#there were actually other contenders for this one but in the end like. i can SEE why people ship those | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arminsumi · 1 year

Note

hiii can you do #3 (car sex) with gojo?

꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐂𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱

GOJO Satoru ⋅ fem reader

Note: oopsie doopsie it became a fic🫠

Summary: getting stuck in the rain on the drive home from a party with your favorite enemy Gojo Satoru

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, enemies-to-lovers kinda trope, hate sex, Gojo's an impliedd fvckboy, dirty jokes, Gojo being a bit of an annoying brat, pns (baby, slut, etc), drama/argument, stuck in a rainstorm trope, car sex, implied crush on Suguru, jealousy (Gojo), fingering, dirty talk, handjob (reader giving), protected sex, Suguru calling at the end 🫠, light teasing/mocking/meanness from Gojo, lmk if i have missed something, pretend u never saw any errors pls proofreading is hard 🙏😩

Wordcount ≈ 1.8k

Playme ♪ slow down

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, pulling the car off into an empty parking lot.

“Of course…” you sighed, sliding down the passenger seat. “Of course this would happen when you decide to drive me home. Just my luck getting stuck with the biggest asshole in the world.”

“Jesus, y’think you could be a little nicer to me baby? I offered you a drive home and this is how you treat me…? I’m heartbroken.”

You glare over the white-haired boy, wishing you could wire his stupid mouth shut.

The car turns off and the rain just pours and pours relentlessly all over it, cascading down the windshield.

How comical; two people who loathe each other, stuck in a car at night with no friends to call for help because they’re all drunk at the party.

“Well…?” you looked over at him expectantly, fingers massaging into your temple and across your brows.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna get out there and fix the damn tire?”

Satoru let out a chuckle. So many girls swore that their crushes on him developed because of that attractive laugh of his, but you couldn’t feel anything but annoyed by it.

“As if. It’s fucking pouring. Why don’t you get out?”

“I’m not getting wet.” You grimace.

He slipped in a dirty joke – because of course he would. “Not yet, anyways.”

“Lay one hand on me and I’ll rip you apart, Satoru!”

“Don’t say my name like that, you’re gonna make me hard.”

“Satoru!”

“Fuck baby, again.” He moaned jokingly. You were seething – seething, you were so ready to punch him.

He just chuckled, enjoying getting you riled up like it was his favorite hobby.

A moment of silence passed. You focused on the sound of the rain to mellow out.

“I’m gonna be honest, I’d let you ride.” He said suggestively.

“What the fuck!” you responded like he was crazy, but something started heating up between your legs.

“Kidding! I could have meant ride my car or something!”

“Uh, yeah right you meant it like that! Damn horny bastard…”

He clicked his tongue and stared out the window. “You’re no fun. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You look at him incredulously, your anger teetering between tame and murderous.

“I almost had a boyfriend…” you seethed bitterly, “Until you spread some insane fucking rumors that drove him away.”

“I did you a favor, that guy was a fucking loser.”

“Like you’re not!”

“Ooh, am I a contender?”

“… what?”

“You’re implying that I’m a potential boyfriend for you.”

“No I’m not! As if you’d be boyfriend material, you’re a soulless fuckboy.”

“I would prefer ‘soulful’ fuckboy because I do fuck with a lot of soul.”

“Jesus you’re ridiculous. How does Suguru put up with you.”

“Don’t say his name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna fuck him.”

“What?”

“I see the way you look at him.”

“Satoru you’re delusional. I don’t wanna fuck Suguru.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

His voice raised for a moment. A bizarre thing to witness from the most composed man on the planet; it was like witnessing an indestructible object breaking.

“Okay, let’s say it’s a lie and I actually wanna fuck him. What would it matter to you?”

“He’s my best friend, you freak.”

“Yeah so what if he’s your best friend? He’s hot.”

“You mean you would fuck him?!”

Satoru was genuinely getting angry – you weren’t sure if you were scared or turned on, it was a weird feeling. But your thighs squeezed together, and he glanced at them and took note of that.

“No, I’m just saying he’s hot.” You backtracked.

“Damn liar.”

You felt cautiously curious. “What would you do if I fucked him?”

“I’d ki- I’d be mad.” He corrected quickly.

You laughed, “You’d kill me?”

The way he was staring at you had you feeling… feeling a lot, let’s just say. His lips slightly parted, a half-incredulous and half-angry expression on his face, hints of lust in his eyes that lurked behind shades which he always kept slid halfway down his nose.

“No, I wouldn’t kill you.” He said.

You turned to face him fully, “What, you’re telling me you’d kill your best friend if he fucked me?” you asked rhetorically.

Satoru’s lack of response and annoyed jaw clench answered your question.

“That’s crazy! You must like me a hell of a lot.” You said. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated – that just pissed him off. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of feeling affection.” You teased.

“I don’t fucking like you.”

“Look who’s the liar now! Shall I come ride you and get the truth out of you myself?”

He stuttered and went red. The boy who was never at a loss for words stuttered because of you. The bastard who never blushed went red because of you.

Satoru shot a look your way. He was so conflicted; he wanted to yank your hair and put you in your place by spitting mean words down your throat, but at the same time he also wanted to shove his tongue in your mouth and sink his cock inside you.

“I don’t let girls ride me.” He said in a lowered tone. “I prefer being in control.”

Now the atmosphere finally changed. It was already dipping into sultry waters from the beginning, but now it plunged. Every word you and him exchanged from this point was laced with bitter lust.

“Maybe you should.” You said, leaning closer towards him. He surreptitiously leaned his elbow on the middle armrest.

“I like being in control.” He said. “Ain’t no way I’d let someone take the wheel.” He said.

Speaking of, his pretty hands were still resting atop the driving wheel. The neon glare from the shopping center signs hit the dashboard.

“… maybe you need to stop being such a control freak and let someone pleasure you.”

His pants tightened.

Satoru looked at you as if he didn’t believe what you just said. You and him bitterly flirted a few times in the past, and tonight at the party too, but it never got this far.

No, it never got this far – as far as him crashing his hungry lips on yours and you crawling over onto his lap. His annoyance and jealousy was palpable, you could taste it on his lips.

He kissed you like he fucking hated you. And he pleasured you like it too – it didn’t take long at all for him to fish out the condoms from his pocket.

“ ‘fucking hate you…” he mumbled into your mouth, tongue poking in and swirling around yours. “Hate your guts. Hate when you talk back to me. Hate that you like my best friend. Fucking slut, ‘m gonna make you forget him t’night.” Satoru promised threateningly, bringing his fingers down to toy at your clit.

“ ‘hate you too…” you whimpered weakly, losing all your dominance under the influence of his touch.

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughed, “You fucking love me. Uh-huh, keep lying, it’s fine – ‘m gonna fuck the truth out of you.” He said, turning your earlier words against you. Oh what an annoying bastard.

He felt you up like he hated how good you felt. His fingers sunk inside your little hole like he was pissed off. “So wet for me, huh?” Satoru smirked against your face.

“Fucking shut up and fuck me already I need it so bad.” You whined annoyedly.

“You don’t deserve it yet.” He seethed, coming in for another kiss – a dirty, filthy, nasty, wet French kiss. It seemed he liked how you tasted.

His fingers worked inside you so good you gushed on his lap. There was no shortage of teasing – but sometimes he threw in an odd praise comment just to stir you up. “Your pussy’s sucking my fingers in so good, pretty baby. ‘That feel good? Yeah? C’mon, tell me you like it. There, that wasn’t so hard now was it? Haha, did you just cum?”

“Satoru!” you whined into his chest, falling to pieces as you gushed around his two fingers that he kept all curled up inside, rubbing back and forth against your G-spot with his fingertips.

“Bet you never reached that deep with your own fingers, huh?” he asked, breath getting hotter.

In fact, you could feel his whole body getting hotter. The outline of his cock was so searing that you felt it through all your layers of clothes.

“Does this turn you on?” he murmured, pulling his pants down so you could take his pretty cock into your hands. “Fucking around with someone you hate? Yeah? Fuck – ahh, yeah stroke it just like that. Get my precum all over your fingers, baby, soak ‘em in it. ‘Want you to smell like my cock after we’re done.”

You pumped his cock until neither of you could wait longer – the both of you kept ripping kiss after kiss like you were starved of each other’s taste despite never having had it before. The rain barely drowned out the erotic breathing and moans that filled Satoru’s car. That stupid, pretty cock of his hit the best spots. You could feel the curve.

“Taking it so well…” he muttered into your mouth, lips glistening with saliva.

“Faster… faster please, ‘Toru fuck me like you hate me.” You begged him.

His eyes lit up.

“Y-yeah? Want me to fuck you like I hate you? Like a slut?” his lips curled into a mouthy smirk when you nodded frantically, “Alright, baby, ‘m gonna fuck that pussy like it deserves – oh fuck – ‘can feel you clinging to me – so fuckin’ tight and messy. Messy fuckin’ pussy – ‘s gonna – ‘s gonna be my pussy, yeah? Just f’me? Good.”

The windows fogged up, your hand pressing to the glass for support as your body bounced against Satoru’s. He let out a long groan and threw his head back. “Baby, ‘gonna cum.” He announced.

“Mmm! ‘yeah ‘m gonna cum too! Gonna cummm ~ ” you cried, completely dazed with pleasure and the feeling of his fat cock filling your pussy in.

“Look at me.” He commanded. “Look into my fucking eyes when you cum. There we go, rub that clit – fuck, so pretty – baby cum, cum with me – yeahhh, fuck ‘m cumming, don’t stop riding me.”

His vocals were straining. You could feel his cockhead twitch and throb.

Just when the both of you hit your highs and rubbed your sweaty bodies together, rolling them erotically, his phone went off. The caller ID showed a familiar face. Satoru composed himself, sucked in a breath, and answered the call from his best friend.

“H-hey, S’guru. Huh? Yeah I got Y/n home safe.” He said while his cock twitched inside you.

When you pressed kisses to his neck, he almost moaned. “Huh? No, no I’m fine. Why? Oh, yeah, no that’s just the rain… yeah I got Y/n home fine. Haha, okay, you do that — oh really? — uh-huh, hey I gotta go I'll call you back later, byeee!”

Satoru smiled at you like a devil, listening to the way your pussy squelched when you slid off his cock.

2K notes · View notes

idyllcy · 5 months

Text

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."

#good morning tim drake tag did you miss me? no? GOOD.#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #timothy drake x reader #tim x reader #☾.fics #☾.suggestive #contemplated not posting this but like. 10k words r NOT about to go to waste when my queue is empty

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frustratedasatruar · 1 month

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I've seen a number of antizionists argue for the immediate destruction of Israel on Anarchist grounds.

Lets just pretend for a second that this is an argument that they are making in-good-faith.

I'm an Anarchist. I don't like states.

