#i needed to ignore the grey zones FOR THE GIF

[fisheito]

He gets a little ..Dark Mode every other event

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

I need some Theodore nott or Mattheo riddle x Gryffindor fem! Reader fluff and maybe soft smut and she’s reading in his lap while he’s leaning against the bedpost reading with her holding the book and Turing the pages while she keeps reading it and it’s super smutty and she just traces his arm veins while they read (and if you decide to make it smutty pls make the reader LOVE LOVE LOVE his hands, abs, arm viens-) can it be a longer fic?

Theodoreee's scenario

Imma see what I can do about the length babes dw about it

You avoided Theodore's eyes because you didn't trust yourself. And for good the reason. Not only did his voice hold a power over you...so did his arms. You were laying in his arms reading The Potrait of Dorian Gray with him. It was an interesting book. If only you could concentrate.

His long fingers gripped the book, a singular one Flipping the page ever so often, his veins on show. You sucked in a deep breath as you tried to focus away from him. You kept reading the same line over and over again.

Your mind however disagreed with the idea of ignoring him, flashing you with images of his arms doing questionable things. Your face flushed slightly as you curled in more into your self.

Theodore Nott was bored out of his mind, The potrait of Dorian Grey was something he'd read a million times. You began to trace his arms bringing his attention to you.

Glancing over at you a small smile light up his face. He notice the light pink on your cheeks, how your eyes were clearly unfocused, how your legs seemed to press together closer than normal.

"What's on your mind love," he had an educated guess but wanted to hear it from you. You didn't respond which only feuled his guess. But he needed to test the theory.

You were incredibly zoned out that you didn't hear him. Theodore smirked and started his attack. One hand held the book and the other hand snaked around your waist. Theodore Nott knew what was going through your mind and he planned to replicate just that.

He flipped a page one handed as his other hand fumbled which your thin shirt. He swore when he first saw you come in, your breasts greeted him first.

He'd been itching to take it off you ever since. He innocently slid his hand up you stomach slowly. You were still calm as having not noticed. He tested the waters and put the book down. You were too zoned out to care.

He wanted to laugh at that but kept calm. Later

He continued his quiet trek up to your breasts he didn't touch them just yet instead his now freed hand journeyed south towards your shorts. He slid past the elastic barrier.

He knew it.

Your cunt was warm and soaking wet, his index finger made contact sending shocks up your spine effectively waking you up. You lurched sending your breast into Teddy's hand. With a smirk he gripped it and with his thumb and index twisted it slightly.

"Teddy~" you gasp which turns into a whimper as he continues his assault. "Theo what ah-" your objections turn into soft mewls.

"Need your shirt off love think you can do that for me," your hands claw at the hem before tossing it. His thick veiny hands around your breasts made you clench around his finger.

Theo's low laugh sent shivers all over you.

"The mere sight of my hand had you clenching so tightly around my finger, look how much of a whore you are..." he falter as you clenched around him again this time rewarding him with an orgasm.

"Fuck, I wish I could take a picture of you," your face was sublime in his eyes. He lowered his head onto your neck and lightly sucked on your neck going down.

"I'll mark you another time love," he said everytime you'd lurch from pleasure. He sucked hard on a piece of your skin leaving a slight mark.

He reached your nipple and with a slight lick electricity shot through you. You jerk causing you ended up face planting into him.

"Shit, love sorry," he said as he pushed you up slightly not quite getting you off him. Now you were sitting on him your knee on both sides of him. You watched as his hands flexed behind him supporting the weight of both of you. His shirt rose up and you locked eyes with his abs, his chest was muscular yes but you'd never really seen beneath it. You reached out and traced it enamoured with his beauty.

With a sharp breath he sat up and his back was against the bed. His shirt slowly and sadlyy moving down. You tore your eyes from his arms trying not to focus on him. His tousled black hair, his soft looking pink lips, his leg opening smile.

Fuck he was gorgeous

Unbeknownst to you, he was watching you watch him. He knew how well his arms turned you on. He knew how much one look from him would have you down and out. He knew how much you were fighting yourself.

He knew.

Even now as you muttered apologies and tried to get of him he knew it was futile.

"Stop, please," he said halting your movements. "Don't move,"

"What? Am I crushing you?" You asked moving even more. His arms reached up and held you down forcing you to stay still. Then you felt it.

Oh

"See what you do to me love," he chuckled. "Moving around so innocently not know what effect you have on me," his hands on you moved you up and down on him. "Want me to stop."

"No," you answer quick and fleeting. "Please." He laughs at your desperation.

"But first tell me what had you clenching your legs earlier hmm, before I decided to have a little fun" he continues moving your hips.

TPC.exe. has crashed

[Your thought processing capabilities have crashed.]

He stops and you whine. "Theodore," he smiles at how his name sounds from your lips.

"Answer me love,"

"You, your"

"Me, My?"

"Arms," you try to continue grinding against him but his hands hold you firmly in place.

"My arms?" He says his voice low. Suddenly he he pushes you off him as he climbs above you while you're wriggling beneath. "Tell me more."

"So strong and-and" your mind is muddled with pleasure.

"All big and strong?" He offers.

"Mhmm," you mumbled losing yourself down the rabbit hole that's called Theodore Nott.

"Fuck," he whispers into your neck. Suddenly he stands up and puts you upright. Accioing your shirt onto you, he carries you bridal style your face falling into his neck. You're confused for a minute till you notice Draco coming and the rest coming in. Theodore makes a manner of talking to you but all you can do is mumble a soft really.

"Look at you Teddy, you've bored to girl to sleep," Draco drawls. Theodore raises his wand and Draco is left pantsed. His silk underwear on show.

"OI!," But Teddy is long gone. When they reach his Dorms Theodore let's you down as he closes the door.

"We don't have to do anything," he whispers although his need seeps through his voice. "What I did earlier if you weren't comfortable or maybe you had a lapse of judgement...

"Maybe I want to do anything," you shyly say meeting his eyes.

"Fuck love," he days before he grabs your waist and brings you closer. "I plan to worship you my love,"

♡Hope it's long enough if not I can add more lmk in the comments♡

[Edited]

[Edited]

[notafunkiller]

Attending the Berlinale (The Berlin International Film Festival | February 15-25, 2024) will bring more opportunities for Sebastian.

He wanted to have more power over his projects aka to produce since he was in his 30s (producing = freedom and control). He always wanted to have an input when it comes to his characters, and I think he managed to do this the most with "Fresh" (before "A Different Man"), and it's a project very dear to him.

I know "I, Tonya" was the film that made directors notice him, take him seriously, and want to work with him more [internationally too], but he's always had range. He never chose "the pretty but boring boy" role. He loves grey and dark characters because they are human and there is more to explore.

He was just ignored.

Even though he's American too, not just Romanian (he moved there when he was 12), he's still seen as a foreigner by the film industry.

I think Sebastian believes he still needs to prove himself to get awards. So getting an award is even harder in this case because no matter how much PR you do, how hard working you are, how great you are at What you do, how much passion you put into your work and your roles, you're still (seen as) an outsider.

[Don't get me wrong, I think the roles he chose and chooses are challenging and send a message in general. They have layers and are human. He always gets out of his comfort zone, which is incredible.]

Also, it's "funny" how journalists and reviewers have ignored Sebastian for decades and now praise him as a new star (they did it for "Sharper" too), even though his filmography is varied (different roles, different genres) and it displays how talented and hard working he is.

This also says a lot about the prejudice they have:

[source: Deadline]

"In another type of movie" as if: "I, Tonya," "Monday", "Endings, Beginnings", "Fresh", "Sharper" etc are the same type of movie, and the fandom is limited in general...

They overlooked hin just because he became famous with Marvel, and he's seen just as the guy who plays Bucky Barnes... And they say it in an offensive way, anyway; as if Bucky has no complexity, no depth... as if he's just a flat character, so Sebastian playing him shows nothing. But they are so wrong!

He played so many versions of Bucky (40s Bucky, TWS, lost WS, Bucky trying to figure out who he is, trying to adapt etc).

The way he acts when Bucky's finally free of the brainwashing will always haunt me:

His eyes, in general, are so expressive. It's just amazing!

And Craig Gillespie worked with him three times ("I, Tonya", "Pam & Tommy", "Dumb Money"). He even chose Sebastian to give him an award [source: The Messenger].

A director like Craig wouldn't work with someone with no range.

Sebastian proved himself so many times! He always chooses challenging projects and roles and doesn't care if he's the main or the side character. He always wants to learn and be better.

I really hope more people will start to recognize how great he is.

[obsessedwithmilfs]

Dancing in the rain

Pairing: Larissa Weems x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in ages, so I am really anxious here posting it. Also English is not my first language so ignore any language mistakes. 

“Come on,” you said. “It’ll be fun, Larissa.”

The older woman was neatly seated on the sofa in her office, looking at you with a painful expression, while you looked out of the window excitedly. Heavy raindrops poured down from above, making the earth grey and wet. Larissa was the image of perfection. Her outfits hugging her curves in all the right places, hair always styled perfectly, those red lips matching her nails. You knew, dragging Larissa out in the rain was way out of her comfort zone. However, it was worth a try.

After looking a final time out of the window, you walked over to the sitting woman, taking her hands in yours. Your eyes met her deep blue oceans you always get lost in, and she smiled at you genuinely.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, resulting in you almost falling to the ground. She caught you completely off-guard, never in a thousand years did you think she would agree.

“Wait … what?” you squeaked.

“Take me out to dance in the rain,” she continued, and you were up in a second, taking her hand and dragging her out of her office. She couldn’t hide her giggling, as you both ran through the halls with your hands intertwined, her heels clicking loudly on the floor before you stopped at the front door abruptly. You turned around and looked at Larissa with soft eyes, holding her in a tight embrace just a second later.

“Thank you,” you whispered against her shoulder, making Larissa smile softly. “You should take those heels off, though. I don’t want you tripping and getting yourself all dirty.”

“Excuse me?” Larissa exclaimed offended.

“I’m just saying,” you laughed, before heading out into the pouring rain. In mere seconds you were completely soaked, but you couldn’t care less. You raised your arms into the air breathing in the fresh breeze, feeling the rain drops covering your cheeks. Suddenly, two strong arms embraced you from behind, making you smile widely, before you felt Larissa’s head laying on your shoulder. Leaning into her touch, you both started swaying your hips from side to side in unison. Her soft lips kissed your shoulder, before you grabbed her hands, loosening the embrace to look at her. Then, you started to dance, jumping slightly around Larissa, while she watched you with a wide grin on her face.

“Come on!” you encouraged the tall woman and she started to move her body pathetically slow. Again, you took her hands in yours, telling her to look into your eyes before you both started to dance. Only seconds later you were both giggling loudly, jumping, and swaying around in the wet dirt, both of you completely soaked.

Suddenly, Larissa tripped, falling to the ground but taking you with her. She laid on her back with you on top of her. While you laughed loudly, Larissa looked like she might strangle you with her bare hands any second.

“Told you!” you said between your laughter, while Larissa sat up. You were the first to stand, holding your hand out for Larissa to take it to help her get up. You needed to hold back your laughter seeing the state the woman in front of you was in and if looks could kill you would have been dead a million times already. Her otherwise so perfectly styled hair was a mess and her whole back was covered in brown dirt. You met her blue eyes, that were now glassy, making her look like she might cry any second.

“Oh Rissa,” you said, still trying to stifle your laughter. She wanted to run into the building and hide, but you took her hand and embraced her. Your arms were around her neck, pulling her down so you could place your forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” you said, but Larissa rolled her eyes.

“No, you’re not.”

“True,” you answered truthfully. “But that is nothing a hot shower won’t fix and if you’re worried about your dress, I’ll buy you a new one.”

She smiled, hugging you tighter, while the rain was still pouring down on you.

“Will you be joining me?”

“What?”

“In the hot shower.”

Stepping out of your embrace, you scoffed, “That’s really the only thing you’re thinking about? Shame on you, Larissa. Shame.”

“I came outside with you to dance, now I want that hot shower with you as payback,” Larissa said, and you rolled your eyes before you started to shake slightly.

“You’re shivering, darling,” she now stated worriedly. “Time for us to get inside.”

You just nodded, letting Larissa guide you inside the warmth of the building. Even without telling her, Larissa knew you were just excited as her for the hot shower awaiting you both.

[bitchinbarzal]

Cowboys Rule | E.Edwards

summary; the number one rule of cowboys - wear the hat ride the cowboy

-

Mark had decided on a whole cowboys and country theme for his twenty first birthday so everyone went all out with the dress up.

You and Ethan had set up the venue from early morning; a local bar and you’d gone all out even getting a mechanical bull.

You’d just finished pinning up the last banner when you felt two hands on either side of your waist and pulled your body down from the ladder

“Okay, we’re done! We gotta get ready” Ethan announced, pulling you away from the decorations.

“I just have to-“ “No! You’ve done enough we’ll be late if we don’t go now”

You laughed and gave in “Okay, Okay let’s go I need to get in my get up!”

“Get up?” He chuckled, eying you.

“Oh yeah I have this cute black and white cow print hat and the matching boots, it’s glittery and everything!” You squealed in excitement.

Ethan smiled at you “I can’t wait to see, meet you back here at eight?”

“Got it!” You replied, running off towards your dorm.

You’d arrived at the party later than intended and it was already in full swing.

Managing to find Mark and Duke when you arrived you passed off your birthday gift “Happy Birthday Woodruff!!”

Rolling his eyes Mark pulled you in for a hug “Thank you, thank you for setting up and everything! You’re the best”

It was hard to hear over the music so you were leaning up to shout in his ear “Where’s Eddy?!”

Mark looked around before pointing over in the corner you could see Ethan helping some girl up onto the mechanical bull, his hands resting on her ass even when she was situated.

You rolled your eyes and you could feel Mark giving you a sad glance while he rubbed your back before he was pulled away.

