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thefuseoftemptation · 2 days

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wrong number

'you get a phone call and find out it's a wrong number but realize that you don't want to stop talking to the person at the other end. come to find out, he's from another decade.’

eddie munson x reader/ eddie munson x gn!reader

warning(s): cursing, au (not sure if it would be considered an au but imma put it), mention of modern time. I'm just putting tags I'm not even sure what to tag this under. lmk if there are more.

a/n: prompt # 4 from the strangerprompts by @allthingsjoeq @somnambulic-thing and @bettyfrommars. mkay, I've never done these types of things or participated before, but yknow, I took a shot and I liked it lol so thank you guys!

—

"What?"

Your voice was nothing short of clipped. The results of hearing your phone vibrate too many times for you to tolerate another call going unanswered.

It was abnormal in your opinion. To receive this many calls from the same number within a short time.

While sure, you occasionally complained about the lack of service that came through the device due to your inability to actually hold a relationship with anybody, much less a conversation, this isn't what you were looking for.

And if your shortness wasn't clear enough before, your annoyance must've been by the way you questioned a 'hello,' with a lifted brow. Not really saying it as one should when normally speaking to someone. That was, if anyone was even on the other side.

"Uh, hello." The voice imitated your previous tone, pulling out the last vowel as he sung it.

He.

If you had to guess, probably no more than your age.

"Huh, so you can speak? You know you could've begun with that? When someone picks up the phone after being called, who knows how many times," you state through your teeth, "the least you could do is have the decency to actually say something when they answer."

"Y’know I don’t like your tone, we’re going to try this again.” He mouthed.

“Wait, what? No-”

He hung up before you could refuse. Your phone pulled away from your ear as your mind tried to catch up with what just happened. And in the midst of that, your phone vibrated, again.

Your finger hovered over the button as you eyed the device, sliding it over when you’d been staring long enough.

“Hello?” You questioned, unsure. The shift in your tone is clearly obvious.

“You learn quickly.”

The same voice replied back, and his response had you narrowing your eyes.

Asshole.

“I had said it before. You were the one who needed the lesson in how to answer back.” You reiterate.

“Well, m’not about to respond to somebody who starts a conversation with 'what.' I mean, have you no manners?" The guy said. You could hear the lilt in his voice and how he seemed to be grinning on the other side, but you had to shake your head from thinking any further on it because there was still a question that you'd been meaning to ask.

"Who are you?"

"It's your conscience, clearly I haven't been able to get through to you which is why you're probably lacking, well, manners, but- worry not, for I am here."

You weren't sure if it was you still trying to comprehend everything that's happened in the last few minutes, or that this guy knew how to pull conversation so easily that you went along with it- but you hadn't even realized he never properly answered or that he just lowkey called you out on something you knew was evident to a blind person.

And you didn't even correct him, and rather than just hang up on someone you didn't know, you stayed on the phone and chose to enlighten him.

"Hm, so that's what that was? Who would've thought I'd have one of those," you sighed and shrugged, leaning back against the bed frame. You could hear him snort at the small insult you'd given yourself, hearing the feign in your voice was enough to let him know your humor was in tack.

It made you grin. The first of many, and the first in a while to tell the truth. You also couldn't stop yourself from thinking about how this was probably the longest conversation you've ever held with someone.

"I'm Eddie." His voice pulled you from your thoughts, trying to catch up in the moments you'd been away.

"Huh?"

You could hear chuckling before it was repeated. "My name. You asked me who I was."

Eddie.

It didn't sound familiar. You didn't know anyone named Eddie, but then again, you didn't really know anyone and you had questioned it when you guy's began talking. It was a number you'd never seen before either so there was that.

You hadn't realized you'd been quiet until Eddie spoke.

"Y'know, this is where you tell me your name." He remarked. "We really gotta work on your communication skills and social cues." Unbeknownst to you though, since you only just met the guy, he shouldn't be one to talk.

You let out something between a scoff and a breathy chuckle before telling him yours. And Eddie repeated what you did moments ago- saying your name under his breath, to himself- as if he was worried he'd forget it in those few seconds.

It was easy to get into conversation with him, primarily because he kept pulling you into things he’d knew would get a response out of you. Like saying shit that you’d end up reprimanding him for because it annoyed you.

He knew that, and you weren’t so sure you liked how transparent you seemed to be. You’d known him for only a short time and he already knew how to push your buttons. Which you told him but his response was anything but what you expected it to be. He simply shrugged it off, telling you that ‘you let it get to you.’

To which you rebutted fully knowing he was right, which annoyed you more. Though other than that, the conversation between you two had been decent.

There were a few times when you had been confused by what he’d been speaking about, but you just assumed it was the way he was. I mean, the guy spent- you’re guessing- most of his time today calling the wrong number, only to hang up on you just to call you again because he didn’t like your tone. And then went on to call you out on your shit, which by the way, you still haven’t let go of. Either way, you just thought that what he was talking about, was how he spoke. A sort of slang, you know? I mean, now, that’s all people use these days.

Who were you to question it? It’s not like you could ask anybody what it meant. You weren’t even sure what the words were yourself. I mean you did but nobody said that sort of thing anymore.

There were a few moments of silence that occurred, mainly between your guys' turns in speaking. It wasn’t until you heard him on his end that you asked what he’d been up to. He kept muttering something under breath.

Well, it was more him humming, every other minute or so though you’d hear a word, and the more he hummed- the more familiar it sounded.

“Is that…..Metallica?” You peeked, unsure if you were right. His side went quiet the second you said it, and you could assume it was because you were likely wrong in your guess.

“Y-You know Metallica?” Eddie enounced. He was standing upright, his previous stance of leaning on the frame gone, as he stood there with wide eyes and mouth agape at your sudden query.

So you were right.

“Uh, yes.” It came out sounding like a question rather than you stating the obvious. “My Uncle used to listen to them. Whenever he came over when I was younger, that was all I’d ever hear. He’d tell us he grew up on them, so it was only right that we did too.” You explained. Eddie’s mouth stretched up at hearing your words, too caught up in the story to comprehend what you just said.

“I’ve never-” and then it hit him. His brows pinched together as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Did he hear you right? “Wait…grew up on them?” If it hadn’t been for the way you told the story, as if it actually happened, he would’ve thought you were pulling his leg. And you probably were so he just reacted logically. He chuckled. “Mkay, right right.”

It was your turn to pinch your face together, not understanding his sudden shift or why he was chuckling to begin with. “What? It’s true. The man grew up on them.” You raised, still clearly confused by his response.

“Mhm, sure.” You could hear the way he pulled the word, like he wasn’t convinced at all. Why was it so hard for him to get that what you were saying was true? “He’d have to be my age, kid.” He voiced.

W-What?

“Excuse me?” You uttered, sitting up from your bed frame. Not only were you confused but you were getting a little freaked out. He sounded young, your age, give or take. There was no way you had been conversing with a guy in his 50’s.

“You heard me, he’d have to be my age. There’s no way this guy grew up on them. The band isn’t even that old, it hasn’t been that long. I mean, I get we were joking before but man, you really got me there. I almost fell for it!” Eddie said. “How old are you?” He managed through his breathy laughs.

You could feel your heart pick up, the genuineness clear in his voice. He really thought you were joking, that everything you just said in the last few minutes was made up. But it hadn’t been and that’s what had you getting up from your bed. This was beginning to be too much for you.

“E-Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re freaking me out.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so amusing anymore. His face fell upon hearing your tone. The humor he once found in the situation, now gone, as he stared ahead. You sounded worried, alarmed even. It was quiet for a few seconds until he spoke, his tongue swiped his bottom lip before he did so.

“Uhm, look t-this isn’t-” his hand wiped down his face. “W-What are you talking about, man? One minute we're laughing and joking around and the next you’re telling me about your Uncle growing up on Metallica. There’s no way! Mkay?” He was getting agitated, visibly shaken up as he thought about you on the other side in the same state. “Like I said, the band isn’t even that old. It's only been a couple of years, it’s 1986 for christ sake!” And though he had been saying it all so fast, you still understood them. It’s why you felt yourself unable to move upon hearing his last few words.

1986.

The numbers repeated over and over in your head as you stood there.

