. You place your hand on his chest, breaking the kiss. Ethan frowns, following your lips. "Hey, I've been sick."

"Exactly. It might not be completely out of your system."

He tries to lean in again, but you manage to get off his lap, holding your hands out with a smile on your face. "We can't be late." You say regarding uni. Ethan groans.

"But we get to continue after?" He asks, standing and walking up to you.

"Maybe." You mutter, teasing him, before you grab your bag, patting down your hair, as you walk out of his room.

"Maybe?!" He's in disbelief.

"Get dressed." You call back with chuckle. Both your faces have an immovable smile present. And it lasts for the rest of the day.

I have like no fluff on my blog, so I made this somewhat tooth-rotting

kisses, holly

[saturnsycx05]

Tired of Lovin' From Afar (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Song: "Car's Outside" by James Arthur

Warning(s): canon-level violence, swearing, sad Sam but then fluff

Summary: You and Sam have danced around each other for so long, and you're both tired of always leaving each other, so Sam proposes a solution.

>>>

"Y/n!" Sam yelled, freezing as he watched the demon pointing your gun at you.

"Not so tough now, huh?" The demon said to you. You raised your hands in surrender, staring it down rather than the barrel of your gun. "So stupid, you humans. Think a normal gun is going to kill me? Wrong."

"Well, no offense," you said. "But that one wasn't actually meant for you."

"This one is," Dean announced, clicking the Colt up the the back of the demon's head. "Drop the gun."

"You first, Winchester," it replied cockily.

Everyone was frozen. You were on the business end of a glock, Dean had the Colt on the demon's skull, and Sam couldn't move. He stood frozen in the doorway, his chest heaving up and down as he desperately tried to catch his breath. If anyone moved, even in the slightest, that gun in the demon's hand could go off and blow a bullet right through you. Sam held his breath as the demon chuckled and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Bang.

The demon sizzled into nothingness and you collapsed to the floor. All you felt was pain, then just barely, you felt a pair of arms lift you off the floor and into their lap. Sam. You couldn't gather the strength to open your eyes, so you just laid in his arms, limp.

"No no no no, Y/n. Stay awake, please. Just stay awake."

"Ow..." you grumbled, opening your eyes after a moment.

"Y/n..."

"Rubber bullets, Sam," you told him, sitting up. "I'm not an idiot. I f anyone else gets my gun, I'm not letting them kill me with it."

Without warning, Sam pulled you into a crushing hug, holding you so tight you thought you might shatter into a million little pieces. "Don't ever do that. Ever." He held you some how tighter, and you hugged him back.

"Alright, lovebirds," Dean said, clearing his throat. "Let's go back to the motel and then get the hell outta dodge."

>>>

"I call first shower," Dean said, racing to the bathroom and locking himself inside. You rolled your eyes and sat on Sam's bed rather than the pullout couch you'd slept on last night. You leaned back and rubbed your shoulder, which you had forgotten was still bleeding.

"Let me get the first aid kit," Sam said, reaching for his bag.

"Sam-"

"No," Sam interrupted. "Please, just let me patch you up."

For a moment, you both stared each other down, you trying to silently convince him that you were fine and him silently telling you 'no, you're not.' Finally, you looked away, letting Sam win. He pulled the small box from his bag and you slipped off your shirt.

You and Sam had danced around each other for so long. You'd met a few years ago on a hunt and had damn near instant chemistry. On more than one occasion, you'd made Sam look like a fool with everything you knew. But where you outmatched him in wits, he outmatched you in strength.

Sam was a giant, but a gentle one. He was unconditionally kind to you and always had your back. Several times, he'd even found himself arguing with Dean in your defense. Dean knew you were both in love with each other before either of you would ever admit it. But somewhere, somehow, something had to give.

>>> One Year Ago >>>

Dean had gone on a food run for the three of you, leaving you and Sam alone in the boys' motel room. You sat at the table, awaiting your inevitable scolding from Sam. He opened the fridge and pulled two beers from the fridge, popping them open and setting one in front of you. He took a silent sip of his before setting it down across from you, but he didn't sit down.