This said, Israel seems like it may very well be the worst state to start with trying to dissolve? Like, if a state's territory is reorganized into autonomously self-governing communes, there will be a transitional period between when the State's military was defending its boarders and when the communes are able to organize the same. There would be a hiccup, even in somewhere like Israel or Switzerland where everybody's been in the military, in the territory's ability to resist outside invasion.

And Israel is constantly under immediate threat of foreign invasion.

And its not as if Israel has any kind of strategic depth; its the size of New Jersey! You very much cannot trade land for time there!

And all of Israel's neighbors are, at best, hard right authoritarians who would not tolerate any kind of leftist movement any where near as much as the current Israeli state, and, more practically speaking, have actively genocidal ambitions against the Israeli people.

These are not good conditions for getting a Free Territory off the ground!

Like, it would be one thing if, I dunno, Italy and Spain were already reorganized into Anarchist systems and were potentially willing to intervene against anyone trying to crush a nascent Israeli Black Army. I would still be weary, as Israel is still very very small and her neighbors actively want to eradicate her populace, but I would feel space to talk about that because maybe, if everything went right, that could be managed. Theoretically. (In the real world, there is also the question of Antisemitism to contend with, and to what degree that would have a depressive effect on the willingness of christian communes to come to the aid of Jews. There are far more than enough Strasserites in the modern day for this to be a very real concern.)

But that is not the world we live in. Pragmatically speaking, it is absurd to want to build up a global Anarchist movement starting with overthrowing Israel.

Like, fuck, if the Southern Levant is where you want to start, I would advocate somewhere like, I don't know, Palestine, where anarchist militants would have a negotiating position with the Israelis; able to offer an end to Hamas or other terrorist-groups' ability to operate in territory the anarchists control, in exchange for IDF ambivalence or even material support.

You know, a type of deal that could never in a million years be struck between Israeli anarchists and Hamas.

Even if I imagine a scenario where Anarchy replaces the modern State-based global paradigm, I just can't think of any mechanism by which Israel wouldn't be in at least the latter half of territories to be reorganized thusly... at least, not without wildly unacceptable risk of mass ethnic cleansing.

I can only conclude that any anarcho-strasserites who actually think Israel is a remotely realistic nation to focus on dissolving are high on their own supply.

#anarchism #antisemitism

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elsthoughtshrs · 2 years

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Midnights

Summary: Spencer's surprising knowledge regarding Taylor Swift's newest album 'Midnights' sparks the teams conversation about his secret girlfriend.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 882

Read on Ao3

“Have you listened to it yet?” Penelope asked eagerly as she approached JJ’s desk across the bullpen.

They had just gotten back from a case the night before and thus were confined to the bullpen as they worked through paperwork before a new case hit their desks. However paperwork was dreadfully boring, as I had told Spencer in the car that morning, so any opportunity to ignore it was taken gratefully.

JJ looked up with a smile, “I did, I got to listen when I got home last night and again on my way to work this morning.”

“Perfect.” Penelope dragged an empty chair to her desk before she continued, “Do you have a favourite song yet? I have a couple but I need to know your opinions first.”

Briefly, I glanced to Spencer who hadn’t looked up at the commotion but he wore a small smile at the mention. Since we had started dating, he learnt quickly that I loved Taylor Swift. I hadn’t made him listen to the entirety of her discography, but Midnights was the first album to come out since we started dating. Obviously, I had insisted upon him sitting up with me as we listened to every song as soon as we had the chance. We sat up the night before listening to every song, stopping at the end of each so I could give him my thoughts on them.

“I think Mastermind,” JJ replied thoughtfully.

Penelope nodded earnestly, “That’s a good one, I think mine Bejewelled. Or Lavender Haze. Or Karma. I don’t know, it’s hard.”

Those had also been top contenders for her and Spencer, although eventually it was decided upon between the both of them that they liked You’re On Your Own Kid the most.

“It’s so different from Folklore and Evermore though, I wasn’t ready for it, I love it though,” JJ raved.

Absentmindedly Spencer spoke up, “It’s like a mix of 1989 and Speak Now I think.”

He hadn’t looked up when he spoke, so it wasn’t until the bullpen fell silent that he looked up and saw the curious looks around him. Even Tara, Luke, and Matt had tuned in.

“What?”

“I didn’t take you as a Taylor Swift fan?” JJ said, looking bemused by his confusion.

He merely shrugged, briefly glancing my way before he replied, “She’s my girlfriend’s favourite artist. We listened to Midnights when I got back last night.”

Penelope gasped at the words, “Again with this mystery girlfriend, she gets better every time I hear about her. Now she’s a swiftie.”

“When do we get to meet her?” Matt asked, adding to fuel to the fire.

“What’s her favourite song?” JJ added.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly before he actually spoke, “I don’t know, I’ll have to talk to her about it.”

He had mentioned a few months back that he had a girlfriend to the team in passing. It was just when they were asking about his plans for the weekend and he unthinkingly mentioned that he was going to a Chess exhibit at the Smithsonian with his girlfriend. It had gone downhill since then, every other question from Penelope to him was about this mysterious girlfriend of his.

It hadn’t even been that they had been trying to hide the relationship at first, it had mostly just been new and so they also weren’t going out of their way to publicise it. However, it had been a solid eight months and no one really knew. Well, Rossi definitely knew. He hadn’t mentioned it but he did give them a slight nod with a smile after he saw that they arrived at his place for dinner together.

“Can you at least tell us about her?” Penelope pleaded.

I bit my lip as I looked down at my paperwork, attempting to hide a smirk. Although it didn’t go amiss with JJ.

“What was that, do you know who she is?”

“Who who is?” Rossi asked as he walked through the bullpen with Emily.

Spencer looked relieved at their presence, “Do we have a case?”

Emily shook her head, “Nothing. Who are we talking about?”

“Spencer’s secret girlfriend,” Tara called out with amusement.

Rossi gave an amused nod as Luke spoke, looking my way, “Apparently it’s not all that secret.”

I glanced to Spencer who raised his eyebrows in question, I only shrugged in response. He tilted his head before I nodded slightly and spoke up.

“I’m his secret girlfriend.”

“What?” Penelope gasped, jumping out of her seat. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell us? Oh my god, this is so exciting. Really?”

Spencer let out a quiet laugh and nodded, “Since about eight months ago.”

“Eight months!” JJ exclaimed, “You’re kidding.”

“Wait,” Penelope said suddenly, “What is your favourite song on Midnights?”

I snorted at her sudden revelation that I also liked Taylor Swift, “You’re On Your Own Now Kid.”

“Oh my god, this is so great,” Penelope continued as she gave me a tight hug before she quickly moved onto to Spencer.

Tara nodded, “We’re going to give you so much shit for this.”

“Oh definitely,” Luke agreed.

“Not as much as your mom gave me last night,” I called as JJ gave me a hug, earning an eyeroll from Luke as the team congratulated us.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #spencer reid

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syntheticavenger · 3 months

Text

On My Mama - Four

As I said... my version of a rom com.

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Female Reader

Tyler Rake x Female Reader

Andy Barber x Female Reader

Jax Teller x Female Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, breeding kink (brief), jealousy, angst, mentions of divorce, co-parenting, a touch of possessiveness (blink and you'll miss it), a nice surprise at the end.

Summary | Being a single mom with a complicated relationship with your ex-husband makes for an interesting summer after a school event and an unexpected errand puts you front and center with some eligible contenders for your attention.

Josefina places the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, surveying the kitchen with a frown. Her niece will be here within days, her brother mentioning her arrival like it’s a national holiday. She knows he’ll give her an earful about everything she’s bought but she doesn’t care – cookies and cereal aren’t going to start any bad habits – and as she starts putting things away, she hears soft footsteps, looking over her shoulder at a woman clad in a workout bra and leggings, sizing her up before Josefina closes the cupboard, turning around to look at the leggy brunette.

“You must be Josefina,” the woman says, giving her a smile that Josefina does not return. “I’m -”

“Julianna,” she answers for her. “I know who you are.”

“Santi has told me so much about you.”

She’s straining to make conversation, the slight edge of her voice so fake that it makes Josefina’s teeth hurt. Wherever he found this one, it’s another square that won’t fit the whole in the peg that he’s looking for.

“Funny,” Josefina speaks up, folding one of her bags before placing it on the table. “He’s never mentioned you.”

Julianna doesn’t seemed please by her comment but at the moment, Josefina doesn’t care. She’s seen them come and go, watching them try to stake their claim on her brother like a piece of meat, knowing that they won’t last.

This one in particular seems to be irritated that she wasn’t mentioned. Truthfully, none of them get past the few dates. The only one that stuck around was you and for a time, their parents were pleased that Santiago had finally settled down.

This one is all wrong, right down to the long acrylic nails and too perfect hair.

“We’re… getting to know each other.”

“By spending the night? Hmm,” Josefina says with a nod, continuing on to unpack the next bag of groceries. “Did you need something?”

“I was just leaving, actually.” Julianna’s voice takes on a harder tone, one that Josefina knows all too well.

The uncomfortable silence that falls between the two women is interrupted by Santiago, who stops in his tracks at the sight of his sister who looks behind Julianna to look him squarely in the eyes. She can tell by his expression that he doesn’t want her to cause a scene or say something that could start an argument.

“Nice to meet you,” Josefina says with a short smile.

There is a shuffle of footsteps and a close of a door, Josefina finishing her task before she feels her brother’s presence again. Whatever words had been spoken at the door had been in haste, Santiago’s voice hard as steel before the door had closed abruptly.

“Another one?” she asks, Santiago leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he looks at the floor. “She seemed… peppy. If that’s your type, I guess…”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Santiago mutters, Josefina putting up her hands in defense.

“I didn’t ask! That’s your business.”

He doesn’t look like he believes her, Josefina busying herself by pouring him coffee. He’s clearly in no mood to banter back and forth, even if she wants to engage him in the conversation.

“I know,” Santiago replies, taking the cup she hands him. “It’s over, in case you’re wondering. If it even started.”

“I saw the duffle bag by the door,” she admits sheepishly. “She looked ready to go.”

“She asked about when she could see Mia.”

“Too soon,” Josefina agrees as he nods in agreement. “I’m guessing it was more than that?”

“It always is. I have boundaries, Fina. It was three weeks of dating, if you could call it that.”

Josefine perches herself on the counter, placing another folded bag next to her. She knows her brother has his own rules when it comes to women but she’s never seen him this irritated, the dismissal of the woman strong in his tone.

“What don’t you call your boundary what it is?”

“And what is that?” he inquires sarcastically.

When she says your name, Santiago scoffs.

“We’re not having this discussion.”

“You didn’t say I was wrong,” Josefina protests. “You can continue to lie to yourself, big brother but I know you best. You don’t just go over there early for Mia. You go over here for her. You shouldn’t have divorced in the first place.”

“Josefina,” he warns, the mug clinking on the counter. “Don’t start.”

“Who’s starting? I’m telling the truth. You didn’t move out of this house after the divorce.”

“Why should I? It’s mine.”

