#brain thomas x reader

[maskysluvr]

pleasee . i’ve been thinking abt this everyday since its came out 🥲 .

I just want Brian to pull down my panties, cum in them, lift them back up, and send me on my way. I am down tremendously-

content/warnings: noncon, physical restraint, reader is AFAB and wears panties but no gender is specified, “cunt” and “pussy” used to describe reader’s genitalia, thigh fucking, pervert Brian, no actual penetrative sex, reader gets jumped in the woods, little to no build up/plot it’s just straight into the porn

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

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Without warning you’re suddenly shoved to the ground, a heavy weight coming down on your back to keep you there. You yelp in surprise as you feel a body land on top of yours, pushing you into the dirt and sending a sharp pain through your ribs as they bend beneath the force of two people. 

Your attempt to yell out is swiftly cut short when a gloved hand tangles itself in your hair, gripping it tightly as it muffles your cries with the soft dirt on the forest floor. You can feel the small rocks hidden in the soil leaving scrapes on your cheeks as you thrash.

The stranger’s second hand comes down on your back, grabbing at your waist to pull your ass into the air as he hastily, almost clumsily pulls up the bottom of your shirt. He fumbles with the waistband of your shorts, fingers slipping over your button as the fabric of his glove fights with him. He lets up on your hair for one second just so he can use both hands, violently yanking at the fasten of your jeans until it surrenders to his efforts with a harsh ripping sound. He pulls your zipper down so fast it nearly breaks, and even quicker still he’s jerking your shorts down your hips and then your thighs. You’re only allowed to lift your head long enough to cough and spit, wincing at the feeling of dirt in your teeth. You manage to turn and look back at your attacker for only a split second before your face is back against the ground. You whimper against the earth as the sight of the hooded man flashes before your eyes. 

You swear that you can hear him chuckle under his breath at the squeal that crawls up your throat as you feel him pulling eagerly at your panties. You thrash against him as much as you can, but despite your best efforts the pressure on your head and back keeps you disoriented. It’s clear what he wants, though; he lets up just a bit when you sit still. You’re tiring yourself out fast, and you both know it.

You shiver when your panties are pulled down to your knees, resting against the ground and exposing your delicate cunt to the eyes of this aggressive pervert. He smiles under his mask, an expression of absolute debauchery hidden behind black fabric and a sewn on red frown that’ll be burned into your memory forever. 

The strangled noise you let out when you feel him rut against your waiting pussy through his jeans is mortifying. The denim and its metal button are harsh against your sensitive flesh as the stranger practically humps you like a wild dog, hard on twitching in his pants. You can hear him huffing through his mask, breathing heavily through the gaps in his gritted teeth. He’s desperate, nearly rabid with need for a reason that’s beyond you. 

You freeze when you hear him fumble with his zipper, gloved knuckles brushing your back as he struggles with only thing keeping him restrained. A heavy gasp makes your body shake when you suddenly feel the already leaking tip of his cock brush against your thigh. 

“W-Wait, don’t—!” You stammer, thrashing even harder in his grip with the last of your energy. He shushes you harshly, fingers tightening harshly in your hair as a warning. 

“Don’t be so loud,” He whispers, “You’re fine. I ain’t gonna hurt ya unless you make me…” 

You squeak in surprise when his cock slides between your trembling thighs. You instinctively squeeze your legs together, only to cringe when he moans in response. He lets out a shuddering sigh of pleasure as he repositions himself over you, finally releasing your hair only to pin your hands down, wrapping your body in his to keep you still as he starts to thrust. The noises that are pulled from your throat every time he pushes forward are viscerally humiliating, especially the way your voice cracks when his shaft just barely brushes your clit, not once threatening to break through your entrance but taking horrid delight in using it for his own pleasure. He’s shameless in the noise he makes, huffing and groaning in your ear and cursing under his breath every time he moves. 

He barely keeps a steady pace, his desperation becoming apparent with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitch against your thighs as it slides between them, able to feel every vein that runs up the side, all of them pumping hard and fast with adrenaline and primal need. You shudder to think what it would’ve felt like had he decided to use your hole instead.

“H-Haah…you’re…g-getting wet,” He growls in your ear, as though it’s an insult. It may as well be. You whine and turn away from him, biting your lip and ignoring the fact that you can feel yourself soaking his cock and it slides against your cunt. 

You can feel him starting to tremble, and you know in an instant he won’t last much longer. You suck in a breath, silently hoping whatever he chooses to do won’t leave a mess on your back or thighs. You won’t be able to deal with it until you’ve made the trek all the way back down the trail. 

“Gonna…g-gonna cum—“ He whispers through gritted teeth. His hands squeeze around yours, grip getting tighter and tighter, almost to a painful degree as he chases his release with reckless abandon. He’s staring to lose whatever little bit of restraint he has left, and fast. 

All at once his resolve collapses, guttural noises of pleasure falling from his lips as his hips slam erratically against you. He barely manages to choke out one last word of warning before suddenly he stops, cock head barely nestled between your thighs as his entire body tenses and shakes with the force of an orgasm that nearly makes him cry out. He barely manages to strangle the sound before it leaves his throat, cock twitching as it releases hard and fast. You cringe in anticipation of feeling the sticky warmth trail down your thighs, but the sensation never comes. After a few moments you sigh, relieved to have been granted this one small mercy. 

You’re too dazed and dizzy to move when he finally gets up off of you. You stay on the ground despite your humiliating position, and despite the wicked chuckle your attacker allows to slip. 

His boots crunch on the ground, and for a moment you think he’s just going to walk away, leave you here to take care of yourself. Then you feel your panties being slid back up your thighs. You can only be confused for a moment before you’re struck with the uncomfortable feeling of your warm, soaking panties squeezing around the mound of your cunt. The substance is thick and unbearably sticky, not to mention far too much for it to have come from you, especially without an orgasm. 

You flinch and squeal as he fastens your shorts back in place around your waist, tightly keeping your panties in place and making sure you can’t escape the feeling of his cum soaking your pussy and threatening to stain your jeans. 

He stands back up, buttoning his jeans and adjusting his pants a bit before shoving his hands back in the pocket of his faded yellow hoodie. He’s silent for a moment, admiring his work with a hidden smirk spread across his face. 

“Better get walkin’, sweetheart,” He teases, toe of his boot nudging your pussy through your shorts, “It’s a loooong way home.”

[laroserie]

i love the idea of joining the batfam by dating bruce, but can you imagine how awkward it must be ?

like you are dating bruce, you most probably know he is batman (he couldn't date seriously someone and never tell them) which is like a huge thing, you probably knew each others for at least 5 years and dated for at least 2 before you even step foot in his house and even then ! you still have never meet any of his adopted kids, he always has a way of avoiding The meeting.

of course - you know who his kids are, bruce is ... literally the it guy of gotham, you very much know the names and faces of his family - but that's it (now if you know their vigilantes identities is different story)

the question is, are they aware of your existence ? (of course alfred is aware; that out of the question, he followed to development of yours and bruce relationship from a to z)

going more for a no, not at the start, bruce has this clumsy dumb bilionaire personality but he probably could not like for you to receive media attention because he doesn't wish for your privacy to be intruded upon because you are dating (now there may have been one instance where the paparazzi took a picture of you and him together, but they could only see you from the back, or your face wasn't visible for whatever reason). they probably learnt about your existence very late into your relationship with bruce, and it's surely by accident, like, one of them see a message from you to bruce (and it's something probably something very cheesy) when he left it somewhere by inadvertence. and depending on who see that, they either fully open bruce's phone (sorry but they all know his phone password, bruce isn't aware of that tho) and read your conversation or they find some others way to have access to his messages with you (that isn't so blatant).

they for sure, do an 'emergency' meeting about it (dick and damian were the two that really wanted to do one, the rest probably don't care that much at that time, they probably think you are just the fling of the month for bruce - well usually the fling of the month is not that ... cheesy with him ? in their messages, and the conversations aren't usually that long ... nor do they go back that much. but whatever ! they do suddenly notice that it's been a while, since, well the last fling of the month of bruce but, it must just be a coincidence) which end up with them keeping tabs on you, just in case

now, you meeting them could happen in two way

either they are the one to meet you first - they don't want to wait for bruce to formally introduce you to them - or them to you. the one that 'lead' this is for sure damian, he is determinate to find out your intention with his father (and fight you), dick will lie and say he is just there to make sure everything go 'well' but he is just genuinely very curious about you and the fact that you are dating bruce - this can go for most of them, tho cass and tim are probably the one that are the most reticent to meeting you ? but nevertheless, they still are here, because they for sure won't let damian and dick have all the 'fun'. now jason, is probably also coming for the shit and giggle.

or you meeting them could happen because of bruce - deciding that it's finally time you meet his kids, so he invite all of them to dinner telling them he was someone he wants them to meet, and telling you explicitly that he wants you to meet his family (and the people that are part of his family but aren't family family) - of course, he could talk about it with you first, he could never force you into that. the meet - dinner, probably do not go in the way bruce hoped for it to go (but truth be told, he wasn't expecting it to go the way he wished it did). it's not awful, nothing bad happen. it's just awkward. one of them (probably jason) let slip that they already knew about you - damian make it very clear that he doesn't accept you (and dick has to try to diffuse the situation and tell you that damian is just joking - damian is not joking and he gives a death glare to dick), tim probably do not say anything of half of the dinner before asking you a weird question about something he should have no information about (like what's up with one of your weird habit / quirk), cass is just silent - she assess you for the entirety of the dinner (she conclude by the end of it that you quite a nice person and that she likes you quite a bit), duke is very kind and is very polite with you (he is a bit apprehensive and isn't sure why he is there but he figures it's because bruce wanted to have at least one regular person treating you normally - dick is too ... enthusiastic for that role)

at the end of said dinner, when bruce is driving you home, it's probably the most silent ride home you have ever experienced. until you burst out laughing - the dinner was probably the funniest shit you experienced. it felt like it came straight out of a shitty tv show with 14 seasons. sure it was very much awkward but still funny ! you reassure bruce that it was fine, though you could have liked a warning.

and ... you can add a yandere twist on it, and i love yandere so ... . some of them (tim and cass and probably dick) could start developing yandere tendencies when they learn of your existence ( and keep 'tab on you' aka stalks you and learn everything they can about you ), the others (damian and jason + eventually steph and duke even though they are probably some of waaay lesser yandere-y yandere) could start becoming like that after they finally meet you in person. damian could be the one to take the most or less time to become attach on you, it depend, but he could go thru a big phase of 'i refuse for you to replace talia, my mother, therefor i will despite your entire existence' but if you try to get closer to him, this phase will end very soon and his barrier melt away, if you want to let him take his time to accept you, the result will be the same but damian will try to make up for the time he hated you.

and of course, yandere bruce could be so happy for you to like / get to know and get closer to his family, and that's one more way he can tie you to him !