“W-What?” You stuttered, voice shaky as you asked. It wasn’t possible. “It’s not!” You raise, your hands moving with a mind of their own as you swiped out of where you were and looked at the screen. In the corner of your phone, the current date stared back. The time you were currently in. As in, right now. You could hear Eddie speaking but because you didn’t have it against your ear, you couldn’t tell what exactly he’d been saying.

It’s not possible, it's not possible, it’s not.

He said it like it was true. He didn't just think it was 86', he was saying it like he knew it was. It was just impossible, the year he said, wasn’t the year you were in.

You lifted the phone back up to your ear, hands unable to keep still as you look ahead. Your eyes glassy as you spoke.

“Who are you?”

Eddie’s breath picked up at the way you questioned it, your voice at a whisper. He ran his hand through his hair again, already disheveled from how many times he’d done it prior to when you went quiet.

“I told you. My name is Eddie....and it's 1986."

Your eyes shut as he uttered his name, the lack of deceit evident.

—

a/n: I wasn't sure how to end it.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

#strangerprompts #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson one shot

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blarshwritezz · 1 day

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Hi can I request a yandere boyfriend x sub reader where yan thought he saw the reader with another man and he decides to show the reader that he wouldn't need anyone except him can yan have a breeding kink and the reader have a degradation kink

Heck yeah!

Jealous Yandere x Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, jealousy, dubcon(?), degradation, breeding

Jealous!Yan didn't believe his eyes. Was that you? Why were you with another man? He was all you needed! Has he not been loving enough? He gave you everything! Or was it the opposite? Has he been too gentle? Well he didn't want to hurt you! But you were his.

Jealous!Yan came home after a few hours. He needed time to cool off, but you could tell he was furious about something.

"Honey, what's wrong?" But he didn't answer. Well, not exactly. His only response was slamming his lips against yours in a harsh kiss. Even when you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened and brought you closer to him.

Jealous!Yan picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom before making quick work of removing your clothes. Finally, his lips detached from yours only to move to your jaw.

Jealous!Yan kissed, sucked, and bit all the way down to your chest. He growled "Mine" before continuing, his fingers now diligently working to pleasure your lower areas.

When he needed more, he roughly grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees up to your shoulders, revealing your pretty hole. He gave it a few good licks, making sure you were nice and wet before penetrating you with his cock.

"Fucking mine. All fucking mine. You don't need anyone else." He watched your face contort with pleasure as he pounded into you. The moans escaping your lips were music to his ears. "Fuck, you're such a slut for me. My goddamn whore."

He smirked at how you clenched tighter around him. "Like that? You like being my bitch?" His pace sped up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.

"Gonna fill you up, make sure nobody else wants to touch you. Make sure you're my filthy slut. All mine." He could only imagine how good you'd look with a baby in you, regardless of if you were able to get pregnant. He was going to pump you full of his cum as if he really could impregnate you.

You'd just look so good all swollen and round. Then the whole world would see you were his and his alone. Just the thought had his cock twitching inside you.

"Say I'm the only man you need. Say it!" He gripped your hair, his thrusts getting sloppy. He just needed to hear you say it. Just a few words from that pretty little mouth and he'd be filling you up in no time.

"Y-you...n-need you!" You barely managed to speak through your incoherent moans, but that was all he needed. With one last thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and filled you with his seed, the action making you cum as well.

After a minute or two of just panting, both of you catching your breath, he started up again. "That's a good slut." You were going to be here for a while.

And there it is! I ki da switched writing styles like halfway through for some reason

#blarsh writes #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male x reader #yandere x you #anon ask #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #male yandere x you #yandere boyfriend

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tigermark · 2 days

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sunny days ˖ ࣪⊹

the chenle portion of my playlist series!!

pairing : chenle x gn!reader

synopsis : you and chenle have recently broken up, but all he does is long for you. one day, however, this longing takes over him...

genre : fluff, angst, second chance kinda??

tw : established relationship (ig???), mentions of break up, going back to exes (don't.), very dramatic story, chenle desperate asf lowk

a/n : first post of the playlist series!!! this was actually supposed to be a stand alone fic but then i realized how much a series like this would eat so here we are 😛

chenle couldn't stand it. he couldn't stand the empty feeling inside him. he couldn't stand the ache lingering in his heart; the same one that had been there for the past week.

he hadn't left the house much in the past week, other than to walk to the convenience store by his apartment like he was doing right now. that was something he wasn't quite used to given the fact that he'd always be out doing things with you.

you.

the light of his life. someone he thought he would spend the rest of his time on earth with. he wasn't entirely sure what the reason of you breaking up with him was. it could be any number of things; finding someone new, falling out of love, finally realizing the flaws he had... it could've been anything.

chenle wished he remembered your reasoning, but he pretty much stopped listening to you after you said you wanted to break up with him. it would've hurt too much to listen.

even if it's been well over a week, chenle still has you running through his mind. you're all he can think about, in fact.

however he tries his best to ignore it, especially right now since your house is on the way to the very convenience store he's at.

should he go? no, it'd be stupid and immature to, he tells himself. but you're so close to him...

chenle knows he shouldn't go, but he isn't very good at holding back from temptation. instead, he picks up your favorite snack and goes to pay, practically sprinting out of the store once he does.

before he knows it, he's standing right outside your apartment complex. what the fuck was he thinking?

the thing is he wasn't thinking. well he was, but not about the logistics of everything. at this point, he came this far so why not go all the way?

and with that chenle walks up the stairs of your apartment complex, stopping at your floor. he stands at the top of the stairs for a moment, running his hands through his hair to hopefully calm himself. he walks over to your door and knocks. the same pattern he always used.

of course you immediately know it's him. you've been dreading this ever since he walked out that day. you can't just leave him outside though, it's cold.

you open the door, greeted with exactly what you thought you'd be. except he looks... different. like he'd been crying maybe. you can tell he was messing with his hair given how wild it looks.

"um..." is all you're able to say to him.

"y/n i know, please just..." he just stops talking all together. his eyes threaten to water but he sniffles the feeling back. he fishes the snack he bought for you out of the bag and holds it out to you with shaky hands. "listen to what i have to say."

you know you should slam the door in his pathetic face but you just can't. instead, you take the snack from his hand and step back to open the door further so he can walk in.

chenle's eyes meet your hesitant ones for a moment, immediately looking away. once he's in your apartment, you close the door to see him already staring at you.

"i'll be quick," he tells you as you nod in response.

you grab his arm and drag him to the kitchen, forcing him to sit down at one of the chairs pushed under your dining table. he sits down but you stay standing in front of him.

neither of you say anything. instead, you just stare into each other's eyes. chenle starts to feel tears welling in his eyes; he missed this so much. he finally breaks the eye contact, eyes wandering down to the floor as a tear falls past his lashes.

he doesn't even know how he ended up in your arms, but suddenly he is. "chenle i'm so sorry," you whisper into his ear, voice wavering. chenle lets out a choked sob into your shoulder, arms snaking up to hug your waist.

"i think i was just..." your voice trails off as you pull away from the hug to look him in the eye. "i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself. even then, this past week made me realize i wanted you back."

chenle nods, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "i know," he manages to mumble. "but please... can i have another chance? i'll be better this time i promise."

you let out a small giggle between the tears which also makes chenle laugh. "you were always so good to me lele." he hasn't heard that nickname from you in a while. it felt nice. "it'd be a blessing to have you back in my life."

#tigermark #the playlist series 🤍#nct #nct dream #nct chenle #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #chenle fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #chenle angst #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop fanfic

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everyonewooeverywhere · 1 day

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slams these down (gently)

college!bf soobin

this is what your camera roll looks like with him methinks 😙

what do you think he's like as a boyfriend? 🎤

college bf!soobin has me actually in shambles rn

i NEED him. it's not fair 🥲 (that last photo is in the photo shuffle on my lock screen 😌)

soobin is genuinely so boyfriend coded it's not even funny. he would be such a good partner.