“It’s too big,” Josefina protests, hopping off the counter when he walks away. “Don’t walk away from me. It’s too big, Santi. You work too much, you come home to an empty house and maybe that’s why you don’t always return my calls. You’re depressed about being in this big house.”

It’s a stretch and she knows it – he’s been busy and she’s seen his packed schedule, one week in Spain and another in London, all for the name of business.

“I’m busy, Josefina. Plain and simple.”

She should stop while she’s ahead. By the pecking order of siblings, she’s technically on thin ice with all of her poking and prodding of his personal life.

“Oh? That dinner with Mia? It wasn’t just her,” Josefina hints.

“She’s her mother, of course she would be there.”

“Lucian is one of her favorite restaurants. You used to take her there all the time.”

“We’re not having this discussion.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to, okay? I have to pick up Mia tomorrow and I have her for a whole week. I don’t want to discuss the past, Fina. Nothing is going to change it, no matter how much you want it to. We’ve both moved on.”

Santiago heads up the stairs, leaving Josefina alone, looking at a picture of Santiago holding Mia when she was barely a year ago, his arm around you as you looked up at him and Mia on a cruise. It’s a picture that used to be his lock screen, now one of just Mia smelling a rose during a walk in a garden, no sign of you anywhere.

“Sure,” Josefina says to herself, looking up at the ceiling as she hears a door close. “You’ve moved on.”

🔥

“Did you get the invite?”

Laurie’s question makes you pause before you give an answer, index finger tapping on the bottle of sprinkles on the cupcakes you’re decorating. It’s a day before Mia’s last day of school and you’d promised her you’d bake cupcakes for her class, something you’re barely finishing after a long day of work.

“For the barbeque? I did, yeah,” you respond, feeling her eyes on you. “I didn’t say if I was going or not because I didn’t know if would be weird or -”

“Weird? God, no,” Laurie interrupts with a laugh. “He has it every year and had it before we were even divorced. I think you should go. Seriously.”

“That’s not weird? I mean, he probably was trying to be nice.”

“No,” Laurie denies, tapping more sprinkles onto the cupcakes. “He’s always thought you were beautiful.”

“Laurie!”

“Well, he did. I thought Santiago was hot when I met him. There’s all these dumb rules, right? You can’t think someone is handsome or beautiful because they’re married? Or they’re a friend of yours? It’s a physical attraction.”

“He was your husband.”

“He’s not anymore. Listen, if I had to pick the next person he started dating, I’d go with someone like you.”

“Laurie, stop it,” you laugh, trying to reach for the sprinkles as she holds it up high.

“Do you like Andy?”

“What?”

“Do you like Andy?” she repeats.

“I barely know him.”

“He likes you,” Laurie says with a grin, looking down at her handiwork. “It’s not a crime to like someone. I, unfortunately, won’t be in attendance at his annual party. My dear old Uncle Ellis decided it was his time to go and there’s a funeral service that I want to miss but I know I shouldn’t. Seriously, I think you should go. Meet other parents, there’s a giant pool and all the food you can eat. You can watch all the men grunt around the barbeque pit when the flames get too high. A circle jerk of meat lovers.”

You do laugh then, Laurie giving you a wink.

“It’s a summer party. What could go wrong?”

🔥

He parks his SUV next to yours, sliding out of the driver’s seat. He’s casual for once, dressed down in a pair of khakis and a black shirt. For the last day of kindergarten, most of the mothers are already in tears, patiently waiting to embrace their children as an important year of their growth and development comes to a close and with it, another milestone that is on the horizon: first grade.

He knows you aren’t ready to discuss it, especially now when your dark sunglasses hide your eyes, your hand lifting to wave to him when you open the trunk, pulling out Mia’s suitcase that he takes from you with ease, moving it over to his car.

“Cake and ice cream?” you ponder out loud, Santiago breaking into a smile at your question.

“It’s what our daughter wants. Who am I to deny her?”

You go silent for a moment, Santiago seeing you focus on a truck that comes into view. He wants to ask you about the date that you haven’t mentioned, wondering if it’s anyone around you.

Or maybe the driver of the truck that makes you look away when they park.

“I had lunch at Arcana for a business deal,” he says, you attention back to him. “I’m happy to report they still have your lemon bar.”

You hum in approval, Santiago seeing a smile appear on your face. Arcana was your first date, Santiago pulling out all the stops to make sure he got a reservation that night.

“I miss that place.”

The school bell rings, loud and ear piercing, as children pour out of the classrooms, backpacks bumping along amid screams of happiness, parents surging toward the gates as they yell out to their kids.

“I miss you,” he confesses, your head turning at his statement, the scruff of sneakers on pavement getting louder before he’s attacked by Mia, wrapping her arms around her father’s legs.

“You’re here!” she shouts, Santiago picking her up as she places her arms around his neck in a near chokehold. She doesn’t let go, her head buried into his neck.

“It’s alright,” he says against the shell of her ear, her tiny fingers pulling on his shirt. He knows she won’t let him put her down. “I got you.”

“I got scared,” Mia whimpers.

“About what, mini?”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I did, I’m right here. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, her face still hidden from view.

“I love you, Daddy,” Mia whispers, her head on his shoulder when she looks at her mother. “Hi Mommy.”

She reaches out her free hand to you and you take it, the three of you connected for a moment before your attention goes to Tyler, Hunter pulling him over to say goodbye to Mia.

“Santiago,” Tyler greets, Santiago shifting Mia so that he can shake Tyler’s hand, Hunter shifting his feet. He can tell the little boy wants to leave, Tyler striking up a conversation with you that he can’t focus on because Hunter keeps interrupting.

“My dad is getting pizza,” Hunter announces, Mia turning her head at his news. “Cause school is done.”

Mia cranes her neck to look at her father and for a minute, he hopes she doesn’t ask to attend. He has a whole week off to devote just to his daughter and the last thing he wants is to share it with more children and a man who is currently giving eyes at you.

“I want cake,” Mia says, Hunter making a face at her comment.

“Pizza is good,” Hunter replies, Tyler and Santiago sharing a look.

“Why don’t we get pizza and Mia and her dad can get cake, hmm?”

“Okay,” Hunter agrees, Tyler turning him around to herd him back to the truck. “Bye Mia!”

“You ready to go?” Santiago asks her, Mia nodding.

Placing her into her car seat, he steps back to let you say goodbye, Mia giggling when you kiss her cheek.

“I love you. Be good for Daddy, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” she agrees, sighing dramatically when she looks out the window. “I miss school already.”

“You’ll be back before you know it,” you promise her, stepping back from the car, bumping into him as he steadies you.

“I’ll make sure to send you pictures.”

“I hope so.”

“See you in a week.”

“I hope we’re not cramping your style with your dates,” you tease, Santiago pausing at your words. He knows you’re being sarcastic so he answers in a way that he knows you’ll understand.

“Dating isn’t working out for me at the moment. I’ve got a priority and that’s Mia.”

He gives you a nod, closing the back passenger door and getting into the driver’s seat, the passenger side window lowering quickly before he speaks.

“We’ll be in touch.”

🔥

Admittedly, you’re fashionably late after trying on swimsuits, unsure of why you’re even going to wear one – not like you’re going to hop in the pool. Still, you settle on a one piece with a cut out, pulling on a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. Nervousness bubbles up in your belly, mentally trying to talk yourself out of it, even though Andy had sent you a text a day prior to check to see if you were still coming, which you had hastily replied that you would be there.

Cars line the curbs, the smell of barbeque in the air when you head up the steps, holding a tray of appetizers. He’d told you not to worry about bringing anything but it felt wrong to come empty handed, holding a case of beer in your other hand. The awkward walk to the front door isn’t long, the door opening as Andy immediately plucks the case of beer from your hand, shaking in his head in amusement.

“You’re making the rest of the guests look bad,” Andy greets you, opening the door wider, taking the appetizer tray from you before you can protest. “You didn’t have to bring anything, you know, but thank you.”

“I didn’t want to come empty handed.”

You follow him into the house, the large living room decorated minimally, hearing music get louder when you pass down the hallway. You can hear a loud splash, people laughing and the scent of sunscreen wafting through the air when you reach the kitchen.

“Help yourself to anything you want,” he offers, seeing you look at the food that is carefully lined up on the counters. “We’ve got beer, cocktails, juice, water, you name it.”

“Thanks, Andy,” you reply, seeing him close the fridge after placing the case of beer inside.

He hands you a beer, looking over at heavily attended party in the big backyard.

“So many people,” you murmur.

“You don’t have to go out there and mingle. Half the people that show up come for the free food and beer, not that I can blame them. No pressure to say hello of course, you’re welcome to stay in the house.”

Your new lock screen is a picture of Mia in the pool, big sunglasses obscuring her face as she lounges on an inflatable donut. You wish you were with her, unsure if you want to go out there and greet people, even if you know it’s good for you to stop being anti-social.

“Alice is outside,” Andy mentions, nodding his head toward the outside. “You’ve met her before, right?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“She’s one of the new teachers at the school. She taught first grade last year.”

“Oh,” you reply, seeing her dance by herself, a margarita in hand. “I’ll have to say hello.”

“She’s new in town so she’s… getting to know people,” Andy says with a laugh when she waves to him.

You see Tyler outside, standing with a group of men when Andy follows your gaze.

“Ah, I think you see someone you know. I’ll leave you to it,” he says with a wink, heading outside.

You aren’t sure what to say at his words, seeing him leave so quickly that you aren’t sure if you offended him or if he had something to do. Opening the sliding glass door, the music is louder, skin on display, people milling around when you realize Andy is nowhere to be found.

Alice, the teacher Andy had told you about, raises her drink to you.

“Ah, you’re here,” she says with a flirtatious grin. “I’ve heard all about you.”

She pats a seat on the bench next to her, plopping yourself down as she looks out at the party.

“Probably a scandal that I’m here,” she says with a shake of her head. “Not that it matters.”

“Scandal?”

“You know,” Alice hints. “I’m a first grade teacher. Not supposed to be in a bikini and shorts, dancing to the music and drinking a marg. But I’ve met a lot of dads… and moms.”

She winks at you, her personality putting you at ease.

“How do you know Andy?”

“I, uh,” you pause, laughing at your answer. “I’m friends with Laurie.”

“No way,” Alice whispers, looking out over the crowd. “I don’t see her anywhere. I see Andy.”

You look up, a petite woman wiping something off his cheek. It’s an intimate moment that you can’t look away from, Alice titling her head at the scene, sipping her margarita. The woman laughs at something he says, Andy whispering against her ear as she nods.

“She’s thirsty,” Alice theorizes, seeing Andy hold onto her hands, taking a step back as she looks at him. “Even he knows it.”

You can feel her eyes still on you. You feel like you’re under a microscope, Alice narrowing her eyes at you.

“Do you know her?”

Shaking your head, Alice leans back on her hands after placing her margarita on the counter.