[love-toxin]

The way you write Tommy is just UUGH

I just wanna pin him down and ride him until he has nothing left to give :((( like gimme his chunky babies!! 😭🙏

oh noooooooo........my gears are turning......tommy with an obsessed s/o that wants to bump uglies constantly......MMMRRRROOWWWW!!!

he's so flattered, but so edgy about it cause momma can't overhear him engaging in premarital sex!!! especially not the type you like where it's just messy and raw and rough and you leave spit and slick everywhere, all over his hairy chest and his lap and your clothes. you have to do it in the barn in the hayloft and its STILL loud, still so sloppy he has to carry you in the house just so none of his family notice the dark stains on your clothes.

but can he complain? no. cause you're the only one who's ever seen him as a man and not just a mistake, and it's not like he doesn't like seeing you so needy all the time. you could be doing this to any other guy but you wanna do it to him--him! a nobody, a wretched defect like him! you must be an angel. or maybe you're a devil cause you fuck as nasty as one. he loves the scrape of your nails through his hair as you drag them down his sweaty chest, when you're perched like a pretty sculpture on his lap. his thighs jiggle every time you bounce on it--his cock, that's what you call it--and you can't help but grip them, squeeze them for balance but also cause you just love the feel of him everywhere. his belly doesn't bother you nor does the grime and sweat caking his skin, nor the dirt under his fingernails or his maddening, untrimmed bush that radiates out to his thighs like a curly black cloud.

it doesn't matter if he's been working in the slaughterhouse all day, shoveling pig shit, or doing any of his other messy chores. when you give him that look like you wanna eat him right up, he's completely at your mercy and he loves every fucking minute of it. you look at him like he's a piña colada in the desert and you'll die if you don't get a sip.

and that's before you start getting hit with baby fever. suddenly, almost out of the blue, you're picking through baby clothes in the trunks upstairs and finding old rattles and toys that are barely holding together. Tommy's baby bottles that Luda Mae kept and never threw away cause she could never bear to part with her sweet baby's things, even after he'd grown up and out of them. it's the sentiment that really gets you and then you're stuck thinking about babies, not just about what Tommy was like when he was that young, but what your babies together might look like. would they have his nice dark hair? his height? would they be hardworking and loyal like he is? would they be so committed to their family they would...

well, that part isn't important right at the moment. you're more concerned with making the babies than anything else--that's the fun part, after all. you keep dropping hints here and there but it's when Tommy finds you sewing together a stuffed bear he loved as a boy that he really starts thinking. you're so gentle with it. you clean him up and polish his little button eyes and patch up a hole on the arm where Hoyt 'accidentally' burned it with a cigarette while he was drunk. you put him back together and he looks almost brand new, newer than when he first had it and Luda Mae tenderly plucked it out of the dumpster to give to him for his birthday.

he gets it then. that night is deplorable when you two sneak out to the barn. Tommy's just as riled up as you are and when you realize he's not just fucking you for pleasure--this time, he's fucking to breed--your sobs and choked-up squeals have to be muffled by his thick fingers stuffed in your mouth. he hooks them and drags your face closer to his chest for you to suffocate between his pecs, cause he needs both hands to grip your waist and jam you down on his cock like he's shoving a cork back in a wine bottle. you're just so little compared to him and such a tight squeeze, he can't help getting a little rough when he wants in! it's just prepping you for birth. you're gonna need to squeeze out plenty of kids for him after this, and with his size? they're gonna be little monsters to try and deliver, just like he was.

but you love him and that's why you're doing this. that's why you let his nuts drag down your ass on every deep, near-painful thrust, and why you let him beat your cunt like he hates you when there's nothing but pure love and possessiveness in his eyes. that's why, when you squirm to get away, he knows you don't really mean it and slams your hips back down for you to howl like a cat in heat. that's why he can't let you sleep until sunrise, when you're half-conscious and spasming with leg twitches, cause the seed pooling in your tummy hasn't stopped leaking out from every time he's planted his roots into your squishy womb. he's gotta make sure it takes just in case you change your mind. once you get pregnant, then you really are part of the family--you'll be a Hewitt just like all the rest of them, birthing the next generation of Hewitts to keep the family roots strong <3

[cyberghouleo]

proxy twitter au part 3

part 1 part 2 part 4

[auroreliis]

Platonic batfam (or romantic, if you prefer). With darling who's English language not native. And theynot take a words in English like Their native language, Not entirely. Would insisted Bruce what batkid (any age, sure) call he "father" but on the Their (Her/His) native language? If he will know what They don't make the meaning same, like for he and batboys (and girls)? I mean, I would easily call someone "father" or "brother" exactly in English even if I don't perceive them as such, because it's not father-Father for me. How about others? Maybe batfam take it as an opportunity for to get close to darling, to teach Them to better perceive English and them in this context. And also. What about darling who swears in his native language (switches to his native language when angry/annoyed). Conversely, They calls those They like with nice nicknames in his native language, for example, Alfred (the cat and the original), Duke, probably girls.

L🍑

Yes! Absolutely, they would take this chance to get closer to you!!!

Bruce is your dad, therefore you must refer to him as such. He really doesn’t care in which language, as he either speaks it or will speak it soon, so go right ahead and speak your native language.

While the Batfam speaks English fluently, they will not force you to learn it. In fact, they’d rather force themselves to learn YOUR language (…if they don’t speak it already, that is)

However, if he heard you admit that you only call him dad in English, because it feels less personal, he would be stumped. I mean, he can’t just force you to switch your language, what would that change? Though he would certainly find ways to ensure you truly think of him as your father, he just needs to figure out how…

Also, swearing is strictly forbiden according to Bruce and Dick. You’re their little angel, the light of their lives, so you will NOT be heard using such profanities, no matter which language you speak.

Jason doesn’t give enough fucks to snitch, but if you went overboard, he would tell you to watch it.

Tim is the biggest snitch ever. Do not break ANY rules in his proximity, you will regret it.

Damian, like Bruce and Dick, prefers it when you use polite and gentle language. You’re like a blossom, blooming in the sunlight, such disgusting and vile words should not be coming from you, so watch it.

Duke would kind of freeze if you swore around him. He, ever so loyal to Bruce, cannot let this fly, but…imagining the scolding you’d get makes him feel bad. Besides, you’d never forgive him if he snitched, right? Fine, he’ll endure it, despite how uncomfortable it makes him feel. The things we do for love, huh?

Stephanie is so cool, because she’s rebellious enough to not snitch on you, but also obedient enough to not get into trouble with Bruce (…at least not THAT often). Hence why she not only ignores your swearing, but also swears with you! Not in front of Bruce, though. He would scold you both.

Cassandra has it tough. She obviously doesn’t want to snitch on you or forbid you from speaking your mind, but sometimes, your words, or specifically your use of those words in her proximity, make her feel a bit disrespected. You shouldn’t use such words in the proximity of someone who is older than you, that’s what she was taught.

Barbara is a mix of Dick’s and Steph’s attitude. Most of the time, she doesn’t care, but if your words are directed at anyone from the family, she’s telling Bruce to reprimand you right away.

In short, be careful of what you do and who is nearby when you do it.

Oh and, you have a nickname for someone specific? You won’t hear the end of it (in a positive way…mostly). They won’t leave you alone, they won’t shup up and they won’t stop bragging about how they clearly must be the favourite because their nickname is the more affectionate one, or their nickname is used more often, etc.

Truly a delusional bunch.