“Hey there’s our cowgirl!” Arm thrown over your shoulder and you leaned into Mackie while Luke appeared on your other side.

“Hey guys, enjoying the party?”

“It’s awesome, you want to plan ours?” “You wish - I like Mark that’s why I spent so much time on it”

Luke pulled a face “Harsh but we love you so we’ll forgive” before lifting your hat off your head and walking off.

Mackie held is hand out for you and quirked his eyebrow “Join me?”

You looking from his face to his hand you smiled softly nodding your head and putting your hand in his.

Ethan had watched you waltz around the bar alongside his teammate with jealous eyes.

There was a grey zone you two were in right now with mutual feelings but all the stupidity not to say anything just living in the constant agony of jealousy. It wasn’t fun to see all these girls throw themselves at him just because he was a hockey player while you just had to sit and watch.

When it was announced the cake was coming out you stood up on a table along with a couple other girls to see over everything while you sang.

“Happy Birthday, dear mark, Happy Birthday to you”

As the song finished you screamed out a cheer before you tried stepping down from the table. You were about to jump when Mackie held your waist and lifted you down letting out a laugh, hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself.

Ethan watched on across the room as his teammate had you in his hold, ignoring everything people were saying around him.

You pulled the cowboy hat that sat on Mackie’s head and placed it on your own continuing to laugh while you were placed on the floor.

Ethan saw red.

He stormed across the room to you, stepping between the two of you and grabbing the hat from your head then shoving it into Mackie’s chest.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you away.

“Ethan stop! Ethan what is your problem!?”

After you got into a clear space Ethan turned to you finally you could see his chest heaving “That is my problem!”

“What?” “The hat!”

You wanted to laugh “The hat? You’re in a mood because I wore Mackie’s cowboy hat?”

Ethan felt embarrassed to say this “Yeah, I mean it’s more isn’t it? The cowboys rule wear the hat and you’ve got to ride the cowboy”

Your eyes went wide while he continued

“I mean is that what you want?! You want Mackie?!”

You stuttered, completely taken aback by his outburst. He scoffed “Okay I see how it is” and turned to the door having embarrassed himself enough.

You stood frozen for a minute before you chased him, grabbing the hat from the top of his and placing it on yours.

He turned and looked at you smiling back at him “What are you doing y/n?”

“Never heard of the cowboys rule? I’m wearing your hat… your move Edwards” You smirked.

There was almost a look of relief on his face as he pulled you into him with a smile, knocking the hat up while he kissed you.

Pulling away you stared at each other for a moment before you said “rules are rules cowboy, can’t break them”

He smirked “No we cannot” pulling you out the bar with a few hollers following as you rushed back to someone’s dorm.

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Sanji x Fem Reader helping her cook a meal

“I need your help,” a soft voice rang in his ears catching Sanji’s attention. He glanced up to stare at the female figure standing in front of him holding a large cookbook with complicated recipes in it. She just smiled gently at him, “I want to surprise my crush with a romantic three-course meal,” she held up three fingers.

Sanji frowned at hearing the word crush escaping her lips. He stared at the beautiful woman with the even beautiful innocent smile unaware of how her words hurt him. He frowned at the thought of the stupid Marimo that had caught her attention earlier today as they shared a private conversation. Sanji had watched getting a little envious watching the two. He could only watch his own crush flirting with another man.

“You know he probably wouldn’t appreciate all the work you did preparing his meal,” he thought of the stupid swordsman who barely appreciated the delicacy of food and rather drown everything he ate with sake. “You should probably make something simple for him,” he added quickly before he could hurt the woman with cruel words. He was a gentleman first, hurting a lady’s feelings wasn’t in his nature.

His grey-blue eyes scanned the woman reading any signs to see her thoughts, but she just smiled at him unaffected.

“I worry I wouldn’t be able to impress him if I stuck too simple,” she answered him, “He would probably treat it like any other gift,” she answered glancing away. Sanji took the book from her hand and flipped through the recipes. They were complicated and would at least take a whole day to make and multiple hands and move quickly so the food wouldn’t burn or overcook.

“If the moron isn’t impressed with a gift you made from your heart he isn’t worth your time,” he said closing the book. He watched her face drop a little, “I think I know a recipe that should impress him and easy enough,” he added quickly, removing his cigarette from his lips.

She smiled at him, “I trust you,” she told him. He ignored the gut-wrenching feeling twisting in his stomach, the feeling of jealousy and anger knowing that the stupid swordsman wouldn’t appreciate her cooking. He wouldn’t appreciate her as a woman as a person.

Still, he would help her out in many ways he can just to see her smile.

--

The curry recipe was simple but took a lot of work more than she expected. Gathering the ingredients he helped her through the steps, he couldn’t stop the few snarky comments that would escape his lips about her crush. 

He couldn’t imagine the stupid swordsman appreciating the work she put into making the meal or appreciating the taste of the curry. “He has no tastebuds you know,” Sanji said as he was moving the meat in the pan, “I am going to kill him if he just swallows the food,”

She just laughed a bit, “I am sure he will enjoy it after all he appreciates hard work,” she was unaffected by Sanji’s words each insult he had towards her crush was followed by words of flattery about her. He was always sweet carrying about her feelings and keeping her safe. He was the first to help whenever she needed help and was always there when she needed him. She just hoped he enjoyed the meal she cooked for him.

She was deep in thought as she peeled the potato’s mind worried about Sanji’s reaction when she did give him the food. Would he accept her love, or would he compare her to Nami or Robin? She frowned her heart aching at the thought of rejection. Would the blond hand accept her love or would he treat her like a friend always in the friend zone?

“Ouch,” she hissed as the knife cut through her skin, she dropped the potato and glanced at the cut on her index finger, blood slowly began to drip from the cut. Trying to keep calm she glanced surprised when Sanji was holding her hand and staring at the wound with a concerned look on his face.

“You have to be careful when using a knife princess,” he said holding her hand close to her lips.

Her heart rate increased rapidly in her chest; she was about to play the part of the female lead when the male lead licked the blood away.  Instead, though he dragged her to the table and sat her down pulling out the first aid kit.

He had cut himself numerous times when he was younger and learning to cook the wound itself wasn’t deep but he and been worried. His first reaction was to grab her delicate fingers and lick the blood away, but he had to hold back her fingers inches from his lips. He stopped himself, he had to address the wound first then they would get back to cooking.

“Why didn’t you lick my wound?” She couldn’t hide her disappointment as he was cleaning the wound, with a cotton ball and disinfecting it. He didn’t want her beautiful skin scarred. She was sure if it was Nami or Robin he would have played the romantic hero.

“The stupid swordsman wouldn’t blink twice when he sees how hard you worked on his meal,” Sanji growled he couldn’t hide his irritation the beautiful woman before him was hurt. She was working so hard for an asshole who only cared about booze and swords. He frowned at the thought of her fingers getting cut and was scared for the jerk who would only swallow it and not appreciate anything.

“Hmm, what about Zoro?” she questioned tilting her head hair falling in front of her face. Sanji was wrapping it with a bandage and taking care of her wound.

“He is a dumbass,” Sanji said, “He wouldn’t know good food if it hit him in the face,” why couldn’t he shut up. He was furious seeing her go through all that work and knowing the dumbass would just stomp on her feelings, “but your hearts belong to another man, and I am a gentleman and will respect it,” he sighed as he held her hand he wanted her to understand she was important to him. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“My heart belongs to you,” she whispered. “The meal was for you,” she glanced at the floor ashamed preparing for rejection.

Sanji stared into her his own heart ready to burst before he could only chuckle, “Then I will gladly accept,” it moving her hand close to his lips he nibbled on her finger.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

The Morally Grey Ch 3: It’s a Pre-Date ~Peggy Carter xFem Scientist!Reader

You get invited by Howard Stark to a scientist society’s presentation. After weeks of not hearing from Peggy, your paths cross and she holds you to a promise.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, little angst, implied nervousness, scandal, teasing, pet names, etc…

Enjoy (:

Weeks past since you’d come across the female, British SSR agent who’d changed the course of your life. Or who chose to not change the course of your life, if you wanted to be technical.

The woman hadn’t left your mind since that day… Her memory stayed actively alive in your mind, even as you moved labs (at least the ones that the SSR had discovered), as you got back into the swing of inventing, and as you settled back into your daily, regular life. Your wounds had healed from that day, although you were left with two not so nice scars, one on your temple and one on the cheek.

On one of your just another day days, you received an invitation for a scientist’s society presentation hosted by the one and only Howard Stark. You had met Howard once or twice, and while he was indeed quite smart, you found him far to arrogant, scandalous, and risky for your tastes.

However, the letter said it was presenting a new type of bullet resistant armor, one that was “paper thin”. It peaked your curiosity to say the least… You doubted that he could have something better than what you had been developing, as you were quite certain that Stark didn’t have a material like Vibranium. But you were intrigued nonetheless…

So you found yourself driving up to one of the infamous Stark residences about a week later. You noted that no one seemed to have arrived yet… You were greeted by a man who introduced himself as Mr. Jarvis. He led you through the estate and to the backyard. Now your suspicion grew… And when you entered the backyard, it was confirmed.

There was no invention or presentation. Because in the garden stood only one person… Agent Peggy Carter.

“I apologize for misleading you Ms. L/N…” Peggy immediately apologized, “I needed to find a way to draw you out without leading the SSR to you. The safest way I know to do that was Howard. I wanted to see you, I—”

“It’s alright.” You cut the woman off in her rambling, “And Y/N is fine.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Mr. Jarvis said, promptly leaving the garden.

The brunette smiles lightly and nodded.

“Peggy then, I insist.” She said.

You nodded in mutual agreement. The woman then indicated for you and her to sit. You two sat down and took a breath.

“Your wounds seem to be healing nicely…” she noted caringly.

You hummed and nodded in response. The air hung silent.

“Why?” You finally spoke up, “Why did you save me, Peggy…?”

Peggy sighed deeply.

“Like I said that night, you remind me of Howard. Albeit, you are most definitely not as scandalous, but neither you nor Howard belong in jail. You merely operate in a gray zone, which the SSR sometimes fails to understand.” She explained.

“Thank you. Again. I mean it.”

“I know.” She softly spoke with a small smile.

“How have you been…?” You asked the question that had been bugging you since you sat down.

“A lot has happened since I last saw you.” Peggy chuckled with another sigh, “My office dealt with a number of back to back pressing matters, one of which being the scandal of the Stark Trial, which I’m sure you heard about. A lot of it was a matter of life and death… So difficult to ignore. I do apologize for not reaching out earlier.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” You sympathized with the woman.

Peggy hummed in response.

“What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh Lots.” You eagerly answered, “Mainly studying and working with Vibranium. Lots of other little side projects.”

“I believe you owe me a little show of those little projects, hmmm…?” Peggy hummed, teasing you lightly.

You blushed lightly and nodded.

“I’-d- would love to…” you stammered.

“Good.” She chuckled with a pleased smile, “How about this next Tuesday at 9?”

“Sounds great…!” You quipped, finding yourself to be a little too excited for a mere show of your current projects…

“Lovely…” Peggy purred, “It’s a Date…”

D-Date…?? Oh God. Yes Please…!!

Your eyes went wide and your mouth went dry. You couldn’t do anything but nod slowly.

“I’ll need the address, that is…” The brunette coaxed you out of your embarrassing trance.

Your head clicked back into reality at her words.

“Oh right…! Umm…” you mused aloud, “Well Mr. Jarvis gave me his card, I can contact him with the information, and then he can contact you…?”

Peggy smiled and nodded enthusiastically at your plan, before standing up and insisting on escorting you back to your car.

“See you soon, Darling…” the brunette purred, as you drove away.