“I do. She’s another teacher. St. Mary’s, I think? We graduated around the same time, went to the same university. The Barbers are lapsed Catholics,” Alice informs you, thinking for a moment. “Or they were. She’s trying to save his soul.”

“He’s single,” you point out, Alice nodding.

“He’s not interested in her. She’s been at it since I got here. He’s been distracted.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Alice repeats. “Looking for his guest of honor that he found. I wonder who that could be.”

She stands, stretching before reaching for her glass, downing the rest of her margarita. “I’m sure there’s a swimsuit under there. Have a swim with me before it’s all over.”

Leaving you alone, she grabs a hot dog from the grill master, who is all too happy to check her out as she leaves, hot dog in hand.

Finishing your beer, you scan the crowd, your stomach rumbling, an indication that you need to eat.

“Hungry?” Tyler asks, making you look up. He’s blocking the sun, aviators on while his damp hair sticks to his forehead, tattooed muscled chest on display.

“Oh, hey.”

It’s entirely too early to think about kissing him again, a secret that you wonder if people around him know.

“What can I get you?”

“I can get it,” you respond, taking the hand that he offers, his hold lingering a little before he lets it go.

He walks with you toward the grill, close enough that your hands brush together. It isn’t that you haven’t texted him, both of you busy with work and your respective kids. Enough conversation to know that he would be there but that you would decide if you were going to show.

“What do you think?”

“It’s definitely more than I expected,” you confess, moving out of the way of two women who are dancing with each other. “Didn’t know Andy was into parties.”

“Once a year,” Tyler answers. “Then it’s back to his usual rule following. Sort of nice to get an invite this year, considering…”

He trails off, shaking his head when you look at him curiously at his sly remark.

“Nevermind,” he continues, giving you a grin. “Hot dog or hamburger?”

🔥

Vanessa has directed her attention to one his colleagues, Saul, who is enjoying the attention. For a party that he organizes every year, this one has been one for the books, cracking open another beer, getting updates from his mother about Jacob. Not a word from Laurie, who usually wants a play by play of the scandalous details of the partygoers.

Unfortunately for her, almost every guest is behaving.

Per his unspoken rule, most will be out of here before sundown, the cleaning crews diverging on his property to scrub any existence of the barbeque.

For now, he’s content to watch you fold your shirt carefully on the chair, shimmy out of your shorts, your body showcased in the one-piece swimsuit, carefully making your way into the pool. There’s something to be said about Tyler Rake, who follows you into the pool, beer in hand as you’re locked in a conversation with him.

Andy finishes his beer, tossing the bottle into the recycling bin without looking, his phone vibrating in his pocket. Looking at the number, he doesn’t answer it, seeing you place your hand on Tyler’s chest when someone swims past you, using him as leverage as his arm wraps around the small of your back.

Tyler and Andy’s eyes lock, Tyler nodding his head toward Andy, Alice swimming up to you when you leave him. Tyler gets out of the pool, telling you and Alice something before he picks up his phone, a towel around his shoulders.

As the host of this party, Andy maneuvers around the crowd, checking to make sure everyone is having a good time, the pool beginning to empty out as the sun begins to make its slow descent.

Alice gets out of the pool, wrapping a towel around herself.

“Leaving so soon?” Andy asks her, Alice nodding with a half-lidded eyes.

“You sure know how to throw a party but I promised I’d help my sister move tomorrow and if I stay any longer, I know I won’t want to help her tomorrow,” Alice teases, slipping her shoes on. “I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Barber.”

“Andy,” he corrects her, seeing her collect her things while you make your way out of the pool, no sign of Tyler anywhere. “Did you need me to call you an Uber?”

Alice waves him away.

“A Lyft is on the way!”

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving too,” Andy calls out to you, seeing your head swing toward his direction at the sound of his voice. “I barely got to talk to you.”

“You’ve been popular,” you speak up.

He knows that you saw him, peeling Vanessa’s hands off of him as she tried to come on to him.

“Popular? I guess you didn’t see everyone looking at you,” Andy replies.

You wrap a towel around your middle, looking for your sandals.

“They don’t look at me,” you laugh. “You had a nice line up of people wanting your attention.”

“So you were checking me out?”

He can see you blink in confusion, unsure of what to say.

“Vanessa?” he asks, seeing you shrug. “Not my type.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” you protest softly, Andy enjoying how flustered you’re getting.

“So, you were looking at me.”

“I just wanted to thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh?” Andy picks up your sandals as you reach for them. “Relax.”

Sitting on the pool chair, he crouches down, helping you slip on your sandals, his hands warm on your wet skin, using the towel to help pat dry your skin.

“Thank you, Andy,” you respond, seeing Tyler come into view, engaging in a quick conversation with someone who catches him when he comes from around the corner.

“Don’t mention it. You don’t have to go so soon, you know.”

People know his rule, but he knows you don’t.

“I probably shouldn’t be the last one here,” you murmur.

“Why not?”

He sees you swallow, knowing you don’t have a reason.

“People could talk.”

“I’m sure they would,” Andy says, looking over at Tyler, who doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “But what could they possibly say? Two single parents dared to have a conversation?”

You’re silent at his words, Andy standing at his full height when he helps you up, the towel still wrapped around you.

Almost as if he knows what Andy is thinking, Tyler signals to you, reaching you in record time while you search for your shirt and shorts.

“Hey,” he says, both of them watching you search for your clothes. “Everything okay?”

“I swore I put my shirt and shorts down over there,” you point, Andy looking over at the pool chairs. “Unless someone took them.”

“I can help you look,” Tyler offers, heading over as he searches.

“Or someone took them,” Andy reminds him dryly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’ll have to borrow your towel,” you joke, Andy shaking his head while Tyler raises up his arms in confusion after searching under each chair.

“I think Andy’s right, someone took your clothes. Probably mistook them for theirs,” Tyler says. “Do you want to borrow my shirt?”

Andy interrupts before you have a chance to answer.

“Sometimes people try to be helpful and they toss the clothes inside so they don’t get wet. Come inside and I’ll look.”

Tyler looks at his watch, following you both into the house. Andy pulls out a chair for you, Tyler waiting for Andy to finish his search when Andy rounds the corner. He know he probably won’t find anything but it’s worth a search anyway.

“Rake,” Andy calls out. “Do me a favor, will you? Can you let Saul know he needs to turn off the grill? He’ll tell you yes. Can you make sure he actually does?”

At the open and close of the sliding glass door, Andy grabs one of his shirts, coming back into the kitchen, seeing you sit, replying to a text message.

“Looks like nothing turned up but you’re welcome to one of my shirts,” he offers, handing it to you as you eagerly put it on.

There’s something about the way you look in his shirt, something he’d thought about days prior. He’d meant to give you in the invitation in person but like always, work had gone into overtime, pouring over case files that had taken up much of his time.

Still, you’d been on his mind, Laurie casually sharing that she had been proud of you for taking the step to date. He could put two and two together. With how much you’d been on his mind, sleep never came easy and sending the late-night invitation text had been risky but it had paid off.

“It looks good on you,” Andy tells you, seeing Tyler still talk to Saul, pointing to the grill.

“Thank you.”

“How’s Mia doing with school being out?”

“She’s excited. She said she missed school but we’ve got a lot planned for her,” you tell him, correcting yourself quickly. “Santiago has his plans and I have my own. She’ll have a busy summer.”

“Jacob’s got a summer camp coming up but Laurie’s having second thoughts since he’s still young. I’d have to agree. Maybe next year but not now.”

Andy’s phone vibrates again but he ignores it, looking at the time, focusing on you listening to what he’s saying.

“I don’t think I could be away from Mia for that long either.”

“I agree,” he says. “It’s bad enough he’s away with his grandmother this week.”

“Mia’s with her dad this week too.”

Andy sees Saul point to the knobs on the grill, Tyler nodding.

“Free time for a whole week,” Andy draws out. “What’s a girl like you to do.”

“No idea.”

“Crazy idea but,” Andy pauses, seeing them start to head back in. “Maybe we could find a day or evening to do something? I’d like to get to know you better. Being in my shirt notwithstanding.”

Touching the fabric of his shirt, he waits for his answer, seeing Tyler and Saul get closer.

“I’d like that,” you affirm, Andy seeing Tyler reach for the door.

“You just made my week.”

🔥

The cleaners come quickly, Andy waving you goodbye as you get into your car with his shirt on and the towel around your waist. He doesn’t mind that you walked out with Tyler, nor that he gave you a hug before you parted. Saul, who had too much to drink, waits in the passenger seat for Andy to take him home.

After he’s dropped off Saul with his wife, he finally looks at his phone, dialing a number back.

“You know my rule,” Andy greets the caller when they answer. “Never before eight.”

“Bit of an emergency, Barber. You know I wouldn’t call if I didn’t need the help.”

Andy slows to a stop, pulling near the curb while he wonders what could necessitate such a phone call.

“What’s the emergency?” Andy asks.

“I need you to find me another lawyer.”

“What happened with Olivia?”

“Considering she’s trying to get me to agree to split custody while simultaneously trying to sleep with me? That’s a hard fucking pass.”

Andy shakes his head in frustration. Family Law wasn’t his thing and Olivia had come highly recommended.

“Barber?”

“I’m here,” he responds, pulling away from the curb. “You need another lawyer. She was a referral.”

“Then refer me to someone better.”

“It’ll take a few days. I’ve been busy.”

“Sooner rather than later?”

“What’s the rush?” Andy asks, hearing the voice on the other end exhale loudly.

“Things took a turn for the worse and she’s got a good lawyer, one who will lie for her. I’m not putting my son in that environment. You’re a father too, Barber. You of all people should know how important this is.”

“I get it,” he answers him. “Surprised you didn’t want to take her up on her offer, though. That’s very professional of you.”

“Quality over quantity,” the voice says on the other end.

“I’ll find you someone,” Andy agrees.

“Thank you.”

“But Teller? If you call me again before eight, this consulting work I help you with? It’s done if you disrespect my boundaries.”

He can hear Jax scoff, loud music playing in the background.

“You got it, Barber."

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x female reader #santiago garcia x reader #tyler rake #tyler rake x you #tyler rake x female reader #tyler rake x reader #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #jax teller #jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #jax teller x female reader

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veryberryjelly · 1 year

Note

ok maybeeee 3 and 4 from the prompt list for poly!moonhawk

(also if you want me to resend this as a celebration request i totally will and also i can and will send more if that won’t be overwhelming, i just love this idea so much)

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

i am for real so excited to write for this pairing !!

i got very carried away

3- hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve

4- ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt

while you had never been much of a fan of karate, you knew this was something you could not miss.

your boyfriends dojo was competing in the all valley tournament and you and your girlfriend were sat amongst the rivalling dojo's families almost on the edge of your seat.

while moon had assured you a number of times that everything was going to be fine, it didnt stop your nerves.

you knew hawk could handle himself, but that didnt lessen the fear of him getting seriously injured.

one wrong move and he could break something major.

it was different when you stopped by the dojo to see him training, because while part of the motto of cobra kai was ' no mercy ' no one in there was set out to truly hurt their friends.

he could get truly hurt out here.

you had shared your concerns with moon last night while hawk was doing some last minute training.

laying on her bed doing nothing in particular apart from chatting with some music in the background with her head rested in your lap.

your're not sure how you ended up sitting like it but you weren't complaining.