[axolotl4days]

Batfam fans i promise I'm gonna post part 2 to the "batman Dead Daughter" story soon (I intended to post it after the first part but I keep getting distracted and haven't finished writing it)(i have adhd and autism and I've never actually posted my story ideas before-)

However, part of why I haven't is i accidentally started thinking of a completely different story-

And it's so much angstier, and I haven't decided if i want to actually write it or if it lives in my head forever

It takes some slight inspiration from the "little misfortune" game, but tbh the most it takes is the name Misfortune

Side note:I have no fucking clue how old any of the characters actually are in canon, so for this it's just going off age order rather than numbers the reader would be in between Tim and Damian age wise but thats about it

Anyways here's the idea lemme know if anyone would be interested in reading it

The basic premise:

Backstory: The reader was adopted by the bat at the age of like 6 or 7 after the bat found reader just kinda... wandering Gotham one night covered in dirt and dried blood, when asked about their parents the reader just stays silent so bats like "Well I guess i have a new kid" because what else do you do? Takes the kid homes, cleans em up, and gifts them a scarf to try to gain their trust (he noticed reader kept covering their neck, he sees a pretty nasty scar but doesn't push reader to talk about it)

And the story would basically be the bat siblings realizing they don't know where reader came from (not even tim knows and he knows like, everything about his siblings cause it's tim)

And they don't ask because they're detectives they can figure it out right? But then they start to notice certain behaviors, subtle things that wouldn't normally raise alarm bells for anyone

But they don't get anywhere and after a few incidents (aka moments where they see reader experience ptsd but don't know what caused it) they decide to ask (I have an idea where they don't ask upfront but try to do the thing where they're all talking about their backstories so it doesn't feel so confrontstional) and reader very casually drops a lore nuke and tries to brush it off like it's nothing because "it happened a long time ago I'm fine" (spoiler alert, they are not fucking fine)(i want them to violently start sobbing while telling the story and they don't even realize it until one of the others points it out) and shenanigans ensue as they learn just how not fine they are :D

Because the story has only been in my head I've got a bunch of alternating scenes and plot line ideas so it's hard ti describe what it exactly is about but it mske sense in my head

This one would have a lot of mention to heavy child abuse, death, and other stuff, but apparently I'm sadistic cause I can't stop thinking about it

Depending how it goes it could be considered platonic yandere batfam but it'd get their gradually, but I haven't decided yet

[smolvenger]

Okay, got out my whole thoughts about Thomas Sharpe being abused and trauma dumped and boy howdy, do I need some levity :'')

I got a new idea featuring our Big Tiddy Goth Boyfriend/husband/meow meow!

Reader's sister is engaged to marry Thomas Sharpe so that their family can join a baronacy and he can enjoy some of their money. But Reader's sister is a Spirited Young Lady (tm) who doesn't want to! So the sister runs away and ruins everything! But the family needs the marriage to happen...so Reader agrees to take her sister's place. She and Thomas enter an arranged marriage.

But they genuinely start to fall for each other. Oh no!!! ;)

Would y'all like that?

[geeky-politics-46]

The inexplicable urge to write a Tommy Shelby story and title it "Save A Horse, Ride A Gangster" is strong.

Also, forget Red Right Hand. The theme song in my head is Pony by Ginuwine. I don't know why my brain has latched onto the horse riding thing so much with him.

It's also troubling to me that I find Arthur hot. I only slightly blame @call-sign-shark for fueling my fire for Arthur. Like he's a walking neon red flag. May have to try to work those issues out in a story for him too. At the very least, my therapist would be disappointed in me.

[macabrelinguine]

I’m here bc I keep coming back to ur blog bc it’s so good and I can’t get enough. Could you write how the four main marble hornets boys would react to finding out their partner has been stalking them . Like I imagine it’s bc of the operator:) thank you

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH. You guys are so niceeee

Tim - Absolutely the fuck not. He is NOT about this. He is tired, scared, and he doesn’t need another point of stress. He’ll probably just ask you to stop at first, and if you continue he’ll have a dilemma. He loves you, obviously. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But if you don’t stop then that’s another problem. He’ll end up bringing you to therapy, probably, or at least trying to get you some help. He knows this isn’t on purpose, and he strives to find peaceful solutions.

Jay - My guy will just straight up start crying. Not sobbing, but quiet, barely noticeable tears will fall down his face. He trusted you! He isn’t mad or anything he’s just scared. He doesn’t trust you anymore, which makes him even more sad. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this. Maybe it’s not the best decision, and he’s definitely going to regret it later, but he cuts you off. If you can’t stop, he’ll just call the police. While giant monsters aren’t going to find their way into a police report, stalking is.

Brian - He’s more mellow about it. You’re stalking him? Cool! Stop it right now. He doesn’t support this at all, but he’s too tired to deal with this. “Just, like…stop” He won’t do anything too drastic, at the very most he’ll yell at you about it. That’s probably not going to happen, because he doesn’t like yelling, but if you keep stalking him after that he’s probably going to cut you off. If you apologize and promise not to do it again he’ll take you back.

Alex - Yeah lol same. He’s stalking you right back, that’s probably how he even found out you were stalking him in the first place. He won’t tell you what he’s doing, but he will in some way let you know he’s caught you. He doesn’t care if you stop, it’s just a little bit annoying. He’s trying to stalk you. He had the idea first. You’re being really unoriginal here. He might scare you a bit with threats of going to the police, but in the end he won’t do it. He doesn’t care what you do as long as he can keep track of you doing it.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Hell on Wheels

Robert Fischer x F! Street Racer

Summary: Robert’s friend decided he needed a little more thrill in his life. He invited him to a street race where he met her.

Wordcount: 6.1k

Warnings:

Guns, cursing, running from the law.

Inspiration: Hot — Smash Mouth!

No, I have no clue why the top of my pictures are weird looking.

Robert Fischer had always been a man of routine and structure, his life meticulously planned down to the finest detail. Yet, tonight was different. His friend, sensing Robert's growing ennui, decided to inject a dose of excitement into his otherwise predictable existence. The suggestion? A night at an underground street race, a stark contrast to the polished boardrooms and elegant soirées Robert was accustomed to.

At first, Robert balked at the idea. The very notion of attending such an event seemed frivolous and beneath him. His friend, however, knew exactly how to pique his interest.

"There's this woman," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief, "She's at the very top of this empire. She runs the show, and trust me, you have to see her in action."

Intrigued by the prospect of a woman leading such a dangerous and male-dominated world, Robert felt a spark of curiosity. He had always admired strength and intelligence, and the thought of witnessing a woman at the helm of such chaos was too compelling to ignore. Despite his initial reluctance, he agreed to go, albeit on his own terms. There was no way he would don the casual, rebellious attire his friend sported. Robert Fischer would attend this event in his suit, a symbol of his identity and a subtle assertion of his place in the world.

As they arrived at the clandestine location, the night air buzzed with anticipation. The roar of engines and the smell of burning rubber filled the air, a stark contrast to the sterile, controlled environments Robert was used to. He felt out of place yet strangely exhilarated. The cars lined up, gleaming under the makeshift lights, each one a testament to power and speed.

But then the gathering was now a hushed an ocean of murmurs and hushed conversations, a sea of humanity eagerly awaiting the start of the evening's event. Robert stood on the outskirts, his eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of curiosity and detachment. He could feel the anticipation hanging in the air, thick and palpable. But then, an unfamiliar sound cut through the chatter, causing a ripple of silence to sweep across the crowd. The distinctive rumble of an engine echoed in the distance, drawing every ear toward it.

The silence was soon replaced by a smattering of cheers and gasps of awe. Robert’s gaze followed the source of the commotion, his curiosity piqued. His friend, sensing his hesitation, grabbed his hand with a firm grip and pulled him forward. The crowd parted before them with an almost reverent precision, like the biblical scene of Moses parting the Red Sea. Robert felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as he was led to the front, his heart pounding in rhythm with his quickening steps.

And then he saw her. She stood out even among the throngs of people, her presence commanding attention with an effortless grace. Her long, dark hair cascaded in curls, framing a face adorned with simple yet striking piercings. Her ears were similarly decorated, a testament to her individual style. Tattoos snaked down her arms, a full sleeve on her left and smaller, intricate designs on her right. She was tall, statuesque, easily standing at 6'1", her height adding to her imposing yet captivating presence.

Robert's breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the crowd fading into an indistinct blur. He was transfixed, his mind racing to process the sheer intensity of her appearance. There was a raw, unfiltered beauty about her, something that defied conventional standards. She was not merely attractive; she was a force of nature, an embodiment of confidence and individuality that was both intimidating and alluring.

As she moved through the crowd, it was as if she had her own gravitational pull, drawing eyes and attention effortlessly. Robert felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic attraction that compelled him to step closer. He could sense the electricity in the air, the subtle shifts in the crowd's mood as she passed by. It was a rare moment, one where the mundane was eclipsed by the extraordinary, and Robert found himself caught in the thrall of it.

His friend, ever the observant one, nudged him gently. "She's something, isn't she?" the friend whispered, a note of admiration in his voice. Robert could only nod, words failing him. He watched as she smiled at those around her, a genuine, disarming smile that contrasted sharply with her edgy appearance. It was a smile that hinted at stories untold, at depths of character hidden beneath the surface.

As she approached him, Robert felt a rush of nervous anticipation. She met his gaze, her eyes holding a mixture of curiosity and amusement. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

“You’re a bit over dressed for this little ol’ race I got going on here, don’t yah think?”

Robert looked her up and down after she commented that he was overdressed for such a simple activity. But it wasn’t a simple occasion; street racing could be life or death, but she always walked the line of death. She tangoed with the devil. But eventually she left him alone with his friend to go watch the rest of the races.

Race after race unfolded, the crowd growing more frenzied with each passing moment. Robert watched with a mixture of fascination and detachment, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived. The big finale. The woman his friend had spoken of stepped forward, her presence commanding the attention of all around her. She knew Robert was watching and yet he still was all tight..nothing was loose about him.

She was everything his friend had described and more. Confident, composed, and radiating an aura of authority, she walked toward her car with the grace of a queen. Robert couldn't take his eyes off her. She exuded power, not just from the control she wielded over the event, but from the respect and fear she commanded from those around her.

She spoke in a low and sultry voice, making him lock eyes with her. He had to look up quite a lot. “How about you join me, eh? You look too tight, loosen up a bit.”