"You used yourself as bait? Really?" Sam asked rhetorically, suppressed rage in his voice.

"We caught the damn thing, didn't we?" You replied snarkily. You took a sip of your beer, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

"Y/n, you realize you could have gotten yourself killed?" Sam said, raising his voice and urging you to look at him.

"So? That's the damn job," you told him. You met his angered gaze, setting your beer back on the table. "I could get myself killed any damn day of the year, so what makes this time any different?"

"Dammit Y/n," Sam exclaimed, clearly frustrated. "We told you that you weren't gonna be bait for this damn thing!"

"No, you told me I wasn't gonna be bait," You stood up, pissed off. "You're not my fucking boss and I do what I've gotta do to catch the damn thing. We killed it, I'm fine. End of story."

"No, not end of story!"

"Oh yeah?" You cocked your head to the side. "Then please, Sam, tell me else you have a damn problem with. I can do my damn job and I don't need a damn babysitter!"

"I'm starting to think that yeah, maybe you do," Sam yelled.

"God, what the hell is your problem?!"

"My problem is that I'm in love with you!"

Sam looked just as surprised as you did from what he just said. You both stared at each other, jaws clenched shut and eyes wide. The room was eerily quiet now, the only sounds being the air conditioner running and the pair of you breathing. You looked at him as if to ask, 'are you serious?' and he returned it with a look that said, 'I meant every word.'

"Sam-"

"You don't have to say anything," he said softly. "I shouldn't have."

"Sam," you insisted, gently put your hand around the back of his head and pulled him into a soft kiss. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body against his. All he wanted was to be as close to you as physics would allow.

"About damn time." You both broke the kiss to see Dean in the doorway with a bag of fast food in one hand, keys in the other.

"Dude, ever head of knocking?" Sam asked.

"Dude," Dean mocked. "It's my room too."

>>> Now >>>

It wasn't a new thing for Sam to see you in your bra. You'd had plenty of make-out sessions on the hunts you wound up on together, though you'd never actually slept together. You were both scared that if you'd taken that step, it would become too dangerous for you to work together anymore because of 'feelings.' You even refused to sleep in the same bed to avoid the extra attachment.

Once your shoulder was stitched up and wrapped, you put your shirt back on as Sam put the first aid box away. He sat beside you and you leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you knowing this would be your last night together for at least a few weeks.

"I love you, Sam," you said quietly.

"Come with me," Sam replied. You looked up at him, confused. "When we're out of here in the morning, come with us. Come with me."

"What?"

"I'm tired of never knowing when I'm gonna see you again. Y/n, I'm in love with you."

"I know-"

"Hang on, please," Sam insisted. "Just let me say what I gotta say... I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. And being with you has been probably the only good thing I've had going for me in years. You make me so happy, Y/n. And I don't want to spend another minute without you. So please, come with me."

"Sam," you said, sitting up and turning your whole body to face him. "You and I both know how dangerous this job is already. And if we're together all the time, it's only going to make the job that much harder."

"I know, but I don't care," Sam replied. "I'd rather be with you and fight every damn thing that tries to hurt you than spend another day without you by my side. Be with me, Y/n. Stay with me."

You looked into his eyes with a look of uncertainty, but you couldn't deny that every word he spoke was exactly what your heart had been screaming for for the past year.

"Pack your bag and throw it in the Impala. Hunt with us. Please, just don't leave again."

You hastily pressed your lips to his, and he was quick to return the kiss. Sam wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, the other resting gently against your jaw. You held his head in your hands and pulled him closer as you leaned back.

He urged you further backwards until your head was on a pillow and he was fully over top of you. His large frame was pressed down on yours, his hand gliding down over your body rom your jaw to your waist. You reached down to the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, running your hands over his chest. You reached for his belt, but his large hand stopped both of yours.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Sam asked, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"We've been avoiding this for a year because we didn't want to get too attached," you reminded. "I'd rather not die without getting to have sex with my boyfriend first."

"You're ridiculous," he chuckled.

"You know you love me," you smiled.

"Yeah," Sam smiled too. "I love you."