' hawk's going to be okay tomorrow, right? i mean- i know he does this practically every day, but it's different. these people aren't his friends, they aren't going to pull their punches. '

while you talked you felt moons hand lift to thread her fingers through yours, pulling them to her chest and pressing a short kiss onto them.

' he's going to be fine. he knows what he's doing. they're not going to pull their punches but there's referees so it's safer than a street fight. '

her words went quite a long way to comfort you as this was going to be your first time watching hawk compete while moon had seen him before.

you could trust her words.

but it didnt completely squash the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

even when hawk returned from training and told you himself that he was going to be fine.

the three of you stayed at moons overnight with the plan to drive to the tournament tomorrow morning.

and that's exactly what you all did.

after arriving at the tournament, hawk went off to join his dojo after both you and moon wished him luck and told him to kick ass.

the two of you had been sat on the benches of there venue waiting for cobra kai to compete.

more specifically, waiting for hawk to step up to the mat.

when you heard his name called you could feel moon stiffen beside you and you had the exact same reaction, your hand reaching out to grasp onto hers.

the guy he was up against was big. he looked to be about 160 pounds of pure muscle with at least 8 inches on hawk including his hair.

" oh god " you muttered under your breath, watching as both contenders bowed to eachother before assuming their first fighting position.

it was as though you blacked out until the referee called the fight, announcing hawk as the winner, even if his bloodied nose said otherwise.

it was your first time seeing him fight outside of practising at the dojo and he was very good.

with every fight it got easier to watch, until you were actually enjoying seeing him do something he loved.

until the semi finals.

you and moon were both up on your feet at this point, partially out of nerves and just needing to stand up, and partially so he knew that you two were rooting for him all the way up there.

your excitement and joy was wiped away when a swift kick to the face sent hawk flying to the floor.

you waited for him to get up like he had been doing all day, but he didn't.

his opponent was announced the winner of the match and hawk lay still on the floor.

you suddenly remembered why you were so scared.

it took a minute for him to get up, and even when he finally did he was stumbling quite a bit.

there wasnt even a discussion between you and moon before you collected your things and stood from the stands to go and find him where he was inevitably receiving a little bit of medical attention.

in the back hallways of the venue it was almost silent apart from the echo from the main area where the fights were still commencing.

the thing that gave away where he was was a pair of voices from behind a door.

moon was first through to push through the door, with yourself close in tow.

you found what you expected, a medic sat infront of hawk performing tests to ensure he didnt have a concussion and issuing bandaids, tissues and an ice pack for the inevitable headache .

when she noticed the two other girls in the room she was quick to respond

" you two can't be back here "

" it's okay," hawk interrupted, his eyes landing on the two of you. " they're my girlfriends "

" you're girlfriend can stay but you can't both be back here " you assumed the medic thought he was just a bit confused from the head trauma.

" no, we're both his girlfriend " you corrected, knowing it was hard to grasp for some people. while you tried to be kind it was very hard to be right now when you could see blood pouring out of your boyfriends nose.

" oh- how modern...i'll leave you three to it then " she muttered out, leaving behind two advil for hawk along with a bottle of water before she scuttled out of the room while a soft smile rested on all of your faces.

that was always fun.

once the three of you were alone, all forms of restraint you usually held went out the window.

" are you okay? that looked like a nasty kick " you questioned, taking the ice pack from his hand to hold against his head, his hand dropping down to rest on your leg.

" i'm fine. just some bruises and a very mild concussion " he muttered somewhat angrily.

a concussion meant he couldnt train for a couple of days.

" you have a concussion and you think you're fine ?" moon questioned, her voice rising in volume slightly as she delicately wiped at the blood under his nose with her thumb.

" yes, because i am fine. " he assured her even if neither of you were believing it.

the look you exchanged with moon was enough to communicate an entire conversation without saying anything.

that short conversation between the three of you was enough for you to know that hawk was more than disappointed he had not only lost, but had ended up with an injury other than a bruise.

so you posed a question to him

" d'you want to stay or we can get out of here before everyone else ?"

there were a few moments before he answered.

" let's get out of here. " his reply set a minuscule smile onto your lips and moons.

" i'll go grab the car and i'll meet you out front " moon said simply, picking up her bag and pressing a short kiss onto both of your lips before walking out to get the car.

" you okay ?" you asked in a volume just above a whisper.

he nodded mildly, his eyes meeting yours.

" yeah, just gotta get out of here " he replied, standing from the bench you were sat on and reaching into his bag to grab a sweater to throw on over his slightly bloodied gi.

once he collected his things, the two of you walked down the hallway towards the front of the building where moon would soon be pulling up with the car.

while you waited leant against the wall of the building, you decided to fill the silence, fiddling slightly with the edge of his sweater sleeve as it hung around his wrist.

" you were amazing today. i've never seen you fight like that before...was pretty hot "

you couldnt even keep a straight face while saying that, a slight smirk edging it's way onto your lips as you met his gaze.

" yeah, " he started, lifting his arm to drape over your shoulders and pull you further into his side. " pretty hot seeing me kick some ass ?" he muttered quietly, a soft laugh edging on his tone

" yeah, not so much watching you get your ass kicked, but for the most part " you teased, your smile almost breaking past the boundaries of your face.

you weren't surprised when that comment earned you a pinch at your waist.

a car horn scared the shit out of you, causing you to almost jump out of hawk's grasp.

it was only when you heard your girlfriends signature laugh that your heart rate started returning to normal

" sorry, didn't mean to scare you guys " while that statement was definitely false, you couldnt bring yourself to care.

after climbing into the car, moon drove you to her place seeing as her parents weren't home until tomorrow and the three of you could spend the night again.

your evening was spent sprawled out across a set of soft sheets with moon's laptop playing an old movie while the three of you went between watching it, chatting in hushed tones and sharing very soft kisses.

it was as if hawk never even lost.

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 8 months

Text

The Itsy Bitsy Spider, Part Deux

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Extreme violence against eight-legged hell spawn.

Summary: You were the brave one. Right?

A/N: Based on the way I actually disposed of an arachnid.

gif by @dixonscarol

Daryl enjoyed the days he was given the okay to relax. You would make sure you were not needed, so the two of you would laze about in bed, usually finding some way to contend over who would get up to throw together something to eat. He always won. Well, not always, but most of the time. Today’s decider had been a ‘thumb war.’ Given your petite hands versus his long digits, it was no ‘war’ but a mere scuffle. With a yawn, the archer folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off.

When he heard you scream, his heart leaped into his throat and he moved with inhuman speed, throwing back the covers and sprinting from the bedroom. He snatched up his crossbow before he was ascending the stairs, weapon in hand and ready to fire when he entered the kitchen. It took a moment for him to register what was happening, but when he did, he straightened and watched with an expression of bewilderment.

You were on the kitchen counter, in one hand was a can of hairspray and in the other was a spray bottle of something he didn’t recognize. You were screeching at a large spider on the ceiling, spraying the hairspray with reckless abandon until the arachnid twitched and fell slightly, dangling from a thread of webbing. The movement only served to freak you out even more. You momentarily ducked and covered as if the thing was striking back, but you were soon back to spraying.

Finally, the unfortunate creature tumbled to the floor, twitching and unable to crawl to safety. You jumped from your perch and landed a safe distance away, discarding the can of hairspray to grab the spray bottle with both hands. Daryl’s jaw was still hanging open, eyebrows elevated as you bludgeoned the poor spider until it was nothing more than a smear across the kitchen floor.

You stood over your victim, holding the spray in front of like a broadsword while you panted and grit your teeth. “Let this be a lesson to all your little buddies!”

Waving a hand in front of his face, Daryl coughed, the chemical scent of aerosol tickling his lungs. You noticed him just as he set the crossbow against the wall.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake!” You beamed.

“I am.” He deadpanned. “And m’pretty sure I just witnessed the most brutal murder I ever seen ‘fore or after the end of the world.”

You straightened and placed a hand on your hip, still catching your breath. “Oh, come off it, Bowstrings. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Thought ya weren’t scared of ‘em.” Daryl teased and arched a brow.

“Well, that one was huge.” You pouted. When the archer smirked, you picked up the can of hairspray and aimed it at him. “You wanna be next?”

He held up his hands with a chuckle. “I surrender.”

“Smart man.”

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matchavellichor · 1 year

Note

I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, I have this request that would make for some good angst C: Fem MC proclaiming that she'll only date a man who can best her in a duel. And Ominis ends up winning, shocking everyone including MC but she's happy about it. Up to you if smut follows after <3

A/N: I loved this idea, ty for the request! I didn't really make it angsty sorrryyy :c but I hope I compensated with the dominis smut at the end and that you enjoy nonetheless <3

How to Win the Girl

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC - NSFW - Friends to Lovers - 4.9k words - ao3

Part 2

Tags: Pining, Unrequited Love, Jealous Ominis, Dominis, Rough Sex, Classroom Sex

Summary: After hearing her proclaim that she'll only date someone who can beat her in a duel, Ominis grows determined to win her affections by any means necessary.

“I’m a simple man. I’ll snog anything with a decent enough behind.” Sebastian proclaimed matter-of-factly.

She didn’t know how this became the topic of discussion over breakfast at the Great Hall, but she indulged him nonetheless. Ominis seemed completely uninterested in the subject matter, engrossed in a Potions textbook he was currently tracing over diligently with his wand in a last bid attempt to pass the final practical exam.

She cast him a sidelong glance as she cut into her eggs. “I’ll make sure to tell Poppy to keep her mooncalves away from you.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Okay, anything decent and human.” He paused for a moment, contemplating, before he amended. “Actually, no, I did have a little tango with a Centaur some blue moon ago…”

She blinked at him. “You genuinely concern me, you know that?”

“She was cute!” He scoffed defensively. “Excuuuse me for embracing diversity. Pray tell, what are your shining standards, hm?”

She paused for a moment, considering, before she shrugged and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. “He has to beat me in a duel.”

She didn’t notice the way Ominis immediately perked up beside her, unburying his nose from the pages of his book and narrowing his attention on the conversation he had been only half-listening to.

Sebastian snorted. “Ha! Good one. You’ll die alone at that rate. Better start collecting kneazles to keep you company.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re incompetent with a wand, doesn’t mean every man is, Sebastian.”

“Hey! Incompetent is harsh. I prefer the term mildly handicapped.” He protested. “And just a duel? Like one time?”

“Yup. One duel.”

