#series gifs

[seriesworld]

FLEABAG (2016)

Created by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

[bennettnasagirl]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Mercy No More 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, possible violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your misplaced kindness brings a dangerous man to your door.

Characters: Thomas Shelby

Note: a less popular character so I'll just post whenever.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"There's a man in the backyard."

The statement is matter-of-fact, not a hint of distress in your sister's tone as she informs you of the trespass. You wipe your forehead as you turn away from the porridge on the stove. You frown.

"A man... how? Who?" You wonder.

She shrugs, "he couldn't say."

You near her with a glower, "Anna, could you say less?"

"He's face down. He could be dead," she says. "Like old Chester."

"Is he old like Chester?" You go to the backdoor, slipping in a glob of mud. "Anna, your shoes."

"I was distracted. By the dead man."

You tilt your head wryly, "yes, you're brain does seem to be working madly to unravel the riddle."

You slip into your shoes, leaving the laces loose. You turn and go out into the yard. Sure enough, you see the man on the ground. He does look to be lifeless, though you can't be sure.

You glance back at Anna. She gives a coy grin, "I went and got water, I'm not dealing with him."

You sigh. Your father's already at the factory. It's only the two of you and it took enough arguing to get her to bring in a bucket of rain water.

The muck sucks on your soles. The man's face is smeared with mud and his hate rests next to his head. His limbs are askew in all directions. You hear him breathing as he blows bubbles into the slop.

"He's alive," you peek over your shoulder. You're talking to the door. Anna's back hiding behind the brick.

You cautiously bend and jab the man's shoulder, "sir, sir," you poke with each word, "hullo, you're sleeping in the dirt. Sir!"

You shake him. He doesn't stir. You reach across and grab his hat. A sharp pain sears in your thumb. You let the hat drop and look at the sliced pad of your finger. Rats.

Then the damp cold seeps through your stockings. The realisation trickles down your spine. Your eyes search out the sharp edge sewn into the hat. He's one of them.

You turn and march back to the door. You keep your injured hand aloft and let yourself in with other. You stomp into the kitchen and snatch up a cloth. You press it around your throbbing thumb.

"Sister, your shoes," Anna chides drolly.

You huff. She doesn't bother to ask if you're well. You hiss and grit your teeth.

"Get father's rye," you demand.

"Bit early, innit?" She snickers.

"Anna," you sneer.

She drags herself away from the table and takes out a dark bottle. She pulls free the cork and you grab it. You pour it over your thumb, shaking over the sink. You quickly cover the gash again.

"What's happened? He have a knife?" She asks.

"Anna," you face her, your heart top turns. "That man... has blades in his hat."

"Blades in his hat. Well, that's rather foolish." You stare at her and she blinks wide. "A blinder? Out here?"

You nod.

"What do we do?"

"Now it's we?" You challenge.

"It's not good, is it?"

You shrug.

"We could leave him there. Let him wake up."

"Yes, we could. But s'pose he wakes up and thinks we did leave him there. To drown in the mud," you tut. "But the alternative..."

"Wake him up?"

"He's not doing that," you clutch your hand.

"We can't carry him."

"We're going to have to," you say.

"And when he does come to, what then? He could hurt us."

"He might but I know where father keeps the pistol," you say.

"Do you know how to shoot it?"

"No."

"And wouldn't that be worse? To kill one of 'em?"

"Better than being killed," you look around. "Anna, I don't know any better than you."

"How..." she glances at the wall.

"You get one side, I'll get the other?" You suggest.

"How'd he even get there?"

"Now you're asking questions."

"Well, I thought he was a drunk or some'in."

"Oh, no doubt he is," you scoff. You wrap the cloth around your finger, securing it as best you can. You teethe your lip and dip your chin. "Right then."

You take the lead. Anna drags her feet. You go out into the yard. You near the man. He snores now.

You lift up his hat carefully and tuck it into your apron. You step around him as Anna reluctantly hovers some distance away.

"You get that arm." You point.

She whimpers but comes closer. You take his right arm and she flinches away as she reaches for his other. You grunt and grind your teeth as you try to lift him. Your sister whines, "he's too big."