Oh God, this woman was going to be the death of you…

~~~

Peggy Carter Masterlist

[daddyhausen]

can I request being a brat and CM Punk fucking that attitude right out of you?

punk has brat tamer written all over him 🥵

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

• listen and learn — cm punk •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { cm punk masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, fem!reader, submissive/dominant dynamic, teasing, handjobs, exhibitionism, male + female orgasms, brat taming, daddy kink, edging, rough sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie

{ pairing } — fem!reader x cm punk

{ word count } — 1.9k

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @thebestintheworld @chrisdickinson @cuzimacomedian @wardlow @sammiejane22 @april-jeanette-wagner

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

his frustrations were evident, you’d been circling around him like a disobedient puppy for the last hour and a half, trying so desperately to get his attention while he was mid conversation. to keep it short your intentions were not working. the most he’d offer you was an annoyed glance or two, the look stern, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed into a scowl slightly, a warning it was. 

still , the subtle and domineering look did not deter you one bit. the both of you sat in catering, you clinging around his arm, practically attached to his hip, still he remained in conversation with one christan cage, the two of them reminiscing over the more earlier times in their career. you’d seemed to have zoned out, staring up at him with such fondness also with ill intent at the fact he was not paying you so much as a drop of attention. still you waited for the right moment. you admired him, eyes fluttering across, scanning his features. from the slight creases and crinkles by his eyes each time he cracked a smile or the patches of grey that were soon to over take the black in his beard, the healed scars indented in his skin, to his scent. in love would not even describe the way you felt about him. you were enamoured, obsessed even.

yet, the lack of attention in this moment seemed to bother you, normally he’d be so attentive, not being able to keep his hands to himself. it must be some conversion for him to completely ignore you, not that you were even listening to what they were saying in the first place anyway. you needed his attention and you needed it bad. 

you rested your head upon your shoulder, no suspicion on his part, only responding by gently placing his hand upon yours under the table. reassurance if anything, still unsure of what for exactly. your eyes flickered from the back of your hand to his. so different in contrast, yours bare of colour, a blank canvas if you will, while his was littered with ink, a very beautiful portrait in your opinion. 

slowly your hand began to pry from his, resting upon his thigh for time being, him still being unaware of the scenario that was about to unfold, still utterly immured in the conversation with the blond. inch by inch your hand moved closer to his clothed cock, eventually beginning to palm him through his jeans. 

you felt his body stiffen underneath your touch momentarily, clearing his throat from the sudden action. you remained silent, by his side, feeling his size harden in his jeans as you slowly palm circles against his cock. he continued the conversation, albeit with more pauses and stutters in between. 

“watch yourself, love…” he warned through a silent grunt, peering down at you for a second while the older male in front of you both rambled absentmindedly. oh boy if there was anytime to misbehave further it was now! slowly you began toying with the zipper of his jeans, he gave you a stern look whilst you merely smiled innocently up at him. 

you unzipped his jeans agonisingly slow, prying his cock from his jeans as he gulped thickly. you began to pump his thick shaft under the table, eyes often daring from his, the poor soul sitting across from you, christian none the wiser. seconds felt like minutes, and the minutes seemed to stretch into hours, days even. his mouth ran dry, nails gripping the edge of the table, his free hands trying to pry yours away from his cock. 

truth be told, he did not want you to stop, he rather enjoyed the setting, although he did not feel like you deserved the privilege of toying with his cock due to your recent behaviour, sure you were always a bratty, attention seeking, little slut and he adored you for that. but this, it was getting beyond a joke. if you were going this far to get his attention only after an hour and a half, who knows the lengths you’ll go if he denied you attention any longer. 

he muttered a small “fuck” under his breath, attempting to clear his throat as a distraction from the word. his cock hard in your palm, already leaking hot precum across your knuckles, you smiled down at the sight, a small exhale in contentment as you simply let your eyes flutter around the room absentmindedly. 

“you alright, man” christan’s voice brought your tattooed lover out from his lust induced trace. punk blinked for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts, the older male tilting his head questioningly, eyebrows furrowed with slight confusion. 

“y-yeah i’m f-fine…why?” he barely managed to choke out, a thick gulp rising in the back of his throat as he tried his best to contain his moans. you gave a particularly rough pump to his cock, making him grip your thigh underneath the table.

“are you sure?” christian mentioned, face still contorted with mild confusion and slight worry for his friend. “you’re sweating”

your love gave a soft inhale, bringing the hand that resided your thigh up to his forehead to indeed confirm his friend's suspicions. he was indeed sweating, a thin layer had built up across his hairline, his cheeks flushed and red with arousal, his skin warm. 

“maybe you’re coming down with something?” you interjected, placing the back of your free hand to his temple, pretending to feel his temperature. “you do feel quite warm”

your intentions seemed innocent enough, although punk would like to think otherwise as your hand was still wrapped around his aching cock. christian looked on in silence, still utterly confused. 

‘maybe we should head back to the hotel so you can get some rest?” your voice was sickly sweet in your lover's ears, his breath grew ragged as his orgasm drew near, a shaky exhale of disappointment once you released his cock from his grasp, effectively ruining any possible chance of release for him. with a thick gulp he silently stuffed his cock back into his jeans.

“uh, yeah…w-we probably should…” he stuttered mid-sentence, trying his best to recollect his thoughts, silently hoping that his cock was not visible through his jeans. a soft smirk curled the ends of your lips, standing up to join his, arms still wrapped around his, very much like an overbearing lover. 

“okay…” christian mumbled, feeling more confused than ever, his eyes switching between the both of you to try and form a cohesive conclusion the the scenario. “i guess i’ll see you later then…”

without another word, punk silently bowed his head, lips pursed into a thin line, his thank you absent of words, still very much thankful to get out of that situation as soon as possible. you followed your love out of the arena, the air silent, this, claustrophobic even, he needed to get back to the hotel and fast. 

the two of you entered the car, silence encapsulated the small rental vehicle, no music, no talking, just the two of you marinating in your own sexual frustrations with each other. you’d smirk to yourself, you’d won this round, still buzzing from the scene that played out moments ago. you turned to him, his eyes fixated on the road, his pupils dilated with lust although he’d never say it outright. Not now anyway. his knuckles bone white, the pigment from the tattoos covering the skin there, dulled and grey from the tightness of how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. a scowl permanently plastered across his lips. you were in for it when you got back to the hotel…

-

“what the fuck was that back there love?” he backed you up against the hotel, his cock hard once again, pressed against your inner thigh as the arousal did not seem to quell in your stomach. “you’re just asking to be ruined, aren’t you?”

you simply giggled, tugging at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to pry it from his skin. still he remained still, trapping you between his body and the wall, breath heavy and needy, head dipping into the crook of your neck, rough hungry kisses littering your skin. 

“you seemed bored, daddy” you spoke through a moan, eventually prying his shirt over his head, inked skin flush against yours. he gave a small chuckle at your response, he wouldn’t necessarily say that the conversation itself was boring, but he definitely felt himself beginning to zone out 

“you wanted my attention that bad, huh?” his voice was low in your ear, the presence of a growl hiding behind his words. “well, you have it now, love”

he did not even give you a chance to process his words, far too impatient after the torment you’d previously caused him at the arena. he tore your clothes from your body, the sound of fabric ripping at the seams made you audible gasp, yet cringe internally at your poor clothing. well, at least it gives you an excuse to update your closet. 

he was not even going to give you the opportunity to relax in the bed, lifting you up, cock resting against your inner thigh, determined to fuck that attitude out of you, right up against the hotel wall. your cunt slick with anticipation, just aching for him to bury his cock deep inside you. it's exactly what the both of you wanted, no matter how much he wanted to tease you like you did him.

he slipped into your cunt with ease, fucking up into you, relentless and violent in his movements. any attempt to keep yourself silent was ruined with each thrust he gave. you clung to him, more desperate than you had earlier. all you’d wanted was his attention, and you certainly got it, not expecting that he would be attentive, especially after your means of getting it. 

“dumb little slut, why do you have to be such a brat?” he grunted into the crook of your neck, the feeling vibrating through your skin. “if you wanted my cock so bad, you should have asked”

your felt the familiar tightness rise in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick cock, drawing your your orgasm little by little, absolutely fucked dumb at this point, your words mere incoherent babbles at this point, barely able to form full sentences other than his name and moans.

he remained silent, just allowing himself to drown in the sound of your sweet sounds of pleasure. he had thought about ruining your orgasm like you’d done to him previously. although he thought that punishment was a bit too harsh on such an innocent soul like yourself. 

you buried your head into the crook of his neck, whining and pleading for release, scratching and clawing your nails into the tattooed skin of his back, the inked flesh now illuminated with a soft pink hue. 

your sweetness flooded around his length, the friction overwhelming your system, body shaking with such intense pleasure of which made tears prick the corners of your eyes. he still kept the same pace, fast and rough until his release, the sensation far more satisfactory than the experience he’d suffered about an hour ago. his cum hot, a sensation which made you relax instantly into him, his seed dripping from your void, down your thighs and his shaft. 

“i hope you’ve learnt your lesson, love”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Birdbox (1/5)

Word count ; 4.0k

*Edited.

*Dedicated to @horrorfan-666-anoynmous. This is gn!reader. The plot will be on the abstract side and it’ll be only me that’ll actually know what’s going through my head explanation-wise. Enjoy :)

The citizens of small town Lacombe, Alberta were already starting to bundle up. It was late October and already the middle-of-nowhere area was starting to feel chills. Many had stocked up on new winter jackets; the shop keepers were already starting to run the heater in the early morning; and those that wandered late at night could see their breath.

It was safe to say the local clothes store was having a run on the winter jackets. And, alike to the other customers, Y/n was quick to hop on the trend. Their cane was outstretched in front of them while a plastic bag dangled from their other hand, tearing at the seams from how large the wooly coat was.

Y/n always appreciated that Lacombe was easy to traverse. There was rarely traffic or people to run into to begin with, and the town was so small they could probably manage to walk from one end to the other in under an hour. It was a quaint place. And, for someone labeled as disabled, that was certainly appreciated.

They ran their cane over the sidewalk, avoiding another street lamp. They came to a grinding halt as they found the ledge, and they pulled their phone from their pocket. Y/n started,” Hey, Siri, is the traffic light green?”

The quiet voice was easily overpowered as cars flew past the curb. That was answer enough, and Y/n expected that the tiny app would tell them when the lights changed, as per usual. They clutched the bag closer to their side, and despite the thick sweater and jeans and boots, Y/n was still feeling the chills of the quickly cooling weather as the days passed.

“Hey, do you need some help getting home?” A young man around Y/n’s age, tatted and pierced up the wazoo, approached. He eyed them in worry, continuing,” If you need directions —“

“Do I look like I need help?” Y/n snapped irritably.

The man was taken aback, and despite recognizing that they were blind as a bat, held his hands up defensively. “Geez, asshole. I was just trying to be nice. You clearly woke up on the wrong side of the fucking bed.”

Y/n didn’t reply. They were ever so slightly irked - even though they consciously knew they shouldn’t be - but chose to ignore the random man. Their foot tapped against the concrete impatiently and their fingers were itching to get back to work.

“…Huh?”

The man furrowed his brows, eyeing the sky. He wasn’t the only one to stop in pure confusion. The entire town of Lacombe came to a screeching halt and perhaps even the earth stopped spinning. Because, descending from the sky, was a large, grey blob. It was far too circular to be a plane, but far too small to be a ship of some sort.

And it was rocketing right toward the center square.

From Y/n’s phone, Siri’s robotic voice chirped,” The light is red.”

Y/n used their cane, stepping off into the street. However, their movements shook the young man free of his paralysis. In horror, he saw that the late, egg-shaped monolith was barreling to the center block, right to where Y/n was intending to walk through.

“Hey, asshole, stop. Don’t walk out into the middle of the street —!”

They paid him no mind. Some women screamed, others gasped, but generally, the consensus was to gain distance from the large, metallic thing. And Y/n, in their blissfully unaware state, had no idea that they were heading into an immediate danger zone.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

The man reached out, grabbing their upper arm. Y/n yelped, the cane being torn from their hold. The young man jerked them back, and Y/n tripped on the ledge. Both went barreling to the ground, the concrete tearing into their clothes, but that was immediately the least of their worries.

It hit. No more than a couple yards away, the unidentified flying object collided into the ground. Smoke and steam poured from it, and very quickly, the streets were rolled over with a thick fog. Y/n and the man began coughing viciously. They covered their mouth, propping themselves up on their elbows.

“The light is green.”

The man peered up, trying his best to stumble to his feet. He was anxious, and his eyes flitted with concern to and from the blind individual, even more confused than anyone else. When he was on his feet, he waved some of the mist away, but he could no longer see the metal sheath as the fog seemingly dispersed into nothing.

And that was what was left. Nothing. The only indication it was there in the first place was a large dent and rapture in the pavement, large cracks crossing all the way to the sidewalk itself. Everyone was slowly gathering, and even the cars had gone into park to see what the commotion was.

“Hey, dude, let me help you up,” the man mumbled, grabbing out to Y/n’s arm.

Y/n, not arguing and far too shaken up by how the earth had rumbled, grasped onto the man and made their way onto their feet. They continued to grip the man tightly, and questions threatened tho escape their lips. The man was still staring warily at where the object once was.

And then, one of those questions escaped.

“What… happened?”

“I - I don’t fucking know. There was some thing in the sky coming right toward the street. It hit not too far from us and, uh… now it’s, like, gone.”

Y/n was too shaken up. Their brows furrowed and they aimed to prod further, but they knew damn well he was as unknowing as the next person. They decided they would just shake it off. They were going to try their best to get to the safety of their home, because whatever happened could’ve been a bomb for all they knew.