[wroteclassicaly]

can you do fireworks with...well I was going to way Gator but Steve also works if Gator is off the board.

Warnings: Language, friends to lovers, mentions of injury, Gator speaks a little rough towards reader, fluff, mentions masturbation, use of fireworks, alcohol, Gator being a dumb turtle boy, smut, and NSFW.

A/N: I had waaaaay too much fun with this one, so it’s obviously more than two paragraphs!

~*~

His headlights gave a too bright spotlight, causing him to trip over his own big ass feet, his zippo flying somewhere on the grass nearby. You snort at his antics, already flicking your bic to life and setting your sparkler ablaze. There’s an amber bottle of whiskey nearly gone, along with food wrappers and a blanket close by — courtesy of you, having stolen it off the end of Gator’s bed. You wave your stick around, dizzy off Jack Daniel’s and the buzz that being near your best-friend brings. Sharing one brain cell, the only person that can be around Gator Tillman full time (not without occasional headaches) — the town cannot separate you two. He drops to the ground, clearly irritated you got yours lit first.

“Hey,” you can’t help but to break in as he’s huffing between puffs on his vape, rifling through the grass with the other hand. He doesn’t look at you, but you continue. “Remember that time that you lit that fire rocket and accidentally sat on it? I swear I thought you broke your ass, man.”

Gator huffs in annoyance, clearly remembering what occurred just last year. You keep going. “I don’t know how you own a flame thrower and haven’t caught your junk or yourself on fire yet.”

“I am my junk, bitch!” He snaps, exasperated as you glares holes at you through the darkness.

The effects of heat coasting across the night breeze, crickets in the distance, and how the trees catch the rustling winds — it’s actually a nice ending to your day. You put your hands up, a snort leaving your mouth, especially right as you spot his lighter, reflected off his headlights. You motion to it with your sparkler, and he immediately grabs it, rolling his eyes. He paces a slight distance, he’s kneeling, his khaki camp tight across his legs, black shirt stretched over his biceps, tattoo on display. Your mouth waters, every imaginable scenario coming into play.

It’s not unusual to think about him this way. Hell, whenever you with someone else, it’s not their face that you see. Your best-friend has been at the end of every single orgasm you’ve had since meeting the shithead. You’re broken from your Gator-lusting reverie when his hand cracks the zippo to life, igniting the fireworks, crackling noises exploding and a fountain of colors explode into the air. Gator struts in front of them towards you in that way, hair strands blown into a disarray, hues of bright blues, golds, reds, pinks, and deep crimson lighting up the night sky behind him.

It’s a sight straight from a movie, and you don’t realize your sparkler has gone out. But it doesn’t matter, not as Gator clings to your energy and finds you chest to chest, tossing the stick from your hand. Your back is colliding with his truck in a vertigo-washed movement. He cradles your face, his breath soaked in jack, chew, and vape juice. It’s a big deal, but it’s also just two people meeting in ways that were always going to happen.

His nose bridge drags along your own as he pants the words across your mouth. “I’ve got rubbers in my glove box, babydoll. You gonna let me fuck you tonight? Teasing my cock so much, n’ you know it, too.”

“On the blanket…” you’re pawing at his shirt collar and he just shakes his head.

“Turn around and put your hands on my hood. You want me, you’re gonna take it the way that I give it to you.”

You’re immediately obeying, sky above faded out with streams of vibrant colors, smoke cloud wafting in this direction. He’s back after retrieving the items. It doesn’t take long…

~*~

He’d watched you touch yourself from behind, your jeans and thong on the ground below, as he slowly jerked himself off, enough until he’d achingly slid into the condom and spun you around. As much as he craved you in this position, he needed to see your face this first time, more than anything. He laid you upon the blanket, lifting your legs around his hips, and slid into you in one deep thrust, one you’d be feeling for days. You held tightly, groaning, whimpering pathetically into one another’s mouths. Your hands held a new, possessive purchase by digging into the plush of his bare ass, pushing him deeper.

He didn’t go home that night, and he didn’t take you home. But he did attempt to light another firework and you had driven him to the hospital to get his hand wrapped. Dumbass.