90% of the time, dates would be super lowkey. the two of you snuggled on the couch playing games or watching shows. he'd want you to play with his hair. actually, he’d grab your wrists himself and put your hands in his hair.

i also like to think that you'd have little date nights at his apartment that he shares with the other four boys. everyone knows you're coming over. and gyu, tae and kai take that as a cue to be gone or in their rooms for the night so they don't bother you on the couch.

yeonjun however misinterprets soobin telling him that you're coming over. so he sits on the couch with you guys.

neither of you have the heart to tell him that he was not in fact invited to this. so he stays. all night. he even picked out the movie on his own. (let's be honest though it was probably on purpose.

college bf!soobin also LOVES coffee study dates. loves them. he'll go with you to your favorite cafe and sit with you for hours while you work on assignments. he's good at keeping you focused. he won't entertain conversation until your taking a break, and he keeps your phone in his bag so it doesn't distract you.

maybe you have a couple classes together to, so you'll both help each other out wherever your struggling.

being able to study together often without distraction means that you're able to see him a lot even when you get swamped with school work, so he helps relieve that stress.

#.ೃ࿔*✉️:･thoughts #.ೃ࿔*✉️:･wonusbabydoll #.ೃ࿔*✉️:･moots #·˚ ༘ 🤍✧.* moots : salem #·˚ ༘ 💗 .ೃ࿔* soobinie #soobin #choi soobin #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #txt #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together imagines #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt soobin #txt x reader

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sturnsdoll · 4 hours

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𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙔 𝙂𝙁 ˚୨୧⋆｡ - M.S

(headcannons!)

pairing: matt x girly/hyperfem!reader

warnings: hc's, sfw and nsfw but they are labelled as such.

nsfw warnings: dom!matt, sub!reader, implied spanking, dirty talk, mostly just super suggestive.

authors note: multiple people requested a matt version so here you go <3

SFW !

ೃ⁀➷ one of the first things matt loved about you was the way you express yourself through your style.

ೃ⁀➷ how could he keep his eyes off you with bows dangling and intertwined through your hair, belt loops or pretty much anything else you could stick em' on

ೃ⁀➷ watching you lay peacefully against your pink silk sheets never fails to lure him into crawling under your matching covers to cuddle and stroke your perfectly cared for hair into further relaxation.

ೃ⁀➷ anytime your cake-esque fragrance is sprayed around him he has to pull you into him. he's addicted to it like crack. he has to bury his face into your neck, inhaling like he'll never be graced with it again.

ೃ⁀➷ anytime he's out he's looking for things you'd accesorize with..

ೃ⁀➷ matt would be searching through every color of ribbon in every store he's in for a color, size or texture that you don't have.

ೃ⁀➷ matt would want to buy you makeup because he knows how good you feel about yourself while wearing it.. not saying he'd be good at picking out the right shades but hey, he tries right??

ೃ⁀➷ matt loves watching the bottom of your skirt dance and twirl while you bounce around your room with your fav artist playing..

ೃ⁀➷ you hum the lyrics while organizing your closet that's drowned in shades of pink..

ೃ⁀➷ "need help sweetheart?" "i'm okay, thanks" and even though he knew you were sincere from the sweet grin on your pretty lips, he'd get up from the comfort of your bed to assist anyways. he couldn't let your pretty little head get too exhausted now could he?

ೃ⁀➷ he knows how capable you are though, there's no doubt. he enjoys taking care of you but knows your more than able on your own

ೃ⁀➷ he would try his hardest to be assertive when he's angry but it was always impossible.

ೃ⁀➷ mid arguement you'd find yourself inching closer till you reach him. you take his hand. he can't ignore your perfect shiny acrylic nails (that he paid for) grazing along his palm to slowly interlock with his longer, masculine fingers.

ೃ⁀➷ "i'm sorry matt, i'll make it up to you. " you'd apologize sincerly.

ೃ⁀➷ before he could even think about saying no, your lashes batting up at him with doe eyes beneath them would usually force him to the final decision of teaching you how to behave another way...

NSFW !

ೃ⁀➷ "you think you look all innocent don't you?" now your backed up and corned against your makeup table. a few lipglosses knock over when the back of your thighs hit the table, your hands coming behind to steady yourself.

ೃ⁀➷ you'd nod your head. matt's dry laugh makes wetness pool beneath your skirt faster than you're willing to admit. "we'll see how much of a good girl you really are then yeah?" then next thing you know you'd be holding off your orgasms, being left begging for at least the 3rd time in a row.

ೃ⁀➷ and it never took much to get him going.

ೃ⁀➷ matt and you would be with his friends and all it'd take would be a graze of your perfect nails against his jeans for him to crave them wrapped around his dick.

ೃ⁀➷ your perfect pink lips pouting at him as you asked to go home early..

ೃ⁀➷ your eyes telling him you weren't wearing the shortest skirt you could find for no reason.

ೃ⁀➷ matt never really cared about you doing much for him sexually. making you feel good is what got him off. you were his princess and you needed to feel as such, in and out of the bedroom.

ೃ⁀➷ contradictory to that though, being a princess means being a bit of a brat and he knows how to deal with you when needed.

ೃ⁀➷ if it came to it, he'd pull you out of any social event (dinner, party, hangout, doesn't matter) and take you to his car.

ೃ⁀➷ your sweet demeanor never stopped him from ruining you.

ೃ⁀➷ "you think that shit's cute?" you quickly mutter back a "no" while knowing damn well that being bent over his lap in the backseat as your tears of pain and pleasure ruined your makeup was exactly what you were hoping for.

ೃ⁀➷ "who's dog was in here?" nick would ask matt the next day, eyeing at the nail shaped imprints in the seat cover. chris' head whips around from the front to spot your hair ribbon discarded on the floor. he put two and two together. "matt, there's absaloutely no way dude... in nick's seat seriously?!"

(sorry if any of the tags didn't work) tags ᥫ᭡ : @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniolosstar @sstvrnioloo @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @orangelala

#matt sturniolo #sturnsdoll #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo headcannons #matt sturniolo x girly reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfic

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holdmytesseract · 1 day

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A Hypnotising Spell

model!Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend surprises you with a very sexy clip he shot for an ad - but also for you.

Warnings: suggestive/light smut, flirting, a lot of thirst, sexy Tom?

Word Count: 2,3k

a/n: I had the idea for this oneshot, as I listened to this song...

I just couldn't help myself but to write it...

Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

(Credit for the picture goes to @multifandom-worlds 😁)

"Tell me."

"Not a chance."

Tom shook his head; smiling playfully at you. He knew he was teasing you.

"Pleaaase?" You looked at him with literal puppy dog eyes, but it didn't work. Much to your dismay. "No, darling. I can't. Unless it's not a surprise anymore... And I want it to be a surprise."

You sighed; giving up. "Alright, got it." Tom smiled; pecked your lips softly, before he went to zip his suitcase shut. You watched how his muscles worked underneath the loose tank top he wore and bit your lip. "Not even a tiiiiny hint?"

Your boyfriend looked up at you with a warning, but still playful glare. "Y/N..." "Okay, okay!" You chuckled and lifted your hands in surrender. "I give up!" Tom smirked; something boyish glinting in his oceanic blues. "You better will. Unless, I have to make you shut up." "Nope." You said; popping the p, before you hopped to sit on your little make-up table. Legs crossed and gently swaying them. You palms were anchored to the table; supporting you. "You can't, because you have to be at the airport in exactly... thirty minutes."

"There you go..." He breathed; stepping between your legs and gently pulling your body closer towards the edge of the table. "Caused you to shut up within a mere few seconds."

The handsome Brit standing a few feet away from you beside the bed scoffed. "We both know that I don't even need thirty minutes to shut your pretty mouth."

With three long strides - and before you were able to say something, had crossed Tom the short distance between you. He dipped his head and without further ado let his lips crash against yours; making you gasp. You'd never get used to the incredible feeling of his piercings against your skin - and on your tongue.

You shortly gazed on the clock. Twenty-eight minutes until Tom had to be at the airport. Fifteen minutes until he had to leave your shared apartment.

You smirked; wetting your lips with your tongue. "And..." You started; lifting one hand and slipped it underneath his grey tank top; feeling the outlines of his abs underneath your palm. Tom gasped at your touch, "... what else do you think you could do to make me shut up in... fourteen minutes?" and words.

Due to the angle and the very loose shirt he wore - which was hanging quite low now, gave you a delicious view down his upper body. Inked skin, pierced nipples, rippling muscles and the darker hair growing between his pecs and in a thick line starting from his navel and disappearing underneath the waistband of his black gym shorts.