Sebastian rose resolutely from his seat, slipping from the bench hastily and nearly knocking over several goblets in the process.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I have to go practice. If I knew a roundabout with the Hero of Hogwarts was on the line I would’ve tried much harder at Crossed Wands.” He gave her a wink.

She grimaced and called out to him as he quickly made his way down the rows of tables towards the exit. “You are excluded from the list of contending bachelors, Sebastian!”

“Square is fair!” He called back and she bit back a laugh at his butchering of the Muggle saying.

Beside her, Ominis looked very much enthralled in the textbook he was only pretending to read, his thoughts instead drifting to other matters. He had spent far too long hopelessly pining for her to not consider the opportunity he was just presented with.

It was no unknown fact that she was notoriously hard to get, and that reality had only served to make him want her even more. It was utter torture.

He was so unused to not getting what he wanted, and the stubborn little witch sitting beside him just so happened to be what he wanted most.

He rose from his seat with much more patience than Sebastian did, though arguably fueled by an even greater determination to finally win her affections.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to study for Potions together.” She frowned as she watched him slip past her down the Great Hall.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He made his way to the exit and rushed to the Undercroft in Sebastian’s footsteps, his magic thrumming in his veins with a vibrant, newfound energy.

Sebastian crashed into a groaning heap on the stone floor of the Undercroft after the leviosa Ominis had casted wore off after a few seconds.

“Fuck’s sake, Ominis,” he sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “I thought you said you’d go easy.”

“That was easy.” Ominis crossed his arms, thrumming his fingers impatiently on his forearm as he waited for Sebastian to collect himself and get up again.

He admittedly had been a bit harsher than usual, using this “practice” as an excuse to take out his displeasure and poorly-concealed jealousy in Sebastian trying to win her affections in a duel himself. The mere thought of him anywhere near her had his magic coursing through his wand with an added bite and ferocity that usually wasn’t there.

Sebastian shook the woozy feeling from behind his eyes as he positioned himself in an offensive stance again. The first hex had barely slipped off his tongue before Ominis had a protego up and was veering a counteroffensive stinging jinx towards him.

No matter how fast he cast, the blonde always seemed to be one step ahead, moving lithely around the stone pillars in the Undercroft while Sebastian lept and rolled out of the way of his spells.

It didn’t take long for Sebastian to inevitably cry forfeit, after a barreling confringo missed his head by a few centimeters, singing the tips of his brown locks.

Ominis made his way over and outstretched a hand to help his friend off the ground. The brunette instead took this as an opportunity to tug him to the floor along with him.

He rolled his eyes. “Very mature, Sebastian.”

“Maturity is one of my many attractive qualities, you should know this by now, Ominis.”

“Yes, right there alongside your dueling abilities.” He jeered. “So…where do these duels take place, anyways?”

Ominis warily dodged the sounds of hexes and charms as he made his way through the dueling club towards Lucan Brattleby. Approaching the Gryffindor, he placed the few galleons for the entrance fee on the counter in front of him.

“I’d like to duel, please.”

Lucan eyed him up and down with poorly-concealed disbelief. “You’d like to duel?”

Ominis’ jaw set. “Did I stutter?” He nodded his head towards where he had heard her engrossed in a duel with a trio of upper-years when he walked in. “And I’d like to duel her.”

Lucan laughed as if the blonde had told a terrific joke, and then when he noticed Ominis had remained completely stoic and unamused, quieted. “Oh, you’re serious?”

Ominis’ fists tensed at his sides. He was used to being underestimated due to his condition, but it didn’t make the blatant disrespect any less infuriating. “Are you going to let me fight or not?”

“Well, we have a hierarchy here, mate.” Lucan scoffed. “You can’t just walk in and duel someone. Especially not someone her level. You start at the bottom rank and win your way up.”

Ominis was mentally restraining himself from engaging in his own duel with the annoying little prat in front of him when Sebastian made his way over and clapped a hand over the blonde’s shoulders with a grin.

“Come to watch me fight, old pal?”

Ominis turned and raised an eyebrow and Sebastian winced. “Er…poor choice of words, sorry.”

“I’ve come to participate, actually.”

Sebastian raised his brows. “Against me? You haven’t battered me to your satisfaction already?”

“No, not against you, although I’ll admit I’ll never be satisfied with any level of battering I’m allowed to inflict on you.” He nodded his head towards where she was still battling on the mats. “Against her.”

Sebastian’s brows reached his hairline now. “Ominis Gaunt, you little minx.” He butted the blonde’s shoulder playfully. “Trying to conquer her for yourself, eh? How come this is the first I’m hearing about this?”

Ominis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so crass, Sebastian. I don’t want to conquer her, how antiquated.” He muttered admonishingly. “I want to prove myself to her. But, someone here won’t let me.” He narrowed his eyes at Lucan who had been listening curiously to their conversation.

Lucan steepled his fingers over his chin contemplatively. “Hold on. You said Ominis Gaunt, right? As in…heir-of-Slytherin, dark-magic, rich-up-the-wazoo, Gaunt?”

Ominis’s mouth set into a line at his family’s notoriety before giving a reluctant nod.

“I’ll tell you what. Pay triple the entrance fee and I’ll let you jump ahead and get your ass kicked by your little girlfriend.”

Ominis fished out the hefty sum of galleons from his pocket and slammed it on the counter, not pleased, but certainly in no position of loss by the demand. He’d be willing to pay a hundred times the amount if it meant a chance at winning her hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Lucan greedily pocketed the money before handing the blonde his entrance slip, indicating his place for the duel. “Also, hope you’re aware that no Unforgivables are allow—”

Ominis scowled before yanking the ticket from his hand. “Sod off.”

He cut past the crowd of onlookers and found his place in line by the mats where she was dueling, that same ardent determination making his magic hum in his core as he listened to her cast spell after spell.

He couldn’t deny he felt a bit nervous about actually being in a battle with her. He had thrown around Sebastian in the Undercroft enough times, but never had he faced an opponent as formidable as her. Every incantation rolled off her tongue with a practiced amount of ease, short and concise, and he didn’t have to see her to know she was barely breaking a sweat as she fought off three foes on her own.

He would have to be creative if he were going to come out victorious.

When the match was declared a definitive win for her, she made her way off the dueling mats and broke into a smile when she caught sight of Ominis on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Ominis! What’re you doing here?”

He held up his queue slip. “Whatever one normally does at a dueling club.”

The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. “I’ll be eager to see your skills in the arena.”

“You’ll see them, alright.” He smirked. “We’re up next.”

She was certainly surprised by this revelation, but to his satisfaction, made no doubtful comments about his sparring abilities. Instead, she stretched her shoulders and promptly got back onto the dueling mat, beckoning for him to follow.

“Come on, then. I’ll make this quick for you.”

She in fact did not make this quick for him.

She was soon greatly impressed by the realization that Ominis was actually an incredibly talented duelist.

Sharp and agile, every swish of his wand calculated and precise. She was half-convinced his lack of sight actually led him to have even quicker reflexes than her average opponent, deflecting every single one of her spells with ease.

Her pleasant curiosity quickly turned into begrudging frustration, though, when they’d been throwing hexes back and forth with no considerable gain made on either of their parts.

Never one to accept a draw, she cast the next spell with a little bit of extra ferocity, determined to at least knock the blonde off his feet and pull this duel that had stretched on for far too long now closer to its end.

Unfortunately, she underestimated her own strength, and had caught Ominis in an unfortunate blind-spot —pun unintended— flinging him backwards across the arena. He landed with a sickening thud on the floor after colliding with one of the arched pillars in the room.

She winced as she knew that must’ve hurt. Badly.

Which is why to her concern, and increasing horror, Ominis hadn’t let out even a single whimper of pain. Instead, lying completely motionless and cold, sprawled out on the flagstone floor.

Her stomach sank.

Immediately, she ran over to him, her wand slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor as she fought the nauseating dread inside of her at the thought of having seriously hurt him.

Sinking to her knees before him, she immediately took his face in her hands, scouring over him for any signs of serious injuries.

She had only briefly noticed the slightest quirk of his lips, before she was flipped over onto her back with his wand pressed under her chin, his hips bracketing hers to the floor as he held her down with his weight.

Several emotions passed through her at once. First, the terrified dread dissipated from her system, quickly replaced by molten-hot anger at being so cruelly tricked, which then morphed into something almost akin to admiration for someone actually having gotten the best of her for once.

Strangest of all though, was the budding feeling of something else pulling just below her navel, as she realized just how close they were in this position. His hips pressed flush against hers, his breath ghosting her lips almost imperceptibly. Her entire body warmed.

Ominis held the most self-satisfied smirk she’d ever seen hovering above her, levels of smugness to rival even that of Sebastian’s, as he kept his wand pressed firmly under her chin with one hand and her wrists pinned tightly to the ground in his other.

Finally, she mustered the ability to speak, though her voice regrettably came out a lot more unsteady than intended with the feel of his body on hers making her thoughts hazy.

“Get—get off me!”

Ominis tsked, shaking his head. “Make me.” He tilted his head and his lips curled at the corners, infuriatingly sly. “Use your wand, go on.”

She struggled against his hand futilely, but quickly realized that even if she was strong enough to free her wrists, she had recklessly abandoned her wand about ten feet away on the floor in her panic. She whined in frustration.

“Forfeit?”

“No!” She protested, her pride getting the better of her. Though she quickly realized that wandless and pinned underneath a wizard nearly twice her size, she had little leeway in turning around the outcome of this duel.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly as he waited patiently for the little gears in her head to turn and click and realize that she had actually lost.

She had never lost a duel before.

She expected to feel devastated. To have suffered an agonizing blow to her ego, to feel mortified, something. But instead she could feel nothing but mesmerization as she stared up at Ominis above her, features cool and nonplussed.

He had won. Square is fair.

Finally, she relented and muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I lost. Now get off me.”

He grinned as he finally slipped off her, her cheeks proceeding to heat even more at the brief brush of the front of his trousers against hers. As she sat up from the floor, she noticed with even greater embarrassment that the entire club had stopped what they were doing to gawk at them.

She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Quickly picking up her wand from where it had been discarded on the floor, she cleared her throat and with as much practiced sportsmanship as she could muster, directed a tight, “Good game.” towards Ominis before promptly departing from the hall.

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale sounds of footsteps tailing her down the corridor. She glanced back to see Ominis jogging to catch up.

“Where are you going?”

She sighed. “Ominis, if you plan on rubbing it in my face how much of a better duelist you are, I’m really not in the mood.”

“What? I’m by no means better. Honestly, I don’t even come anywhere close.” He settled into pace beside her, his tone sympathetic and understanding. “I just had…stronger motivations.”

She looked up at him curiously and reluctantly decided to indulge him. She crossed her arms and stilled in her tracks, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Stronger motivations?”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?” He stepped closer to her as he continued, “It doesn’t really matter how powerful you are, only what you’re willing to do to win. Willpower supersedes strength by brute force.”