Robert glanced at his friend, who returned a look that basically said if he didn’t take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he would. So Robert agreed. She smiled heartily and outstretched her hand, offering it.

“Come on, princess~”

The night air was thick with anticipation and the scent of gasoline, the streetlights casting an otherworldly glow over the scene. Robert's pulse quickened as he followed her to the sleek, midnight-black ZL1 Camaro. The car was a masterpiece of modern engineering, its aggressive stance and aerodynamic lines evoking a predatory grace. It seemed to pulse with latent power, a beast waiting to be unleashed. As he approached the Camaro, he could hear the low growl of its supercharged 6.2-liter V8 engine, a sound that promised both speed and raw, unadulterated power. The hood bore the iconic "ZL1" badge, a mark of its supremacy among muscle cars. Every detail of the vehicle, from its sculpted front fascia to its quad exhaust outlets, spoke of its capability to dominate the asphalt.

She opened the driver's side door with a fluid motion, the interior lights casting a soft glow on the Recaro performance seats, which hugged the body like a second skin. The dashboard was a blend of advanced technology and classic muscle car aesthetics, with a heads-up display that projected critical information onto the windshield. As Robert settled into the passenger seat, he marveled at the meticulous craftsmanship and the tactile pleasure of the suede-wrapped steering wheel and shifter.

"Ready to see what this baby can do?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Robert nodded, feeling a mixture of trepidation and excitement. The engine roared to life with a guttural growl that sent vibrations through his entire body. She revved the engine a few times, the Camaro responding with a throaty roar that echoed off the surrounding buildings, a symphony of power and aggression. The street was lined with spectators, their faces lit by the eerie glow of neon lights and the flicker of smartphone screens. The air crackled with tension as the racers lined up, engines revving in a cacophony of mechanical fury. She positioned the Camaro at the starting line, the rear tires squealing as they found purchase on the asphalt.

"Hold on tight," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thunderous growl of the engine.

The signal was given, and she floored the accelerator. The Camaro leapt forward with a ferocity that pinned Robert to his seat, the supercharger's whine rising to a banshee wail as the tires screamed in protest. The acceleration was brutal, a surge of raw power that blurred the world around them into a streak of lights and shadows. Robert's heart raced as they barreled down the narrow streets, the Camaro's suspension soaking up the undulations with precision. She shifted gears with expert timing, each shift accompanied by a visceral jolt of speed. The exhaust note was a symphony of pops and crackles, a testament to the Camaro's high-performance tuning.

As they approached a sharp corner, she deftly executed a controlled drift, the rear tires breaking loose in a controlled slide that sent the car skimming around the bend. The g-forces pressed Robert against the side of his seat, but she handled the car with an almost supernatural ease, her movements fluid and instinctive. The finish line loomed ahead, a strip of asphalt bathed in the glow of headlights and the flicker of flames from makeshift torches. She glanced at Robert, a triumphant smile playing on her lips, and then pushed the Camaro to its limits. The car responded with a final surge of power, crossing the finish line with a roar that reverberated through the night.

As they slowed to a stop, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Robert realized he had been holding his breath. She turned to him, her eyes alight with victory and exhilaration.

"Now that," she said, her voice a husky whisper, "is how you loosen up."

Robert couldn't help but smile, his previous reservations melting away in the wake of the night's thrill. He had tasted a world far removed from his carefully controlled existence, a world where danger and excitement intertwined, and he found himself craving more. For the first time in a long while, Robert felt truly alive. The night stretched on, filled with the sounds of cheering, the scent of gasoline, and the indelible image of a woman who had shattered his expectations and stirred something deep within him.

Robert had always considered himself a man of composure, unruffled by the chaos of life. But tonight, at the underground street race, he was faced with a different kind of disorder. The races had been exhilarating, a whirlwind of speed and skill, but now he found himself amidst a confrontation that tested his patience and beliefs. As the final race concluded, it became evident that sore losers were a common breed in this world. Robert watched with a mix of disbelief and annoyance as a particularly vocal racer, his face twisted with rage, hurled accusations at the reigning champion—a woman who had dominated the track with unparalleled prowess.

"It's fucking bullshit! She wins every single damn time! It's rigged, I tell ya!" the man bellowed, his voice dripping with misogyny and frustration.

Robert observed the woman at the center of the storm. She chuckled, a sound laced with amusement and disdain. She knew what this was—a pathetic attempt to undermine her success because she had dared to excel in a domain where men thought they reigned supreme.

With a confident smile, she cracked her knuckles, the gesture a clear signal of her readiness to handle whatever came her way. "If you think it’s rigged," she spoke up, her voice carrying a calm authority, "then why do you even bother with the races?"

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "You’re a fuckin’ punk," she said, pausing to let the words sink in. She scanned the crowd, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "So where the fuck you at, punk?!"

“It’s all about the he-say, she-says bullshit”. She said.

But as he stood amidst the chaos of the street race, watching the woman pull a Smith & Wesson Model SW1911 from her waist pocket, he felt a chill run down his spine. She moved with a fluidity that spoke of experience, her every action calculated and deliberate. Without a moment's hesitation, she aimed the gun at the man who had been taunting her, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "I think you better quit, letting shit slip," she commanded, her tone cold and unwavering.

Robert watched in stunned silence as she fired, the shots shattering the racer's driver and passenger windows with a deafening crash. The air was thick with tension, the crowd holding its collective breath as the dust and shards of glass settled. She turned to face the gathered throng, her eyes blazing with fury and defiance. "Your best bet is to stay away, motherfuckers," she declared, her voice echoing with authority. Her presence was magnetic, a force that demanded respect and fear in equal measure.

Robert's heart raced as he took in the scene, his mind grappling with the reality of what he had just witnessed. The woman, this formidable figure who had captivated his interest, had just demonstrated a level of ruthlessness he hadn't anticipated. Yet, despite the violence, there was an undeniable allure to her power and confidence. As she paused, her breath coming in heavy bursts, she issued her final challenge. "Anyone... next in line to get fucked up!?" Her voice, though strained, carried an edge of deadly seriousness.

Robert knew he was witnessing something extraordinary. He could see the fear in the eyes of those around him, the way they recoiled from her wrath. But there was also a grudging admiration, a recognition of her dominance in this world of speed and danger. He found himself stepping forward, not out of bravery, but out of a deep-seated need to understand the enigma before him. His eyes locked with hers, and he saw not just the rage, but a flicker of something deeper—pain, perhaps, or a history of battles fought and won.

"Miss," he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him, "I think we all understand your message. But tell me, what drives someone like you to take such risks?"

She regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and caution, her grip on the gun unwavering. "Maybe it's the same thing that brought you here, in a suit," she replied, her voice softening just a fraction. "A thirst for something real, something that makes you feel alive."

The woman in front of him, having just holstered her gun, was breathing heavily, a mixture of adrenaline and irritation evident in her eyes. Robert's offhand comment, meant to defuse the tension, had clearly missed the mark.

"How 'bout you... I don’t know... back the fuck up and shut the fuck up, pretty boy?" she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration

For a moment, Robert was taken aback, his eyebrows rising in surprise. He wasn't accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, especially by someone who seemed so ready to challenge him. The initial shock quickly gave way to his characteristic stubbornness. But tonight, as he stood amidst the chaos of the underground street race, he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The woman who had captivated his attention with her commanding presence and undeniable allure was now standing before him, her eyes locked onto his with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Her words were a direct challenge, laced with both amusement and a hint of provocation. Robert felt a flush of embarrassment and irritation rise within him. He wasn't accustomed to being put on the spot, especially not in such a blunt manner. But there was something about her—the confidence, the audacity—that made him want to rise to the occasion.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his posture and met her gaze with a steady, unwavering look. "I assure you," he began, his voice calm and measured, "I have spoken to many women. But I must admit, none quite like you."

Her smirk widened into a genuine smile, and she took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Well, that's a start," she said, her tone softening slightly. "But if you want to keep up, you're going to have to do better than that."

Robert felt a spark of determination ignite within him. This was a game, a dance of wits and words, and he was not one to back down. "I'm a quick learner," he replied, allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps you can teach me a thing or two." Her laughter was warm and genuine, a sound that cut through the noise of the racing cars and the crowd. "I like you," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "You've got potential. Just don't let that suit of yours hold you back."

As the woman smiled and asked for his hand, Robert felt a wave of reluctance wash over him. He extended his hand tentatively, unsure of what was to come. She took his hand in hers with a soft, gentle motion, her touch surprisingly warm against his skin. Robert watched intently as she searched through her back pockets, then her front pockets, a look of mild frustration crossing her features when she couldn't find what she was looking for.

With a quick glance around, she called out, "Aye! Who's got a pen?!" Her voice cut through the chatter of the crowd, drawing the attention of those nearby. Robert noticed a spark of excitement in some of the men's eyes, their interest piqued by her request.

The hunt for a pen began in earnest, everyone in the vicinity now on the lookout for the elusive writing instrument. After a few moments, a middle-aged man triumphantly produced a pen, holding it out to her. She caught it swiftly, her movements fluid and confident. With a deft motion, she removed the cap with her teeth, a gesture that sent a thrill down Robert's spine despite himself. With the cap now in her mouth, she proceeded to write her phone number on Robert's hand, her touch sending a tingling sensation through him. He watched as she handed his hand back to him, the ink still wet on his skin. She then took the pen cap out of her mouth, wiping it off before signing her name on it. The sight was oddly intimate, and Robert couldn't help but feel a surge of attraction towards this enigmatic woman.