They detached from the man. They crouched down, reaching around for their walking cane.

“The light is red.”

A piercing shriek broke out from across the street. Y/n was on their hands and knees in search of the cane, still abandoned a few feet in the street ahead of them. However, both them and the man froze in here confusion. And I ust like that, all panic broke loose.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaimed, stumbling back to a store window and pressing himself against him. “What the hell…”

The woman from across the street suddenly stepped up to a lamppost. All at once, she began bashing her head against it. Others screamed, but what was more terrifying was how certain citizens were completely silent. A hoard began to circle the lamppost, doing the same exact thing.

Suddenly, the cars started up. From each intersection, cars went flying toward one another. Screams echoed the plaza, and all at once, explosions from those imploding in the center ensued. The man was screaming at the top of his lungs.

But Y/n was far too shocked and baffled to know what was going on. For all they knew, a war started. A smoke grenade was set off and everyone was going insane. But what they did know was that screaming wouldn’t do a damn thing, especially with how the wind had picked up and was now howling just as loudly as the shrieks themselves.

Y/n curled up into a ball in on the ground. The cane, finally found, was clutched in their grasp. It didn’t do much, but they shut their eyes tightly and rolled ever so slightly back and forth. Siri’s voice was greatly silenced by the pure mania surrounding them.

“Wh - what…- Hey, asshole, we need to —“

Just like that, an engine roared. The man was cut short as a large truck came barreling across the sidewalk, totaling the man into the store front. The window shattered. Y/n let out a mangled sob, hearing the engine burst. The scene was hardly the most gruesome of their surroundings, but it was bad.

The man’s body was but a splatter of blood and torn flesh. It was a large lump inside the hardware store, and the truck itself had the entire engine shoved through the window. The airbag poured out the open windows, masking the imploded head on a once living human being’s body. The glass had shattered and scattered around the ground, but the tiny shards that dug into Y/n’s pant legs were hardly the greatest of their worries.

“Jace!” a mother bellowed, grasping at her child’s shoulders, not even a hundred yards away. “Jace, what’s wrong? What are you looking at? You’re alright, baby, you’re alright —“

And just like that, a fog passed over her vision. She was not afraid, no; but, alike to her son, she looked so very depressed. Nobody would ever know why, too preoccupied with their own hallucinations. It was frightening how, once the cars went silent, Y/n became dutifully aware of how silent the screams had become.

Because, not too far away, that single mother and her young boy were clawing out their own eyeballs. They did not care how deep their fingers dug into their sockets and how badly it stung to rip their eyes free entirely. They did not care that blood spewed and darkness clouded their vision.

And that was soon because both dropped dead to the ground, too enchanted by the visions they’d witnessed. 

Y/n was only half aware of the fact that people are seeing things. They were being possessed, and whatever that fog was made everyone around them kill themselves. The wind was howling so viciously, whipping Y/n’s body around. They clutched the plastic bag and one to their chest, trying to ignore how wet their jeans were.

‘Look.’

Clear as a bell, a feminine voice whispered to them. Y/n clawed into the ground the best they could, covering their ears. They rocked back and forth, terrified tears continuing to spill  from their eyes.

‘Look, Y/n.’

All at once, it was a chorus. So many different voices, ranging from a small toddler to an old man, were crowding their head. It was awful, because they couldn’t. They couldn’t look and they weren’t sire they wanted to even if they could. Whatever people were witnessing was horrifying and grotesque. 

‘You saw once and you can see again. Look.’

‘To see is beautiful, Y/n. To look is heaven.’

“Stop,” Y/n muttered gruffly, shaking their head. “Shut up. You’re not real.”

‘Look, look, look. To witness is divine.’

Something suddenly smacked across their cheek. It smeared, and Y/n yelped, but it kept returning. Smack. Smack. Smack. Over and over again, the wind brought it back. And then, it was only duplicated. Two wet items were hitting Y/n, and they swatted it away.

At a final swat, they ended up enclosing their hand around the object.

‘Look.’

Y/n squished it. It felt slimy, like jello. And, as they felt around the circular object, they noticed a long thread escape a part of it. The object was so wet, and it didn’t take more than a moment for them to connect the dots. A howl escaped their lips and they dropped the crushed eyeball to the ground.

And then, the wind stopped. The voices stopped. Everything stopped. No more screams, no more crashing cars. Nothing. And that terrified Y/n to their very core.

They released a shaky breath, propping themselves up on their elbows. Y/n eagerly wiped their hand on their jeans, reeling in pure disgust. Their jeans were soaked to the core, and they were more than happy to use their cane to stumble to their feet.

The wind was still howling, and yet, it was as though the entity itself was the wind. Some dead leaves slapped against Y/n’s body, and they used the cane to stabilize themselves. They were hyperventilating crazily.

“The light is green.”

Y/n took their phone out from their pocket. Immediately, they ordered,” Hey Siri, call nine-one-one.”

They wanted to begin shuffling away. But they were still paralyzed in fright, so baffled by the sudden - and seemingly supernatural - turn of events. The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Y/n gulped, connecting the dots. The local police station was as fucked as everyone else. They had no idea what was going on, but what they did know was that it was cold and scary and dangerous. And that they needed to go home. Now.

Gulping, they outstretched the cane. They made sure to be precise, waving it in every approaching inch. Halfway across the street, the cane collided right with a hunk of metal, and they scaled the piece, recognizing that a car crash happened right in front of them. They maintained a mental map - if they could even call it that - and made it around the vehicles.

They didn’t hear a single sound, except for their footsteps and the wind. It was deadly silent and it shouldn’t have been. It was odd how, in the span of no more than three seconds, Lacombe had gone from a friendly and quaint village town to a hell-scape. 

They were often bitter about their blindness, but they were now glad they were left unable to witness the events. And, potentially, it had saved their life.

They made it down the sidewalk. There were so many corpses and detached limbs that they tripped frequently. And it made no sense, but it was like the bustling wind was following their every step. It was frightening to know but not see what was going on. But Y/n couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

As they made their way to the small apartment complex, hardly three stories tall and with roughly ten apartments for rent, they passed by the worst gore of all; there was a pyramid of crushed cars and bodies, towering almost as high as the building itself. The pile creaked and swayed with every burst of wind.

Y/n opened the front entrance. They shut and locked the door behind them, already feeling far more safe and secure. They used the cane to traverse the steep steps to the second story, and the moment they felt the familiar apartment door, a sigh of relief escaped.

Shakily, they removed their keys from their pocket. They felt around for the lock before it entered with ease and the door swung open with an eerie creak. Oftentimes, they hated that the neighbors threw constant parties since they belonged to some far more immature young adults. And the apartment directly above their’s was occupied by some abusive couple.

And nothing made them happier than the silence. Or, at least, that would’ve been the case if it wasn’t because an entire population had been slaughtered by unknown attackers.

They shut and locked the door, momentarily pressing their back against it to catch their thoughts. They panted profusely, waiting a brief moment to simply… catch their breath. Think. Because as far as they knew, it was either the end of Canada or the end of the entire world.

Y/n’s apartment was quaint and, right upon walking in, it was clear it belonged to an artist. There were various paint splurges on the wall. Several of their works - or, at least, the most successful - were framed. They weren’t the originals, as some very rich people were instantly captivated by them, but they were the best of the best. Y/n was an artist. And, thanks to her special background, a fairly well-known one.

To the right was a small kitchen with the usual appliances and an island with barstools. Beyond that, a small living room with a couch, coffee table, and their kindle. Right in front, without an especially acquired office, was the place where they painted. An easel, a small desk with a notebook. Drawers with supplies, and many, many blank canvases. Beyond the public living space was a small bed and bathroom, messy and cluttered because the maid hadn’t been around in a few weeks.

They sighed and pushed themself from the wall. They felt disgusting. The first thing they wanted to do was strip off their filthy clothes - even if it was rather chilly inside the apartment - and shower. So, they did just that. And a half hour later, they emerged, towel wrapped around their neck and snuggly adorning fluffy pajamas.

They sat at the island. Their thoughts were still racing, but at least they were more coherently organized. And, as much as they thought to their father, wanting to check up on him, they spoke,” Hey Siri, turn on CBC live.”

Siri did so. The wifi was abnormally slow, and much to their unawareness, didn’t even work thanks to the amount of cars that crashed into telephone lines and electricity servers. The world around them was dying, and the moment the news started, they started realizing it.

“—International tragedy has struck,” the news reporter spoke urgently. “Mass hysteria that leads leading to suicide is occurring worldwide. Scientists and politicians are scrambling to discover the contaminants of the air, if any, and suspect a far deadlier and rapid mutation of dancing mania.

“Religious communities are calling it ‘the end of times.’ Others are insisting it is a long-since-coming alien invasion. There are several videos circulating of egg-shaped pods shooting from the sky. The videos are as can be seen here.”

Y/n grumbled in irritation, hearing the screams and crash from the video. It was displayed in the corner of the phone screen while the news reporter was standing still, clearly sweating bullets. Even the camera man was trembling. The studio was oddly dark, except for the bleeding light from the windows beyond the camera. The video finally stopped.

“…This supposed virus was seemingly first appeared in Los Angelos, California, but many separate clusters have been spotted in Shanghai, London, New York, Brazil, Moscow, and Lagos. We advise that you stay inside your house at all costs. I repeat, stay inside and stay safe —“

The news reporter went silent. Y/n blinked in bafflement, concern growing in their chest. And then the camera man tittered,” John? John, are alright —“

A scream escaped the cameraman. It was live footage of the news reporter himself, John, pushing past the cameraman aggressively. The entire screen became blurry and some cracks covered it. The camera man was pushed and became far too quiet.

Although the view was tilted, it was plain as day that John crashed right through the skyscraper window. The glass shattered. The camera man was crawling toward it just as quickly, blubbering in awe. He was muttering something to himself.

But Y/n had heard enough. “Hey Siri, go to the home screen.”

The phone went silent once the report was completely minimized. Y/n’s ears rang because the silence was utterly deafening. They gulped thickly and their mouth was completely dry. They were thirsty, but for all they knew, whatever was killing the entire world population was in the water, too.

They rose to their feet and went to the fridge. They felt around, knowing it like the back of their hand. In the door shelves were rows of beer. Their immediate action was to pick one up. Y/n one drank a few times a month and saved it for special occasions - after completing a painting, for instance - and the end of the world seemed as good of an excuse as any other.

Their phone was left abandoned on the counter for the time being. They trotted over to the living room and plopped onto the couch. Y/n popped open the beer and took a quick swig. The flinched, not the fondness of the strength of the beverage, but if they was going to die, it was better to die drunk and unaware that one was dying.

Y/n was faced toward the small windows. The walls of the apartment was made of bricks and the floor of wood. It did its job, namely, housing someone, but a complaint of the building was that it wasn’t ‘modern.’ They couldn’t care less since it’s not like they could see the lack of modernity.

And, as proven in this day and age where aliens were apparently invading, it mattered even less. Y/n didn’t care too much about saving their hide. A part of them always wanted to die the day they went blind. That day… Y/n dreaded to remember it. Because they couldn’t. There was nothing to see. Only things to hear. 

They laid back on the couch, kicking their feet up. The beer was abandoned on the coffee table. They crossed their arms after readjusting the pillow. Y/n was consumed by their thoughts, and it struck them as odd that, even in the apocalypse days, they were still consumed with bitterness and selfishness. They knew damn well their life wasn’t supposed to revolve around them being angry at a god that might exist for taking their sight.

Because they knew damn well that not only did other blind people have it far worse, but that other people had it worse. And sometimes, Y/n felt bad that they were so goddamn bitter and mean. But now, it was the end of humanity as everyone knew it. So they didn’t feel nearly as bad because it clearly didn’t matter if aliens were planning to take over.

Y/n forced their mind to become silent. And, somehow, amidst the world ending, they fell right to sleep. The apartment complex was a safe haven, because even upon exiting the front door, there were bodies upon bodies. It was frightening. And it was deadly silent except for the bellowing winds.

It was home. And, as cranky and miserable of a human Y/n was known for being, they were undoubtedly talented. They’d been on many late-night interviews. And even to this day, Y/n was still baffled as to why. Because somehow - despite everything they painted being replications of their dreams - they were ‘profoundly lifelike.’ 

For instance, one of their most recent paintings was recognized as an exact replication of the Kunlun Mountains, as if drawn from memory. And, seeing as they’ve never even left the memory and became blind before they could even think about taking geography, it was truly a miracle.

Next to that was a fairly abstract one; ironically, it was named ‘The End of Days.’ It portrayed a rather ghastly figure, its face scrawled and yet defined. Y/n often had help picking out the paints, but they custom ordered a palette with the brail inscriptions of the colors. And, despite how Y/n often had landscapes drawn that were colorful and captivating, this particular one was dark and dismal, yet used earthy colors such as maroon and brown.

And finally, the ‘portrait,’ as Y/n considered it, that was the breakthrough. It was the painting everyone knew and was the most popular work. It stung them to the core just thinking of it, but even decades later, it was burned into their brains.

‘Last Look.’ The title itself was fairly straightforward. Y/n remembered it like yesterday. 

[raggaraddy]

Opportune

My Cruel Kidnapper: Chapter Seven

Yandere! Jungkook

Summary: You see the chance to escape. Freedom is right there. But should you take it?

Trigger warnings: Imprisonment, restraints, threats, violence, kidnapping, swearing, abuse. 18+ readers only.

A/n: If you are new to this story, please go to the cover page for the chapter list and the story disclaimer. 18+ readers only.

Enjoy.  💜💜💜

Previous Chapter

Your mind is at war. 

He shouldn't have been able to do that to you. You shouldn't have felt that kind of way- not with him. 

Laying in a whimpering, tear-soaked mess, you're in pain, filled with self-pity, and racked by guilt that you can not entirely understand. Feeling as if you are being consumed by a numb void until Jungkook comes out of the bathroom and once again, all your attention goes to him.

"Are you just going to lay in bed crying all day?" He scoffs accusedly.  Seeming frustrated, almost repulsed by your crying. 

I can't move, you ass! is what you scream at him- but only in your mind. You didn't go through all of that to derail your plans now. You need to do what you can to grit your teeth and bear it. Don't fight him. Be appeasing. Wait until an opportune moment, or until you are saved.