You let your hand climb higher; gently tucking at his right nipple piercing - making Tom to groan softly. You made it very clear what you wanted - and he knew. "So?"

Without answering you, he quickly slid his hands underneath the back of your thighs and hoisted you up in the air, before your legs found a grip around his waist a few seconds later. You squeaked up in surprise and giggled, when Tom literally slammed you down on the bed; hovering over you. Two hands planted beside your waist on the mattress; strong arms holding him up. A predatory look in his eyes.

You could also swear that those shorts looked tighter than usual. "Fourteen minutes, huh?" "Twelve," you corrected him; voice shaking with anticipation. "Twelve?" He mumbled huskily. "Still enough."

With those words he claimed your mouth with his again, but before you could get lost in his breathtaking kisses, you broke them with a wet pop and pushed him gently. He knew what to do.

Mere seconds later, Tom found himself seated on the edge of the bed. Leaned back with his elbows and forearms supporting the weight of his upper body. His legs were spread. You knelt between them; hands gripping his twitching thighs.

"I'm going to miss you..." You sighed and bestowed another kiss upon his soft lips as you stood at the airport; bidding your boyfriend goodbye. You knew where he was going... Detroit. For one week. He had been hired for a model job. More you didn't know. It was all he had told you. The rest was supposed to be a surprise.

He insisted and you let him.

"I'm going to miss you, too, darling. Even though it's just seven days." You hugged him tightly then. "Text me as soon as you landed, okay?" Tom smiled. "Sure, love. I promise."

While Tom went to work in the US, you got to work inside yours and Sam's studio in London. Your week was packed as well with quite a few photo shootings and other appointments you needed to attend.

Of course you called Tom every day at least once; mostly through video call. No matter how stressful yours or his day was, you'd always make it work someway somehow...

Tom was just jogging down the Detroit Riverwalk, when the music in his ears suddenly changed into the ring phone of his mobile. A look on his Smartwatch told him, that you were the caller. He smiled and immediately tapped the small green button to accept the call.

A shiver ran down Tom's spine. "Don't threaten me with a good time." "Ohh..." You purred. "I never would." The Brit swallowed.

"Hello, darling," Tom panted; was a little bit out of breath due to his jogging. You hesitated on the other end of the line; blinking. "Umm... Am I... interrupting something?"

Your words caused him to chuckle. "No, you're not. I'm just on my daily morning run." "Ahhh, too bad," you answered with a sigh. Tom almost choked at his own spit, but then grinned to himself. "Very naughty, my little minx." "Sorry, babe, but you know exactly how our call ended yesterday night, so..."

This wasn't going how he thought it would...

"Okay, okay, change of topic, darling. I just left the hotel and I don't wish to return straight away..." You giggled once more, "Sorry, I couldn't resist..." and took the first bite of the Cheese Macaroni Sam got you for lunch. "Why are you going on a run this early in the morning?" You checked the time. "It's 7 a.m in Detroit. What the heck, Tommy? I thought I'd wake you up from your sweet dreams, but no..."

You would've loved to talk longer to your boyfriend, but work was calling as well...

Tom chuckled. "I sincerely apologise for disappointing you. Unfortunately, I had to get up earlier, because I have to be at the studio in... An hour." "Ugh... Sounds like a long day is ahead of you, babe." "Most likely, yes." He took a few deep breaths, before speaking again. "And you, love? What are you up to?"

You took another bite of the Cheese Macaroni. "Two photo shoots and a little shopping trip with Sam." Tom smiled; passing by a few people who were walking their dogs. "Sounds great, love. Have fun." "Thanks. And you? Anything else beside whatever it is you need to go to the studio for?" "Not much, honestly. Perhaps having a little swim in the hotel swimming pool, but beside that..." You bit your lip; smiling. "Sounds great. Next time I- Oh... Sam's here. I think I have to keep on working. Have a great day, babe. I love you." "Thank you, darling. I wish you a wonderful day, too. I love you even more."

Five days later, you welcomed Tom back home - and you were absolutely excited. You couldn't wait to see what surprise Tom had for you.

While he unpacked his suitcase, you leaned against the door frame; watching him with anticipation. "You are so impatient, darling." Tom said; chuckling, while he threw his dirty clothes in the hamper. "Yes, obviously, because my boyfriend was away for one week for a single model job and just doesn't wanna tell or show me anything. I wanna seeee!" The Brit chuckled again. He turned to you and walked over; resting both hands on your hips. "And you will, I promise. It just... takes another day or two."

You whined. "Tommy..."

Your jaw dropped. "Whaaat? Why?"

Tom smiled, "You'll see." and pressed a sweet kiss on your nose. You huffed. "That's not fair." "Life isn't."

"What?" You boyfriend answered; giggling.

"Stop being a moralizer. You are already smart enough." Tom couldn't help but laugh out loud. Sometimes he wasn't the only one who behaved like a small child.

He wrapped you up in his arms and brushed his lips over your neck, which caused a shiver to run down your spine at the sensation of his piercing grazing your skin. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you, too."

Two days later, you came home from work in the evening; throwing your keys on the counter and taking off your shoes, you walked towards the kitchen. Hungry. You were utterly hungry.

You didn't find something to eat, though... Tom was leaning against the kitchen counter with a little, quadratic envelope in his hand. Through the window of said envelope, you could make out the features of a CD.

"Hi, ba- Ohhh... Is this what I think it is?" Tom greeted you with a kiss; then nodded. "Indeed."

You squealed. "Show me!"

"Don't you wish to eat something, first?" He asked; wetting his lips and giving you a glimpse of his tongue piercing. You shook your head. "Nope. I wanna see what you've been up to in Detroit."

Tom smiled. "Alright."

"A... A clip? Tommy, did you do an ad?" Tom smiled down at you and clicked onto it. "Watch and see..."

You squealed once more and followed him into your shared office. He started the computer and put the CD in the drive. Then Tom turned the swivel chair. "Take a seat, milady." You sat down excitedly. He turned you around again, so that you were facing the big screen of the computer. "Are you ready for your surprise?" "Gods, yes!" He chuckled. His way too big hand enveloped the way too small computer mouse as he went to open the file.

You had anticipated to see a lot of pictures, since you thought he had a photo shoot, but there wasn't a single picture to be seen. On the CD was only one file - a clip.

So, you did.

The screen was dark. All you could hear was the sounds of (presumably) Detroit city. Engines, people chatting, car horns, foot steps. But after a few seconds, the sounds of a quite familiar song kicked in... 'It's A Man's, Man's, Man's World' by James Brown.

You swallowed hard. That was one of those typical 'sexy man' songs - and if Tom was anything, then sexy. You hadn't seen Tom yet, but you already knew that it fitted him perfectly.

Tom.

Finally, after a few seconds, the darkness on the screen vanished; turned into an old street in Detroit. Old buildings, old street signs, old traffic lights and old cars.

The camera drifted over the grey asphalt, until it met a pair of brown, almost cowboy-like boots.

The camera climbed up Tom; showed now his long legs, which were covered by loose light blue trousers. Cord trousers.

Then his upper body was shown - perfectly in time with the song.

You swallowed. It looked like typical 70s clothes.

Your boyfriend wore a wide black shirt. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone; exposing some of his tattoos. A silvery necklace hung low across the exposed skin; drawing your attention to the fine, dark hair underneath.

Tom had thrown a dark blue denim jacket over his left shoulder and was casually standing on said street.

This is a man's world, sang James Brown - and the delicious deadly combination of the music and Tom's look almost caused your heart to stop for a second.

He looked drop-dead sexy.

Tom looked around, subtly wetted his lips and started to walk down the street then. His entire backside was filmed - and it all happened in slow motion.

Torture..., you thought. Sweet torture.

You were staring. Simply staring. Shamelessly and certainly not respectfully.

The next shot was a car. An old Jaguar XJ 12 to be exactly... In black.

Tom walked towards the Jag. Then the scene changed and showed how he leaned casually sideways against the hood of the vehicle. Long legs crossed; one hand buried in the pocket of his trousers and the other running through his styled hair.

You almost combusted on the office chair; fingers gripping the armrests tight.

The scene changed once again and showed how Tom sat graciously inside the car and how he drove the Jaguar. A close-up of the opened window with his hand and forearm resting on the door was shown. The camera was fully focused on his hand, which seemed even bigger. Long fingers adjusted the side-view mirror; veins pulsing beneath the skin.