“How ambitious, spoken like a true Slytherin.” She teased with an eye roll. “Tell me, then, what strong motivations are behind Ominis Gaunt’s willpower?”

His lips curled into something almost predatory, and she had never seen him look the way he did now in the dim light of the secluded hallway. Usually so soft-spoken and unimposing, Ominis looked as if he had just won some grand prize she was unaware of. He crowded her against a woven tapestry adorning the wall and her breath caught in her throat.

A sticky-hot warmth seeped through her as she found herself once again pinned under the compelling presence of the blonde in front of her. Her eyes instinctively flitted to his lips, and for some reason she expected him to kiss her then.

For some reason she wanted him to.

Instead, he pulled away, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She found she could do little more but mindlessly obey at the moment.

Ominis couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he pulled her along down long corridors, leading her to the secluded stretch of empty classrooms in the northern wing of the castle.

He had never witnessed the hard-headed little witch so incredibly flustered before. It was a terribly addicting feeling.

And although he usually prided himself on being so decorous and patient, he couldn’t help but throw all caution to the wind as he strode hastily down the halls in an urgent bid to finally get her alone.

His heart thrummed in his chest at the very thought.

Clicking open the door to an empty classroom with a wordless alohomora, he dragged her inside and pushed her against the door immediately, body pressed flushed to hers.

He half-expected her to hex his bollocks off at his imprudence, but when she did little more than let out a soft squeak of surprise, he leaned into her even further.

“Where’s your wand?”

His lips were so close, she could barely even think straight.

“In — In my pocket.”

He smiled in satisfaction at the dazedness in her voice, her breath coming out in short little pants against his lips. He slipped his arm down to feel for her pocket and she gasped when she felt his hand grope at her thigh.

“Good,” He murmured when he felt the familiar wood poking through the pocket of her skirt. “If you’d like me to stop, use it. We both know you have no trouble defending yourself.”

Before she could ask stop what, his lips were capturing hers in a suffocating kiss, her words dying on a gasp.

Even if she did possess the current mental capacities to slip a hand into her pocket and fling him off her, she had no idea why she would ever want to. He felt heavenly.

He groaned into her mouth when she sank into the kiss, slipping a hand to hold her jaw, pressing himself further against her to keep her pinned and still just where he wanted her.

She had never felt so utterly listless and weak.

Stripped of all reason, a melting puddle of warm sensations as his tongue met hers and explored her mouth in earnest. Her legs had gone limp the moment he had pressed his lips to hers, and she was more than grateful for the way his hips were currently supporting her against the door.

The kiss was far from anything she would’ve expected from the ever-composed and austere Ominis Gaunt. It was messy and lewd, too starved for any sense of decorum, leaving her spit-sticky and aching until she could barely even recall her own name.

“Fuck,” He whispered, breathless, as he came up for a brief moment of air. He was seemingly just as wrecked as she was, his voice hoarse. “I’ve wanted to taste this pretty little mouth for so, so—”

The whimper she let out as she instinctively pressed her lips back against his was nothing short of pathetic, but Ominis seemed to have adored it if the twitch she felt against her hips was any indicator.

The way he rutted softly against her as he took her lips in kiss after bruising kiss made her head dizzy. Seemingly brought to his limit, he pulled her away from the door in favor of pinning her against one of the empty desks instead, slotting himself in between her legs.

She gasped when she felt him then, throbbing and strained against his trousers.

He huffed an amused breath of a laugh. “Feel that?” He nosed at her jaw, inhaling the intoxicating scent of lavender that made him throb even more in his pants. “That’s what you do to me.”

Her head fell back when his tongue connected with the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, licking a greedy stripe down her throat as if he wanted to sink his teeth into her.

He felt like a man starved. He was so tired of being patient, of hopelessly longing for her from a distance.

Actually having her there, in his hands, soft and pliable and mewling his name as he peppered her skin in kisses, licks, and love bites, was enough to almost make him lose all sense of self-restraint.

Hell, it was almost enough to make him finish in his trousers he quickly noticed as he drew his hips back with a hiss. He flipped her onto her stomach on the wooden surface before he got ahead of himself.

She gasped from his assertiveness, at just how out of control he seemed, usually so reserved and cautious. That flicker of desire inside of her roared into tumultuous, consuming flames.

He slipped a hand into her pocket and grabbed her wand, placing it on the desk right above her head in eyesight.

“What did I say?”

She panted, thoughts hazy, but tried to construct some semblance of a coherent sentence anyway. “If I — I want you to stop, use it.”

“Mhm,” He hummed in approval before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”

She preened at the praise, arching back into him, feeling him pressed stiffly against her arse, thick and so incredibly stiff through the fabric of his trousers.

She wanted to burn all her pride and beg him to fuck her, touch her, anything to satiate the unbearable yearning inside.

“Needy little witch,” He grunted as he felt her rub herself back against him. He brought a hand to her hips to still her. “Be patient, hm? I’ve been patient for you, haven’t I?”

She nodded, forehead falling to lay against the desk as she let his hands explore her, groping the soft flesh in his strong fingers. He leaned over her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.

“So fucking patient.” He murmured as he ran his hands down her sides in admiration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited? How many times I’ve come into my own hand thinking of you bent over for me just like this?” He nipped at her ear, scraping a biting kiss down her jaw until she whined from the sting. His cock ached in his trousers with every little noise she made.

Unable to bear it any longer, he fisted her skirt in his hands and tugged the fabric over her hips in a single, succinct motion. Her breath hitched in her throat but she made no move for her wand, sitting idly by where her hand was palm down on the surface of the table.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed against her skin, tugging her blouse down one shoulder so his lips could find contact with the sensitive patch of skin there. “So perfect for me.”

His fingers trailed up her thighs and quickly found their way between her legs, rubbing soft, slow swirls over her knickers. The way he had been talking to her, touching her almost reverently, had already left an embarrassingly sticky mess between her thighs.

Ominis groaned as soon as he felt it seeping through the sheer fabric. “I need to be inside of you.”

He hooked a finger into the hem of her knickers and tugged it down her legs, helping her step out of it before tucking it into his pocket. He pressed against her again and she squirmed from the feeling of the bulk of him against her bare cunt.

“Look at you. Making such a mess on my trousers.” He ground his hips into her even more as he felt her wetness sully the fabric.

She keened. “Please, Ominis…”

“Please what?” She heard the metal clink of his belt as he began to divest himself behind her and she clenched around nothing in anticipation.

She tucked her face into her hands, desire sending blood to her cheeks as she finally reduced herself to begging. “Please, please, please fuck me,”

His forehead fell to her shoulder at the sound of her pleading, his grip turning vice-like on her hip. She felt him then, the blunt tip of his cock pressed right against her entrance.

“This is what you want?”

She nodded fervently, her head fallen lax against the table. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged her up until her back was pressed to his chest not letting her hide from him.

“Say it.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“Please, please, oh Gods, I— I want this, I want this so—”

Her words died on a strangled gasp as he sheathed himself completely inside of her. Her legs went limp, and she would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t snake a hand around her waist to keep her flush to him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“Always knew you’d have the tightest little cunt.” He pressed a kiss against her warm cheek, his breathing heavy against her skin as he hummed in approval at the feeling of her squeezing him. “Alright? Hurts?”

She shook her head, grinding her hips back against his in a show of just how good it felt.

He huffed a laugh at her eagerness before easing his own hips back and bringing them back to meet hers again. This time, he let her fall forward onto the desk, her nails digging into the wood as she moaned from the intrusion. He felt so big inside of her, stretching her out so deliciously until she felt full to the brim.

Her hip bones bit into the desk as his thrusts slowly became more forceful, jolting her and pressing into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her toes curl. When her wand clattered to the floor following a particularly hard thrust, her lips parted in awe at the wandless bit of magic he used to bring it to his hand and back into her eyesight.

She had never been more attracted to the wizard currently fucking her senseless.

She couldn’t contain the sounds spilling from her mouth as he fucked into the desk, pathetic and utterly depraved noises that seemed to only spur him on even more. His pace grew punishing, pulling similarly debased noises from the back of his throat as he slid in and out of her.

“Kiss me. Gods, fucking kiss me.” He groaned, taking her jaw in hand and tilting her chin back so he could capture her lips. She moaned into his mouth and he responded in kind, nipping at her bottom lip until she squeaked. He’d never get enough of these noises.

“Perfect. Fucking. Witch.” He grunted, and his voice was low and rough, a wrecked, gravelly mess as he continued to rut harshly inside of her. “Mine now, aren’t you? All mine. Fuck.”

She nodded fervently, feeling inclined to agree to just about anything coming from his mouth when he was pushing her so close to release, building up that aching knot behind her navel and winding it tighter and tighter.

He could feel her walls fluttering around him, feel just how close to the edge she was. Reaching a hand in front of them to rub tight little circles between her legs, he pressed his lips to her ear.

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you,? I can feel you tightening around me. Be a good girl and come on my cock.”

The combined feeling of his hand between her thighs, him thrusting so perfectly inside of her, and the filthy things he was whispering in her ears, was enough to push her over the edge.

She came with a sharp cry, her entire body trembling while he continued to fuck her through her climax, falling over the edge along with her. She felt a warmth coat her insides as he pumped inside of her, his face tucked into her neck while he murmured incoherent praises into her skin.

He kissed all over any exposed patch of skin he could find as he tried to regain some semblance of composure, his chest heaving. He mouthed softly at her jaw as he finally pulled out, and she winced at the slight soreness from the abrasion. His brows knit together.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, giggling at his sudden concern. “I’m okay.”

He looked unconvinced as he collected her in his arms. “Do you promise?”

She smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m fine, I promise. Probably won’t be able to walk properly for a few days, but…”

He chuckled. “Well, that won’t do, I have a date planned for us. Will I have to carry you through the castle in my arms? A bit of a forward way to announce our relationship, but I’ll oblige I suppose…”

He made to wrap her legs around his waist and she bat at his arms. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume we’re in a relationship already, Ominis.” She raised an eyebrow.

He returned the inquisitive look. “I’ve met your terms, haven’t I?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head against his chest. She couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling she felt deep in her stomach, possibly a side-effect of all the post-orgasm endorphins making her head buzz. Nonetheless, she felt inclined to peck his cheek and concede with a smile.

“Yes. I suppose you have.”

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x mc #friends to lovers #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt fanfiction

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pocket-watcher · 2 months

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So I (female) suck at holding eye contact in informal/social situations but can maintain a hard stare in professional/serious ones, even if I'm not fully paying attention. Could I have a hypno-fic about someone taking advantage of that?

Hi lil Watchling! No problem, I’m sure I can whip something up for you…

We first met at a bar.

They were wonderful, really. Very interesting to talk to. Engaged in what I had to say. They asked me about my interests, where I worked, what I did for pleasure.

Such a charming person.

And attractive too, not that you could tell I thought that from the intense gaze I had on my half-empty glass.