In place of any kind of truthful remark, you stay silent. Sighing in defeat as you sink your head deeper into the pillow. Your gaze fixated on the blank ceiling.

Coming into your eye line Jungkook jumps onto the bed, throwing his leg over your waist. While you restrain yourself enough at first, as his hand reaches up to your cheeks you can not keep yourself from bucking away. 

"You know, it's cute how you always flinch." He laughs, roughly grabbing the sides of your face to insist that you comply. 

The smug look he has fills your chest with a fit of white, hot anger. Eating you from the inside out. Does he think this is entertaining?! Is he having fun?! What if he were the one being treated like this? If he were the one who couldn't fight back? He would flinch. He would cry too! And then to mock you on top of that? He is irredeemable. You hate him so much.

His lingering touch slowly raises up, caressing along your arms, making too much-unwanted contact as he uncuffs you. When finally he climbs off your lap, you spring upright, quickly adjusting your shirt. Pulling it down as low as you can take it. Trying to ignore the cold, wet, sticky feeling that is pooled between your legs.

Sat there, consumed with a mix of visceral emotions as you rub your bruised wrists, the one you can feel the most is anxiety. You're obsessed with every move he's making, anticipating anything he might do. Every single thing he has done so far has been nightmare-ish. And you can't shake the fear that it is only going to keep getting worse.

Flinching again, you yelp softly in reaction to him throwing something at you. Harmlessly landing on the bed, though, is a pair of boy-cut shorts. 

"You want to wear them?" He points to the underwear.

It takes a second for your mind to race through what he said, what the possible negative ramifications might be, and what to say back. You're so traumatised that even a simple gesture has you second-guessing everything. You decide on nothing as a response and waste no time getting off his bed and putting on the additional clothing. They're too big, they sit like bicycle shorts on you. But for the first time in days, you feel somewhat protected. 

It feels strangely wonderful. You never would have expected how consequential underwear or pants were until you were in this very specific, very vulnerable situation.

He's standing in front of you dressed in grey sweat pants and a loose white tee. His hair is still wet from his shower, and it's even darker because of it. It's spiked up at strange angles from his hand running through it. He's watching you again with that zoned-out stare that he has. Making you shift uncomfortably. Looking in any other direction to avoid making eye contact.

"I just realized I haven't fed you yet." He gasps. "You must be starving." You can see his thoughts trail off and a smirk creeps it's way onto his face. "Well, I haven't fed you food anyway," he blurts out under his breath, his smirk turning to a full smile, verging on a laugh. 

What a pig. 

Holding his hand out he turns to the door, but steps further towards you, motioning for you to take his offer. "Com'on, I'll make you something to eat." 

Now that he has finally mentioned food you're realizing that you haven't eaten in 2 and a half days. You are starving, but with everything else that has been going on, food has been the last thing on your mind. Even now, you feel more queasy than hungry.

Reluctantly you accept his hand, gnawing the inside of your cheek to try to curtail your disgusted expression. Despite your subtle attempts to wriggle out of his grip, he doesn't let go until he sits you down at the kitchen bench.  

Observing him cook, smelling the onions, ham, and mushrooms sizzling in the pan you're nearly salivating. Never would you have thought a simple omelette could look so appetizing.  

The moment he sets the plate in front of you, however, something distant catches your eye. On the other side of the kitchen, just out of your reach is an unattended chef's knife. Jungkook has sat down at the far end of the bench to your right. There is nothing between it and you at this moment. 

Your mind starts working a hundred miles a minute. With where he is sitting he could never reach you before you were able to get to it.

This is too golden of a chance to pass it up. But you can't simply lunge for it. If you miss or knock it onto the floor he'll surely realize what you're trying, and you'll be without the knife to protect yourself.

Fear of missing such a perfect shot makes your heart start to beat in your ears. You can't screw this up!

Planning your moves you accidentally get food on your hand. You lick it clean, but fake and mime as if there is an excess amount of stickiness left. Standing up without a word, you walk as paced as possible to the other side of the benchtop, hoping he thinks you are just going to the sink. Hoping that your sub-par acting stops Jungkook from being suspicious.

And he isn't. He doesn't bat an eye. He doesn't even seem to be paying any attention.

This is your chance!

Snatching the knife, you hold it at arm's length in Jungkook's direction. Tightly clenching it between your two palms. Standing strong and braced. But he doesn't react. He's hardly moved. Only his elbow is lifted up resting on the bench. Looking at you with lacklustre disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. His expression looking to ask you wouldn't be that stupid, would you?

Disregarding you, he returns to his breakfast. Completely unphased. 

Uncertainty hits you like an oncoming truck.

You're already shaking with terror, but his lack of reaction is causing an emotion in you that is so intense and raw that you have to stifle the urge to be sick. 

"Hey!" You shriek, "Don't look away from me! You- unless you want to be stabbed you should- you need to put your hands down. On the table. Put them flat." Mentally you berate yourself for sounding so unfocused and weak. This isn't the tone you wanted to take. 

Unbothered, Jungkook looks up again. A small, closed mouth smile telling you how unintimidating he finds you. It's infuriating because it means that he's not taking you seriously. As if he doesn't see the weapon in your hands. As if he thinks you're not capable of hurting him.

Straightening up you take a half-step forward. Small cracks click from your stiff back as you try to appear taller and more confident. 

"Now!" You howl, using volume to further assert your authority. Hoping to god that he can't see the shake in your hands.

Restaining a laugh, he raises his hands in a playful surrender, laying them as you instructed, palms flat on the bench. Not taking his eyes off you as he does. Not even blinking. 

It's completely disorientating. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. You don't know that if it comes down to you versus him that you can beat him. Even with a weapon. You panicked when you saw it just sitting there. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. He doesn't seem worried at all. How are you supposed to beat crazy?

"Now what?" he snickers.

You just- you just have to figure out how to get out of here. You have to follow through. He must have a key to the front door. 

"Give me the keys," You demand, keeping the knife firmly in between the two of you as a source of protection. Trying to ignore his wide-eyed, unblinking stare. 

"What keys?" He teases, his voice raising. 

Oh god! Why isn't this working? Why isn't he doing what you say? 

You're starting to wheeze. This is insane. What is he going to do to you if this doesn't work? What happens if you don't get out of here? This was such a bad fucking idea! 

"Stop!" Your voice cracks. Your heavy breaths fill your words. "You know what keys I'm talking about. The ones for the front door. Give' em. Now!" 

You need to get out of here this instant. You're beyond petrified. You have to rid the doubt from your mind. You have the power. You have the knife. You're fine. I'm going to get out of here. Stay focused. You'll be safe and won't have to think about Jungkook ever again once you're free. 

He doesn't respond. Inch by inch you move around the bench until you come the end and only open space is standing between you and Jungkook. You know to stay back. You can't give him any chance to grab you. 

"Jungkook. Now!" All strength disappears and all that is left is a plead. 

"No." His casual reply makes your head spin. The ground falling out from under you. 

"What are you talking about?" You squeal. On the brink of tears. Barely able to hold yourself together let alone keep up a facade of dominance. "Give me the keys. Now! Or I'll stab you!"

You have a knife. You're finally the one in control. He's supposed to say yes not no. He's supposed to be scared.

"Go on then; stab me." He shrugs. His aloof, cold demeanour pushes you past panic and helps you focus your rage and momentarily shore your voice, giving it much needed steadiness and power.

"Listen here, you fucking lunatic. You have put me through hell, and I swear to God if you don't give me the key right now, I am going to-" he talks over you. Loudly and firmly cutting you off. 

"No, you listen you stupid bitch. Because I'm going to give you one chance, just one chance to put down your little toy and then get on your knees like a good girl." His smile becomes wide and toothy. He is revelling in this. In his threat. In your fear. "Or you can keep this up and see how all those scary things I said I could do become reality."

You're wringing the handle but for a second you almost lose your grip on the knife. You're trembling. Your knees are weak. It feels as if you could collapse with just a tap. A replaying of every horrid, terrifying thing he has threatened begins to flit through your head. And for a split instant, you have the thought to do what he says. To throw down the knife, drop to your knees, and beg his forgiveness. Beg him not to hurt you. To not kill you.

But you can't. You see the cruelty in his eye. The sparkle of enjoyment. You don't trust that he won't hurt you. And you know that should he keep his word and not retaliate, this psycho doesn't think some of what he has done is harming you. Even in the best-case scenario where he gives you full amnesty, he is still going to force himself on you again. He's still going to tie you down again. To touch you again. And given time he is still going to hit you again. And surely he will end up killing you.

And once this opportunity is gone, he will certainly be even more careful going forward.

No. It's now or never. You have to get out. You just have to! 

"Jungkook," Your voice is uncontrollably coming out as a hushed, timid whisper. "Please just give me the keys." you plead again.

His eyes are boring their malicious nature into yours. Reading you. Giving you the chance to rethink your answer and cave to his demands. But you don't accept.  

"Fine." He states. His icy calm sends a shiver down your neck. Slowly he slips his hand into his pants pocket keeping his palm open and in view the whole time, showing you exactly what he is doing. He pulls out a bundle of keys that are all looped together, holding them in his forefinger and thumb. Crassly he sets them on the bench and slides them over to you.

This is it!

A ripple of excitement and fear attacks you as you snatch them up. Seizing the keys to your freedom.

In a thoughtless reaction, you stumble back, preparing to bolt to the front door, but catch yourself. You need to make sure Jungkook can't follow you. You have to be smart.

"Stand!" You bark. To your disdain, that goddamned smirk has returned to his face. But thankfully he does as you say. "Move," You point to the far door in the kitchen. The one that leads down the hallway into the dungeon-like room.

He follows your instruction slowly. Too slowly. You're planted firmly and buzzing with impatience but you don't follow after him until he reaches the first door, keeping a sufficient distance between you two. He opens the door and takes a step down the dark hallway, turning over his shoulder to look back at you.

"Go." You demand, deathly strangling the handle.

After what feels like an eternity filled with time that could allow for everything to go wrong, he, at last, opens the door at the end of the hallway giving you a final cold glance. 

You're so close to crumbling. You haven't breathed the whole time. This needs to be over. 

Belatedly the door closes and you sprint down the hall after him, twisting the lock shut. A heavy clunk sealing him in. 

You did it!

He's trapped. You're free!

With all of your pent up energy you turn and bolt down the hallway into the light. Into the kitchen. Skidding the corner, your run past the bench tossing the knife into the sink making your hands free to properly handle the keys. 

Through the living room into the entrance hall, you don't stop running and instead come to a halt as you make contact with the door. Slowing just enough to not hurt yourself. 

Thumbing through the bundle, you're trying to find the most logical choice for which key could fit the lock. They all are mostly the same. Plain, silver, metal keys. But you choose the first that has a slight defining notch in it and place it to the lock. However, your hand is shaking so much that you are unable to insert it.

Scolding yourself, you chant a mantra to calm down. Breath. Calm. You're about to be free. Just breath.  

Steadying your grip you attempt again. You place the key and it fits, but it doesn't turn. 

That's okay, there are half-a-dozen here. One of them will work.

You take the next key and try it in both directions. It doesn't work. Then you try the next key and that one doesn't turn either. One by one you go through 5 more and not one of them opens. All of them are useless!

Every minuscule piece of restraint that you gathered together goes up in flames. Hysteria sends your chest into a wild rattling and you nearly collapse to the floor. Your body surges with an ache, every time your heart beats.

They don't work? How could they not work?!

Think calmly. Rationally. Please Y/n keep it together.

It's fine. They have to open something. They have to. There has to be a back door or a window. These keys will open something. And the worst-case scenario, if the keys don't work on any lock, you have Jungkook trapped. He isn't going anywhere. You have time to break a window or find a phone. 

Your phone! 

You can't believe it's taken you this long to think of it.  You had your phone in your backpack and you know your backpack came here with you because you were wearing it when he pulled you into the car. 

If you can find your backpack, you can find your phone and you can call the police. 

You have no idea where it is, but you have time to look. 

From the entrance hall, there are 6 possible directions. The front door, the small bedroom, the downstairs bathroom, the stairs, and the hall to the living room. The 6th door is one you have never seen past.  

Opening it, it leads you into the laundry. You nearly scream in elation as you find a heavy wooden door with a small window at head height. It's a door outside! 

You turn the knob and predictably find no easy escape. Cycling through the keys again your heart sinks just that little further as none of them work to your advantage. Frustration fills you to the brim and you scream in anger, slamming your fists over and over, beating anything you can make contact with. 

Why can't you just get out of here?!

Using that frustration you run in search throughout the remainder of the house, looking for any signs of your phone. Your sights first set on his room. You tear through his belongings. Ripping the room to shreds hoping to find your bag, or more keys, or anything. But after several minutes of scouring, left hot and sweating and panting, you have nothing to show for it but a sea of mess surrounding you. Y/n think. He isn't going to leave it anywhere you could find it. He's not that stupid. You're getting caught up and not thinking straight. Trying to find your phone is not the way to go. You need to focus on getting out of here first. There has to be a window behind that heavy curtain in the living room and a heavy chair should be able to do enough damage to get you free. 

Calm down and think logically.

You take a step towards the door and your body crashes into the carpet. Your knees are too unstable to hold you. Your mind is swallowed by fear. You just can't believe that you're not out yet. It's been nearly 10 minutes. You were supposed to be free by now! No stuck wandering your prison!

What if Jungkook breaks the door down? What if he catches you? Oh, God! What would he do to you?

You're driving yourself crazy with these thoughts. Get free Y/n. Find a window and get free. 

Burling down the stairs, your legs can hardly keep up with your momentum. In your head, you're picturing the broken open window you are about to create. You just need to throw the heavy black material to the side. Hell, one of these keys may even work on that back door. 

You're going to get out.

No sooner than your foot touches the bottom step you see something incomprehensible. 

Your body slams to a halt like you've hit a brick wall.

Jungkook. 

No! How?! Your head is rampant with so many intrusive thoughts that you can't make a steady idea.  

He's leaning against the hall entrance, his thick arms folded. Eyeing you with a haunting malevolence that you thought you'd never have to see again.  

"How?" Is all you can manage. Your restraint breaking, a flood of tears letting loose down your cheeks. 

Uncrossing his arms in a showy display, he lets you see a small black key in his palm. A boisterous laugh accompanying your wide-eyed despair. 

Your vision is blurry, your ears are ringing. Oh God, please, someone save me. 

There isn't any other choice but to run. You're so beyond fucked, the only hope you have is to hide and pray his anger subsides. 

Quickly scanning around the room, you make the fast decision to retreat up the stairs. His bedroom was unsuccessful last time, but if you can drag the chest of draws in front of the door, that might barricade the room well enough. Or you can try the second upstairs bedroom. You know the window is too high from up there, but maybe you will be able to attract attention from anyone nearby if you scream loud enough. That room has a chair you can use to block the door. You just have to move fast. 

Your darting look gives away your intentions. Seeing Jungkook notice your mental plan, you don't waste any time reacting. Stretching your legs as far as they will go, forcing as much power into them as possible, you bolt.

As you move so does Jungkook. But you're closer to the stairs than him. You're certain that you'll make it. 

Just when your foot connects with the bottom step a painful large chunk of your loose hair is caught. Instantly yanking you back, pulling you off the stairs onto the floor.

Drawn up through your hair, Jungkook hoists you onto your feet. Gasping in pain, you're unable to vocalize anything more. Hanging limply as he lifts you to the point of extension that your tiptoes just touch the floor. 

You want to thrash and kick and fight. But you can't. You've no control over your body anymore.  A fear-induced disconnect is separating your limbs from your mind. All you can manage is to limply push against his chest, trying to shove him away.

His dark, horrid chuckle fills your ringing ears and with his free hand he holds up the black key and demonstratively puts it in his pocket. Slowly, he lowers his face to yours, breaking past your barricading hands at his chest. His mouth resting just above your ear.

"You're going to wish you did what I told you."

[dwiindovah]

Danny v Lizzie (915 words)

Danny is in his own lab tinkering with things on his day off his dream job as an astronaut. Life is going pretty smoothly for once-- aaand his ghost sense goes off. Goddamnit. He turns around with a groan to see a nervous looking observer. "Sir, there is an incident at the Keep that requires your input immediately." So much for a day off.

--

The ghost king arrives at his keep to a very distressed Fright Knight trying to dissuade an elderly looking ghost woman wearing a purple ensemble from approaching the throne. Every time her path is blocked, her cloud-like hair gives off a crackle of electricity. Danny squints at the familiar looking ghost and realises who it is. "Queen Lizzie?!! Is that you?!"

Liz turns around affronted by the improper name usage, "that is Queen Elizabeth the Second to you young man."

"Right. Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary the Second of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, what may I assist you with on this fine day in the Ghost Zone?" Danny quips back sarcastically.

Ignoring the attitude given to her by the ghost boy in front of her, Elizabeth quiets down a bit. She starts smoothing down her royal purple skirt as she speaks. "Well, first of all, if you could kindly remove this gentleman who is blocking the way to my throne." She gestures to the annoyed looking Fright Knight.

"I totally would except, that's my throne and this is my throne room. So, no, I won't be removing this 'gentleman' from your path." Danny snickers lightly at the use of the word 'gentleman' for the Fright Knight, who looks quite affronted with the newly assigned title.

This has the usually distinguished woman scoffing, "your throne room? You're much too young to bear the weight of the crown."

"Weren't you in your twenties or something when you were crowned?" Danny questioned the ex-monarch.

Elizabeth pouts, "Maybe so. But that was then and this is now. I have much more experience as of this moment."

The actual current monarch sighs, making an attempt to soothe his oncoming daily headache by rubbing his temple. "You can't just have the crown this time Lizzie."

Storm cloud hair crackles back to life as Elizabeth stomps one of her heeled feet in a toddler-like manner, "it is my God given right! You cannot keep this from me."

One of Danny's eyes twitch in irritation at this statement, "I really can, it's not that hard."

Standing her ground, Elizabeth announces confidently, "one way or another, I will have this throne."

There is a beat of silence before the Ghost King pipes up again, "Is that an official challenge Lizzie?"

A small hmph sounds from the former Queen of England, "I do not need to challenge what is already mine."

"Again, not your throne. Actually very much my throne." Danny points out with a 'you didn't connect shit' hand gesture.

It seems that Elizabeth had finally had enough of the impolite and crass ghost in front of her and snapped. Her cloudy hair  darkens to a stormy grey and begins to let off growing sparks of lightning, "Begone from this place, usurper!" She howls, her ghostly aura flaring in anger.

Not to be outdone by this fledgling ghost, Danny gets into a fighting stance, "Alright, that's it, square up Lizzie."

The enraged former monarch looks absolutely affronted by this supposed ghost king's intentions to physically fight her and she quite easily becomes overwhelmed by her growing emotions, the unfamiliarity of a ghost's volatile emotional state getting the best of her. The greyed storm clouds originating from her head beneath her signature flat-top hat extend outwards and coalesce in the rafters of the throne room making it as dreary and wet as an average day in Britain. Soon it is pouring down with rain leaving Danny looking like a sopping wet kitten. Her royal highness strikes out with a fist towards her opponent unleashing white hot lightning that conducts itself through her storm until it connects with the Ghost King with a spectacular bang. As she blinks the light from her eyes caused by the self-imposed flashbang, she sees her opponent, completely unphased.

Danny waltzes forward lazily providing his audience with a slow clap, "well, that was just delightful Lizze!" His gaze darkens and suddenly he is right behind the shocked woman whispering ominously in her ear, "this is how a real ruler does it." Danny backhands her and she crashes through the Keep's front doors. He is back on her in a second, booting her into the sky only to appear above her once more and slam her forcefully down back to earth. The dust clears and Elizabeth is lying defeated in the centre of a massive crater.

--

Danny arrives back home through his own portal and ducks into the kitchen where Sam and Tuck are hanging out while a nice smelling dinner does its thing on the stove. Tucker notices Danny's entrance and immediately announces, "Dude, you would not believe who died today! The Queen of England - as dead as you and your zone."

Danny who looks very exasperated replies, "No kidding, I basically just had to beat her ghost off my throne with a stick." For a moment the kitchen is silent except for the sound of whatever was on the stove simmering away.

"...WHAT!??!" Sam and Tucker explode.

[AO3 link]

[jackiesarch]

— OC RAGE LANGUAGE

tagged by the lovely @adelaidedrubman @preachercuster and @belorage to take this uquiz to expose my kids, so here��s the full spread! thanks, y’all!

tagging @cameronburke @blissfulalchemist @shallow-gravy @florbelles @strafethesesinners @henbased @chuckhansen @chyrstis @queennymeria @denerims @devil-kindred @shellibisshe @feywildchild @indorilnerevarine and anyone else who wants to play!

— OPEN THE FLOODGATES

your frustration turns into tears quickly. the strength of your fury is so potent that it sets off the waterworks out of pure rage. you hate it, because whoever's pissed you off thinks it's funny, like you're not tough and you can't defend yourself. you can, you just need to get through the haze of emotions first.

— THE FULL READ

whoever pisses you off is in for a rant that exposes every single one of their deepest insecurities and issues. your rage gives you the clarity to hunt for weak spots in a person's mind. your brain works fast, firing off insults at a rapid-fire pace that terrifies everyone within a ten mile radius. this is usually followed by buckets of guilt.

— MEN, RAISE THE DRAWBRIDGE

when you're angry, all your defenses go up. the unfortunate person or thing that managed to piss you off is suddenly talking to a wall. On the inside, you're screaming and crying and cussing them out, but somehow you can't express it. you're blank. emotionless. to anyone's knowledge, you could be zoning out of a lecture. because of this, it's hard to express how you're feeling when the person asks for your thoughts. you've choked your feelings down, and they won't come back up.

— STEP BACK

usually, you're able to bottle up your emotions and ignore the frustrations. but, after weeks of shoving everything down, your body needs a release, and i pity the poor person who managed to piss you off. it's screaming crying, shouting, kicking lockers, whatever you can do to get it out of your system. it's a whole jean grey moment, fire and fury blasting out of you.

[bitchinbarzal]

with or without | elias pettersson

summary; you don’t need elias and you let him know that

loosely based off that one scene in fifty shades of grey lol

-

You stared at the word infront of your face, tears blurring your vision and your hands shaking.

pregnant.

The clearblue in your hand told you so clearly, you were pregnant.

“Holy shit, what the fuck!” You cried, throwing the test across the bathroom floor.

A million thoughts ran through your mind with each sob you let out.

“This can’t be happening, how is this happening!” You screamed to nobody in particular.

“Oh my god, I have to tell Elias” you mumbled, slowly coming to the realisation that this wasn’t just your baby, that this wasn’t just you.

This wasn’t just your life this news absolutely rocked, it was his.

It was his hockey career, his social life, everything.

You chose to not deal with it, opting to go to sleep and make it a tomorrow problem.

The problem was however still there in the morning. You were living in bliss ignorance for a few moments until you picked up your phone and saw a text from Elias.

from: elias 🖤

morning my love! miss you, call me when you get up!

The text had been sent hours prior, with the time zone difference in Sweden to Vancouver. A whole nine hour time difference between you both in the time that Elias was at home in the off-season.

Situating yourself further up the bed and grabbing your water from the table to take a sip before you grabbed your phone to FaceTime him.

It rang a few times before you saw his face pop up on the screen, smiling at you.

“Älsking!” He exclaimed.

“Hi ‘lias i miss you”

“I miss you more my love! You should come here, soon! My family have been asking for you” he says before looking up his brother on the other side of the phone.

You take that pause to think, to remember you need to speak to him. You have very pressing news to tell him.

“Actually I’m thinking of coming out!” You exclaim, taking Elias by shock.

“You are?” “Yeah! I think it will be nice!”

Elias is so excited, booking your flight for you and walking you through everything you’ll need for coming over. His family are similar, so happy to hear you’d agreed to come over to Sweden and spend time with them.

You hadn’t been able to just up and leave Vancouver when Elias did due to work commitments and they were upset when you told them.

You were set to fly in a little over a week, opting to make a doctors appointment prior to that just to check everything and make sure you were actually pregnant.

“Congratulations! You’re a little over sixteen weeks pregnant so about four months!” Your doctor exclaims, your eyes go wide.

She registers this and tones down her excitement “I am a little worried you’re so far along and haven’t been taking any supplements and have you been drinking at all? Still taking your contraceptive?”

“Drinking… yeah I had a pretty wild night after the Canucks went to the second round of the playoff’s” you said but quickly added “that was it!”

She chuckled “As long as it isn’t a normal thing we shouldn’t see any major damage to baby and just so long as you don’t going forward”

You nodded “Yes, thanks”

“Would you like to hear and see baby?” She asked, grabbing the sonography machine over and you nodded.

She trailed the device over your stomach until you heard it.

thump, thump, thump

“Oh my god-“ you mumbled, tears lining your eyes.

The doctor paused the video for you while excusing herself to go and print your sonogram for you.

You took a video of it on your phone, sniffling could be heard in the background while you mumbled

“That’s our baby, hi baby”

Once you’d been handed your prescriptions, been cleared for travel and given your print off’s you went to pack.

Now more than ever you were prepared to tell Elias. 

You were going to be parents!

The flight to Stockholm was a breeze considering you slept most of it. When you landed Elias was standing at arrivals waiting for you with a giant smile plastered on his face.

You launched yourself into his arms, feeling at home for those moments. You’d missed him so much.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Me too, I’ve missed you too much”

“Me also”

Elias took the long way home, showing you everything he possibly could although you hadn’t forgotten it all since you’d been here the year prior.

“You look tired darling” Elias mumbled from the drivers seat, reaching over to hold your hand.

You gave him a soft smile “I’m just not feeling well lately, ‘lias is all”

“Well i will take you home and you can sleep. Napping always makes it better” you responded with a soft chuckle and leaned further back into your seat.

When you arrived back at the house the rest of the family were out, allowing you to unpack and catch up.

Elias sat on the bed next to you, babbling on about everything he’d been getting up to, how his brother was and his parents along with everything he had in store for your stay.

You felt guilty seeing how happy he is to have you here while you only traveled with ulterior motives.

“Let me help” he says, reaching into your suitcase and pulling out shirts to put into his drawers.

You were facing the dresser, putting down your makeup bag and hen Elias said

“y/n? What is this?” You turned, expecting to see him holding up some of your lingerie or something. Instead, you found him holding up your sonogram photo’s in his hand.

Your mouth dropped open, trying to find something to say.

He repeated again “y/n I asked what this is!”

He knew, he knew what it was.

That’s why he was so upset.

“Elias… please” you mumbled, your emotions bubbling.

He scoffed, standing and closing the gap between you both.

He was a lot taller than you and now with his puffed chest and straightened stature he was scaring you.

The pictures were still in his hand “What is this!”

“It’s a baby! Elias, it’s so obviously a baby, our baby!” You cried.

His silence was deafening and your sobs were the only thing filling the space.

“No” is all Elias said.

“No?” You questioned, sniffling “What do you mean, no!”

He shook his head, dropping the photos onto the bed “No, no we won’t! We can’t! I don’t want it”

Your eyes narrowed “You- you don’t want it? It’s not a puppy! It’s not a new pair of skates Elias! This is our baby!”

He also narrowed his eyes at you at spat “No” before turning and leaving the room.

You stood in shock for moments before you collapsed onto the bed, head in hands with a sob.

You don’t remember falling asleep but you were woken by Elias’ mother hours later, alerting you to come down for dinner.

“Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep” you apologize and she smiled, rubbing your cheek.

“Jet-lag darling, our Elias gets like that coming back from Vancouver too”

Dinner was awkward to say the least but you’re sure that it was only you and Elias who could sense the tension. You hardly made eye contact and didn’t speak to eachother much.

Luckily, Elias’ parents were filling the silence with questions about work.

You’d excused yourself after dinner, claiming more jet lag and needing to sleep some more.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sleep well! we will see you in the morning!” His mother, kissed your forehead and sent you off upstairs.

You didn’t get to sleep, laying on the bed thinking about everything.

Elias came in around midnight and you pretending to be asleep then. Slipping in beside you, you heard him let out a loud sigh.

“I know you’re not asleep” he said, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t want to talk Elias… I’m tired” you mumbled back, still turned off the edge of the bed.

“I’m not ready to be dad, how could you expect me to be ready to be a dad? I’m in the prime of my career” he continued, ignoring your request.

You sighed, turning to sit up “I don’t expect you to be ready Elias! But this has happened-“

“We can do something!” “No! No we can’t! I’m almost four months pregnant Elias, this isn’t an easy fix!”

His eyes went wide, this new information clearly settling on him.

“Look, you’re not happy about this baby… I got that” You started, your voice cracking slightly “I’m not ecstatic either given the timing and your less than accepting reaction. But babies happen when you have sex, Elias and we tend to do a lot of that!”

You pulled the comforter from off your legs and stepped out the bed

“So we can either do this together, or I’ll do it without you” you said finally, turning to leave the room.

You had hoped he’d call out after you, chase you down or something, anything.

He didn’t.

You found yourself in Emil’s old bedroom, laying down on the bed scrolling on your phone booking a flight back to Vancouver.

You never fell asleep. After you’d booked the flight you lay there a while before getting up to pack whatever you could pack quietly.

Elias was fast asleep when you entered, opening drawers and re-packing what you had unpacked earlier in the day and getting changed out of your pyjamas.

When crouched down to pick up your shoes you found the sonogram photos that Elias had thrown down earlier in the day.

Picking them up your fingers traced over it and you mumbled “we’ve got this kiddo”

Taking the photo’s you placed them softly on the pillow where you should’ve been sleeping.

You called an Uber to take you to the airport, not wanting to alert anyone or give the family any opportunity to question what was going on.

You were waiting to board your flight when your phone went off, buzzing away in your pocket.

Pulling it out to see an array of texts from Elias.

from: elias 🖤

where are you?

where is your stuff?

please answer my calls!

you don’t know your way around! please let me know where you are!

y/n please call me

There were calls and texts from Fanny, Emil and his mom too.

You text him mom, opting to let her know you were safe.

to: irene pettersson

hi, I’m sorry to worry you all. I’m ok! I’m at the airport going home to vancouver. I will call to let you know I land. thank you for everything irene!

At home, Elias’ mother was staring holes in his head after she had received your message.

She hadn’t told anyone you had text yet, allowing Elias to worry a little more. She knew this was his fault somehow. Like mothers do, she could sense the tension yesterday at dinner and she heard the arguing last night.

Just before you boarded your flight you sent Elias a text.

to: elias 🖤

I’m fine. you don’t need to worry.

The text made him more anxious, his mind running through the places you could go and now you were on your flight and your phone was turned off his calls wouldn’t even go through.

“I don’t know where she is!” He cried, head in his hands.

Irene decided to speak then “She is ok”

“You don’t know that Irene” his father spoke, clearly siding with his sons upset state.

“She’s going back to Canada” is all she said, Elias looked up at his mother.

“She’s- you knew? Did she tell you?”

Nodding curtly she responded “Yes, she text my phone”

“And you didn’t tell me!” He shouted, standing now “I could be there! I could have gone to her!”

She only shrugged “She obviously didn’t want you to, my boy… why do you think she left?” Before walking out of the room.

Elias stormed up the stairs, unaware of what to do now but overcome with emotions.

Slamming the door to his room and throwing himself onto the bed like a child. Laying down he felt something rustle under his head.

Reaching under he felt something, pulling it out he came face to face with the sonogram photo you’d left behind. He looked contently at it for a moment before he found his finger tracing over the shape of the baby’s face.

“You have my nose” he mumbled “Your mama’s is much nicer”

Elias then turned to pick up his phone again, to text you, noticing you’d sent a message it must have been before you boarded.

from: my love 🤍

with or without you. I know which way I’d rather.

There was an attachment to the text, It was a video, started black until Elias heard the thumping on the other end and the moving shape of a baby on the screen you were recording in what looked like a doctors office.

He was about to turn off his phone until he heard your voice “that’s our baby, hi baby” on the phone.

He hadn’t realised that he was crying until the tears dropped onto his phone screen. Staring at the now frozen image he mumbled

“What have I done?”

[sevikasupremacy]

Peace & Quiet - Grayson/Fem!Reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word: 989

Summary: Grayson takes you to her office to avoid the chaos at the Kiramman’s cocktail party.

Sounds of people talking and glasses clinking could be heard throughout the ballroom. You shyly stepped in in your fancy gown, looking for any familiar faces.

The Kirammans had hosted a cocktail party in Piltover and everyone was invited. Including you.

“Caitlyn!” You waved your hands in the air, trying to catch the purple hair woman’s attention. Her eyes widened as she spotted you.

“Y/N!” Caitlyn rushed over to hug you, “You’re finally here!” She gave you a soft smile before bringing you to the balcony. You stared at the beautiful view of the sunset in front of you.

“I never been to a party like this before.” You awkwardly chuckled, making Caitlyn giggle at you.

“Oh you’ll get used to it,” Caitlyn patted you on the shoulder, “Go grab a drink and make yourself comfortable. I need to go check on Jayce.”

As you watch Caitlyn walk away, you spotted a familiar woman in a uniform who just entered the ballroom. As her eyes wandered around, the both of you accidentally made eye contact, making you flustered. You turned back to look at the sunset, ignoring what just happened a second ago.

“Miss Y/N.”

You immediately turned around to see the same woman standing right in front of you.

“G-Grayson!”

The older woman smiled at you as she handed you a glass of cocktail. You reached for the glass, your finger accidentally brushing hers.

“Why don’t you join the others?” Her deep but gentle voice made you flustered.

The first time you and Grayson met, you were immediately drawn to her beautiful voice. There was something soft and lovely about it. Not only that, Grayson was a kind and gentle woman and she took her job very seriously. You were always fascinated by everything she did and how she handle all the difficulties during work. Even though she was a busy woman, she was able to find time for the both of you. That’s what made her so lovable.

“I prefer being by myself. Looking at the sunset.” You gave her a small chuckle.

“Do you enjoy my company?” Grayson glanced at you, her beautiful grey eyes reflecting the sunset.

“Of course!” You answered her with no hesitation, “I love spending time with you.”

Grayson chuckled before taking a sip of her cocktail.

“How about you? Aren’t you going to join the others?” You unconsciously leaned your body closer to her.

“Crowds make me anxious,” Grayson glanced over at the ballroom that were filled with people in their fancy gowns and uniforms,” I also prefer some alone times. I need a place away from my work.”

There was a moment of silence between the both of you as you both stared at the sunset. Grayson had also moved closer to you, both of your hands accidentally brushed against each other.

“Would you want me to take you somewhere quieter…?” Grayson finally broke the silence. You looked up at her, tilting your head.

“I would love that. But where?”

Without answering, Grayson took your hand and lead you through the ballroom toward the big fancy door.

——————

“I feel like my office is the best place for now,” Grayson locked the door, “We can head back to the party later if you want.”

“I think I feel more comfortable here.” You took a seat on her big, fancy sofa. You glanced up to see Grayson staring at you, no words coming out of her mouth.

“Grayson..?” You had to call her name a couple of times before she realized that she had been staring for too long.

“I apologize,” Grayson fixed her uniform in embarrassment, “I never seen you in a gown before and you look… very beautiful.”

You blushed after hearing her compliment. You patted the spot beside you, signaling Grayson to come sit with you. She smiled, taking a seat. The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, smiling at each other. You noticed that Grayson kept zoning out on you, making her look even more lovable.

“You’re very beautiful Darling.” Grayson pushed a strand of hair away from your face before caressing your soft cheek. You leaned into her hand, closing your eyes.

Grayson had never acted like this before but you love this side of her. She was more soft and gentle toward you and you wanted this to last forever.

“You’re so lovely. And so… cute.” It was as if you had put a spell on Grayson. She couldn’t stop complimenting you.

“You’re lovely too.” You blurted out, your face leaning closer to hers. Grayson stared at your lips as you spoke. Before you could say another word, Grayson had pressed her lips against yours. You immediately melted into the kiss, both of your hands resting on her chest. She traced her hands up and down your back making you relax through the kiss. You both pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I finally know how soft your lips are.” Grayson gave you a peck before looking at you again.

“Oh I love everything about you.” She tilted your chin up, admiring your beautiful face.

“I love here. Here. Here. And here.” She kissed your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, and gave you another on the lips.

Grayson chuckled, staring at your beet red face. You gave her a kiss on the cheek, both of your hands are now resting on her shoulders.

“I tried to hold myself back from kissing you. But you were too adorable and I couldn’t handle it.” Grayson kept on kissing your cheek. She wrapped both of her arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your body would touch hers.

“Well now you can kiss me as much as you want.” You said as you leaned your head down onto her shoulder, nuzzling into her. Grayson held you close while playing with your hair.

The both of you eventually fell asleep, holding each other.

[inkandpen22]

The Heiress and the Gangster (1/?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Summary: Y/N Adair, an American heiress, is visiting London for the social season with her fiancé Alfred Bamford. Alfie Simmons and Tommy Shelby have formed a plan to kidnap Y/N and hold her for ransom, that is until Tommy changes his mind...

Masterlist

Y/N

The car rolls up to the entrance of the race track. My driver, Mr. Richards, comes to a steady halt and immediately hops out of the car.

"Ready, darling?" Al questions with a grin beside me.

I pull back the velvet curtain covering my window to peer up at the arena. "As I'll ever be."

Mr. Richards opens the door and offers me his glove-covered hand. "Miss Adair."

I step out gracefully, my wide-brim hat blocking the beaming sun from my face. Al crosses behind the car to join me. His head finds its way to my back securely. Robert, my main bodyguard, climbs out of his own car with two more security my father hired. Al escorts me inside the stadium to the boxes. Robert leads the way with his two henchmen behind us. It's like being put into a human box.

When we arrive at our box, we're greeted by our friends in attendance. It's rare that we make it over to England, so when we do it's nice to see everyone. Al and I perform our social duties, making small talk and asking about everyone's families as though we all didn't have dinner together last night. It's the same couples in different settings for the entire month we're here.

_________________________________

Tommy

I watch from one of the pub tables at the top of the box with John as posh folks shuffle in to find their spots. When news broke that Y/N Adair would be visiting London for a month, both American and England were over the moon. The youngest child and only daughter of William Vincent Adair, the richest banker in America. She will inherit a third of his multi-million dollar fortune. It's a known fact amongst the public that's she's the favorite child so the percentage may be greater than just a third. My boys and Alfie's team are banking on that rumor. If she were to be kidnapped and held for ransom by a couple of English gangsters, it's certain her father will pay a hefty sum for her safe return to The States.

John nudges me subtly to avoid attention. "There she is!"

My eyes flicker away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd toward the entrance of the box. A young woman in an all-white lace dress crosses our path. A gentle smile rests across her lips as the Viscount and Viscountess Furness approach her, each greeting her with an embrace. Her Y/H/C hair peeks through beneath her lavish matching hat. For a moment, I experience hesitation. She's not what I expected at all.

John nudges my arm with a snicker. “You alright, Tom? Look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” 

I shake my head, taking a smoke from my cigarette. "No, that can't be her. She's far too young."

"Of course it is!" John argues.

A young gentleman in a brand new navy suit follows close beside her, keeping a protective hand pressed to her back. He shakes hands with his peers, charming his audience as he and Miss Adair are greeted with cheers.

"And her arrogant playboy fiancé, Alfred Bamford." My brother scoffs. "His family owns more railways in the U.S. than any company in the entire world!"

As my brother babbles, I watch closely as Y/N stands beside Alfred with a restrained, but convincing, smile. As he gloats and encourages banter with their fellow posh folk, she's quiet and glancing about the arena.

"Their marriage will create a media frenzy!" John describes in my ear. "Adair Banks and Bamford Rails, it's a match made in posh people heaven. Shame she'll never live to see it," he snickers.

I press my cigarette into the ashtray and turn my body toward my brother. "As soon as the gun fires that's when Alfie's man takes the shot.” I check my watch. “He'll be here in five minutes. That's when you leave and fetch the car. Understood?"

He nods sharply, "right, Tom. Got it."

___________________________________

Y/N

Anticipating the race, Al and I stand right against the rail with our dainty gold binoculars, searching for my family's horse.

"I need Olympus to win," I worry outwardly. "I need to prove to my father that this trip was worth it."

"I’m certain William will be pleased no matter the outcome."

"You don't know my father then," I chuckle.

"Excuse me!" A voice announces over the chatter of the box.

I glance over my shoulder as a well-dressed middle-aged man hurries up to my security. His brow is sweaty and his white suit wrinkled. He rushes out words to Robert before being escorted over to me.

"Welcome to Ascot, Madam," he welcomes, gesturing to the large building. "I'm John Wilkson and I'm a partner at the track. May I get you anything before the festivities?" He rubs his hands in circles nervously.

I offer John my hand with a warm smile. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. If possible, I would like a pot of Earl Grey."

"Oh yes! Yes, definitely!" The man gushes as Robert leads him toward the door. "Right away, Madam!"

"Thank you!" I nod, maintaining my smile until he's out of view.

Al chuckles beside me at the man’s expense as he rubs his palm up and down my spine. "How are you enjoying it so far, My Dear?"

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," I remark. " It doesn't appear any more luxurious than Arlington Park."

"You are far too difficult to please, darling," he teases, scooping up my glove-covered hand and planting a kiss to the back of it.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to today's festivities..." the announcer begins, causing widespread cheering across the crowd.

Al and I clap our hands along with our friends.

"Your tea, Miss Adair, a young waiter informs me as he sets down the set on a side table by our chairs.

I thank him quietly before he dismisses himself.

"Don't forget, tonight is the dinner with Prince Albert and Lady Elizabeth," Al reminds me.

"Aw yes, thank you!" I express with relief as I step back to pick up my teacup and return to my spot beside him. "They're quite lovely, aren't they? Their engagement is such delightful news." I bring my cup to my lips for a sip.

"I'm certainly looking forward to the wedding, it'll be a spectacle." He smirks. “Another excuse to return in the spring.”

I narrow my eyes mischievously, sharing the same agenda as him. "They can be the social event of the season in England, but we shall claim America."

Tommy

Two of Miss Adair’s men are positioned outside while his Head stands against the far wall, just a few feet from her. Alfie's hitman enters the tent without suspicion, dressed like a posh race-goer and his gun well concealed. He glances in my direction, giving me the signal to release my brother. I give John a brief nod and he disappears through the opening in the curtain.

"Jockeys! Prepare your horses!" The announcer declares, marking the start of the races.

I clap along with the crowd. Everyone in the box is zoned in on the gates where the jockeys are mounting their horses. Alfie's man claps as well, keeping his eyes on the horses to blend in as he continues toward Miss Adair and Mr. Bamford. He stops in the second row, just behind the couple.

My eyes flicker to Y/N. A glowing smile forms across her face as she switches her sight away from the gates toward her fiancé. Her eyes glimmering with optimism and excitement. There’s a youthfulness in her I haven’t seen in anyone since the war. She has no idea that the man behind her has been sent to point a gun at her head and kidnap her. Her attention travels about the box, at her friends and peers. Her eyes glance in my direction, her soft Y/E/C eyes meet mine. Her radiating smile softens as her hands slows to a steady halt. Then, something in me just... snaps.

My attention changes to the man on the field lifts his gun into the air. At the same moment, Alfie's man reaches into his coat pocket.

"No! Wait!" I shout, knocking the table out of the way. "Everyone down!"

I leap over the chairs and tackle Alfie's man. He sets off the gun as we stumble to the floor, chairs flying all about. Screams ensue as we wrestle on the floor. A man I recognize as the Head of Y/N's security steps on Alfie's man's hand. With a hiss, he releases his fist around the gun and the security knocks it away. I rush to my feet to inspect the damages, to see if Y/N was hurt, but I see no sign of her. Where did the bullet hit? A hanging bit of cloth that was once the awning answers my question. The arena is in chaos as people travel upstream toward the exists. People are being trampled and pushing each other about.

I work against the traffic down toward the railing to where I last saw Y/N. I shove people out of my way in a hurry. Then, that's when I spot her hat, squashed flat on the floor. I lean down to pick it up and that's when I finally find her resting against the wood base of the rail, holding her head with a bloody hand.

Y/N

I remove my hand from my stinging forehead to see my once white-glove soaked in blood. One minute I was scanning the reaction of the crowd behind me, then there was a shout. The shot for the race to begin rang and I was knocked forward. My head hit the metal railing and I fell to the floor. My forehead was stinging and I realized I was bleeding. Then, I swear I heard another gunshot. I've tried to stand up, but everyone’s scrambling to get out. Plus, my head is throbbing

Suddenly, a man appears hovering above me. He stares down at me with a clenched jaw and a look of determination. He leans down, scoops up my unscathed hand. Before I utter a word, he begins to usher me through the chaos. My feet shuffle across the floor briskly to keep up as he grips my hand tightly. People continue to shout and scream for their loved ones, frightened.

"Who are you?" I ask loudly over the noise.

He ignores me, guiding the way through the arena. People rush down the closest stairs, eager to reach one of the main exits. This man, however, avoids all the staircases and remains on the walkway of the top floor. I sense he's leading me to the furthermost end and hopefully to an emergency exit.

"Answer me this instant!" I demand, attempting to yank my hand free. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, Miss Adair, I do!" He finally answers and whips his head around to meet my gaze. "Now, if you wish to not get shot, I suggest you follow me!"

I check over my shoulder for Al. "But my fiancé-"

"They're not after him," he states turning his attention back ahead.

My stomach drops. "You mean you know who's behind this?"

"I know enough..." His answer is vague and it worries me.

"Why do they wish to hurt me?"

"Your family is the wealthiest in the United States! You should really travel with more security," he suggests over his shoulder.

My prediction was correct, the man takes me to the furthest end of the platform to a fire escape of sorts behind a curtain. It's much less hectic than the main stairwells other than some workers attempting to escape. The man never releases my hand as he leads the swift way down the metal stairs. Once we're on solid ground, we weave through various parts of the arena. Booths and vendors scatter the area. The man seems to know this well, making a bee-line for a large white tent tucked away near the main staircase where Al and I first entered the race track.

When we rush into the tent, I first note a series of telephone booths, the dirt floor, and the absence of any of else. The man releases my hand and starts marching around. I assume checking to make sure we're alone. I spin around, checking my surroundings, frightened that one of these men this stranger speaks of will attack me suddenly.

My head is pounding and I can feel the warm blood twinkle down my cheek. My hair must look a fright. Who am I kidding, my white dress is covered in blood and dirt, every part of me is messy.

Tommy

Y/N and I both struggle to catch our breath. I double-check that neither Alfie nor any of his men are hiding out in here. "We should be safe in here," I announce.

"Don't you think we should fetch a car or something!" She rushes out worriedly. “My car is parked just-”

I shake my head, moving back toward her. "No, not yet. They'll be expecting that."

Now that her hand is away from her head, I can inspect her injury properly. A minor gash above her brow. It doesn't appear awful, won't need stitches, but she has significant amounts of blood down the side of her face and cheek.

Y/N

"Here." The man reaches into his pocket square and pulls out his handkerchief. He brings one hand behind my head and the other presses the fabric to my forehead. "We'll have someone look at this once everything is settled."

I nod, still a tad dazed to say the least. "Thank you," I mumble as my eyes fall to his tie directly ahead of me.

For a moment, despite the chaos outside the tent, there's a sense of peacefulness as the stranger pats my cut.

"So, you know my name, what's yours?" I ask. Considering he saved my life, I don't think we should be strangers anymore. “Since we were in the same box, I suspect you’re friends with the Bowes-Lyons.”

"Thomas, Thomas Shelby," he answers directly without much emotion.

"Well, despite the circumstance, it's pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. I'm surprised we've never met before considering we share friends."

A faint snicker escapes him as a smirk creeps onto the edge of his lips.

I grin. "What's so funny?"

"An heiress calling me "sir," he chuckles, glancing down from my forehead to meet my gaze. "It's not exactly something I thought I'd ever hear."

My brows scrunch together in confusion. “But aren’t you-”

"Tommy!" A voice calls from behind me.

Frightened, I rush to stand behind Mr. Shelby. My hands wrap around his bicep as I peek around his shoulder. His arm reaches around to keep me close to his back.

"In here Arthur!" He hollers.

Wait, he knows the person?

Suddenly, a lengthy man with a mustache marches into the tent. When his eyes land on us, his brows scrunch together. "What's this? What happened to-"

"Change of plans," Mr. Shelby states, physically relaxing at the sight of him.

The man switches his sight between me and Mr. Shelby. He rocks on his heels nervously. He steps to the side to get a better view of me. "Oh uh... hello then... Miss Adair. Nice to meet ya," he greets.

"And he's a friend?" I ask Mr. Shelby quietly.

He chuckles. "Yes, he's my brother. He's safe."

I step out from behind him hesitantly. I redirect my attention to Arthur and remove my glove to offer him my hand slowly. "Pleasure to meet you as well."

His brows rise at the sight of my hand, but he shakes it nonetheless. He chuckles. "She's awfully friendly," he tells his brother.

"Did you happen to see my fiancé? Alfred Bamford," I ask, growing worried that Al may have been hurt.

"He was escorted to your car I believe by one of your security."

"And the others?" I press urgently. “Are my friends alright? What about Lord and Lady Elphinstone?”

His features fall. "I lost them in the crowd, Miss..."

My eyes grow wide. "I should go find them!"

I go to head back outside, but Mr. Shelby grabs my wrist and steps to block my path.

"The men trying to harm you may still be out there," he warns.

"But my friends! Alfred!” I argue. “They’re probably worried sick! I’ll find my car and have them take me back to the hotel!”

"They'll be searching for you there! I'm sure they already have it staked out."

I huff. "Then where do you suggest I go?"

His eyes flicker to his brother and it's evident a thought has crossed his mind.

"I have an idea..." he states vaguely.

Oh no...

_______________________

Masterlist

[nebulousfishgills]

In Reality

Request by @nosfera1 : hiiiii is your request open? i was wondering if i could ask for an angsty wanda x fem!r fic where they've been in a relationship for a year and r is absolutely head over heels with her. r planned their anniversary date and during that dinner wanda confesses that she's only been dating r to move on from her previous relationship the whole time and cant carry it in her conscience anymore? make it reaaally really heart wrenching as possible please. thank youuuuu

Ah, thank you so much for sending in your request!! (Yes, requests are open lol). I'm always excited to recieve a new request, especially for a character I have yet to write for!

I hope I get this the way you want! ❤

Warnings: Angst, feels, fluff (but like, fake?)

ฯฯฯ

"Wan, are you okay?" You asked, noticing your girlfriend looking a bit uncomfortable. Her hands were in her lap, her eyes staring at the table or the wall, and she seemed like she was zoning in and out. "Wanda?"

"What? Oh, yes, dear?" She asked, jerking up from looking at the muted paisley tablecloth.

"I was wondering if you were okay." You repeated.

"Yes, I'm alright, dear. Just a little tired is all." She said, showing her teeth in a smile that almost seemed forced. You chose to ignore it.

"I was going to say, but I didn't want to be rude." You said, chuckling.

"We've been together for a year, we can tell each other anything."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

The waiter brought your dishes not long after that, the thin veil of steam curling off the top of the Italian dishes you ordered. Your glasses were refilled and parmesan was grated on top of your meals.

You started nearly scarfing down your food, the wait having been a little too long without a breadstick refill. You watched Wanda gently cut through the meatballs on the top of her pasta, dividing them into quarters. The delicate movement entranced you for a moment, a bashful smile creeping onto your face.

To say you loved Wanda would be a severe understatement. The past year you had been together was the best year of your life. Before, you had been in a slump, everything seeming sad and dreary. You had been having a particularly bad day that day, as a matter of fact. You missed the bus in the morning, so you had to walk to work. Halfway through, it started raining buckets and you had no umbrella. You were lucky your boss was so understanding, else she would have reprimanded you for sure for being late. Still, the woman signed your paychecks; staying on her good side was in your best interest.

While pondering your latest excuse for being late to work again, it suddenly stopped raining.

No, someone was holding an umbrella over you.

That someone happened to be Wanda, offering her umbrella to you to shelter from the storm. You took one look at her and it was as if the color started to soak back into your previously grey world. Not only was this woman going out of her way to help you, she was beautiful as well.

Wanda held the umbrella over your head while you both walked to where you worked (she didn't mind in the slightest; she didn't have a set destination when she started walking). You told each other a few things about yourselves to pass the time. You were working at your current job until you could afford to move to a better part of the city. The apartment you lived in currently had a lot of small problems that would pop up every now and then that would take your savings. Your dishwasher had just broken and you needed to save up to get that replaced.

Wanda told you about things in her life, too. Her brother had died a few years ago in what she called a "tragic accident." Her last relationship had ended pretty suddenly more recently, so she took frequent walks to give herself something to do.

Suddenly your dishwashers woes seemed so nominal.

You arrived at the building you worked at and Wanda bid you goodbye. Though, not before passing you a small slip of paper with a few digits on it you recognized as a phone number. You went pink and walked into your office, sending a text to Wanda as soon as you sat down. You saw each other more frequently after that, going on your first date not long after.

And here Wanda was, sitting in front of you with her steaming pasta and quarter sliced meatballs. You ate your dinners in silence to start, the only noises between you two being the scratches of utensils on plates and quiet chewing.

After a few minutes, you noticed Wanda poking at her pasta with her fork. She hadn't eaten very much. Her chin rested on her other hand, the food on her plate starting to cool down.

"Wan, are you sure you're okay?" You asked. "You've barely eaten anything."

"I'm fine..." Wanda replied, letting out an exhale as if she were holding her breath. She put the fork down and rested her hand on the table.

"Wanda, it's okay. If something's bothering you, you can tell me." You said, resting your hand on top of hers. She took it, rolling your fingers in hers. She pulled her hand back and rested it in her lap, her other hand following suit. She took a breath.

"Y/N, can I tell you something?" She asked.

"Anything, Wan." You said. Wanda took in another breath and looked you in the eyes. That's how you knew she was getting dead serious with you.

"This isn't easy but... I can't keep holding it in. I can't do this anymore." She said.

"Can't do what?"

"This." She wagged her finger in between the two of you. Your breath hitched in your throat.

"What do you mean? You can't do--?" You asked, your voice cracking slightly.

"No, I can't." Wanda cut in. "Listen, Y/N, I'm telling you this now so I don't hurt you worse later on. I can't keep stringing you along."

"'Stringing me along?' Wanda, I don't understand. Don't you love me?"

"I... I... No. It's just..." Wanda bit her lip and averted her gaze from you.

"Just what? Something I did? What did I do, Wanda?"

"Nothing! You did nothing! It's not you, Y/N, it's just..."

"Wanda, are you joking? One year, Wanda! This is our one year anniversary and you're telling me this now??" You asked, the tears streaming down your face through your anger.

"I know, it's not ideal, but I couldn't find time to tell you before!"

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't? You're telling me you lied to me for a year, Wanda. Why?"

"Because I needed a distraction, okay? My last relationship ended badly and I was having a hard time getting over it. I thought you would... provide support until I could get back on my feet." Wanda admitted. Your face got hotter as the realization sunk in. Your voice got low as you continued speaking.

"You used me? You dated me to get over someone else? Is that all I was to you? Just a distraction? A plaything?" You growled.

"Y/N, you don't understand--"

"Oh, no, I understand plenty, Wanda." You stood up from your seat, throwing on your jacket and grabbing your handbag. You looked at the half empty water glass at your seat and picked it up. You examined the water inside for a moment, looking at Wanda over the rim. "I'd throw the water in your face right about now, but unlike you, I have standards on how people should be treated. Like a person with feelings and not something you use to play pretend with."

You downed the rest of the water and put the glass back on the table.

"Y/N--" Wanda said weakly, but you cut her off with a pinch of your fingers.

"Not another word, Wanda." You snapped, before turning around to walk away. "Don't even try to call me."

You burst out of the restaurant and sat down on one of the stone benches out front. You sent a quick text to your friend asking for a ride home, sending the address. Wanda had driven you here.

"What happened to your date?" Your friend asked.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Alright. I'm on my way."

You shut off your phone and stared up at the sky. Not a moment later, thunder rumbled above you and it started to rain.

You had no umbrella to cover you.

Finally, you allowed yourself to cry, your tears mixing with the rainwater that dripped onto your face. You let everything out, all the anger and sorrow until your throat went raw.

The headlights of your friend's car pierced through the wall of rain. You stood up and ran over, climbing inside of the heated car. You let out a sigh and leaned back against the seat.

"You okay?" Your friend asked. You didn't reply, just turned to look out the window, the raindrops gliding down it. As the car started pulling away, someone ran outside of the restaurant, screaming your name.

Wanda.

You looked at her as your friend pulled out of the parking lot. Wanda caught sight of you inside the car, watching you leave. You just stared back at her coldly as your friend whisked you away back home.

As soon as you got back to your apartment, you blocked Wanda's number and collapsed onto your sofa. Tears leaked down your face as you fell asleep.

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