In the background was Tom softly biting his lip; oceanic blue eyes literally shining.

The back of the car and Tom driving down the street was the last thing to be seen, before the screen got dark. The music faded gently with the credits rolling.

You were still staring.

Both, you and Tom erupted into giggles.

"And?" Tom's voice suddenly urged to your ears. "What do you think? Do you like it?" You turned your head and looked at your boyfriend; blinking. "Like it? Like it? Tommy, like is absolutely understated." You scoffed. "That was probably the sexiest thing I have ever seen." Tom smiled cheekily and ran a hand through his blonde-brown locks. "That was exactly what I wanted to achieve."

You bit your lip and stood up; straddling Tom's thighs as he sat on the other swivel chair beside you. "Ohh, really?" You asked; climbing onto his lap. He nodded; "Yes, ma'am." hand immediately gripping your waist. "Very naughty." Tom chuckled. "I thought you knew that, darling." "Well, yeah... You've got a point."

"Please tell me that you still have the clothes from the video." Your boyfriend gave you a smouldering look and winked. "Of course I do."

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @simping-for-marvel @cakesandtom @crimson25 @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @lokidbadguy @smolvenger

#tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston fanfiction #model!Tom Hiddleston #Spotify

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xoxoluka · 1 day

Text

ᴄʟᴀᴅᴅᴀɢʜ

jschlatt x streamer!reader

summary: you wear the same ring every day, every stream, in the same direction. your fans notice one day that the direction of it changed.

warnings: swearing, not a very descriptive fic

a/n: for those not familiar with claddagh rings, they are rings from Irish culture that are most commonly used to show your status. right ring finger upside down means single, right ring finger right side up means taken. look into them if you are still confused or would consider buying one <3

gummygone: what's the ring say today???

CelestialCat: SHOW US THE RING

alwaysstar: what are we today

"chat," you giggle, holding up the upside down ring on your finger for the camera to see. "it's the same thing today, i promise. nothing's changing anytime soon."

the chat was flooded with 'aww's and 'why not's and crying emojis, making you laugh again. your audience had a nightly routine before the end of stream where they would bug you about your relationship status, especially since you wore it so freely on your hand.

you got used to giving them disappointing news, although you were hoping that you'd be able to tell them something else very soon.

you end stream soon after your nightly conversation with the chat, and stand up from your desk to close down your office and get ready for bed. once fully showered, washed, and clothed, you got a text as you were plugging in your phone.

'you looked good tonight, toots.'

you smile, biting your lip subconsciously.

'you saw?' you respond, laying back on your bed as you held your phone up.

'of course i did. i could never pass up seeing your face.'

you turn red at his flirtatious words. 'you can see it in person tomorrow, if you're up for it.'

'absolutely.'

you stay up for nearly another hour talking to Jay, making plans to meet up for lunch tomorrow.

you enter the small coffee shop, the warm atmosphere surrounding you and comforting you immediately. you spot your date and give him a wave, rushing over to meet him.

"i missed you," you say as you smile, sitting in the chair across from him.

"'missed you too," Jay smiles back, pushing a plate and a cup towards you. "i ordered your favorite, i hope you don't mind." he spoke in a tone that told you he knew you weren't going to mind either way.

"how could i?" you respond playfully. "thank you."

you banter lightly back and forth for a while, until you notice Jay pause, an unfamiliar glint of hesitation in his eyes. it goes away quickly, allowing him to speak confidently.

"you know," he starts. "we've been doing this for a few months now, right?"

"like.. going on dates and stuff? yeah, i'd say so," you nod, taking a sip of your drink.

"so then.. how'd you like to make it official? about time, right?" he asks, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

you sit up in surprise, but a smile breaks onto your face anyway. "yeah! yeah, i'd like that."

"jesus christ, dude," you exclaim, jerking the plastic steering wheel to the side, evading the car that you had drifted too closely too in-game. you were playing truck driving simulator tonight, which was one of your (and your audience's) favorites. it was late, so your real-life self and in-game self were both entirely too tired to be driving a truck.

as you took a moment to yawn, you glanced at chat, noticing a few standalone comments about your ring. you quickly readjusted yourself, pretending like you hadn't just read the comments, and continued to drive. 'as long as they don't all see it...'

you hadn't realized that the way you drive had your ring fully on display, you right hand on top of the steering wheel as your left supported the bottom. a keen eye would've noticed the difference, but hopefully not all of the eyes. you quickly finished up the level, parking the truck and gaining the money and XP. you paused the music and closed the game window, bringing your facecam back to fullscreen. you noticed the usual ring comments, and the few people who had noticed the difference.

"oh, man, chat. i totally forgot to put my ring on this morning," you lie, slipping the ring off with just one hand strategically. "but i'm telling you it's the same. no changes." you'd never been a good liar, the tips of your ears going slightly red, your face flushing, and your small laughs as you spoke.

TheyCallMeDawg: yeah okay buddy

"woah, woah, chat, what's with the attitude tonight?" you jokingly ask after reading that comment. "y'all are crazy, go to bed." you say your final goodbyes to the stream for the night and do your nightly routine. although, tonight, you were going to text Jay first.

'they totally know.'

not rlly a fan, but it was for fun

lmk what you think! <3

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #luka's oneshots #schlatt #schlatt fanfic #jschlatt fanfic #chuckle sandwich #chuckle sammy

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xxchumanixx · 9 hours

Note

Hii, some Tim Bradford X sunshine!reader who is his rookie??

Little Miss Sunshine

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings: pure fluff, honestly so much fluff, reader is a little sunshine. Word count: 801 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request!" I hope you'll like it, I for my part really do! Enjoy!

It all had started when Grey played the matchmaking game, assigning each of the new rookies to a TO. You were paired with Tim Bradford, a man that was as equally handsome as distant at first.

He looked like someone you wouldn't want to mess with, sure kicking your ass out on the street first chance he'd get.

So, when you were sitting in the shop together, after he explained everything he deemed necessary, he was truly surprised by your calm, yet radiating nature.

You would do what he'd tell you with a smile on your face, responding so calmly yet confident, that he at first thought you were messing with him. You made it hard for him to be grumpy and moody, his Tim-tests falling short.

He'd soon call you little miss sunshine, the name fitting - in his opinion - like a glove to you. You were kind, friendly and open to him and others, not like many other of his rookies had been in the past.

You were constantly trying to make him smile, making jokes and funny comments, all the while still focusing on your work.

It was something he valued, being surprised at the way you were always a hundred percent on board, no matter if you'd only moments ago made a joke or just simply admired the sun shining down at you, in a city that had only about 40 days of rainy weather.

After about half a year he was sure he'd never have a rookie like you again - not because he didn't want to, but because you were so truly special, that he was sure he'd never find someone like you again, even if he'd try.

Your smile reached depths of his heart he would have never dared to mutter out loud, bathing in your glow in secret whenever you'd grace him with one of your smiles.

You were slowly melting him, like a snowman in the sun. He was the snowman and you were undoubtedly the sun, melting his icy ways until he was puddy in your hands.

You were slowly turning him inside out, something everyone but him seemed to notice at some point.

"Hey, Tim." you spoke up, silently giggling to yourself already. His head tipped your way, motioning for you to continue, whilst he continued driving. "Why was Cinderella so bad at soccer?"

He sighed to himself, the tug of his lips barely hidden as he fought against a smile. "Why?"

"Because she kept running from the ball!"

He inhaled deeply and stilled for a moment, shaking his head, as he let go of the air slowly in a way to stop himself from giving into you. Afterwards he snorted though, chuckling to himself.

"That was a bad one." he chided you playfully, and you rolled your eyes with a grin stretching your lips. "You laughed, so it wasn't that bad, Bradford."

Now he rolled his eyes, snorting again. "You're insufferable." he told you, though he knew he was far from the truth. If he could he would have listened to you telling bad jokes all day, just to listen to you at all.

"Shut up." you retorted, lightly shoving him. "You love me and you know it."

He had to refrain himself from inhaling shakily, opting to clear his throat instead. You were right, and it pained him.

It pained him in a way that made it very clear for him that you were his rookie, thus off limits to him. You still had a few months of training left, which meant he'd have to stay behind the fine line of decency until then.