She tossed the pen cap back to the man who had provided it, a casual yet somehow alluring gesture. Robert's mind raced with possibilities, his imagination running wild with thoughts of what could come next. He knew he should be wary, that this woman could be trouble, but he found himself unable to resist her charm.

The street race had been an unexpected revelation for Robert Fischer, a night of raw energy and untamed excitement that stood in stark contrast to the meticulously controlled world he inhabited. As the final race concluded, the woman who had dominated the main event from the middle of the night stood victorious, her presence an intoxicating blend of power and allure. Robert watched her, transfixed, as she moved through the throng of admirers, her confidence unshaken by the chaos around her.

The crowd started to disappear and leave since it was a Sunday and people had work tomorrow. Her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. She was unlike anyone he had ever met—an enigma wrapped in leather and defiance. He felt a pull, an almost gravitational force drawing him toward her, his carefully constructed facade beginning to crack under her unwavering gaze.

"Come on, pretty boy," she said, her voice a sultry challenge that brooked no argument. "Let me take you back to your home."

Robert blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her boldness. He was used to being the one in control, the one who called the shots, but this woman seemed to operate by her own set of rules. Her proposition was as disarming as it was enticing, and he found himself at a loss for words.

"I—" he began, but she silenced him with a knowing smile, one that suggested she already knew what he was going to say.

"Don't overthink it," she advised, her tone a mix of amusement and authority. "Just follow me."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and began to weave her way through the crowd, her movements fluid and assured. Robert hesitated for only a moment before following, his curiosity and intrigue outweighing his reservations. He could hear the murmurs of the crowd as they passed, whispers of surprise and envy that seemed to follow them like shadows.

As they reached the edge of the makeshift racecourse, she led him to a her sleek, black car that seemed to radiate power and elegance. After her races she parks it back here. She opened the passenger door for him with a flourish, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Get in," she commanded, and he obeyed without question, the door closing behind him with a decisive click.

She slid into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life under her expert touch. The car accelerated smoothly, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as they sped away from the chaos of the race. Robert found himself captivated by her presence, his usual guarded demeanor slipping away in the face of her undeniable magnetism.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically tentative.

She glanced at him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Does it matter?" she countered, her tone teasing yet enigmatic. "Names are just labels, after all."

He frowned, unsure how to respond. "It matters to me," he insisted, his curiosity piqued by her evasiveness.

She sighed, as if indulging a child's question. "You can call me _______," she said finally, her eyes returning to the road ahead. "But don't get too attached. This isn't a fairy tale."

Robert studied her profile, trying to discern the layers of mystery that surrounded her. "And what exactly is this, then?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

She laughed softly, the sound both bitter and amused. "This is reality, Robert," she said, emphasizing his name as if to remind him of his place. "It's messy and unpredictable, and it doesn't always follow the rules."

He felt a shiver of unease at her words, the truth of them hitting closer to home than he cared to admit. His life had been anything but simple, and yet, here he was, venturing into unknown territory with a woman who defied all logic and reason. As they drove, the conversation between them ebbed and flowed, each exchange revealing glimpses of the person behind the enigma. Elena was sharp, her wit as quick as her reflexes behind the wheel. She spoke of the thrill of the race, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins with every victory, and the unspoken rules that governed her world.

Robert listened, captivated by her stories, his own life seeming pale in comparison. He found himself opening up in ways he hadn't anticipated, sharing snippets of his own experiences and the burdens that came with his name. She listened with a patience that belied her earlier aloofness, her eyes never leaving the road.

"You carry a lot on your shoulders," she observed, her voice softening slightly. "It's a wonder you haven't broken under the weight."

He shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I've come close," he admitted, the admission feeling strangely liberating.

She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The touch was brief, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of warmth through him. "You're stronger than you think," she said simply, her eyes meeting his for a moment before returning to the road. They drove in companionable silence for a while, the cityscape giving way to quieter streets and darker corners. Robert found himself lulled by the rhythm of the car and the steady hum of the engine. It was a strange sensation, this mix of excitement and calm, a paradox that mirrored his feelings toward her.

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded townhouse, its façade unassuming yet elegant. She parked the car with a practiced ease and turned to him, her expression unreadable. Robert spoke, "This is my stop," he said, his tone carrying a finality that hinted at an imminent departure.

Robert felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of their encounter coming to an end. "Thank you for the ride," he said, unsure of what else to say.

Her smile was both knowing and enigmatic. "The night's not over yet, pretty boy," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Care to join me for a drink?"

He hesitated, the rational part of his mind warning him of the risks, but the allure of her company proved too strong to resist. "Why not," he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips.

Robert meticulously ordered world was abruptly disrupted by the thunderous roar of a ZL1 Camaro peeling out of his driveway. The car's powerful engine shattered the late night tranquility, leaving a cacophony of barking dogs and waking neighbors up leaving them extremely irritated. He barely had time to register the blur of motion before the car came to its full speed. The driver, a woman who exuded both danger and allure, turned to face him with a smirk.

"It's a good look, pretty boy," she teased, her eyes glinting with a wild energy. "Calm down, baby, just live a little."

Before Robert could protest, she floored the accelerator, sending the car hurtling down the street. The force of the acceleration pressed him back into his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always prided himself on maintaining control, but this situation was quickly spiraling beyond his grasp. The cityscape blurred past them as she maneuvered through traffic with reckless abandon, the Camaro roaring like a beast unleashed. They darted across the interstate and onto the highway, the city's lights reflecting off the car's sleek black paint. Robert's knuckles whitened as he gripped the door handle, his mind racing to catch up with the reality of the situation. He glanced at her, a mixture of fear and fascination in his eyes. Who was this woman who drove with such reckless confidence, and why had he allowed himself to be dragged into this?

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled into the parking lot of a rundown bar on the outskirts of town. The neon sign flickered weakly, casting a ghostly glow over the scene. She parked with precise ease, the Camaro's engine rumbling as it settled into a low idle. Turning to Robert, she gave him a devilish grin.

"Stay inside," she commanded, locking the doors with a swift motion. "I'll be right back."

Before he could argue, she had disappeared into the bar, leaving him trapped in the car. Robert's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the night's events. The woman was a force of nature, and he was caught in her whirlwind. Minutes later, she returned, carrying a massive bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey. She unlocked the door and slid back into the driver's seat, her presence commanding his attention.

"Calm down," she said, noticing the fear in his eyes. "I dance with the devil in racing, but I'm not about drinking and driving, honey."

With a practiced ease, she tossed the bottle into the back seat, catching it just before it could shatter against the leather. The engine roared back to life as she revved it, the vibrations coursing through the car like a heartbeat. She sped out of the parking lot, weaving in and out of traffic with a deftness that left Robert breathless. Each near-miss sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins, the line between fear and exhilaration blurring with every turn.

Suddenly, the piercing wail of police sirens shattered the night, jolting Robert from his reverie. Panic flared in his chest as he looked around, trying to discern the source of the flashing lights that now bathed their surroundings in an eerie, flickering glow. It was as if the police had materialized from the shadows, waiting in the darkness to spring their trap. The radio crackled to life, the authoritative voice of the officer commanding them to pull over.

His heart raced, a primal fear gripping him. He glanced at her, expecting to see a trace of concern, but her expression remained calm, almost amused. "Watch this," she said, her voice steady and confident. With a quick, decisive motion, she pressed a button on the console. The transformation was instantaneous. The sleek, vibrant car seemed to absorb the very darkness of the night, its color shifting to an impenetrable black, rendering it nearly invisible in the low light. She shot him a quick glance, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I just covered my license plate," she explained, her tone casual, as if this were just another part of her nightly routine. Robert could hardly believe what he was seeing. The ingenuity and audacity of it all left him momentarily speechless.

The engine roared to life once more, its growl a defiant challenge to the pursuing police car. With a swift movement, she floored the accelerator, and the car surged forward, propelled by raw power and her unyielding determination. Robert was pressed back into his seat, the force of the acceleration stealing his breath. The scenery blurred around them, the city lights melding into streaks of color as they raced through the urban labyrinth. He risked a glance behind them, the police car a distant speck in the rearview mirror, its sirens growing fainter by the second. She maneuvered through the streets with a precision that spoke of years of experience, each turn and swerve executed flawlessly. Robert marveled at her skill, his fear gradually giving way to a grudging admiration.

"You're not going to catch her," he thought, a mixture of relief and awe flooding his mind. The distance between them and the pursuing officer grew with each passing moment. The police car, unable to match their speed and agility, fell further behind until, at last, it disappeared from sight entirely. Robert exhaled a shaky breath, his pulse still pounding in his ears. "You're incredible," he said, his voice tinged with genuine awe. She cast him a sidelong glance, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and pride. "It's not my first rodeo," she replied, her tone light, almost teasing.

They sped through the night, the city gradually giving way to open roads. The tension that had gripped Robert began to ebb, replaced by a sense of exhilaration. He was acutely aware of the woman beside him, her presence a magnetic force that drew him in, compelling him to stay by her side despite the danger. As the adrenaline rush began to subside, Robert found himself reflecting on the night's events. He had come here seeking a thrill, a break from the monotony of his structured life. What he had found was something far more profound—a glimpse into a world of daring and defiance, embodied by this remarkable woman.

They drove in silence for a while, the engine's purr a soothing backdrop to his swirling thoughts. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. "How did you get into this?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "It's a long story," she said, her voice softening. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

He nodded, sensing that there was much more to her than met the eye. The depth of her character, the strength and resilience that had carried her to the top of this perilous world, fascinated him. He wanted to know more, to understand the layers beneath her confident exterior.