The night had continued and they began to trail off… most people didn’t last this long. Only friends who knew how hard it was for me to keep eye contact. I was so interested, though. I just couldn’t fully express it in a way they’d understand.

The second time I met them was at this little after-work thing.

I hated not leaving as soon as the clock hit 5, but it was important to build good relationships with coworkers or something like that. My manager had suggested it.

In fact, she stood about ten feet away schmoozing with the CEO’s son.

Wonderful,

That was when I bumped into them again, and learnt their name was Kai.

Again, they really helped guide the conversation to myself as well as their own input, which I greatly appreciated.

And once again I could feel them pulling away slightly the more I stared at my nails instead of at them.

We were sitting in a small booth when my manager approached.

“Hey Riley, can I run over some proposal stuff for tomorrow? There’s been a few tweaks and I don’t want you to be caught unaware tomorrow.”

My eyes locked onto hers as she slid into the booth.

That was when I heard Kai make a sort of choking sound.

“Are you okay?” I asked, watching my manager spread documents out on the table.

“Yes, fine thank you. Is it alright if I stay and listen?”

My manager looked quizzically at them.

“Not at all, are you interested in working here?” She said.

“I am, actually. I find your work miles ahead of the industry.”

Kai could charm anyone. I was sure of it, as my manager smiled at him and turned to talk me through the next day’s proposal.

I could feel Kai watching me, but I didn’t pay them too much mind. They were thinking, though. About what, I had no clue.

The next day went incredibly smoothly.

A week later my manager put me in charge of interviewing for a new role in our team. I told her I wouldn’t let her down.

The first applicant seemed nervous, and couldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t hold that against them though. They warmed up as the interview continued and by the end I saw them as a strong contender.

The next told me to smile and that my stare was unnerving. I told him to go to another company.

The third was, surprisingly, Kai.

“I know, I probably should have warned you… I hope you can be impartial with me?” They smiled, and for the first time I held eye contact into those deep, warm brown eyes.

It was no bother though. Of course I could remain impartial.

I rattled off questions and Kai answered them confidently.

Their eyes lit up as they talked about confidence and taking charge, making the role their own. I felt myself losing focus on the interview at hand.

Under the desk I pinched myself awake slightly, continuing, but my thoughts drifted back to their eyes.

The way they caught the fluorescent lights above. The way they seemed to almost shine. It was mesmerising.

“Um, are you okay?” They asked me, after I’d been silent a beat too long.

“Yes, fine.” I cleared my throat, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Sorry, the question was what makes you feel like you deserve this role?”

Kai fidgeted for a moment, not once breaking eye contact with me.

“I think because I’m trustworthy. I’m someone who’s reliable and you could trust to take care of any problem, big or small. I’m strong in the face of resistance, and I’m good at leading others. I’m also a great people person,” they laughed, “I don’t know why but it seems that most people tend to like me.”

My pen dropped to the floor, my hand now entirely limp.

Something about it all had just captured me so thoroughly,

Kai stood and leant over the desk.

“Finally, that was more of a chase than I expected, but I got you in the end, didn’t I?” They tucked my hair behind my ear.

My mouth hung open, and my mind was empty.

“Now, how about you give me that job and I can make you feel this nice and relaxed and fuzzy every day?”

#hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #watcher answers #mindfuck #watcher writes #watcher’s stories

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thefiery-phoenix · 6 months

Text

YANDERE JAE YEOL (JAY HONG) HEADCANONS

You were the new student at the Jaewon High school and the teacher asked you to introduce yourself to everyone in the class. A certain blonde haired guy with his bangs covering his eyes surveyed you with slight interest. He could feel slight warmth settling inside him as he looked at you and your features. Your smile was enchanting and captivating. You sat next to him and extended your hand out to him with a warm friendly smile on your face. He simply blushed slightly and turned away without shaking your hand. You could tell he wasn't trying to be rude, he was just shy. You got to know later on his name was Jay Hong and was given the nickname of being the prince of the fashion department

Apart from Daniel, you're the other person who could understand Jay. Whenever you'd ask him if he'd like to go out with you somewhere he'd nod with a slight smile. You've never heard him talk but it doesn't bother you too much since you could understand him. You make him feel so...warm and contended, you make him feel heard despite not talking out loud. He loves it when you smile, he always wants to see you smiling and being happy, he doesn't like seeing you sad or upset. The other day you got a lousy score on one of your tests and you were down in the dumps. Not even the incessant needling from Zack telling you to cheer up since it's a stupid test worked on you and you were pretty bummed out about it. After the lunch period was done, Jay strode over to your desk and handed you a bag and as you opened inside it and looked in it, you saw your favorite chocolates, goodies and treats along with a heartwarming little encouraging note from him. You thanked him and ended up giving him a hug and he felt like his heart would stop beating at the moment. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and never let go of you

He'll fall for you real fast and real hard too. When he does, he catches obsessive feelings for you quite quickly too which will result in him getting rather sulky and pouty when you talk to other people, excluding Daniel. You had to work on an assignment with Zack once and the entire time, Jay sat right smack in between you both despite the complaints from Zack on how he had to deal with an annoying blonde the whole time. However Jay didn't give a damn. He'd rather shoot someone than have them steal you away from him. Just because he's quiet and shy and nice to YOU doesn't mean he has to be nice to the other annoying people who try to steal you away from him. It annoyed and frustrated him to no end when the teacher refused to let him be your partner even after asking him to change your partner so he could be with you. However he couldn't do anything about it since you actually liked the teacher and he knew you'd be sad if the teacher left and he doesn't want to see you sad

You can bet your allowance he will stalk the absolute daylights out of you and will always have your location one way or another. Say goodbye to your privacy since there'll always be someone or the other in the shadows to ensure your safety. He has FILES of your likes, dislikes and his assistant gives him an update of everything that happens in your life. He knows you better than you know yourself by now and he takes great pride in that and could probably write a freaking thesis about you and your personality. He has unfinished love letters that he wanted to give you but couldn't bring himself to do so because he didn't want to ruin your friendship with him. Poor guy would be devastated if you started ignore him, something in him will just break. Look, he can tolerate insults and anger and people hitting him but you ignoring him is much worse

Like I mentioned before, don't underestimate the way he fights just because he never really interacts or fights on common occasions, there's a reason you should always watch out for the quiet ones. He would never forgive someone trying to hurt you, he'd send them a one way ticket to the hospital with zero remorse and empathy. Have you seen the way he fights? His moves are fast and quick and it's all thanks to his training with the one and only Alexandra Sophia herself, learning a variety combination of mixed martial arts which he'll put to good use so he can protect you. If Logan ends up picking on you or making disgusting lecherous comments about you, he'll just walk over to him silently without even saying anything and just break his hand like it's nothing. Logan will have a natural hatred for blondes now thanks to him lol

Jay will get slightly pouty and jealous and sulky when you receive gifts from someone else. He'll quickly find a way to one up them because...he's Jay Hong after all. Oh, someone gave you a nice dress for your birthday? Well, here's 5 duffel bags full of the most fashionable clothes that are trending these days. Someone gifted you a new gadget? You'll have plenty more from him. He'll just walk up to you with a smile on his face and set the bags down for you. Of course, he finds it rather endearing and cute when you end up getting flustered and embarrassed like this and will not accept a no from you. You're going to accept his gifts and tokens of love for you and no, you don't get to have a say in this

Like the others he doesn't want you getting involved in gang stuff. The last thing he needs is for you to get targeted by some gang member but he's not really worried though even if that happens because he'll probably just murder them and find a way to cover up the body. Hey, when it comes to you, he's willing to do anything to make sure you're safe. What's a few dead bodies and gang members going to do anyway? He insists on dropping you off home on his bike and this is something you don't get to have a say on either. He'll just silently stand there and put his helmet on your head and gesture for you to get on his bike. He'd rather not take any chances when you're walking down the streets. He gets quite flustered when your arms are wrapped around his torso though, he'll be a blushing mess under his helmet and will be smiling smiling to himself, basking in the warmth and your soft gentle touch

He's not someone to play mind games with you or gas light you, he's too pure for that. He doesn't want to hurt you. However if your safety is being threatened, he won't hesitate to snatch you up from your life faster than you can even blink. You'll find yourself in a well furnished room on a soft large bed as you wake up. You'll of course, be quite confused as to what's happening and Jay will silently come into the room with a tray of your favorite things and set it down on the table beside the bed for you. When you ask him whether you can leave, he'll simply shake his head and refuse to let you go. You might not be bound by ropes or chains to the bed but that doesn't mean you'll be able to escape either. His loyal assistant is always there to observe you and snitch on you the moment you try anything funny

The security systems and the locks will be quite advanced and you won't be able to leave. By mistake even if you end up leaving, he'll just bring you back. He'll look at you with a slightly hurt look on his face and is sad that you tried to leave him but he understands why you'd leave him, you probably feel trapped and he gets your feeling. Which is why he'll take you out for private little outings to places he knows you'll enjoy. Just don't leave his hand, he needs to prevent you from running away again. However when it comes to someone stealing you from him...he won't have any mercy or remorse for them. They'll either get blacklisted from a company or their social status would be ruined or something. He'd do it secretly of course, without you ever finding out about it since he doesn't want you thinking that he's some sort of monster

He'll be quite hurt and devastated when you initially try to withhold yourself from eating anything and refusing to eat food. He'll look at you with the expression of a kicked puppy and a small tear will roll down his eye as he silently pleads and cajoles you to eat. He doesn't want anything happening your health, he loves you too much for that. Would you like for him to feed you because he's ready for that too. Just please eat something

He'd be flustered whenever you hug him or show him even the slightest of affection but he still loves it nonetheless. He loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, he'll let out a soft hum and look at you with a soft smile, like he has the world in front of his eyes. He'd like to touch your hair too and caress your cheek lovingly if you'd permit him too of course. He wouldn't do anything you're uncomfortable with since he's quite the gentleman. He likes holding your hand too and entwining and wrapping his fingers in yours as he kisses the back of your hand ever so gently. Overall, as a yandere, he'd be a nice one to have. Pretty chill and laid back who would ensure you're always by his side no matter what...

#yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism #yandere jay #yandere jay hong #yandere jay hong x reader #yandere jay hong scenarios #yandere jay hong oneshots #yandere jay hong imagines #yandere jay hong headcanons #yandere jae yeol #yandere jae yeol x reader #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism

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ellephlox · 2 years

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Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly.

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days!

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit.

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted.

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background.

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said.

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice.

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left.

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants.

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point.

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon.

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward.

Barefooted.

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass.

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow.

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet.

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” you croaked.

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open.

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point.

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day.

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.”

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying.

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air.

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”.

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there.

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth.

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more.

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye.

Blood. In the mucus.

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears.

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you.

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately.

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own.

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath.

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants.

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving.

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text.

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him.

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s.

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #MCU #hurt/comfort #reader #reader insert

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