He'd ask you out on a date, if you'd want that, afterwards.

Until then, he'd have to admire you from the distance.

And you had to, too.

It hadn't taken long to fall for the handsome an broody man. He accommodated his training to your needs, always keeping an eye out for you.

He laughed at you silly jokes, even if they weren't funny at all.

You couldn't wait for your training to be over, finally being able to make a move on your feelings for him, that had you floating towards the sun.

"Another one:" you proposed, sitting more upright. "What do you call an angry carrot?" You patiently waited for an answer of his, not missing the way he sent you a look of confusion through his peripheral, causing you to chuckle.

"A steamed veggie!"

You were laughing, and that was all it took for him to laugh along with you. He was knee deep in trouble, but he would gladly drown in it, if it meant he'd be able to spend time with you, see your smile and hear your laugh.

'Cause after all, you were his little miss sunshine.

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhunhdchrih @nachofriess

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine

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lunar-wandering · 1 day

Text

i'm so obsessed with my "reaper that's scared of ghosts" oc that it's not even funny like it's starting to become an actual problem

“Hey, kid.”

The voice made Annette look up. Before her was a man, who was bending over slightly to be at her eye level.

“My name is Rocky.” He said, glancing off to the side as he did so, “And I'm going to be your reaper for the day.”

Now, Annette had already known she was dead. This did not come to a shock to her. She had been dead for about a week after all. That was totally enough time to become accustomed to her new state of being. Totally.

The reaper was a surprise though. After seven whole days of nothing she had begun to think that this was going to be how the rest of her 'life' was going to play out.A lifetime spent living alone, all by herself, with nobody able to see her, and no one to talk to.

“You're late.” She decided to say, as the reaper tilted the pole end of his scythe towards her, indicating for her to grab it, waiting until after she'd done so before turning around and starting to walk, with her trailing behind him.

“I know, I know.” Rocky said, looking forwards, “But there was a lot of evil spirits on the way between your location and the nearest entrance to the Otherworld, and I figured it'd be better to get rid of them first before leading you there. Easier to wait a little bit instead of having to fight while protecting someone, right?”

Annette supposed she could see the logic behind that.

“I still would've liked to have known that there was going to be a reaper though.” She said, “Couldn't you have come and talked to me first?”

Rocky didn't respond. Annette kept her eyes firmly on the reaper's back as they turned a corner.

“...And why are you having me hold the scythe anyways?” She asked, “Most of the times when people talk about a reaper leading someone to the afterlife, the reaper holds the person's hand.”

Still no answer. Hm. Maybe she only got to get one question answered after death, and she'd wasted it.

Well.

No.

Actually.

Her first statement hadn't been a question, had it? So that couldn't be it. Maybe this reaper in particular was just rude. That would be just her luck, getting stuck with a rude reaper.

Either way it was clear this guy wasn't going to answer any more of her questions, so she decided to shut up, focusing on the area around her as she walked. This was a path that she herself had taken many times on her way to school when she was alive- was there really a path to the afterlife this way?

Suddenly, Rocky stopped, Annette only having seconds to stop herself from running into him. And then, he turned, down a side street- one that Annette knew for a fact looped back around to the street they were already on. Still, she remained quiet. Maybe the entrance was somewhere down this way?

Except it wasn't. Except, a few minutes later, they were back on the same street they had started on, just a little bit further down.

Annette blinked for a moment, glancing behind her, and then glancing back at Rocky.

To hell with staying quiet.

“Why'd we do that?” She asked, “It would've been faster if we just stayed on this street.”

“...Evil spirit.” Rocky muttered. Ah, so he could answer her, he just was choosing not to.

“I don't see anything.” Annette glanced back at the street behind her again. “Also, didn't you say earlier that you'd already gotten rid of all the evil spirits? What, was there just something about that street in particular that you didn't like?”

From the way Rocky's back tensed, she must've been right on the money. Once again she looked back, trying to spot anything on that part of the street in particular that could make a reaper want to avoid it. As far as she could tell, it was just the same as the part she was currently on.

Or well, it was the same... if you ignored the Halloween shop that had opened up there a few days prior to her death. A little funny of her, she supposed, to die in October, but-

“Not a fan of Halloween?” Annette smirked a little as Rocky did a whole body twitch, like he had winced. “What, is it offensive to reapers or something?”

“No... m-most of the others actually like that sort of thing.” Oh, his voice had trembled for a moment there. He suddenly started to walk faster, and Annette had to swap to a light jog in order to keep up.

“So? Why don't you like it?” No response. Well, Annette wasn't one to let a mystery just go unsolved. She wracked her brain for a moment... “What, do you not like the horror movie type stuff? Are you scared of it?”

Rocky froze midstep, and this time Annette did run into him. Rocky awkwardly jerked when she did so, like his body had tried to jump away from her and he had done everything in his power to keep it from doing so.

And, thinking about it, now that she had brought it up…

“You're scared of me too, aren't you?” She asked, “I mean, you haven't looked at me once this whole time.”

“No I'm n-not.” Ah, his voice had trembled again.

“You so are.”

“Not.”

“Turn around and look at me then.” She let go of the scythe to put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot as she waited. Slowly, Rocky turned around, and after a few seconds of simply staring at some space above her head, looked down at her for the first time.

A cat chose that exact moment to walk straight through her. It was an odd sensation, to have things walk through you, but she was starting to grow used to it.

However, it seemed to have some kind of effect on Rocky, who suddenly listed a bit to the side, stumbled, and then crumbled to the ground.

“Ah.” Annette said, rather calmly, turning to the cat that was now sitting innocently beside her. “He died.”

He'd actually just passed out, but sudden death was much more dramatic.

Rocky shifted, before slowly starting to push himself off the pavement. Annette crouched down beside him as though she were watching a rather interesting ant.

“Hey, Mr. Reaper?” She said, “Y'know what? Being scared of ghosts cannot be all that good for your health. I think you need a paid vacation.”

“I w-wish.” Rocky muttered, “I don't even get paid.”

#My OC's #OC #writing #my writing #yes i did end up picking the name Rocky Road for him we're not gonna talk about it sdlkfjsldkfjsds

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idyllcy · 17 hours

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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sparklypinkflightsuit · 3 days

Text

Stars Align: Part 6

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Smutty Smut, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Guilt, Angry Bradley returns, Mentions of Abuse, Violence, Alcohol, Swearing, and just a whole lot of feelings in this bad boy.

-- Part 5 Here --

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18+ Only - Smutty Chapter

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Past:

The day had rolled around quickly, and you were packing the last of your box's into the back of the trailer. You checked your watch and sighed. Bradley had promised he'd come say goodbye, but he was nowhere to be found and you had to leave.

You paced up and down the driveway as your family did a final check of the house, and you contemplated calling him as your dad closed trailer door.

He sighed and walked over to you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, ''We have to go, sweetheart, we have a very long drive ahead of us.''

You looked up at your dad with watery eyes, and nodded. If Bradley really wanted to say goodbye he'd be here. You climbed into the car next to your siblings, your dad climbed in and started the engine.

You huffed as you leaned your head against the window, the moment seeming almost surreal. You couldn't believe you were leaving.

You'd gone around to the Bradshaw’s the day before to say goodbye, having a long cup of tea with Carole before you left, but Bradley had insisted he would come round to say goodbye properly.

You bit back tears as your dad started to pull away, your chest tightening at the thought of not just being able to sneak in through Bradley’s window at night, or him waltzing into your house at any given time of day without warning. You knew you’d be hard pressed to find a friendship like this again.

Suddenly, your brother noticed something in the rear view mirror straightened in his seat and craned his neck.

''Stop! It's Brad, look!'' he pointed, and your dad stopped the truck. You looked into your moms side mirror and sure enough, Bradleys own truck was hurtling down your long street, coming to a screeching halt behind the trailer.

You climbed out and walked over as Bradley opened his door.

''I thought you weren't coming.'' you grinned, your arms crossed over your chest as the cool Autumn breeze blew over you.

''I would have come sooner, but they took longer than I thought to make them, and they messed up the inscription the first time.'' Bradley chuckled apologetically as he crossed over to you, holding a long chain up to the light. You held your hand out and touched the dangling object, letting out a gasp as you read it.