They navigated through the city's labyrinthine streets, her driving a dance of precision and chaos. The Camaro moved like a predator, sleek and powerful, its engine growling with every acceleration. Robert's fear gradually gave way to a strange sense of liberation. In this moment, he was free from the constraints of his carefully curated life, thrust into a world where the only certainty was the next heartbeat. Eventually, they arrived at an abandoned parking garage, its concrete structure looming like a forgotten monolith. She drove up to the top floor, the car's tires screeching as they navigated the tight turns. The city stretched out below them, a sea of lights and shadows. She parked with the same precision as before, turning off the engine and leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

"Get out," she ordered, her voice carrying a tone that brooked no argument. She leaned back in the back passenger seats, and grab the bottle of whiskey she got earlier.

Robert obeyed, stepping out into the cool night air. He turned to face her, his mind still reeling from the night's events. She leaned against the car, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that left him breathless. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence thick with unspoken words.

"Why did you bring me here?" he finally asked, his voice a whisper in the vast emptiness of the garage.

She smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile that sent a shiver down his spine. "To show you what it means to live," she replied. "To break free from the chains that bind you and taste the freedom of the unknown." She opened the bottle of whiskey and took a swig then offered him the bottle.

Her words resonated with him, striking a chord deep within his soul. He had spent his life in pursuit of control, of order, yet here he was, standing on the precipice of chaos, and it felt... liberating. The woman stepped closer, her presence a tangible force. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead with a tenderness that belied her wild nature.

"You've been living in a cage, Robert," she said softly. "It's time to break free."

He stared into her eyes, seeing the depth of her conviction. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of something he had thought long extinguished: hope. Hope for a life beyond the constraints of his own making, a life filled with the thrill of the unknown. He smiled a grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a swig then handed it back to her.

“To unexpected adventures," she toasted with the whiskey bottle, her eyes meeting with his.

"To new experiences," he countered.

They drank in silence for a moment, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through him. Robert felt a sense of contentment, a rare feeling in his tumultuous life. He realized that, for the first time in a long while, he was genuinely enjoying himself. As the night wore on, their conversation deepened, touching on topics both profound and trivial. She was a paradox, her demeanor shifting between playful and serious with a fluidity that kept him on his toes. He found himself drawn to her unpredictability, the way she navigated life with a blend of grace and defiance.

Their connection was undeniable, a magnetic pull that seemed to defy logic. Robert felt a strange sense of kinship with her, a bond forged in the shared understanding of living on the edge of societal norms. He knew that their time together was fleeting, a brief interlude in the chaos of their lives, but he was determined to make the most of it.

Robert nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of their encounter coming to an end. "Thank you for tonight," he said, his gratitude genuine.

She smiled, a soft, almost wistful expression. "No, thank you," she replied. "For stepping out of your comfort zone."

He chuckled, the sound both amused and rueful. "I think I needed it more than I realized," he admitted.

Author’s Notes:

Y’all I need to focus on the the ideas I already have down on paper, there’s like 17 drafts in here and haft or already done..fuck me right my big brain man.. Anyways forgive me if anyone is a street racing connoisseur…also I shall make a fucking bougie ass car be hers because she wins a lot of bets because half the men in this group are misogynistic assholes! And I don’t care to look at the rules of street racing because it’s illegal either way, but yeah. An also even bigger and is the reason why I know so much about this car is because a new neighbor just moved in next to us and he has this and I talk to him for about like five hours just cause I was curious. And another also also, there’s 7 Limp Bizkit lyrics in here lol!Love yah! Toodles!

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: strangergraphics-archive

[carmensbrain]

🌟seize the sol, as they say!🌟

Carmen/Carma 🎀 (she/her)

REQUESTS: OPEN!!

Heya! I’m new to writing on tumblr so here’s my little intro!! ♡

Will write! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

-fluff

-angst

-scenarios/head cannons!!

-fem x masc

-fem x fem

- X fem! readers!!! ^O^

Wont write ( •᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

-nsfw!! I can do drabbles but nothing that explicit sorry!

-yandere/dark/dead🕊️ I can’t write anything like that for my own mental health and I don’t want to engage with it :[

-Masc x Masc as a woman I don’t think I should be writing for mlm as I don’t know how male attraction feels and I wouldn’t be able to accurately portray it sorry :(

- X masc! Reader I can’t write male readers, idk how y’all’s brains work and I don’t wanna

Fandoms/characters below cut!!

✧= priority

꩜= last pick

Overwatch

-Cole Cassidy ✧

-Gabriel Reyes/Reaper ✧

-Hanzo Shimada

-Genji Shimada

-Hana Song/D.Va

-Lúcio Correia dos santos

ARCANE (NEW)

-Jayce Talis ✧

-Viktor

-Ekko

-Mel Madarda

Call of duty: modern warfare

-Philip Graves

-Simon “ghost” Riley ꩜

-Kim “Horangi” hong-Jin

-Kyle “gaz” Garrick

The spiderverse (new!)

-Miles Morales (earth 1610)

-Miles Morales (earth 42)

-Gwen Stacy

-Spider-Man Noir

(I will not write for Miguel sorry!)

Creepypasta/Marble hornets ꩜

-Tobias Rodgers/ticci Toby

-Natalie Ouellette/Clockwork

-Jane Richardson/Jane the killer

-Brian Thomas/hoodie

-Tim wright/masky

-Alex Kralie

Detroit become human

-Connor

-nines

-Gavin reed (if you ask nicely..)

-Kara

-Marcus

Misc

-Simon Henricksson (cry of fear)

-Dirk/Dave Strider (Homestuck)

-Hawks (my hero academia)

-Captain Curly (mouthwashing) [pre crash only]

-Leon S Kennedy (Resident evil 4)

More coming soon…

[cherubfae]

𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶, 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 || {𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰}

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[tac-the-unseen]

how slasher reacts that s/o is rude and hot-tempered with everyone but with him he becomes sweet and kind ?? (pleaseee do Tommy)

Slashers x Rude Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Honestly whatever

•He thinks it's a little funny when you're sassy or bitchy with people

•He chill with almost whatever you do

•Loves feeling like He's the only person in your world (He's toxic like that)

•giving only him your affection sends every happy chemical to his brain

•No matter what your relationship, He wants to be the only one

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•You give these boys whiplash

•One second you're yelling at somebody, and the next you're giggling and laughing with them

•However watching you blow up at a guy for flirting with you is enough to make them stay

•If you're also a Ghostface, they're putting you on phone duty. They love your sassy one-liners

•They both back you up all the time, whether you're wrong or right

•these boys are real ride or dies (You did watch the movie right?)

Thomas Hewitt:

•Confused

•He has no idea how you can switch up so fast

•He loves how kind you are to him, But watching you be mean to everybody else makes his head spin

•On one hand he loves being around you, and you are truly his best friend. On the other, he doesn't know How you even became friends in the first place at times

•Your smile is enough to remind him though

•But he also knows that your mouth is going to get you in trouble, So he's double protective

Bubba Sawyer:

•Another case of whiplash

•But at least you get to stand up and fit in with his brothers

•they're the rudest people he knows, So at least he knows that you're truly part of the family

•And someone has to tell the cashier he ordered no pickles, And it's not going to be him

•Loves seeing your ‘soft’ side (It makes him feel special and trusted)

Bo Sinclair:

•Loves it

•Couldn’t be more proud

•Watching you snap at travelers is enough to put hearts in his eyes

•He cheers you on while you verbally brawl with others

•Sometimes wishes you're that bitchy with him (But then he remembers all the people you made cry, and prefers not to be on that receiving end)

Vincent Sinclair:

•A little unsettled by the deja vu he gets

•You remind him so much of his brother that it bothers him to a degree

•Then you're so sweet to him and he forgets that feeling for a while

•However he will have a mini crisis by how many rude people are in his life….or were

•Asks you to try and be a little nicer to people, while also giving you permission to have screaming matches with Bo (You leave poor Lester out of it!)

Lester Sinclair:

•He kind of needs someone to stand up for him

•someone has to set his brother's straight, and it sure ain't going to be him

•views you like a guard dog

•He's so grateful for it too

•Tries to repay you by taking you the scenic routes if you tag along with him for work

Billy Lenz:

•Whenever he's fed up he hands you the phone line

•Another slasher that cheers you on

•Scream at the sorority girls all you want, no matter what he'll be behind you with imaginary pom-poms

•And when you turn around and look at him with affection, it makes him melt

•Will be snuggled up to your mid section with you curse a bitch out

•If you literally weren't the only person in his life, you'd be a little concerned that you are his comfort person

Brahms Heelshire:

•as long as you're not rude to him, whatever

•kind of loves it, but will not admit it

•It makes him less prone to jump out and grab people

•Will still snatch a hoe if needed, but he loves to watch you take care of ‘pests’

•Sassing the grocery Boy is a sure way to get Brahms to do whatever you want

•It just makes him feel secure, heard, and understood

Hannibal Lecter:

•Be honest with yourself

•You do not have Will Graham privileges

•You're going in the soup

•om nom nom nom 😋

Will Graham:

•another case of: whatever don't care

•(Not) The rudest couple in town

•You've both mastered the “Bitch Please” Look

•Hannibal tries telling Will that you are bad influence, Will doesn't listen and does not care

•you're as sweetest can be to him and feed his puppies, that is enough for him

The Lost Boys:

•You fit right in

•What other possible qualifications would you need to have to join the residential sassy vampire biker club??

•Watching you curse out a clumsy Tourist makes their day

•David Loves to stand back and watch you ruin a sleazy dudes day

•Dwayne tries to reel you in when you go to far, but will mostly let you do your thing

•Paul and Marko Are your personal cheerleaders through and through! Right or wrong!