"Anna, put some guff into it," you demand. "Christ be risen."

You manage to get him upright. Sort of. He hangs between you and your sister. You stagger to face him toward the house.

"I'm too weak."

"Stop, just move," you hike the man up as hold his hand over your shoulder, his arm draped around your neck. "Onward."

Your steps are teetering and uneven, lurching as the man threatens to bowl you both over. You haul him crookedly up the stairs, breathless, sweating, aching. His toes catch on the threshold and you all crash to the floor.

Your elbow pangs and your knee burns. You roll over and push the man's arm off you. Anna snivels as she crawls away from him.

"Now what?" She pulls a splinter from her hand.

"Well, he's inside," you get up, panting, and bend his legs enough to close the door. "Put a blanket over him."

"He's just gonna... lay there?"

"Better than the mud." You utter and step back, exhausted.

"What about when Da gets home?"

You give her a look, "let's pray he wakes up first."

🚬

You stir your porridge as the back of the man's head is visible just through the doorway. Anna won't sit still as she cradles her bowl and paces. Your thumb is pulsing with each bend.

The man's hat sits on the table. You did your best to wipe the mud off. You wiggle your foot, as restless as your sister but reluctant to show it.

You rinse your bowl and she gives you hers half-finished. You tisk. "Wasteful."

"Pardon me, my insides are splitting like twigs," she hisses.

You dump her bowl in the bin and wash away the oats. Anna tends to avoid things. She's always been that way. You can hardly blame her, there isn't very much worth facing in this world. Still, some things just must be done.

"Go on then, go to your room," you bid her. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Are you certain?" She asks.

"Not truly but no use you tittering around," you shoo her with your fingers.

She makes no fuss in doing just that. Your dread mounts as you're left alone. She wouldn't be much help as it were, but are you any more formidable? Especially with a man like that?

You carry on, tidying, going through your usual toil, anything to busy yourself until your father returns. You sit and wring out the clothes by hand over a bucket and toss them in the basket to go on the line. You focus on the work, made more difficult by your tender thumb. Your joints ache from the effort, your forearms and the cuffs of your sleeves soaked through.

"Eh, Polly," the gritty voice has you sat upright. "Bring me a cuppa."

You stare at the man. He's not moving still. Just the rise and fall of his breath. He groans.

"Polly, ain't I your favourite?" He rasps and laughs, wincing at the effort.

He sucks in a deep breath and drags a hand over the floor. He pushes himself up with one arm and his head bobbles. He looks around, his nose like a beak. He gets one foot flat, still hunched, then the other. He stands and staggers, catching himself on the wall. He grunts and turns his head. He sees you before the bucket of soapy water and linen.

"You're not Pol," he limps in. "You got any tea?"

You stare at him and drop the shirt in the tub. He's entirely too calm waking up in a strange house. You stand stiffly.

"Whisky?" He hobbles past you and opens the cupboard.

"Sir," you back up. "This isn't-- we don't got much." You cross your arms and keep the chair between you. "You were out in the mud. We only brought you in to dry off."

"We?" He takes out a tin of flour.

"Hm, um, yes, the neighbour helped me," you lie.

"Aye, they did? Ya have a good laugh then? Over my drunk arse?" He accuses as he shuts the cabinet.

"No, sir. It was only--"

He moves towards you and you stumble out of his path. He swipes up his hat and pulls it on.

"Well, give ya some advice," he points at you. "You and that nosy neighbour, keep your mouths shut, eh? Don't be cheeping around with the hens."

"Sir, no, we wouldn't--"

"Know ya wouldn't." He looks around with a sneer, "it's a shithole but I'm sure you don' wan' it it in ashes."

He trips on the leg of the chair. You react without thinking. You grab his arm and the other side of the chair. He sways but stays on his feet.

You swallow as he looks at you. You shudder. "You wanted tea?"

His lips thin. There's a glimmer of shame in his irises. He maneuvers to sit on the wooden seat. He sighs and rubs his hips.

"Ole bullet casing's acting up again," he snarls. "German rubbish."