''B and B, when the stars align we'll reunite. Bradley, this is beautiful.'' You breathed, and you slammed into his chest, wrapping your arms around him as you fought off the tears that threatened to spill over.

Bradleys voice was hoarse and fragile as he spoke, ''Don't forget me, Lil Bird, I'll always be here.''

''Never, I'll never forget you Rooster.''

________________________________________

Present:

You followed Bradley and Bob outside, feeling very sheepish and guilty as the lingering effect of Bradley could still be felt coursing through your veins, and the guilt only increased tenfold as you heard Alice swearing at Jake.

You stood just behind Bradley as he came to stand in front of her, ''What's going on?''

''What is this I hear about Y/N living with you?'' Alice was bright red and Jake looked like he had just put his foot in his mouth as he skulked back towards the grill.

''I was gonna call you this afternoon to tell you, it was sort of a quick decision-'' Bradley tried to explain, but Alice was already moving over to him with her accusatory finger in the air.

''You mean it took you, what, a day to ask her to move in with you, but me, who you've been dating for 8 months, you won't even give a key to?'' Her voice rose higher and louder, and it looked like any wrong move would result in her exploding.

You couldn’t blame her sudden change in mood, or the fact that this Alice was a stark contrast to the Alice you’d met just moments ago. You were the reason for all of this and you felt horrible.

“Is… is your shirt scrunched up? What were you two doing in there?” She growled, her teeth bared.

Bradley shot a glare over to Jake, smoothed out his shirt, and then looked as calmly as possible over at Alice. ''Can we talk inside, please?'' he said under his breath.

Alice huffed as she stormed into the bungalow, shoving past you, and Bradley followed, closing the door behind him. Everyone tried to ignore the hushed whispers and occasional shouting that came through the thin walls.

You took a deep breath and faked a smile as you walked over to Nat and Reuben, opening a bottle of beer and trying to make conversation, however the growing argument in the house made quick work distracting everyone, until you were all silent and just listening.

''Well maybe you should then! It hasn't been working Al, I was going to call you to talk about things later but this has saved me the effort!'' Bradley yelled, and shortly after, you heard the front door slam and everyone jumped.

It took a while for Bradley to come back outside as he collected himself, and when he did Jake shot him an apologetic look. ''Sorry man, I thought she knew.''

''It's okay, honestly things have been tense for a while.'' Bradley breathed, running a hand through his hair. ''Sorry guys, let's not let this put a damper on anything.''

And sure enough, not long after, everyone was back in high spirits, laughing and talking, eating and drinking as the sun began to dip. Occasionally you and Bradley made eye contact for a prolonged amount of time, but you forced your eyes to someone else and made conversation to distract from the intense feeling you felt in your chest every time is eyes burnt into your skin.

After you'd said goodbye to everyone, you began to tidy up. The bungalow was a mess of beer bottles, chip bags and dirty plates, but you welcomed the distraction as you began to clean.

''Hey, you don't need to do that.'' Bradley gently grabbed your arm as you bent to pick up a bottle. You flinched as he did so and Bradley let go, looking at you with concern.

''What was that?'' He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

''Nothing.'' you mumbled, moving inside with your trash bag.

Bradley followed you and closed the back door, ''No, you flinched. Did I hurt you?''

''No, it wasn't you. I hurt my arm a few years ago, it still gives me hassle sometimes.'' you said, placing some plates in the dishwasher.

''It shouldn't still be hurting you, what did you do to it?'' Bradley asked as he began to help you.

''Broke it.'' you mumbled.

Bradley stood suddenly, staring at you in shock.

''Birdy, you're like the least athletic person I know, and you're not exactly clumsy, how did you break your arm?'' He let out an exasperated chuckle.

You lifted your eyes for a second but struggled to maintain eye contact with Bradley. ''I don't really wanna talk about it, Brad.'' you mumbled under your breath as you closed the dishwasher and moved to the sink to wash your hands.

''Y/N...'' Bradleys voice was stern, serious now, and the use of your name had your back up instantly. You shot him a glare and his face softened.

''Please?''

You sighed, drying your hands.

''I didn't break it, someone else did.'' you said simply, turning to face Bradley, your back against the counter top.

''What do you mean?''

You took a deep breath, ''Can you grab me a beer?''

Bradley nodded and walked to the fridge, fishing out two cold ones and opening them before handing you one.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, and then you began.

''After college, I met someone. We worked together and things were going really well, so eventually I moved in with him.'' You took a swig of beer and continued.

''Things were good for a long time after I moved in, we were even getting quite serious, but a little while into the relationship he began to change.'' Your eyes flicked to Bradley for a second, unsure if you should go on, but his expression was soft and you continued.

''It was really little things at first, I wouldn't even really call them red flags, just small things like if I didn't hang his clothes in the right order in his wardrobe, he'd get annoyed, or if a book didn't go back in the exact same spot on the shelf, he'd huff about it. Like I said, so miniscule I really didn't think anything of it.''

Bradley was already beginning to see where your story was going, and he drew in a sharp breath as he watched you cautiously, crossing his arms over his chest.

''Anyway, so we'd been living together a while at this point, and he started to really lose it with the little things. This one time, he accused me of flirting with his best friend when I laughed at his terrible joke - mind you, we were at his friends house, and his wife was right there, she was laughing, I didn’t wanna be rude, but the car ride home was not fun.'' You forced a laugh, realising how pathetic you must have sounded, but you hadn't recognised it as abuse at the time.

Bradley was now biting his thumb nail as he listened.

''There were times where he'd take my phone while I was in the shower, and he'd interrogate me about messages I'd sent my family, and why I wasn't mentioning him enough. He asked me who you were and said he didn't like that I was so comfortable with you. This was even after we fell out of touch for the most part. I didn't realise until a little while after, but he'd blocked your number and deleted it from my phone.'' you stopped for another swig of beer.

Bradley was frowning now, suddenly understanding why he was unable to reach you.

''I wanted to reach out to you another way, any other way, but I kept putting it off for the fear he’d find out and explode. It was stuff like that for a long time, but he started to realise the verbal shit didn't affect me anymore, and then that's when things really started getting bad.'' you held up your wrist and offered Bradley a sad smile.

''What did he do to you, Birdy?'' Bradley asked as he dropped his arm to his side, his eyes dark and his jaw set.

''This particular one was from being thrown down the stairs. I called him a narcissist.'' You chuckled.

Bradley rubbed the back of his head, as he paced around the kitchen.

''What else?'' He asked shortly.

''It doesn't matter, he's been out of my life a long time.'' You were tired of talking about Jacob, it drained you even still.

Bradley spun around and gave you an exasperated look, ''Of course it fucking matters, because I'm gonna need to state my reasons in court after I kill him.'' he growled as he crossed over to you a little too quickly, a little too angrily, and you flinched again.

Bradley stopped dead in his tracks and his face immediately softened.

''No, no I'm so sorry, Birdy I would never hurt you.'' he whispered, moving slower now, more carefully. Your chest felt tight and you took a deep breath as you nodded.

''No I know. Talking about him… it’s just… Brad I trust you more than anyone, even after all these years.” You whispered as you closed the small gap between you, placing a hand on his broad chest. You felt his heart thrumming violently against his chest.

You looked up to meet his eyes, they were soft for you but his jaw was still set and clenched with anger. Bradley had a hard time letting go when something pissed him off, and today was just one thing after another.

Your other hand moved up to his face and you stroked his jaw with your thumb, easing him. Bradley let out a deep sigh as his whole body relaxed.

“About earlier…” you started, but Bradley shook his head and cut you off.

“Don’t you dare say you regret any of it, please.” He chuckled.

“I don’t, but I do think we need to talk… we’ve sort of missed a lot of each others lives.”

Bradley nodded, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

“Yeah, we have all night to ourselves now, we can take it slow.”

_____________________________

Past:

“You’ve reached Bradley Bradshaw, I can’t come to the phone right now, if it’s important leave a message and I’ll get right back to ya.” The line beeped and you sighed.

“Hey Brad, it’s me, again. I guess you're busy right now, I just miss you so gimme a call when you can. Say hi to your mom for me too please.” You hung up and put your phone back in its holder. You lay back down against your bed and sighed.

You'd been in your new town for a little over a month, and you were really struggling without Bradley around.

You made it a nightly routine to call one another before bed, but the last week had been a bit hit and miss. Since you moved Bradley had been spending more of his days with Michelle to pass the time, and as a result had been invited to more parties, gradually becoming one of the popular kids.

He was struggling to find time to call you when you were free and you kept missing one another. The time difference didn't help, when he eventually got home most nights, you'd already been asleep for hours.

There were times when you'd just call Carole to talk for a while, catching up on anything missed. She told you that Bradley was struggling with your absence, but you found that hard to believe now as you lay in bed, having not spoken to Bradley for the last week.

You huffed as the boredom became too much, and almost as if the universe had read your mind, the doorbell rang.

You heard your mom get up from her chair, the familiar sound of her heavy book landing on the coffee table, and she crossed over the hallway to answer the door.

You heard her muffled voice speaking to whoever was at the door, and then you heard her calling your name.

You got up and made your way to the front door, it was blocking the person from view, but your mom smiled at you as you approached.

''Hey sweetheart, you have a visitor.''

Your heart soared, had Bradley come to see you? Was that why he wasn't answering your calls. You grinned and pulled the door open further.

Your smile dropped.

''Hiya, I noticed you moved in a while back, I've been meaning to stop by and introduce myself, I'm Gabby.'' the pretty blond girl smiled as she stuck out her hand, a soccer ball tucked under her other arm.

''Hi, I'm Y/N.'' You forced a smile, but your disappointment was evident.

''Gabby was wondering if you wanted to hang out? You've been cooped up in that room for weeks, why don't you go out and explore the town?'' Your mom suggested, pushing you slightly out the door.

''Oh, I'm waiting for a call from-''

''If he calls I'll give you the message, honey. Go out and have fun.'' she raised her eyebrows at you and gave you an insistent look.

You nodded, and smiled at Gabby again. ''Okay, yeah that sounds fun.''

''Do you like soccer?'' Gabby asked as you both walked down the little street.

''Not really, I'm not into sports much. Prefer reading, or painting.'' you chuckled awkwardly.

''No problem! I'm not very good at arty stuff, but I'm sure we can find something to do. Wanna go to the mall?'' She smiled, bouncing ahead of you and throwing her soccer ball into her own front garden.

You laughed, you liked her already, ''Yeah, okay that sounds fun.''

__________________________

Present:

You'd fallen asleep on Bradley's chest after talking for hours. You delved into the darker side of life after ending things with Jacob.

You told Bradley how you had called the cops on Jacob after he'd pinned you to the ground by your throat one night because you'd argued about something miniscule and you'd actually voiced your opinion for once

What you hadn't realised is that small towns have cliques, and no matter how long you live in a small town for, if you didn't grow up there, you'll never truly be one of them.

It just so happened the chief of police was Jacob's best friend growing up and they'd remained close. The incident had been swept under the rug and after that rumours spread about you to every corner of the town.

You couldn't go grocery shopping without eyes following you, the odd 'whore' or 'liar' being thrown at you as you walked down the streets.

You thought it would eventually calm down, but over the next few years things only escalated and became unbearable when Gabby moved to New York.

When she had told you about the vacancy at her school, you jumped at the opportunity to escape.

''So you've literally only just escaped that hell?'' Bradley had asked. You nodded, craning your head up to look at him from where you lay under his protective arm on the sofa.

''And then I came along and probably just added confusion to all the pain.'' He mumbled.

You chuckled, ''No, actually I think this is exactly what I needed.''

You must have dozed off shortly after, because the next thing you knew you were coming to with Bradley snoring softly above you, his lips pouted perfectly. You admired how beautiful he was for a moment before you carefully got up to use the bathroom.

You gently padded down the hallway and closed the bathroom door, taking a moment to yourself to really think about the absolute whirl wind that was the last 24 hours. You looked at yourself in the mirror and realised how much of a mess you looked, lips swollen from the night of stolen kisses, skin raw from his rough, calloused hands wrapping around your neck. You shivered, and turned the shower on.

Bradley awoke not long after to the sound of the running shower, and an empty arm. He sat up and stretched, checking the time. 4:23am.

He chuckled, only you would shower at this time of night because you felt uncomfortable.

He got up and walked to the bathroom, pressing his ear against the door to make sure you were okay.

The sound he heard surprised him more than it should have.

''Bradley...'' you moaned softly, almost inaudibly.

His eyes widened and he gulped, but pressed his ear closer.

''Yes, oh my god.'' your voice was small, barely a whisper. ''Fuck.''

He wasn't sure what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he was opening the bathroom door quietly.

You hadn't heard him yet, but Bradley could see your faint silhouette through the shower curtain, your hand pressed against the wall to support you as you touched yourself and moaned his name. Even through the curtain he could tell you looked incredible.

Bradley peeled off his shirt, and then his pants and underwear, and the sound alerted you to his presence. You gasped as you spun around, embarrassed and speechless as Bradley pulled back the curtain and you took in his nude form.

He was a god.

You tried desperately to cover yourself, but Bradley just shook his head, and stepped into the shower, his eye contact unfaltering as he backed you up against the cold tile wall. His right hand came to rest on the wall above you as his left cupped your wet face, his thumb skimming your bottom lip.

You moaned as he kissed you, his hand moving to your waist, squeezing you desperately.

You struggled to believe this was the same lanky boy from your childhood, as you felt his hard member press up against you. You shivered against him and Bradley pressed his toned body up against yours, your skin flush with his as you wrapped an arm around his neck and tangled your fingers in his wet hair.

The embarrassment from being caught gradually vanished and turned into pure need. Your tongues tangled desperately as Bradley grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up to wrap around his waist, grinding gently against you.

You gasped, and bucked your hips for more. He grabbed your other leg and hoisted you up against the wall. You wrapped around him as your teeth tugged at his bottom lip. Bradley surged in for another kiss, hungrier this time, and a hand slid from your thigh up over the sensitive skin of your stomach, where he pinned you in place.

''I love you.'' he growled as his other hand moved in between your thighs, expert fingers slid through your soaking lips, his thumb finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and he began to draw rough circles.

You threw your head back, your chest heaving. ''I love you.'' You whined, ''More.'' you demanded. Bradley did as he was instructed, his index finger slipping inside of you. His fingers were so big the stretch from one alone was enough to get you to moan, but when his middle finger entered and he began to pump, you cried out and buried your face in his neck.

Your legs tightened around his waist as he mumbled praises in your ear, and before long you were close to coming undone.

''I need you.'' you cried, and Bradley stopped. He slowly withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean and moaning at your taste before he kissed you again, and you felt his tip slide into you.

This feeling was entirely something else. Something bigger and better than anything you'd experienced in life up until this point, and as he pushed into you, he grunted loudly and your body convulsed at the pure pleasure and adrenaline you felt at being truly connected to Bradley there and then. Bradley held you like a small, fragile thing in his arms as you adjusted to his size, and when you nodded that it was okay to move, Bradley started slowly, gently, his jaw slack and muttering 'fuck' over and over as your tight walls enveloped him.

You bucked into him and his rhythm sped up, as his lips attached to your neck and he sucked bright bruises into your skin to muffle his ungodly groans.

His touch was electric, like fire engulfing your entire body, but you needed more, you had never needed anything like you needed him in that moment.

You rocked together against the wall until the hot water began to turn cold, and goosebumps covered your skin, but still you didn't care, nothing could sully this incredible feeling as your bodies pressed impossibly closer, wet noises growing louder, moans and whimpers and curses echoing through the small room.

''I fucking love you, I'll always fucking love you.'' Bradley grunted into your neck, and your eyes rolled. Your body shook as you fell apart in his arms, the coil snapping and sending you into rolling waves of pleasure like nothing you'd ever felt before.

You screamed his name as you tightened around him, and Bradley couldn't hold on any longer. He bit down on your shoulder as his thrusts became sloppy and rough, his hand gripping the flesh of your ass as he pushed impossibly further in, spilling his pearlescent seed inside you with a loud grunt.

Your body went limp in his arms as your energy was all spent, and Bradley held you up against the wall for a long time, peppering soft, sweet kisses along your face and lips.

You chuckled and Bradley grinned that perfect grin.

''I think you're going to have to carry me out of here, Bradshaw.''

________________________________

-- Part 7 Here --

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