•But walking around the boardwalk, terrorizing tourists, spending time together in the cave, and overall spending time with them Really solidifies your place in the gang!

Thanks for Reading!

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 3- Gotham's most beloved

______________________________

"wha- AGHHHHHHH, SHIT, THIS ISN'T MY FAULT", you try to tell the system "STOP! PLEASE!"

Alfred runs to you, "Miss what's wrong?", when he touches you, he feels it too, he lets go immediately, thousands of questions on his head "Miss?"

The system cannot be known. Use 5000 points for memory erasure or face another penalty

Time: 5 minutes

Penalty: death

"I GET IT! STOP! IT WASN'T MY FAULT PLEASE!! I DIDN'T KNOW HE FOLLOWED! PLEASE STOP" You yell

After the penalty was over, your breathing was heavy, tears struck on your face, the food toppled over from your squirming and crying

Alfred is right there. Looking at you with shock and worry "Miss (Name) what-" before he could finish his question, you moved

-5000 points

•memory erasure 2 minutes

He forgets, now he's just standing there awkwardly, not knowing why 2 minutes ago while he was watching from afar it was neat cute set up but now it's messy and spilled

"Alfred... Why did you come!?" You yell at him

He seemed taken aback "Miss I just felt you shouldn't spend your birthday alone, I was worried"

The pain in your body has subsided and you stand up, getting out of the tent, not caring for the rain "Can't you just act like the rest of them!? Can't you just hate me!?!"

His eyes looked at you with pity, but that only fueled your anger, you didn't need pity, you didn't want pity

"But Miss, I'm not like the rest of them, I care-"

"No you don't. You feel obligated, you devoted yourself to Thomas and Martha, you feel devoted to take care of the only thing they left, Bruce. And your loyal to him and everyone Bruce cared about, the only reason you're here is because I share the blood of your previous masters, you're not here because of me. You don't know who I am" you yell

You have a right to feel angry, you just got electrocuted because of him, he doesn't know that, well, he forgot

He knows you're right, that's why he's doing this, he wants all he Wayne's to get along, that's what Thomas and Martha would want "Miss... I know master Bruce has his shortcomings, no father should have neglected their own daughter-"

"tell that to your own daughter, the one you left in England to serve the Waynes"

He freezes.

You don't understand why the authors of this concept write Alfred as a good guy

"How is Julia? When was the last time you saw her?" You ask "Go keep taking care of the Waynes leave me be"

"Miss (Name), you are also a Wayne" he says

"No I'm not, I am my mother's daughter, not Bruce's, how can I be his daughter when he doesn't act like my father?"

______________________________

You wake up feeling shitty, your body hurts, your brain hurts, and your heart feels heavy, you should be used to it by now

No one in this house is ever going to be on your side, Alfred didn't care about you, he just wanted to preserve Thomas and Martha Wayne's blood

He knew you've been going and living with your mother's last name

And you've just spent 5000 points, you were saving up to buy a mirror that could see back in your previous world, it was 1000000 points

This sucks. You wanted your mom, and your other mom... And your real dad, and your real siblings, not these condescending assholes

In every reincarnation story, it's either possible or impossible to return back to your original world, you don't know if it's possible

"System?"

Yes?

"Is it possible for my return... In my original world?"

It is possible

Holy fuck, you jump out of bed "How!?"

You already know how

"what!? No I don't!"

You do

"is this like a Dorothy situation? Do I just shut my eyes and click my heels three times?"

You sigh, you might as well try, you close your eyes, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home"

You open them and find yourself still in your bedroom "Well now I just feel stupid."

"Miss (Name)?" A knock on your door, "Breakfast is ready, please come down" It's Alfred

You cringe and remember your outburst last night, you were just so angry that he made you fail your mission and got you electrocuted

After a few seconds of silence he knocked again "young Miss... Are you angry with me?" He asks

Yes you are. You don't like how he claims to care but whenever he sees you being bullied by one of Bruce's kids he doesn't reprimand them, whenever Bruce misses an award ceremony, he doesn't force him to go, how do you think you got away without being known as a Wayne for 2 years?

"I'm skipping breakfast" you say (no you're not)

From your 563th mission, you had to perform a violin concert without any of your family members attending, it was easy enough and the reward was a magic mini fridge that gives you whatever food you want

As by the system's words "A neglected reader isn't worthy of eating with their family, they eat alone"

You open the fridge and somehow end up with fresh hot pancakes and syrup

______________________________

You walk through the streets of Gotham, you're 12 your bag is loaded with shit, pepper spray, a pocket knife disguised as a ball pen, and a taser

Why is it always raining in Gotham?

You've been dodging Alfred for the past few days, you can't rely on your magic fridge forever since Alfred will start wondering if you're starving yourself or something

"Jollibee..." You see the building in a far distance, near it you see a child in worn out clothes, he seemed to be selling something

Ah... He's selling flowers...

As you spot the cart behind him still full, he didn't sell much, you also see some girl toys at the bottom of his cart

You enter the restaurant "3 orders of C3 please, to go"

"um miss... Can you please separate the orders, 2 and 1, for the 2 please add some peach mango pies" you add

You wait for a while, subtly eyeing the kid, and your hunch was right an even smaller girl came with two umbrellas, the boy had a little sister

After getting the order, you come near them, is this weird? Approaching a boy, a little younger than you and giving them food, the boy looked about 8 and the girl 6

"Miss..." He looks embarrassed "We can't pay you for the food..."

"that's fine, just give me a flower" you smile "And also... Do you live in a neighborhood?", he tilts his head "Yes Miss I do"

"you should just work for your neighbors, don't stray too far from home, Gotham is dangerous" you feel kind of a hypocrite since you use to do the same things this boy did, at an even younger age "so your sister won't have to fetch you when it's raining, both of you might get sick"

He smiled at you "Yes Miss, thank you again"

You walk away, no matter how many years you've been living here, you still hate it, you were either born very lucky or very unlucky in Gotham

You see a woman under a bus stop on call with someone on her phone "Sweetie... Mommy is going to be late tonight, I don't have an umbrella, just sit tight there okay?" She hangs up "Should I just make a run for it?" You hear her say

Then you remember, your mom once came home soaked and feverish, she had promised to buy you takeout since you cooked for her the day before, she was worried you'd sleep without eating anything so she ran through the rain to be able to eat with you

It was fine, you had a jacket anyway, you pull the hood of your jacket to your head and approach the lady "Ma'am, do you need this?" You hand her your umbrella

She looked shocked "oh I can't possibly take this from you!", you give it to her nonetheless "It's alright ma'am, I have a jacket and my house is very near" (the house is a lie obviously), she smiles at you "Thank you so much, I left my daughter at home and god knows how hungry she is right now, take care okay? The roads are slippery" she says before leaving

You underestimated the rain and ended up soaking wet by the time you're at the manor, Alfred greets you and he looks away from you, he seems worried about your state but is ashamed

Then you hand him the flower you got earlier "Im sorry I lashed out" you say

"thank you miss... And I'm sorry for disturbing you when you visited your mother, I shouldn't have overstepped" he says

He meets your eyes and guides you to sit down at the kitchen, he comes back with a towel and dries you off

You need at least one person who cares for you, at least one

______________________________

You wake up the next day, finally comfortable to eat downstairs because reconciling with Alfred, you're the first one here, guess the family is still asleep, or maybe they already ate, you don't know, you pick up a news paper and-

"Gotham's angel.

Spotted giving food to children, and giving away her umbrella in the cold rain, we found that this kind girl is none other than Bruce Wayne's hidden daughter! After investigating some more we found out that (Name) Wayne donates books and toys to an orphanage without even her own father knowing!"

"Because that's the orphanage I stayed in!" You panic, you wanted to still be able to visit the few friends you managed to make in your days there

"She also tutors children from a poor neighborhood for years without charge and doesn't tell her family! True kindness doesn't need an audience but years of compassion from (Name) Wayne should be recognized, she's been helping other people for years without anyone knowing, a true angel!"

"That place was my old neighborhood!? What is this angel bullshit???" Hello??? Again those children are your friends!??

You've unlocked a special event!

Most Neglected readers blend in the background, but in some cases, they become popular through either being a celebrity or becoming a business man

You have become famous! Continue being famous and gain fans!

Special mission: Make the public like you even more, to 100%

Public love meter: 60%

Time: 1 week

Special reward: bulletproofing (Gotham is a dangerous place! Who says you need to be from krypton for bullets to bounce off you? Everything you wear becomes bulletproof!)

"So... If non-common tropes of neglected au can happen... Like if the reader gets famous, does this mean I can get superpowers?" You whisper to yourself

No you cannot. You already have me, don't be greedy ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

"ah.. sorry system" you whisper again

______________________________

Reader: having flashbacks to when she was poor and doing good deeds to those she meets that resembles her past situation

Gotham: an angel?

______________________________

@yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Old writing especially on Bo's and then Vincent's part. I realised that I was writing as if their s/o showcased their strength during later on into their relationship in the first three slashers, apologies.

A/n: I am no longer writing for Hannibal or any hannibal characters as I myself have forgotten my own perspective of them.

Slashers x reader who's stronger than them but doesn't look like it!

Warnings: blood and death on the ghostface duos part, very slight mentions of nsfw. But mostly fluff.

Slashers in this: Bo sinclair, Vincent sinclair and Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher (poly)

Relationship: romantic!!

Bo

It clawed at his ego, he's a pretty mean bastard and you know it 🫵.

He first thought of you as the most fragile and weakest person ever (and cutest), I mean, could you even lift a pot half filled with water?