You go to the stove and put the kettle on the burner. You light it and step away. He bends forward to hold his head.

"Like I said, not much round, but I've got some bones. I could make ya broth," you offer.

He shakes and grumbles. It's not a clear answer. You grab the pork bones and put them in a pot. Your only shield is to do those things you know how to.

You brew the tea and bring it to him. He sits up and watches you set it down. He scrapes the chair closer to the table. He squints at your hand.

"Cut yerself?" He wonders.

"It'll heal up," you assure him and hide your hand behind you. He scratches the side of his head below his hat.

"Razor's cut deep," he remarks.

"They do," you affirm.

"Sorry then," he reaches for the cup. "I'll just get meself straight and be off."

"Very well, sir," you agree and grab the basket of clothes. "I'll be hanging these."

He takes a cautious sip and drones again. He wipes the moisture from his blond mustache with the side of his finger.

You leave him and go out into the yard. You unfurl the garments and pin them in place with the pegs. The gloomy sky won't dry them quickly. You go down the line as you hear Mary hollering at her husband. You've never heard her speak without yelling.

You finish and leave the basket at the door. The man has his head on the table. You go to check the broth. It bubbles but smells good enough. He groans.

You serve him a bowl with a butt of bread. He sits up with a tremour. He doesn't say a word as he draws himself in to the table and dips the rye in the broth. He eats without a care to the dribble down his chin.

He gives a contented hum when he's done. He looks up and smiles. You follow his gaze past you. You turn to see Anna before she disappears behind the doorframe.

"Well, hello, birdie," he growls.

"All done, sir," you take the empty bowl.

He refocuses on you, "didn't mention another of ya."

"She's shy," you insist as you take the dish to the sink.

"Mmm, well," he clucks. "Shy ones are sweet."

"Sir," you approach him again.

"Eh, I know what I said," he stands with an effort that makes him croak. "Yer a good woman. Won't be no bother 'round here. I'll make sure of it."

You nod as he heads for the back door. You follow him and stand in the frame as he stiffly struts to the gate. You frown. There never was any bother before him.

[xuperjr]

[wwditsdaily]

NANDOR THE RELENTLESS and GUILLERMO DE LA CRUZ WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS "The Finale"

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[Next Part]

[elgeriatricodedanikun]

Vista Adolescencia.

La tenia en pendientes y el leer que era de las mejores series de Netflix me hizo verla antes...

Esta bien y el truco de grabar en un solo plano me ha gustado mucho que junto a la historia le hace sumar puntos. En uno de esos se ve al camara reflejado en un espejo en el capitulo 4 XD. Pero sabiendo que grababan las tomas enteras en una, normal que lo dejaran XD.

El capitulo 3 me parece espectacular, pero el final de temporada/serie me ha parecido un poco meh con respecto a la serie.

Le faltan cosas como el juicio, un capitulo dedicado a la familia de la victima y algo mas :/.

Adolescence (2025)

[usernanami]

KEN TAKAKURA/OKARUN in Dandadan (2024) 01.05 - "Like, Where Are Your Balls?" ★ タマはどこじゃんよ

[giflxndia]

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Series master list:

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

!!COMPLETE!!

Chapter one: Ultimatum

Chapter two: Separate Worlds

Chapter three: A Stormy Prison

Chapter four: Beneath the Surface

Chapter five: A Dance of Silence

Chapter six: In the Quiet of the Storm

Chapter seven: Closer Than Before

Chapter eight: Cracks in the Armor

Chapter nine: Under Pressure

Chapter ten: Unmasked Tension

Chapter eleven: The Hunt Begins

Chapter twelve: Under Watchful Eyes

Chapter thirteen: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter fourteen: Eyes on the Game

Chapter fifteen: The Game, the Silence, and the Weight of the World

Chapter sixteen: A Moment of Vulnerability

Chapter seventeen: The Panthers Eyes

Chapter eighteen: The Panthers Threat

Chapter nineteen: A Dangerous Encounter

Chapter twenty: Walls and Tension

Chapter twenty-one: The Distance Between Us

Chapter twenty-two: Power not Pity

Chapter twenty-three: Beneath the Mask

Chapter twenty-four: Fractured Walls

Chapter twenty-five: The Invitation

Chapter twenty-six: Fight

Chapter twenty-seven: Disappear Without a Trace

Chapter twenty-eight: The Weight of Silence

Chapter twenty-nine: Unspoken Promises

Chapter thirty: Fractured Lines

Chapter thirty-one: Behind the Walls

Chapter thirty-two: A Line in the Sand

Chapter thirty-three: What He Left Behind

Chapter thirty-four: Lines Crossed

Chapter thirty-five: Fractures In The Mask

Chapter thirty-six: Unfinished Conversations

Chapter thirty-seven: Something to Hold on to

Chapter thirty-eight: Closer Together

Chapter thirty-nine: A step forward

Chapter forty: Uncharted Territory

———————

Thank you!

[elgeriatricodedanikun]

Vista La Residencia.

Me gusta el humor absurdo y los misterios y con esta serie me lo he pasado pipa y he intentado resolver un misterio (pero sin suerte XD).

El misterio esta guay, marea en ocasiones pero tiene un final bueno.

Sin duda el capitulo 4 (el dedicado a Sheila) es el mejor de todos y con el que mas me he reido por culpa de Sheila, el mejor personaje de la serie con su borrachera XD.

Me mola el editaje de las entrevistas simultaneas que se contradicen XD.

Lo único malo es que no sea renovada para otro misterio en una residencia de ancianos o de estudiantes...

The Fall of the House of Usher - The Residence 01.01 directed by Liza Johnson - written by Paul William Davies

----------------------------------------------------------- Whodunit fan? Find more mysteries on Blackram Hall. Avatar pic by Mitchell Turek

[seriesworld]

this was such a cute moment... that's work dad

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just What I Needed 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: In an effort to evade a creep, you walk head first into Bucky Barnes. (short!reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: based on this

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You keep to yourself. You mind your business. It can be hard in the city where there's always a horn honking or a voice hollering. You know how to get by. How to get through.

Head down, feet moving, just don't stop. The rush of the city tunnels around you, you among the masses unnoticed, forgotten. The way you like it. It's better to be invisible.

The subway is crowded, as it always is. There's a busker playing their guitar out of tune at the other end, an argument across from you, and the ceaseless chatter of a man on his Bluetooth side-eyeing his neighbors. You keep your hands on your crossbody bag and stare at the floor. There's dirty and gum and something wet you don't want to wonder about.

Another stop comes, the rail squealing below, and another horde gets on as only a few bodies leave. The passenger next to you swaps for another. You make yourself smaller. One more stop.

The man smells like body odour and weed. You try not to make a face. You only tuck your chin down and take deliberate breaths.

His arm presses against yours. He leans in and you feel him looking you over. You clasp tightly to your bag and bite down. Is he eyeing you up to rob you? You lift your eyes a scan around quickly. Would anyone bother to stop him?

He startles you as he rubs his knuckle against your skirt. The plaid wool in shades of brown, tan, and a dusty pink. Your brown stockings perfect complement the piece. He continues to move his finger, slowly crawling to your hem. You shift and stand as your stop is called out by the automated voice. Thank god.

You rush over to join the rabble forming for escape. You don't dare look back. You're nearly crushed between the passengers and as good as carried out onto the platform. You get your footing and quickly spin in the right direction.

You pass through the turnstile and your bag catches on the bar. You turn back to untangle it. There's a man coming up. You recognise his tattered cuff. It's the same guy who say next to you. Is he following you?

You unhook the bag and twirl, hurrying away before you can get the answer. You try not to run, not wanting to antagonize him. Or draw any other unwanted attention. Your soles hit the pavement and slip on the first step. You grab onto the railing and take the stairs in a flurry of steps. You're breathless as you reach the top. A whistle comes behind you and a laugh.

"Hey, honey, why don't you wait up. That's a nice skirt," he calls after you in a grizzly voice.

Oh no! You can't stop, but you can't lead him to your work. That's a recipe for disaster. Never let them know where you live or where you frequent. That's what you read online. For all your efforts, it's never happened to you before. Maybe some wandering shadows in the dark steeped in paranoia, but never this.

Your throat burns dryly as your heart hammers. You pass by a couple, a man and woman in business attire. They're entirely blind to you. You give another woman a desperate look but she's tapping her Bluetooth and sighing. Please, someone help. The whistling continues.

"Kitty, kitty," the man taunts.

The smell of exhaust and street meat mingle in a sickening lure. You search around. You think of stopping at the new stand and signalling to the vendor for help. He's clutching a dollar bill and ranting at a customer. No help.

Why do you spend your time reading all those LetsNotMeet stories online? This is horrifying. No cops. The one day you need them and they're just not there.

A man steps up to the hot dog cart ahead of you and checks his watch. You notice the odd metallic glove he wears on only one hand. He might not be better than the one following you but you're out of options.

"Oh, hi," you as good as run into him. He grunts and looks down at you. "Sorry, I'm late," you stutter out the words and send him a wide-eyed pout. "You didn't order without me, did you?"

His brows furrow as you grasp onto his sleeve. You lower your voice as you stand on your toes, "please, pretend you know me."

The wobble in your throat nearly draws tears to the surface. His expression softens. He dips his chin subtly and brings his hand up behind you, ushering you closer to the hot dog cart.

"Two, Mikey," he holds up as many fingers. "Usual for me, and uh, what are you getting, doll?"

You glance over at the man as he stops by the news stand, squinting over at you as he fidgets endlessly. You turn your attention to the man behind the cart. "Um, just relish and... ketchup, thank you. Oh, and please."

The man beside you steps closer, "I see the guy, don't worry, doll. I got you."

You tremble, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do."

"All good," he presses his hand to your back as he keeps you close.

The vendor, Mikey, hands you your hot dog first. "You didn't say you were on the market, pal. My sister's looking." He kids.

"Ha, funny, Mikey." The man beside you says and takes his own order. "Come on, there's a bench."

He guides you further down the street to the bench near the pole. He sits first, then you do. He's calm as you're ready to combust.

"I'm so so sorry," you murmur. "I saw... I don't know."

"It's alright," he drawls and he pulls back the wrapper, "Bucky. You, doll?"

You look between him and the man who wanders closer to the hot dog cart. You swallow and look to your saviour. Well, so far. You give your name.

He nods and bites into his hot dog. You do the same if only to stave off the awkwardness. What were you thinking? You've gone and ruined his life too.

You wince as you sense the creep lurking nearer and nearer. Why won't he stop?

Bucky takes the napkin away from the bottom of the wrapper and wipes his mouth. He curls the wrapper over his hot dog and offers it to you. "Hold this for a sec, alright, doll?"

You take it in confusion. He stands and cracks his knuckles. That shiny glove isn't a glove. It's his hand.

As the creep get closer to the bin a few feet from the bench, Bucky grabs him by his jacket. He shakes him and snarls, lifting him to his toes. He growls but you can't make out his words. The man who followed you goes pale and wriggles. Bucky lets him go. The errant passenger staggers off, nearly stepping into the path of a taxi.

Bucky returns and sits down casually. He holds his hand out and you give him back his hot dog. You stare at your own.

"Thank you. You didn't... have to..."

"That guy was a really cretin." He shrugs. "Can't complain for buying a cute girl a dog."

"Oh, uh, yes, thanks. Again. That's... I have change."

You reach for your purse and he clucks, "don't go and do that. My mom didn't raise me like that."

"Uh, yes, sorry. I wasn't meaning to be... ungrateful."

"Don't gotta be sorry," he sits back.

You bite into your hot dog and silently chew. You were hungry before but it isn't bad. Especially for street meat. Your eyes fall to his hand. He wiggles his fingers.

"It's an upgrade, really," he extends his metal digits to show you.

"I... wasn't meaning to stare."

"It is what it is," he crumples up his wrapper. "Just gotta deal with people hounding me."

"Hounding you?" You tilt your head.

His cheek dimples, "you don't... don't know who I am?"

You think and shake your head. "Sorry, sir."

"Sir? Please," he waves you off. "It's fine."

"Bucky... that's your name." You remember what the vendor called him.

"Sure is," he replies.

"I never heard... no, I don't know," you push your lower lip out.

"Kinda refreshing," he drawls. "Well, doll, thanks for the lunch date," he stands and rolls his shoulders, "want me to walk you to wherever you're headed?"

"Oh, no, I can't ask for that. It's just a block down."

"I don't mind," he says.

You stand and nibble on the last of the bun. You swallow. "Please, I... I'm okay." You look down and up again, "thanks to you."

His mouth curves, just a little, "if.... you really feel like you owe me, which I'm not saying you do, but... maybe I could get your number."

You flutter your lashes. He's asking for your number. Wow. You don't think anyone's ever done that.

"Yeah uh," you press your hand full of bun to your purse and pull open the zipper. You slip out your phone and unlock it. You hold it out to him, "sorry, I can't... type."

"No problem, doll," he accepts it and keys in his number. "Bit of advice, though," he reaches to slide the cell back into your bag, "don't be handing this out to just anyone." He zips up the bag. "I could've been down the block by now."

You make and O with your lips, "oh, I'm..."

"Don't be sorry," he insists. "I'll call you."

"Sure."

"And you'll answer?"

"Of course," you make a face.

"Just wanna make sure," he says. "You have a good day. Oh, and the next time you got some creep on your heels, call me."

You nod and try to smile. You're still a bit shaky but you feel better. You think you can trust him. He saved you after all.

💘

The water spits at you and you back away from the stove. You adjust the dial as you squeak. That burner is crooked and the flames lick ravenously at the small pot. As you try to keep the fire under control, your phone buzzes. Usually there's a short vibe but this is incessant.

You scramble to grab it before the call times out. You tap answer before you can check the ID. You huff breathlessly, "hello?"

"Doll? Everything okay?" The familiar voice greets with concern. It takes a moment to click. It's been a few days since your run-in.

"Yeah, I'm... cooking dinner," you put him on speaker as you go back to the stove.

"Ah, I'm interrupting," he intones.

"It's... okay," you place the phone carefully against the toaster and let it stand. You grab the bag of noodles and pour them into the water. It splashes you and you cheep again.

"Doll?" He rasps.

"I'm fine. Just... clumsy," you affirm. You don't know what to say.

"How are you doing?" He asks. You're happy for his guidance.

"Okay. Tired. How about you?"

"Better now I'm talking to you. Sorry, I couldn't call sooner. I was out of town. Work." He explains.

"Oh, it's... it's fine. Everyone's busy."

He snorts softly, "you are too much, doll. Just too... too much."

"I am?" You wonder. 

The line scuffs as he moves around, "you're not afraid of me, are ya?" He asks. "Did you look me up then?"

"Afraid? Uh, no. No, I didn't..." To be honest, you tried to forget running from that guy from the subway.

"No? Most girls... not that I know many, they do. Don't stick around long."

"Um, right, er, I didn't... look you up. I just... I've been working."

"Course, doll. I know. You're a good girl. It's why you found me. To keep the bad guys away," he cooes.

You stir the noodles with a wooden spoon. You stare at the phone, trying to unravel his words.

"So, I was thinking, tomorrow, Friday, you busy?"

"Not after five," you shrug.

"Perfect. I was thinking something fancy for the first date."

You're quiet as you scrunch up your brow. "Date?"

He laughs, "why'd you think I asked for your number?"

You sniff, "mm, I thought maybe you were being nice."

He thinks that's funny too as he chuckles once more.

"Oh, I can't wait to be nice to you, doll. And more," he purrs. "I'm sure you'll pick out something real special to wear too."

"I... I'll find something," you eke out as your heart flutters. 

A date? You're really not prepared for that; just like that guy on the train.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you, doll," he promises. "Just like I did before."

[lezfrenchy]

They kissing...

Lookmhee hand...

Perfection 🩷🩷

[finstanner]

[himemeiya]