Undoubtedly he used this assumption to 'help you' or more so at times tease you. He loves seeing your reactions and most definitely not because you're so small and kind to him, pfff of course not.

He just absolutely loves lifting you up and over his shoulder and he's definitely an ass guy. He loves ogling and smacking your ass but he won't get to that level until many many months later on. But he's still going to stare.

“Oh Bo, I think there's a rabbit under the truck!” You exclaimed to Bo as you noticed something white and moving below.

"An animal? *sighs* hold on, I'll get rid of that p-" He suddenly loses his ability to formulate words as he witnesses you lift the goddamn fuckin truck with one arm, and indeed there was a rabbit underneath.

“*gasp* it's so cute!” Bo cannot believe what he just saw. Damn, he gotta stop smoking so much it's messing with his brain. He's just staring at you as you pet the timid rabbit with your 'scrawny' arm.

He must admit he does fantasize about you lifting him up and shit, or topping him in bed. Whatever he's feeling that day, and he would rather swallow sand than ever admit that last part.... But y'know if you're up for it-

His cocky and prideful attitude seemingly making an apparent change, he would hold a cup or item you need above your head with a shit eating grin watching you get frustrated with him. Or when he would make jabs about you being too weak to lift three chairs at a time and would offer to help you. (So he could walk beside you.) But now... He still fucking makes jabs at you being weak, just to fuck with you even though he knows it's far from the truth. He loves making you seem like the little helpless princess and him being the asshole shining knight in armor.

You wouldn't mind tho would you? It's a win-win, you get to spend more time with your boyfriend and he gets to spend time with his girlfriend.

Vincent

So gentle and caring with you. He's gentle and caring with whoever he is with but your size just makes him think one wrong move and he's accidentally breaking your arm. And cause of this he can't help but be a worry wart at times and way too protective. Not budging even if you reassure him you're perfectly capable of doing something that requires strength.

During one of the dark evenings you walk with your lover in the forest, the side of the forest where there isn't roadkill so that you can breathe without torturing your nostrils. And finding some fire wood to spend the next dark hours star gazing and ranting to him while the sound of the fire crinkling and burning the wood serves as a nice background music.

Every step you take you hear the crunch of the dead leaves get crushed under your foot, both of you holding your flashlights. You have the warm and slightly calloused hand of your Vincent holding yours affectionately as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand and knuckles, gently tracing over and feeling the ridges and bumps.

You notice some fallen bark and shine your flashlight on it. "Vinny, look there's some firewood over there!" You exclaimed and shined your flashlight elsewhere, looking around more until you had shined it directly on a tree right in front of you that was occupied by a scary looking arachnid, its front limbs moving in a sluggish and relaxed fashion.

You let out a startled yelp and out of instinct your fist went to swing at the spider who somehow successfully managed to not get hit in the nick of time. This also startled your boyfriend who looked worriedly at you, his eyes scanned over to see that you were.. Fine! But the tree you punched wasn't. It has a big dent in it while the flesh of wood was cracked and damaged severely around the impact along with many splinters.

"I'm so sorry Vincent! There was a spider and I got scared!"

He almost let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn't anything serious but he can't get his eyes and mind off the injured tree. Did you... seriously do that? He gently took your hand and examined it, it seemed perfectly fine except for redness, light bleeding and a couple splinters on your knuckles.

He slowly raised one of his hands, pointing towards the punched tree. 'Did you do that?' Is what's probably going through his head. You chuckled sheepishly and nodded in confirmation. He sighed. For now, he'll worry about your fist.

Does this interaction change how he treats you?... Kind of. He isn't too pushy as he was since he now knows how capable you are of handling yourself but there's still that feeling in him, something that gnaws at his inner core for him to help you. He wants to feel useful and to serve you in any way he can, so...please let him dote over you still..? (Of course you will, you can't say no to him.)

If you want to pick him up he'll entertain you, though he'll be extremely flustered and giddy about it. He likes this way more than he should (in his opinion). How comical is it? He's a large 6'1 grown man being carried princess style by his tiny s/o. Despite all this, he still hopes you need him as much as he needs you.

Thomas

Trust me when I saw it really took Thomas by surprise. He's a really big guy and you say this little thing is stronger than him? Oh please, humor him after dinner.

He's a busy man with a lot on his plate, and you seemingly looking like the most harmless person in the world doesn't help, he constantly feels like he has to tend to you and supervise you from a certain officer.

Will usually not allow you to help him when he's working, it depends. He feels guilty letting yourself get caught up with all this but if you insist he'll gladly accept the extra hand with honest gratitude. But generally- 'Back away honey, you might get dirty.' Is what he wishes he could say.

In his eyes you're a saint, an angel. Made perfectly to fit in the space between his thighs he's sitting down and there's no flaw in the way his large hands cups your cheeks with those pretty eyes of yours staring into his – no room for mistake or complain. You're adorable.

The first time he allowed you to help him you admire your handsome behemoth of a lover chopping wood. Appreciating the rolled up sleeved that gave you a good view of his arms, his muscles flexing as he brought the axe down – after he was done with the first small batch of logs you hurried to grab the others.

Tommy watched with amusement and adoration before shifting his weight to help you but stopped as you started walking towards him five logs resting effortlessly in your arms. It didn't even seem to faze you as if it was just you were only a bunch of baby ducks.

Tommy watched in silence as you laid them out on the table, still kind of processing it before nodding his head in gratitude and resuming to chopping them up. He'll bring this up later, maybe. For now he'll focus on getting his work done and spending more with you, and your soft words.

He doesn't really care if you're stronger than him or not, as long as you love him and don't try to run away it's all good. If you want he'll stop trying to do everything for you even though he knows you don't need any assistance – he's so used to working around the house he feels restless not doing anything at all.

If you want to carry him, do it. He's all yours but please do it in private he won't be able to handle the embarrassment if his family sees it. And although he prefers to be the dom he doesn't mind it if you wanna take charge every once in a while and throw him around.

Plus, it creates something pleasantly warm in his stomach.

Michael.

He thinks he's going insane. (He already has.)

He's Michael Myers, the most ruthless killer Illinois has ever seen for the past decades. And you're saying this small creature that he's inhabited has greater strength than him... Yeah, no.

And then he sees you picking up three bodies out of the house with your bare hands while cleaning up the evidence of his the murder he left, quietly observing you. He won't admit it but it kind of irks him. He's supposed to be the one with power in this relationship and quite frankly he doesn't know the true extent to your power.

He warms up to it eventually – although it's more of he doesn't give a fuck anymore. You're not completely weak and helpless? Great, he doesn't have to worry about you as much. Key word: as much. He still does worry a lot when you're out for long hours – he's not worried you're injured or in danger (not anymore) but more as in you're not leaving him, right? Or ratting him out to the police?

Do not ever attempt to pick him up or anything even remotely close to that unless you want a glare from those void, soul-less eye sockets of his mask Or if you want a love tap on the head and cheek. If you give him enough guilty smiles and let go of him he'll let you off the hook. if not, bear the consequences. (They don't even do anything anyways, lmao)

He feels so incredibly annoyed when you start treating him like a child, telling him to go sit down or lie down in bed after he pulled a few all nighters and the fact you successfully manage to pull him back into bed: God dammit, why the hell are you even so strong and you're so small!? Grumpily he does stay put but only if you're with him too.

A man feared by hundreds, if not thousands because of the sheer power and mercilessness he leaves in trails of every step he takes in public... And then there's you, you're half his size and you have more control over him than he'd like. He'd never kill you though, not intentionally, but that will also most likely not happen.

Speaking of killing, don't think he won't murder someone if they attempt to hurt you and gets their ass kicked by you anyways. You attack, he lands the finishing blow. Don't protest, he won't listen.

Billy n' Stu

They're both pretty lean so you can believe it, if not for your given figure. They both adore it, so who cares? Billy and Stu will, eventually.

It was in the heat of the moment, you tell yourself but you remember in vivid detail the day where you saw the bloody escaping victim running towards you – adrenaline pumping in your veins, your mind immediately went into fight mode and swung a fist at their skull. You remember the sickening crunch as blood slowly pooled from their fractured cranium when they lifelessly fell down to the floor.

They first helped you with the lingering guilt first before Stu started annoying you.

''Can you punch me like that next but with a bit less-''

"No!"

Alright, no worries but now he's asking you to lift him up to reach things that he does not need help on. Maybe even just carry him and run around the house. (Don't be fooled, he just wants to be carried around like a child again.) Fluttering his eyelids at you and holding up a jar of pickles. 'Y/n, I can't get this to open!' Yes he can.

Billy, although tries to act neutral but can't help but let his thoughts wander. 'Wow... Strong girl... Can choke me...' He thinks to himself as he watches you and Stu. Not as if he'd ever admit that. He pretends he's disinterested in getting in your arms - no, he just doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But if you persist he'll begrudgingly agree. He indeed liked it.

Stu obviously takes a positive reaction, he loves getting dominated. You can take that however you like. Billy on the other hand feels conflicted, if he's not stronger than you then how will he stop you if you try to leave them or plan to rat them out? Assuming this is during the beginning of your relationship. But overtime the more he takes a good look at your face those thoughts will slowly drown away, there's no way you would, right?

The slashers will probably swoon if you agree to help them place the bodies where they want them to, like hanging them in the trees or something.

Billy keeps it more lowkey. Preferring to keep you in his lap and rest his chin on top of your head. Stu takes your strength to his advantage. When he gets drunk he'll whine and ask you to carry him to bed, and take his socks off. Annoying fuck but you love him either way. And Billy too.

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming