#i have things to say but i hate leaving in the middle of things so i'll write it when i get back

[mameillieureennemie]

author's note: an idea sprung up in my head where vi and reader are co-workers who hate each other but ACTUALLY—

summary: vi's been a constant pain in your ass for ages; a co-worker who lives to irritate you mercilessly. until things come to a head and a secret is unraveled.

cw: modern day, co-workers, office au, vi x f!reader

"I fucking hate you."

"Oh, that hurts my heart, princess."

"Don't call me that."

"What? Princess?"

Your pen nearly snaps in half due to the death grip you have it in. You're absolutely furious; your rage is a burning force bubbling away at the pit of your stomach. It's hot enough to have your heart racing, thundering loudly in your chest as your blood roars in your ears.

"I swear to god, Violet," you hiss dangerously, your eyes narrowing into thin slits. "Call me that one more time, and I'll strangle you with my bare hands."

Vi raises a brow, frustratingly unaffected. "Promise?" She says, lips curving into a mocking smile, and oh, your vision goes red for a second.

Your mind drifts to all the horrible things you could do to Vi. In graphic detail. And that seems to calm you down, which should be concerning. But you can't afford to get into an all-out fight with her, in the middle of a work day, while your co-workers mill about.

Knowing them, they're just waiting for this to happen. And you can't afford to give them that satisfaction, so you take a deep breath, attempting to cool your system down.

Then you hand over the documents to Vi, emotionless, as you say, "Deal with this."

Vi, noticing that you've tapped out from your usual brawl, eyes you for a second before replying, "Sure thing."

With that, you turn to walk away so you can leave this space. But before you can even make it to the door, Vi's opening her big mouth to say:

"Princess."

It's hard for you not to lose your mind after that.

"Is this going to be a common occurrence?" Mel asks, already tired as she looks between the two of you. "I mean, we already had the fiasco a week ago where you two were yelling at each other in the break room—"

"She started it," you interrupt with a mumble, shying away when Mel aims a warning look your way.

"I don't care who stared it," Mel retorts before leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "I just expect more from my employees. I expect harmonious working relationships, not arguments that turn into screaming matches. If this happens again, there's going to be serious consequences. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Ms Medarda." You and Vi grumble in unison, and you're soon walking out of her office. You immediately start towards your desk, wanting to get far from Vi because your anger has yet to subside. It wasn't your fault that this happened; all Vi had to do was take the documents you handed her, but no, she had to turn it into something else.

And now Mel's got her eye on you, which is the last thing you need and—

"Hey."

That's Vi's voice, calling out to you, and the last thing you want to hear. So you keep striding, hurrying your pace to keep the space between you two. But Vi's fast; she's closing the distance and wrapping a big hand around your arm.

The touch is enough to spike your annoyance a decent amount.

You rip your arm out of her grip, baring teeth as you grit out, "What?"

Vi raises both hands up to show she means no harm. Then she's stuffing them into her pockets, sighing before she says, "Look, I'm sorry."

That throws you through a loop.

"...What?" You ask again, only less hostile and more confused.

"I'm sorry," Vi repeats easily. "I...didn't mean to rile you up so much. It's just..." She struggles for a second. "It's like when you pull on a girl's pigtails because she's cute and annoying the fuck out of her makes her talk to you?"

That throws you through another loop.

You blink a few times, trying to compute what she just said before you go, "You're fucking with me."

Vi huffs a laugh. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," you argue. "Because you can't be telling me that the reason you've been antagonising me is because you think I'm cute."

Vi shrugs, giving a lazy smile. "Yeah, that's exactly it."

You stare at her for a moment, a rush of emotions going through you. Then all you're feeling is a mixture of frustration and amusement.

"What are you? 8?" You retort, unable to think of anything else because so much has been given to you at once. The biggest being that Vi's just kind of admitted to having a crush on you and has been using preschool antics to catch your attention. Regardless of that attention being full-on rage which could have resulted in murder.

"Give me some credit," Vi replies, rolling her eyes. "I'm, at least, 10."

That draws a chuckle from you, soft and short, but a chuckle nonetheless. And Vi smiles wide because she's heard it, and she does have a nice smile, you notice.

There're many things you want to say, some of them not so kind while some more curious. But something warm flutters in your chest, giving life to a feeling that you haven't felt in a long, long time.

"...You're stupid," is that you finally settle on, and Vi laughs loudly at that. She closes the space between you two a little further, tentatively grinning.

"So I've been told," she replies before nodding towards the elevators. "So do you maybe wanna grab lunch with me or something?"

You hold Vi's gaze for a second, purse your lips before giving a small smile.

"No," you say, walking backward to maintain your gaze with Vi. "I'm busy."

"Tomorrow?"

"Nope."

"The next day?"

"Nah."

You and Vi are beaming at each other now, the space between you as wide as a chasm.

"What do I gotta do?" Vi asks, eager, and you laugh.

"Go a week without pissing me off, then you can take me out."

Vi's gaze turns determined, the look sending a slight shiver down your spine.

"Deal."

[veltana]

Stranded - 2

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,3 k

✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.

✦ Summary: You leave the cabin to escape Bucky's attitude, braving the cold, but it ends up being more than you bargained for.

✦ Note: For chapter 2, you guys voted for protective!Bucky! Next poll will be up tomorrow!

Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️

Series Masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The gentle crackling of the wood stove should be soothing. How many times had you dreamed of escaping to a place just like this? And yet, it feels more like the relentless ticking of a clock, counting down. Never in your life have you felt so unwelcome in a place you'd been invited into.

You can hear Bucky in his room not far away, the floor creaking as he walks around, then the springs from his mattress whining as he lays down.

If your clothes dry quickly maybe you can just leave. It would probably be better to sleep in your car and freeze to death than endure spending any more time with Bucky.

The isolation feels understandable to you now. He clearly hates people. But the thing you can't wrap your head around is why he would invite you in and then be disgusted by your company. It's confusing, to say the least.

You busy yourself by making the bed. After you're done you check your clothes but they're still wet. With a sigh, you lay down and pull the covers over you. You can rest your eyes for a few minutes and then maybe the clothes will be dry enough for you to leave.

You wake abruptly to the sound of howling wind and sit up. It's dark outside the windows and quiet from the wood stove. Checking your phone, you see that a couple of hours have passed. Your clothes are probably okay now, but before you can muster the energy to leave the bed, sleep pulls you under once more.

The next time you wake it's from the sound of a door opening. You lay still, listening to Bucky move around the small room, put more logs into the stove, and then go to the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You have no idea how he knew you were awake. "Sure," you reply, doing your best to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his still-sleepy tone. Despite being an asshole, Bucky is very handsome.

As the old machine starts to gurgle and sputter, you get up and look out the window. It's still windy but no more snow than what was already on the ground yesterday, which is a relief. You wouldn't want to be snowed in with the world's biggest grump. On the other hand, people always say hate sex is good. Then you mentally slap yourself for even going there. Bucky would probably agree to touch you if you were dying. Maybe.

As you turn back around you're greeted with the sight of Bucky in the middle of the room with a big block of a phone pressed to his ear. His jeans are tight over his thighs and his henley snug over his shoulders. The scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.

“It's Bucky,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, no I'm fine, do you have a truck available to pick up a stranded car down by the big road?”

The person on the other end chats away and Bucky starts pacing the room.

“No it's not for me, I said I'm fine.” The sigh that comes out of him feels like it comes from his soul. “It's for a… a friend, you could say.” He glances over at you and you shrug. Better to be called a friend than an intruder.

“Hal, I don't have time for this. Do you have a truck available or not?” You watch as his shoulders sag in defeat and you know the answer without him needing to state it. He says a short goodbye before looking over at you.

“Let me guess, no one is available to get my car?” “Not for a few days, it's a small mechanic shop and they're backed up at the moment.”

You don't dare to joke about Bucky being stuck with you for a few more days. Instead, you quickly gather your now-dry clothes and head to the bathroom to change. Hesitantly, you get rid of the warm, oversized hoodie. You fold them and put them on the counter. He's probably gonna burn them once you've left but you don't need to know that.

The cabin smells like coffee and you make yourself a cup that you sip on while tidying up the bed. Bucky hasn't offered any breakfast and you're not gonna ask. The coffee will last you to the car and you have snacks there. He sits by the table with a book and his cup, not acknowledging you.

After you've folded all the linen, you drain your cup, use the bathroom one more time since you're not sure when you'll be able to again, and then start putting on your jacket.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and you look over at him. His scowl is more concerned this time, but it's not enough to change your decision. “To my car.” Bucky glances out the window. “The wind is strong.” You shrug. “I need to get out of here,” you simply say. No need to point out that he’s a terrible host. He answers with a hum.

You're about to thank him for taking you in and giving you food and clothes, but he's absorbed in his book again. So you pull your hood up and head out.

***

Yesterday, you hoped to reach your destination before dark. Now you would rather walk anywhere in the pitch black if the wind would just calm down. Despite your thick jacket and winter boots, you're freezing, but at least you made it to your car.

It looks intact and you get in to get away from the wind. Despite knowing nothing will happen you try the ignition again but the car is still dead. All the way there you fantasized about it magically turning on and you driving out of there, warm and towards a place you'd be welcome.

With numb fingers, you unlock your phone but there is still no signal. Yesterday you decided that walking towards town wasn’t an option, but now it’s the only one you have. And if the opportunity presents itself you’ll be brave and stick out your thumb.

As you stuff more things into your backpack you wonder if this is one of the times where your stubbornness is getting the better of you. Then again, you are socially intelligent enough to know when you're not wanted. You're not sure why your thoughts keep returning to Bucky since you’ve known him for less than 24 hours. And known is to word it strongly. Barely interacted with is more like it.

You close the trunk of your car with a bang and start walking. Maybe the annoyance at yourself will keep you warm because the wind has not gotten any warmer. The road is as deserted as when you first got stranded. You try to keep a lookout for cars but you constantly have to put your head down as you walk forward.

Time passes but you're not sure how long you've walked or how far you've gotten. If you turn around and you can still see your car, you're gonna lay down and just die, because it feels like you've been walking for hours. The snacks you had in the car weren't nearly enough and you're starting to get hungry. What you wouldn't give for a taste of Bucky’s hot soup.

You feel like you're in a cartoon, thought bubbles with his name and face popping up above your head constantly and you want to wave them away. But you're so cold, tired, and hungry. The ground at the side of the road sure is looking inviting for a nap.

Despite better judgment, you stop. Your legs ache and feel like jelly. Tears burn your eyes because you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn. And mad at Bucky for being an asshole.

You have to keep walking. It's the only way. But you don't want to. You want to sit down.

The ground is cold and hard, but also somehow soft. Soft enough to want to lie down. You can just rest your eyes for a few minutes then you'll get back up and walk again.

A deep sigh escapes you as your body relaxes into the hard surface and suddenly you start to feel warm again.

***

It isn’t like Bucky cares where you are. At least that's what he tells himself. You said you were going to your car, he thought to get something. He could have driven you but he just wanted to start his day slow and have his coffee before running out.

Since you aren't back, he assumes you got the car going.

The sat phone goes off and startles him as he sits deep in thought.

“Hey, it's Hal! I managed to get a tow for your friend's car, I have it by the shop but it's gonna be a few days until we can get to it, is that alright?”

“She isn't with you?” Bucky asks and deep lines form between his eyebrows.

“Eh, no, the car was empty. Wait, did you have a—”

Whatever Hal is about to say gets cut off as Bucky hangs up. You weren't by the car, but you're still not back. So where are you?

A tinge of panic rises in Bucky's chest, a feeling he refuses to analyze more at this moment. He heads for the door, unsure what he's gonna do, but he needs to go out and look for you.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he starts his car. “She's found someone to catch a ride with. She doesn't want you to look for her. She doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?”

But still, he drives slowly so as not to miss anything.

***

The sound of a car door slamming shut starts you awake. Fuck, you missed an opportunity to hitch a ride, is all you can think, and you try to sit up, open your eyes, and speak but your body is slow and sluggish. Then you hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

In the next moment, you feel yourself being lifted. With great effort you manage to open your eyes and see the one man you'd hoped never to run into again. He places you in his truck, buckling you into the seat, before rounding it and getting in, not saying a word before turning on the empty road and heading back the way you came.

“No,” you press out hoarsely. “What were you doing?! Trying to walk to the nearest town?!” “Mmhm,” you answer and lean your head back. You're still tired and hungry, but the car is pleasantly warm. “How can you be so stupid? It's a two-hour drive!” You want to answer that you couldn't stay but all the energy has left your body so you just shrug.

It feels like you're back at the cabin in no time, as if you didn't make any headway on your walk at all.

Bucky reaches over to unbuckle you and carries you up to the cabin, putting you on the floor in front of the wood stove.

As he's putting more logs into the stove your head starts to spin, and a second later you’re lying on your side, having tipped over from the vertigo. “For fuck's sake!” Bucky growls. “Dizzy,” you manage to croak. “Just lay there until I've warmed up some soup,” he says and walks away. The heat from the fire makes sweat form on your brow, still bundled as you are in your thick jacket. You fumble to take it off, but your fingers won't cooperate. In record time, Bucky has a bowl of yesterday's soup on the floor next to you, and you've managed to get the zipper down a few inches.

With surprising care, far more than you expect, he gently helps you sit up and unzips your jacket, then assists with your boots as well. As he grabs your hand you can feel the stark difference between your cold fingers and his warm skin. No wonder you couldn't move the zipper.

After, he scooches in behind you so that his legs bracket your body, keeping you upright, before picking up the bowl and holding it in front of you. “I'm not feeding you, just be careful,” his grumpy voice says.

The spoon shakes as you pick it up, you lean forward at the same time to not spill anything. It's slow but it works. Feeling returns to your fingers, making them tingle and hurt. The food tastes amazing, but that's maybe because you're famished. It takes some time to finish the bowl, but once you do, you feel pleasantly full. There's a light, almost drunken sensation from how good you feel—warm, cared for, and nestled between the legs of a handsome man. All you have to do is overlook the minor detail that he happens to despise you. Why would he come and get you? You don't understand. Maybe he was headed somewhere else and happened to see you. But then again, why stop? You don’t mean anything to him.

“Why'd you stop?” you find yourself asking. The flames dance in front of you and you resist the urge to lean back into Bucky. There is no answer, just like you expect, and maybe that’s for the better.

Despite it still being early evening, you sigh and say, "I'm tired," as you push yourself up. Heading toward the couch, you sway on your feet, but Bucky is right behind you. It isn't until you're halfway there that you realize he's gently steering you toward his bedroom instead.

Too tired to question or analyze the situation, you head straight to bed. Your last thought is that you aren’t dying, but Bucky still touched you willingly.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 11 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The rest of the walk back to the apartment was uneventful. Sam and I stayed a couple of paces behind everyone and even though we didn’t speak I kept stealing glances at her, feeling my heart flutter every time I caught her snuggling deeper into my hoodie in search of comfort.

Now, we’re back at the apartment. Tara and Chad are in Tara’s room, talking, according to Quinn, while the rest of us is gathered in the living room.

Well, almost everyone. Sam stayed downstairs when we got here, saying she needed a moment to compose herself.

I completely understand where she’s coming from, tonight’s been a lot and I get that she needs some space, but I still have an innate need to comfort her.

I know we’re not on the best of terms especially after our little tiff on the way to the party, but I still care deeply about her and I hate seeing her upset.

Which reminds me. . . I should probably have a little chat with Tara.

I set down the bottle I just took from the fridge after taking a big sip of water, and slowly make my way to Tara’s room.

Much to my surprise, Quinn is already there and what she’s saying makes my eyebrows rise up.

She’s saying something about cock blocking Tara and Chad, something they both vehemently deny and I slow down so as to not get into the middle of it.

Eventually they drop it though, and Quinn leaves the room, smirking at me when she passes me in the hallway before Chad exits the room as well after telling Tara not to kill Sam.

He sends me a small smile as he brushes past me and I pat his shoulder with a sympathetic look before going to the door and leaning against the doorframe.

Tara still hasn’t noticed me and when she lets herself fall back on the bed with a dopey smile I can’t help but smile too.

Oh, she and Chad have it bad for each other. I can’t wait to ask how and when that happened.

For now, there are more important things to talk about though.

I push myself back off the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” I say quietly.

Tara’s head whips around and she immediately sits up when she sees me, her dopey grin turning into a somber smile. “Y/N, hey. . .”

“Can I come in?” I ask and when Tara nods and pats the spot beside her I cross the room and take a seat next to her. “You okay?”

She shifts closer and rests her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “No, not really. I hate fighting with Sam, but she’s so overprotective, it’s suffocating. . . I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly How was your drive? I thought you and Liam had plans for tonight?”

“We did, but he was called into work. The drive was fine, long, but fine and you don’t have to apologize, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” I nudge her softly and press a kiss to the top of her head. “As for Sam,” I continue. “I get it. It’s a lot and she might have overreacted tonight, but she’s just worried about you. I’m worried about you, I mean—Date Rape Frankie? Really?”

When Anika told Sam and me the name of the guy Tara’d left with I thought I’d heard wrong.

Tara winces and fidgets with her fingers.

“I know, I know. Not my best move, but I just. . . I want to make my own choices and, yes, Sam is worried, but she keeps treating me like a child. You don’t.“

I sigh and let her play with the bracelet on my wrist, so she stops fidgeting with her fingers. “No, I don’t. But she lives with you and takes care of you, and she was gone for five years, so she’s probably trying to make up for everything she missed.”

Tara doesn’t say anything, but her fingers still as she thinks about what I just said.

“I know it’s a lot, too much even some times, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Sam loves you so much, Sprout.”

“I know. I love her, too, but. . .” Tara trails off and sighs.

I chuckle softly and press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah. . .”

We stay like that until Tara lifts her head off my shoulder a couple of moments later to study me.

When she does say anything, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What?”

“You look. . . tired,” she says which makes me shrug.

“I mean, yeah. It’s late and the drive was pretty long,” I say, not knowing where she’s going with this, but Tara just shakes her head and deflates a little, her eyes softening.

“No, I don’t mean like that.” I frown, which prompts her to continue. “You and Sam. . . You barely speak these days and I can tell you’re both miserable because of it. I mean, I get that you have your own life and it was hard to stay in touch when you were in Boston and we were in Woodsboro, but we’re here now, so why don’t you try to fix things between the two of you.

I sigh. “It’s not that simple, Sprout. We’ve all changed and even though I love Sam with all my heart, I realized I can’t be around her. She doesn’t think of me as anything other than a friend a-and it hurts. It hurts so much, I just can’t be a friend .”

“But she loves you, too,” Tara tries to reason which makes my heart ache because oh how nice would it be if that was true. “You guys just have to talk. I mean, she watches all your games on TV and you’re the first one she wants to call when something’s wrong or when something good happens.“

I blink back tears and avert my eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything, Tara. She knows how I feel about her and she’s never done anything about it. Besides, why would she be fooling around with Danny if she loved me?”

Tara grabs my wrist to get me to look at her again. “She knows?! I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but. . . How? And since when? And who the fuck is Danny?”

I smile sadly at her rambling and pat the top of her hand. “Danny, you know—cute boy? No one knows though, so keep that to yourself. As for since when she’s known, Richie called me out on it at Amber’s. We never talked about it, but yeah, she knows. . .”

The pity that fills Tara’s eyes is almost too much for me to bear, and when she sigh and says, “I’m so sorry. . .” I have to blink back a new wave of tears.

“Well, it is what it is, Sprout, but I need you to know that no matter what happens between Sam and me, I’ll always be there for you. You can always call me and should you ever need a break from everything you can come visit me in Boston.“

Tara hugs me tightly and whispers, “Thank you.”

I hold her closer and press another kiss to the top of her head before pulling back and suggesting we join the others in the living room.

I still want to ask about her and Chad, but there will be time for that later.

She agrees and together we make our way to the living room where the others are in the middle of turning on the TV and finding something to watch.

It is pretty late, but it seems as though no one is ready to call it a night yet.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re watching as I go to the kitchen to retrieve my water bottle, but then a collective gasp makes me turn back and when my eyes land on the TV, I freeze.

A news host is talking about a recent Ghostface killing, and even though it could all just be a big coincidence, I have this eerie feeling that it’s not and that we’re in for another ride with the masked killer.

He’s back. Ghostface is back.

It’s just like Sidney said, they always come back.

Fuck.

Various scenarios of what might happen go through my head and I shudder when I think of anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed again.

Tara. . . Sam. . . The twins. No, please, no. Not again.

“Someone get Sam,” Mindy says. It snaps me out of my thoughts and before anyone can get up, I head to the front door.

Outside in the hallway, I peer over the banister, expecting her to be sitting on the stairs at the bottom of the stairwell where we left her. She’s not though, and when I see her standing there instead, holding onto the lapels of Danny’s jacket, I have to swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat.

So much for not being a thing. . .

I push my hurt away and focus on what’s important instead.

“Sam!” I shout, doing my best not to let my voice waver. “Get up here right now. There’s something you have to see.”

At the sound of my voice, both Sam and Danny immediately look up, and I try not to read too much into the way Sam instantly lets go of Danny and takes a step back.

They share a quick look before making their way up the stairs, and I turn to go back into the apartment without waiting for them.

I leave the door open and stand next to Chad, watching the news report until Sam comes storming in with Danny right behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks and Chad just points at the TV.

Quinn smiles briefly at the sight of Danny and shoots Sam a knowing look, saying, “Cute Boy. . . nice,” but both Sam and Danny, despite his confusion at the nickname, don’t react.

They stare at the TV in a mix of surprise and confusion and when Mindy points out that one of the two victims was in their Film Studies Class, Sam’s face hardens and she turn to Tara, saying, “Pack a bag, we leave in ten.”

I can’t say I’m surprised because I knew she’d want to leave, but we already found out once that running away doesn’t work.

Sam heads into the kitchen to do god knows what and Tara looks at me pleadingly for a moment, hoping I’ll say something to change Sam’s mind but I just shake my head and sigh.

I’m scared, too, and once again a million scenarios of what could happen go through my head, but it’s not my place to interfere and even if I did, I doubt Sam would listen to me.

She’s got one thing on her mind right now, and that is protecting Tara, and even I won’t be able to change her mind, especially now after nine months of almost complete radio silence between the two of us.

Tara’s face falls, seeing that I’m not going to come to her rescue, and she jumps up to follow her sister into the kitchen, protesting. “Sam, wait! Sam!”

Danny frowns and goes to follow them, confused why Sam would just straight up pack a bag and leave at the first sign of trouble, but Chad steps in his way and places his hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you very much, suspicious new guy, but I think we’ve got it from here,” he says, ushering a still confused Danny out of the door before closing it land locking it.

I’ve got to say, I understand why Chad doesn’t trust him, but from what little I’ve seen of Danny so far, he seems like a decent guy and I doubt he has anything to do with this whole Ghostface situation.

“Sam, hold on!”

I turn back at the sound of Tara’s voice and try to hide my surprise at the sight of Sam coming back out of the kitchen with a knife in hand, Tara hot on her heels.

So that’s why she went into the kitchen. If you ask me, she’s overreacting just a little bit. Yes, Ghostface is back, but he’s not here right now, so I really don’t see the need for the knife.

“No, come on, we’re leaving,” Sam says, heading to her room, presumably to pack a bag, but before she gets there, Tara grabs her by the elbow and spins her around.

“No, wait! Let’s talk about this for a second ‘cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

True, but I doubt it. Still, I don’t get in the middle of it. I even take a step back to give them some room and when I glance at the others I see they’re also conflicted about what to believe and whose side to be on.

Well, they all are except Ethan. He just looks scared and his eyes keep darting between the two sisters and the TV.

When Sam points out that it can’t be a coincidence, Chad and Mindy back her up, mumbling, “Yeah, it is a little bit close to home,” I see Tara deflate.

She looks at me helplessly and I just shrug timidly, agreeing with the rest of them which prompts her to turn to Quinn for help. “Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right? Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” She turns back to glare at Sam, adding, “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!”

Sam flinches slightly, but looks at Quinn for answers, her eyes filled with desperation and an underlying fear that makes me feel for her.

I’m scared, too.

The redhead cringes slightly and nods. She obviously doesn’t like the fact that she’s been roped into the fight, but she takes out her phone nonetheless. “I’m calling him now.”

Tara lets out an exasperated sigh. “Thank you.”

Quinn sends her a tight lipped smile and lifts her phone to her ear after dialing her dad’s number, only for the rest of us to flinch a second later when Sam’s phone starts ringing on the kitchen table.

Oh no.

Her eyes find mine and I do my best not to let my own fear show as I tilt my head, silently telling her to answer it.

Whatever happens, we’re in this together. The past nine months be damned.

She visibly shudders but takes her phone after setting down the knife. She doesn’t answer it though. She just stares at the display before declining the call and turning back around.

Huh. What was that?

The atmosphere is charged and a tense silence has settled over the living room and the only one who dares to break it a second later is an oblivious Ethan.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?” he asks which makes Anika roll her eyes and say, “You’ve got to keep up my dude.”

She’s right. How can he not know Ghostface calls his victims every time before he attacks. By now, that’s like common knowledge because Stab is a franchise everyone knows, but then again, he doesn’t strike me as someone who watches horror movies, so his question seems fair.

“Sam? My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn says, getting off the couch and holding out her phone.

Right. Her dad.

Sam takes the phone and we all watch with baited breath as she raises it to her ear, saying, “Mr. Bailey, hi,” but then a thought strikes me and I’m quick to pull out my own phone and excuse myself for a moment.

I dial Liam’s number in the hallway outside of the apartment, waiting with a racing heart until he finally picks up.

It’s not been confirmed that Ghostface is back, but I still have to warn him. I can’t ask him to leave again because of his new job, but I can give him a heads up.

“Hey, Y/N. You good? I’m sorry I know it’s late and you probably thought I’d be home by now, but my boss—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” I cut him off, but before I can say anything else he beats me to it.

“Okay, good. You know speaking of my boss, he’s a big fan of yours and I may or may not have slipped him your resume and he’d love you to work for him should you retire any time soon.l

I shake my head even though Liam can’t see me and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Liam—“

“Also I talked to Paige on my way to dinner and she’s, like, so jealous the two of us are spending a couple of days together, even though you visited her in Portland a couple of weeks ago and—“

“Liam!”

Liam shuts up instantly and for a second there’s silence. When he speaks up again the concern in his voice makes it clear that he knows something is wrong. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

I exhale shakily and tighten my grip on the phone. “He’s back, Lee. . . Ghostface is back.”

“What? But—“

“Listen to me,” I say sternly before he can go on. “I know I can’t ask you to leave again, but I need you to keep your distance from me until this whole thing blows over. Stay vigilant, stay in crowded places and maybe even stay with a friend for a couple of days. He might not be after you, but you’re my friend and when he finds out he might want to hurt you.”

Liam huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “If you think I’m going to go into hiding and let you face this motherfucker alone again you’re out of your mind, Y/N! Let me—“

“No! You’re staying out of this.”

“You can’t just decide that for me!” He fires back and I clench my jaw.

“Liam, the less people that are involved, the better,” I say. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if something happened to you because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself. You’re not going into hiding, you’re keeping yourself safe. . . I’ve faced Ghostface before, so I know what I’m getting into, and we’re prepared this time. Quinn’s dad is a cop.”

“Y/N. . .”

“Lee,” I whisper, feeling a lump growing in my throat. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay as long as you stay out of it, okay? Please promise me you’ll do what I said.“

I hear Liam sigh and it’s clear he doesn’t want to agree, but he does eventually. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Thank you.” I swallow thickly. “I’ve got to get going now, but before I do. . . Please, don’t tell Paige about this. She’ll only worry and she’ll want to come here to help.”

“I know,” Liam says. “I won’t tell her.”

“Thank you.” I hang up after telling him to stay safe, and turn around just in time to see Sam and Tara coming out of the apartment.

Both of them have changed out of their clothes from the party. Tara’s wearing a striped shirt, jeans, and a pink corduroy jacket and Sam is wearing a simple white long-sleeved shirt and my hoodie.

Her necklace glints in the low light and distracts me for a moment.

“Hey, where are you guys going?” I ask when I snap out of it.

Sam grimaces. “Detective Bailey asked me to come down to the station because they found my driver’s license at the crime scene and Tara’s coming with me.”

“What? How’d that get there?” I ask, following them down the stairs without hesitation.

Wherever they go, I go, even though I’m only wearing a shirt and I know it’s going to be a little chilly outside.

Sam throws her hands up, keeping her eyes trained on the stairs so as to not stumble while Tara holds onto my arm. “I have no idea, but I reported that it was stolen two nights ago.”

Why would someone steal and then plant her license at a crime scene? It’s almost like they’re trying to frame her, but why?

I feel like I’m missing something.

We step outside and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of wet dirt and urine. It rained while we were inside, I realize, and the air is much cooler than I thought it would be, but there’s no turning back now, so I just lean into Tara when she huddles closer for warmth after noticing the goosebumps on my arms.

I’m just glad it’s not raining anymore.

Sam is walking two paces ahead of us, seemingly lost in thought and I’m about to speak up and ask her to tell us what’s on her mind when her phone suddenly rings.

She stops walking and Tara and I catch up to her, watching her pull her phone out of her pocket.

I freeze when I see the caller ID and the three of us share a horrified look.

Richie Kirsch

“What the fuck?” Tara whispers.

“I never deleted his contact,” Sam admits.

“Don’t pick that up, just let it ring,” I warn, knowing that it can’t be anyone but Ghostface, but after looking around with a clenched jaw, Sam picks it up anyway.

Tara and I share an incredulous look, but we stay quiet when Sam asks, “Who is this?”

I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but even without the speaker I can make out Ghostface’s distorted voice.

Sam tenses and she stares straight ahead, her grip on her phone so harsh her knuckles are turning white. “I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead,” she spits and my chest fills with pride at how confident she sounds.

Ghostface says something I can’t quite make out, but I don’t focus on him because as he speaks, a hooded figure rounds the corner in front of us.

They’re on the phone as well with their head down so we can’t make out their face and I instantly shake off Tara and step in front of her and Sam.

Not today. . .

My ears start ringing and I ball my shaking hands into fists, ready to pounce, but then the stranger looks up with furrowed eyebrows. It’s a man in his late thirties, and he looks weirded out by the fact that we’re just starring at him, but he doesn’t comment on it and simply walks by while still talking on the phone.

I feel a hand on my lower back and deflate a little.

That wasn’t him. . .

I turn, thinking it’s Tara who’s touching me, only to freeze when I realize it’s Sam.

She’s not looking at me, and I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing, but when I shift out of reach her jaw twitches.

“So, what? You’re protecting us now?” she asks Ghostface which makes me frown.

What are they talking about?

Tara steps closer and tries to listen to what they’re saying with a frown of her own pulling at her lips all while resting a hand on my forearm to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

A police car races past us with blaring sirens and blinking lights, but I keep my focus on Sam whose face tightens more and more with every word Ghostface spews.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, asshole,” she says with a tilt of her head which only fuels my earlier confusion.

Yeah, I’m definitely missing something here.

Tara looks at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and I go to comfort her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, but then movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention right as Sam says, “You better watch yours!”

I spin around and pull Tara behind me just in time to kick Ghostface in the stomach before he can get his hands on either of us.

He stumbles back and doubles over, and I use his momentary distraction to push Sam and Tara in front of me.

“Shit! Run!” I shout and they do as I say, running ahead with me hot on their heels.

I keep checking over my shoulder where Ghostface is, and my stomach sinks when I see him picking himself up faster than anticipated.

Shit. He’s tough. And he’s not small either.

“Help! Please!” Tara shouts, but no one in their car hears her and there are no pedestrians around, so Sam does what I would have done too if I was in front and drags Tara around the corner and into a bodega.

I follow them inside and turn so I can keep my eyes on the door while they frantically plead with the man behind the register to call 911.

The other customers who’re stand in line to pay for their stuff complain and shout at us for cutting the line, but I ignore them and keep my eyes on the door.

And then he comes in. Ghostface stands tall and unbothered, looking almost calm which makes him even more menacing than when he was chasing us.

I take a step back, bumping into Sam and Tara, and keep my eyes on him when one of the customers who complained about us cutting the line steps in front of him.

“You got a problem here, guy?” he asks Ghostface and I have to suppress a scream when not even a second later, Ghostface pulls a knife out of his robe and stabs him with it.

The other customer gasp and scream in horror as absolute chaos breaks out, and I don’t protest when Sam pulls me backward, further into the store and away from Ghostface who drops the customer he just stabbed before ramming his knife into the neck of another guy who comes at him.

It’s all happening so fast, it feels like a dream, but I know it’s not because Sam keeps dragging me with her and Tara until we’re at the back of the store with our backs against the coolers.

Ghostface’s latest victim collapses, his lifeless eyes staring at me when he lands on the floor and I think this is it. He’s going to kill us now, but then the store owner behind the register pulls out a shotgun and fires it at Ghostface.

He misses, but it makes Ghostface scramble for cover and Sam, Tara, and I stare in horror as the owner cocks the gun, his eyes scanning the isles for any sign of the masked killer.

“Go out the back!” he shouts and we rush to the back door, but it’s locked and before the owner can give us the key, Ghostface appears out of nowhere.

He stabs the poor man in his shoulder and rips the gun out of his hands before shoving him to the ground and shooting him without a moment’s hesitation.

The sight makes my blood run cold, but it’s a reminder that if we don’t act, we’re going to be next, so I’m quick to pull Sam and Tara to the ground behind one of the nearby shelves.

There’s only one way out, and Ghostface is blocking it, so we’ll either have to somehow get around him or distract him long enough for the police to get here.

I’m sure by now someone’s already called them, but with Ghostface each second counts and if we don’t play this right we’ll be dead long before anyone can help us.

We crawl down an isle out of sight of Ghostface, but when we hear the shotgun cock again, we stop.

It’s nearer than I would have liked and my heart pounds in my chest when I meet Tara’s and Sam’s eyes.

They’re both white as a wall and Tara is crying silently, her mascara running down her cheek, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep my own panic at bay.

This is like the time Tara and I hid in the hospital. We’re sitting ducks, just like we were back then, and I know the only thing that kept us alive back then was staying as calm as possible for as long as possible. Well, that and Dewey, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

Deep breaths, Y/N.

There’s a crunch, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out where Ghostface might be heading. Not a moment later though, a shot rings out and my eyes fly open again when the glass door of the cooler behind us shatters.

Tara let’s out an involuntary whimper which leads to another shot being fired in our direction. It hits the shelf above us and makes bags of chips explode and rain down on us.

Then, silence.

Sam ushers us around the other side of the shelf and we press ourselves against it in hopes of making ourselves less visible and for a moment I feel her hand on mine.

Even now, her touch sends sparks up my arm, but I don’t look at her. I just turn my hand around and slip my fingers between her trembling ones, squeezing gently.

It’s not an acknowledgment of defeat—I’m not going to just let us die like this— but I want to reassure her that I’m here. I’m here and I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent anything from happening to her or Tara.

They have to get out of here. That’s all that matters.

The sound of approaching footsteps right behind us makes me hold my breath, and my eyes dart around the floor in front of us until they land on a crushed soda can.

It’s by Sam’s feet and when I squeeze her hand again and tilt my head in the direction of it, she reaches for it. Tara watches us with wide eyes and a tear running down her cheek.

We need a distraction. That’s our only chance.

Sam shoots me a questioning look, but I just raise my hand in front of us and hold up three fingers.

3. . .

She frowns, but I gesture at the can and fold down a finger.

2. . .

Understanding dawns on her and I nod encouragingly and jut my chin in the direction of the other side of the store before folding down another finger.

1. . .

I fold down my last finger and Sam grits her teeth before throwing the can.

It clatters against a shelf on the other side of the store and not even a second later a gunshot rings out.

This is my chance.

I jump up, much to Sam’s and Tara’s surprise and make a run for Ghostface who’s got his back turned to me.

At the sound of my footsteps, he spins around and aims the gun at me. My heart drops for a moment, but when he pulls the trigger nothing happens.

He didn’t reload it which is exactly what I was counting on.

I close the remaining distance between us and grab the barrel of the gun and push it up so it’s no longer pointing at me. I push against it with all my strength which makes Ghostface stumble back and into a shelf.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts when he manages to cock the gun again.

I grunt and shout, “Run!” right before he pulls the trigger. This time the gun fires, but Ghostface misses me because the barrel is still pointing at the ceiling.

Debris rains down on us as our struggle continues and because my hands are sweaty, my grip on the gun slips until I’m shoved backward.

“No!” Sam’s scream breaks my heart when Ghostface reloads the gun and points it at me, but just like the first time, nothing happens when he pulls the trigger.

It’s empty.

“Run, Sam!” I shout again, lunging at Ghostface before he can grab his knife. “Get out of here!”

“No!” she cries in protest and when I catch a glimpse of her to my left I’m surprised to see that Tara is actively holding her back and dragging her to the front door of the bodega. “Y/N! No!”

“Just go!” I try to focus all my attention on Ghostface, but Sam’s continued cries of protest make my heart hurt until Tara finally manages to get her outside.

I honestly don’t know how she did it because she’s like a foot shorter than Sam, but all that matters right now is that they’re both safe.

Ghostface and I stumbled through the store, hitting every shelf imaginable all while I’m trying to stop him from reaching for his knife.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss through gritted teeth when he slams my face against the cooler, making the already cracked glass break completely.

Something warm runs down my cheek, but I don’t have time to wipe it away because not a moment later I’m kneed in the stomach and I double over, coughing.

This Ghostface is nothing like Amber or Richie. Whoever’s under the mask knows what they’re doing and if it wasn’t for the nearing police sirens I know I’d be done for.

Ghostface shoves me once more for good measure, making me drop to my knees. Then he hurries out of the bodega, leaving me alone to cough and chuckle mirthlessly in disbelief.

Sam and Tara are okay. I’m okay.

I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me.

They’re both okay.

I rest my head back against the frame of the broken cooler door and catch my breath while watching the red and blue lights of the police cars dance on the ceiling.

I can hear some shouting, someone’s probably calling for me, but I’m too exhausted to respond, so I just close my eyes and wrap my arms around my aching stomach.

I stay like that for what feels like minutes but is probably just a few seconds in real life before feeling warm hands on my cheeks.

“Y/N, hey, open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me. Are you okay?” Sam’s shaky voice makes me open my eyes and when I see her kneeling in front of me, I smile weakly.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. Her eyes dart all over my face and she brushes her thumb just below the cut on my cheek. “Hey. . . I promise, I’m okay,” I say again when her chin starts quivering and in response she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug.

I return the embrace, although a little less energetic because my stomach still hurts and rub my hands up and down her back. I keep repeating that I’m okay until Tara comes into the store, followed by two police officer’s who take in the scene with wide eyes.

She drops down onto her knees as well as soon as she’s by my side and I’m quick to include her in the hug.

This is just the beginning, but we’re okay, and I will continue to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.

_______________________________________________

Good God, that was stressful, but we’re okay!

Hope you guys enjoyed this part. For some reason it was a bit of a struggle to write, but I did it and I can move on now.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Which op yan do you think would be the most annoying texter in a modern au?? I think sanji would drive me insane, I know he'd be texting nonstop. I also think buggy would ask his romantic interest if they'd still love him as a worm. Many times.

Sanji would be so excessive. You have to put your phone on do not disturb just to have a moment's peace. It literally never ends.

Sanji: Good morning, my love! It's another beautiful day of being able to call you mine 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

*pic attached*

Sanji: Here's the breakfast I'm making you! I'll bring it over as soon as it's done 😋😘

-

*sends a pic of any two things next to each other*

Sanji: This is literally us 🥺

-

Sanji: I just wanted to say again how much I love you💞❤️🩷💕💞💓🩷💕💞 (he says this even though he saw you in person three minutes ago and said the exact same thing then)

-

Sanji: Where did you go???? Are you mad at me??????? Have you been kidnapped?????????

Sanji: Oh wait never mind I see you now

Sanji: I'm calling your name why are you running the other way?

Buggy is someone who needs constant reassurance, and he uses having your phone number as a means to constantly get that from you. But like he's also very dramatic about it.

Buggy: do u hate me now? say it to my face at least

You: literally what are you talking about?

Buggy: I asked you a question and you ignored me!

You: I was gone for like 2 minutes????

Buggy: AND???? Why were you gone???

You: I was ordering some food for us but nvm I'm gonna go home and eat it all myself 😒

Buggy: ...

Buggy: I'm sorry please don't hate me for real now 🥺🥺🥺 I love you so much baby please don't leave me 😭😭😭

Zoro is on the opposite end of the spectrum because he doesn't text excessively, but you are lucky to get more than a one word response out of him. You could send him a several paragraph long text spilling your guts to him and all you'll get from him is a "k" or "alright" or "👍". If you send more than two texts in a row, he'll tell you to just call him if you're going to yap that much.

Luffy doesn't text, he sends voice memos. Not only does he send an absurd amount of them, but they're also all stupidly long because he gets distracted and rambles to his heart's content. What was supposed to be a simple voice memo asking if his jacket is at your place comes to you with a 31:46 time on it because he saw a cool looking beetle outside and just had to tell you about it in the memo. Half the time he forgets that he isn't actually on the phone with you and will ask a question several times before he remembers.

Doflamingo sends a lot of texts, but all of them are voice to text and are almost entirely unintelligible. The voice to text function wasn't designed to interpret his weird inflections and maniacal laughter. He also has a tendency to talk to other people in the middle of sending a text to you, so you have a whole ass random conversation smack in the middle of the text. He then has the audacity to have an attitude with you when you didn't catch the important thing he told you.

With Ace, you're going to feel like you're communicating via hieroglyphics because of how many of his messages to you are just memes/reaction images. He won't elaborate and lets you figure out what they mean. Did he just find that meme funny, or is there a hidden message in it? Who knows.

And then you have all of the old men (Sengoku, Garp, Whitebeard, etc) who can't text for shit and will send a series of unintelligible and confused texts before sending a very defeated "please call me"

[emsdevs]

a/n: @one-sweet-gubler requested something about comforting Justin after the playoff loss and let me just say this was healing to write. hope you like it! :)

Taking care of your boyfriend after a loss is never something you want to do, especially tonight, but that’s the reality of dating a professional athlete. No matter what outcome either of you desires, they can’t win every game. Of course, if you had it your way, the Chargers would win every time they stepped on the field, and your boyfriend, Justin, would never know sadness or stress. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works, so you’re patiently waiting at Justin’s place for him to see you after a crushing playoff loss. Everyone had high hopes for today’s game against the Texans, but it didn’t work out how everyone wanted. On top of the hard loss, you knew this meant the hate and lack of grace that had followed Justin in his career would only get worse, and you knew that Justin knew that as well.

When he finally got to his home in the middle of the night, you could see the loss already taking its toll. One of the defensive linemen had already texted you, warning you that Justin spent their time in the locker room and on the plane staring off into space.

“Hey, honey,” you started gently, standing up to make your way toward Justin.

He didn’t say anything at first, simply letting you wrap your arms around him, hoping it would lessen the pain. Soon though, that wasn’t enough, and just as he felt the tears welling in his eyes, he began to speak, “I let everyone down.”

You felt your heart break into a million pieces. “Hey, you didn’t let anyone down. That was supposed to be a team effort. You can’t go taking all the blame when there are 52 other guys out who are supposed to be helping.”

“Yeah, but the defense was creating opportunities. I’m the one who should be making the passes, gaining yards.”

“Baby, there’s also supposed to be guys catching those passes. Please, don’t blame yourself. There were so many things that impacted the game, hardly anyone was having a good game,” you hated seeing him so down, knowing he’d never let this go.

He refused to answer, just shrugging your words off. He did pull you in tighter though, and that’s when you knew he didn’t need your words. He just needed you.

“You showered at the facility?” you questioned. When he nodded, you stood, offering him your hands, “C’mon, J, let’s go lay down. It’s late.”

He followed, and since you both were dressed comfortably enough, you both laid down as soon as you made it to your bed. Justin, although he was a decent amount bigger than you, wasted no time in laying himself almost completely on top of you, his head on your chest. He grabbed your left hand, guiding it to his hair, before guiding your right hand to his back. You both lay there in silence, Justin letting the movement of your hands lull him to sleep, finally letting his stress and worries slip from his mind. Just when you thought he was finally asleep, you heard the softest “I love you” leave his lips, grateful you heard it at all. You returned the sentiment, kissing the top of his head before letting sleep take over you as well.

[samzzarella]

Closer 😩

~pairing: se-mi / player 380 x fem!reader

~ fluff, drunk se-mi, confessions

Se-mi still hadn’t called you back. You sighed, tucking your phone away. Unwilling to chase her, you hadn’t gone further than a missed call and a few texts. But you couldn’t get her out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about the things you’d overheard her saying to Min-su

°°••....••°°

The night before, you’d gone to hang out at Nam-gyu’s with a couple of friends. Se-mi had been acting weird for the past few days, distant. She hadn’t been spending any time with you, or looking you in the eye. She was your best friend, and you had hardly spoken to her properly in a week. You decided not to confront her and cause a scene in front of everyone, and instead did your best to distract yourself. You chatted with Thanos, because at the very least conversations with him were pretty entertaining. You drank and laughed, letting all thoughts of your best friend seep out of your mind.

But of course, it didn’t last long. You were helping Nam-gyu refill everyone’s drinks when he asked you, “Where did Se-mi go? Could you find her and ask her if she wants a refill? Yeah and that Min-su too”. You really didn’t want to, but if you refused, you knew he would start asking questions that you did not have the energy to answer.

You begrudgingly headed up the stairs to find them, eventually seeing them having a tense conversation in the darkened hallway. You could’nt hear the words she was saying, but it didn't seem like they were fighting. You stayed out of sight, creeping a bit closernto hear what they were saying, figuring that the conversation must be about you.

“I just, ugh I don't know what to do? I mean, she’s my best friend, you know, and these stupid feelings just make things too complicated. If she knew how I felt I’m sure she would hate me. She would never talk to me again. I can't risk that. You know I’m not a coward. Telling her… would just make things worse. But I just can’t bear to be around her knowing that she won’t ever feel the same. I mean, have you seen the way she looks at that co-worker friend of hers. That stupid guy, I just hate him”, she was speaking faster than you could keep up with. What was she talking about? She liked you? You could hardly believe it, someone like her having feelings for you and being so overwhelmed by those feelings that she hadn’t even realized yours. The only reason you had brought a friend from work for a gathering was to make her jealous, but it seemed to have worked too well. She thought you actually liked him?

You couldn’t keep listening to this. “Se-mi?”, you couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice. She spun around when she heard you, her expression painted with horror. “Did you hear all that?”, her jaw clenched, her piercing gaze shattering any will you had to confront her. In this situation, how were you supposed to tell her that you too had feelings for her? Before any words could come out of your mouth, Min-su interjected, “What’s up? Are the others calling us?” You sputtered out a yes, and Min-su hurriedly pulled Se-mi with him down the stairs, unwilling to be in the middle of whatever was brewing between you too. You stood there stunned for a few minutes before heading downstairs youself.

Se-mi was pulling on her jacket. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you guys later”, she didn’t meet your gaze as she slammed the door shut behind her. Ever clueless, Thanos asked you, “What happened?”

“Um, nothing. I dunno”. You were grateful that Min-su didn’t say anything either.

You couldn’t bear to be there a second longer and decided to just head home. When you reached your apartment, you immediately called Se-mi, but she hadn’t picked up. She’d even ignored your texts. There was nothing you could do but wait for her to reach out.

°°••....••°°

Your phone ringing shook you out of your thoughts. She finally called you back! And you could tell her everything and… nope it was just Thanos. Rolling your eyes, you picked up, your tone uninterested when you answered. But upon hearing the worry in his voice you were instantly on high alert. “Listen, you have to get here right now. I don’t know what you did to my girl Se-mi, but she’s turnt. I legit have never seen her like this”, he was, for some reason, almost rapping this information to you, and your brain was struggling to keep up with how fast he was talking. “What? Where are you?”, you questioned.

“Oh, we’re at my place”.

“Ok, I’ll be there in a bit”.

You were getting more worried every minute that passed by as you drove to Thanos’ apartment. Se-mi never got drunk. She didn’t like being vulnerable around others, in public. And especially not if it was with Thanos and Nam-gyu, because even though they were your close friends, you would definitely say they weren’t the most responsible guys. You pulled up to the building, nearly jumping out of your car.

°°••....••°°

She-mi rubbed her temples with a groan. It was such a stupid fucking idea to come here, knowing that the only advice Thanos would give in this situation was to get shit-faced. And of course, being a heartbroken idiot, she listened.

God, you’d overheard everything, all the feelings she had tried too hard to hide from you. In the end, all she could do was run away, and now your friendship was ruined.

The doorbell rang, practically drilling a hole in her head. Nam-gyu nibbled over to the door, pulling it open to reveal you standing there. “Se-mi, c’mon I’m taking you back home, you’re staying with me”. Even in her inebriated state, she knew there was no fighting it, and she wasn’t in any position to anyway. She obliged, letting you loop your arm around hers and pull her up. Saying a quick goodbye to the others, you led her to your car, setting her in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelts before she had a chance to fall over. As you drove home, you kept checking to make sure she was alright as she began to doze off.

°°••....••°°

You held Se-mi up as you entered your apartment. She was held so close to you that you could smell the alcohol, as well as her own scent lingering underneath. Setting her down on the sofa, you filled a glass of water, bringing it to her. “Finish all of it okay?”, your voice was gentle. She emptied the glass and set it down, turning to face you. She looked up at you with wide, vulnerable eyes, her expression making your insides melt.

“Why are you taking care of me?”.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You're my best fr- you're the most important person to me. Of course I'll take care of you”.

“Even after what you heard? Do I not… make you feel weird?”, she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. With a gentle hand on her chin, you pulled her gaze up to yours.

“I don’t feel weird because… I feel the same way Se-mi. I always have”. You didn’t even realize what was happening when, the next moment, her lips were on yours, soft and sweet. Instinctively, your hands reached up to grip her hair, hers cupping your jaw. Heat flared through your entire body as her tongue pushed into your mouth, the kisses becoming deep and hungry. You pulled away from her, both of you breathless.

Unable to read the expression on your face, she began to stutter out an apology. “I’m sorry… that was sudden and I didn't even ask or anyth-” “It’s okay Se-mi, I..uh…I wanted to kiss you too. But you’re drunk and I don't want to take advantage of you or something so…” “Hmm”, was all she replied, her eyelids dropping, and you could sense the exhaustion setting over her. You chuckled, “Let’s get you to bed alright?”. You helped her to your room, getting her settled with whatever she needed. As you were turning around, Se-mi grabbed onto your hand, grumbling sleepily, “Where are you going?”

“Oh I was gonna go sleep on the sofa…”

“Just c’mere”, she pulled you onto the bed. With a small laugh you settled in next to her, rubbing little circle on her arm. Wrapping her arms around you, snuggling her face into your hair. She let out a content smile, immediately falling asleep.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, calm and relaxed, and you couldn't believe she was here with you, bundled up in your arms. Slowly, you too followed into the realm of sleep, chest rising and falling along with hers.

p.s. pls send requests for other squid game characters (especially headcanons), or even for any of the other fandoms I write for. <3

pt. 2…smut…? ;)

[eri-pl]

Book of Lost Tales 5: more houses of the Valar!

Writing on my phone, so there might be hilarious autocorrect mistakes. Long post.

Oromë is often outside Valinor, more often than Ossë and as often as Yavanna. But he's got a lot of land full of forests and mountains and deer and bison (!) and all kinds of animals, which he doesn't hunt, because he only hunts outside of Aman. Also, there are no predators. I guess Manwë's eagles eat grass? Ok maybe there are predators, just not in those forests.

Oromë's house is wide and low, full of trophies and hunting weapons. I imagine a log cabin the size of a palce. In the middle of each room there's a living tree used as a column, which is really cool. The color scheme is, predictably, green and brown. I really need to find time for Minecraft again. Also, there's partying.

Vána spends most time in her gardens, fenced with huge whitethorns (hawthorns, but with a pretty name) and the center is full of roses and her favorite place. And in there is the cauldron of golden light and a fountain of it.

Birds sang there all the year with the full throat of spring, and flowers grew in a riot of blossom and of glorious life.

I love the prose. Also:

So fair were these abodes and so great the brilliance of the trees of Valinor that Vefántur and Fui his wife of tears might not endure to stay there long, but fared away far to the northward of those regions,

(those are Mandos and evil!Nienna in case you forgot)

So they begged(!) Aulë to carve then a house under the roots of cold northern mountains. So he did, with the help of their (we don't call them Maiar yet) who are called "shadowy folk" which doesn't sound like they're nice people. They dug vast caves that go even under the sea, and are gloomy and eerie, and this is the Halls of Mandos. But here the place is called after the Vala, not the other way around.

His main hall is black (of course Tolkien can't simply say "black", it's "sable" because this sounds more ominous, just like with Morgoth's shield). It is full of dark mist, illuminated with one small lamp with a few drops of the silver dew. The floor and columns are made of jet (mmm nice, I'll use blackstone probably when doing it in Minecraft). Do you think it's peak goth vibes? No. Just wait.

Anyway dead Elves land there, and btw they can die only by getting killed with weapons, or of grief. Hunger, cold etc aren't lethal to them? Probably? Anyway then Mandos judges them and they wait for an appointed time in dreams of memories (no mention of torture or general unpleasantness, it's just gloomy) and are reborn. In their descendants.

And now we get to Fui, and it's... A lot.

She's the wife of Mandos, her job is "the distilling of salt humors whereof are tears", and black, weblike(!) clouds of "despair and hopeless mourning (!!), sorrows and blind grief".

She's basically uNienna with a touch of Ungoliant... But that's not all.

Her hall is bigger and darker than her husband's, and lit with a single coal. The walls and pillars are basalt and the roof is made of bats' wings. This is peak goth interior design.

Oh, and she judges the Men after they die (!?!) and now it gets funny, because the part about Men leaving Arda went away for a holiday, and in this chapter they get a in-Arda afterlife, which is a mix of various mythologies.

Some stay in Mandos, which is the most normal thing.

some she drives forth beyond the hills and Melko sizes then and bears then to Angamandi, or the Hells of Iron, where they have evil days.

Ok. So.

The Valar actually, officially send some spirits of Men to Melko, because, idk, justice? I wonder if he ever thanks Fui for that.

Generally, in BoLT Melko seems much more... Accepted? Fitting into the world? I'm not sure how to call it. More in place there.

Fui is scary and I hate her. Well ok, I don't hate her more than Melko... No, wait. I do. Sorry. Characters whose evil is not acknowledged by the narrative get a different treatment. 😠

I love the phrase "they have evil days"

So, back to the afterlife mess for Men. Some are send in a black ship with black sable sails to plains from which a little bit of Taniquetil is visible, and I think this is meant to be the winning option???!?!? They camp there and sung a little bit and wait for the end of the world.

Ok, there's another, better option: some lucky few are brought by proto-Eonwë to Valmar and party with the Valar. And wait for the end of the world.

As I said, this thing is a mess.

Makar and Meásse build their own house without Aulë (why? It's not said why. I guess they didn't like him), sided only by their we-don't-call-them-Maiar-yet.

It's grim, and made of iron and full of noise and fighting and booze. No Valar visit then except Tulkas, who doesn't like them (or them him), but he needs to keep fit.

Their house is full of weapons and shields, and lit with torches, and we get a mention of red torchlight reflected in naked swords, which I suppose Tolkien liked, because we'll get one in the film too, at the oath of Feanor.

And that's it, now for the chapter notes.

So, Christopher Tolkien days that Elves dying only from wounds or grief is canon even in the Silm. (This would explain why Maglor throwing himself into the sea did not work, also makes him look somewhat stupid 😁 but it's rather have Maglor stupid and alive than dead.)

[amb3r-saurus]

DO YOU GET DEJA VU?

PAIRING: Rafe Cameron x Established Actress!Reader. Rafe Cameron x Up-and-Coming Actress!Sofia

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 : first fic that I’m posting, hope ya’ll like it! 🥹

Car rides to Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two

And trading jackets

Laughing ‘bout how small it looks on you

The Wreck. A place that used to be full of laughter and love. Reminiscing again. Ugh, I hate this. Rafe broke up with me three months ago. Wondering why? I don’t know jack shit either. All I remember is him calling me up to Tannyhill and me leaving in shambles. It still isn’t clear to me what the real reason was. Sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering if I could have defended my side before he went all ape shit and did what he did. Would it still be me instead of her?

Her—Sofia Paloma. One of the bartenders at the Yacht Club. The new girl he’s been seen always hanging around with. Wait. Hold on. Is that Rafe? And—no. No, no, no, it can’t be. I feel like my chest just caved in. Right there, at the booth where Rafe and I always used to sit, he’s laughing. Not just laughing—laughing with her. Sofia. Laughing like nothing else in the world mattered. Like we had never even happened. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach, and I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to scream. For a second, I tell myself it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but then he reaches out and takes her hand across the table. That’s when it hits me. Hard. They’re not just hanging out. She’s the reason. She’s his new girlfriend. She’s even wearing his jacket. The very same jacket that he would give to me whenever we went out in the middle of the night to just drive around. He would even say that he wouldn’t want his best girl to get cold. My heart sinks so fast it makes me dizzy. It’s as if the universe is rubbing salt in the wound, reminding me of everything we had. And now, she’s sitting in my place. It used to feel like it was just ours, like no one else could touch it. But now, it’s just background noise to the scene before me.

I try to breathe, but the air is too thick. My mouth is dry, my legs weak. I feel like I’m being crushed under the weight of all of it. Their laughter—his laughter—used to be mine. Now it’s hers. Everything we had is a ghost. She is the new one in the picture. The new muse.

I can’t stop the flood of memories that rush in.

Watching reruns of Glee

Being annoying

Singing in harmony

I bet she's bragging

To all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm

Rafe had looked at me that night with that mischievous grin of his. “I’ve heard about this karaoke bar that just opened. It's called The Melody Box. It’s small, but I think you’d like it. Wanna go with me?” I look up from my phone, surprised. This is… unexpected. He never struck me as the karaoke type. Half-smiling “Karaoke? You? Seriously?" He grins back at me, leaning over the table like he's got a secret he’s dying to tell. “It’s not just karaoke. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

I hesitate. I hate karaoke. I really do. The noise, the awkwardness—it’s not my scene. But I look at his face, at the eager spark in his eyes, and I can’t help but cave. “I’ll go, but only if we can watch the entire Brooklyn 99 series after. I’m talking the whole thing, Rafe. All of it.” I teased, only half joking. He laughs, a deep, easy sound, like he’s already got it figured out. “Deal.”

That night, we ended up on his couch, empty pizza boxes scattered around us, glasses of wine in hand. It was late, past midnight, and we were still glued to the screen. I could feel myself getting lost in the show, and by the time we hit season five, I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks. Rafe was never one for getting too cozy, but tonight, it felt different. We shared jokes, quoted lines, and laughed at the same parts of the show like it was our own private comedy club.

I remember thinking, at that moment, that we’d done this before. But now, it’s like everything we shared has become a faded memory. Now, he's sitting with Sofia, laughing like this never happened.

So when you gonna tell her

That we did that, too?

She thinks it's special

But it's all reused

That was our place, I found it first

I see it in my mind first, before I even know where I am. The stretch of sand, golden and warm, rolling waves crashing softly in the background. The scent of salt in the air, the kind that clings to your skin and makes you feel like you belong here—with him.

But now, as I watch from a distance, it’s Rafe and Sofia walking side by side, their footprints marking the wet sand in a new, unfamiliar pattern. My stomach churns as I see them, the way she laughs at something he says, the way he smiles down at her like he once smiled at me. They’re standing exactly where we used to stand.

This was our spot. The place we came to when the world felt too loud, too busy. The place where we’d sit on the hood of his car and watch the stars, eating whatever snacks we brought, talking about everything and nothing.

I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you?

Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm

I watch as Rafe tells a joke to Sofia. It's the same joke I told him the first night we met at The Wreck. The same joke he laughed at—one that made me feel special, like we had something no one else could understand. I want to shout, I was the one who showed you this place. I was the one who made you laugh with that joke first.

But instead, I stay silent. I watch Sofia laugh and lean into him, her hand brushing against his arm like they’ve been doing this forever. But they haven’t. I have.

Do you get déjà vu, huh?

Do you call her

Almost say my name?

'Cause let's be honest

We kinda do sound the same

Rafe’s sitting at the bar when the door to the Club swings open. I see her. Sofia. I watch him from across the room, trying not to stare. He doesn’t see me yet, but I know he’s aware of everything around him—always has been. He’s talking to one of the bartenders, laughing about something. I don’t even have to look at Rafe to know his attention shifts the second she walks in. She’s radiant, as usual—effortless, like she belongs here just as much as anyone else. She spots him right away and walks toward him with that easy confidence I remember him admiring. As she approaches, I see the faintest flicker in Rafe’s expression—surprise, maybe? Something in his face falters just for a second, like he wasn’t expecting her to show up yet.

He turns toward her, but in that split second, I swear I see it. I see his lips part, like he’s about to call her by the wrong name. For just a heartbeat, I can almost hear it—my name—ready to spill out. But then, as if he catches himself mid-breath, he corrects it. His eyes widen just slightly, and he gives a quick, nervous laugh. “Sofia! You’re here,” he says, his voice a little too light, almost like he’s trying to play it cool. Sofia laughs, unfazed. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it.”

I stand back, trying to be invisible, but I feel that sting again—the one that’s always there now, lurking in the background.

She sits down beside him, oblivious, and they continue their conversation, but I can’t shake the feeling that I just saw a part of him that still hasn’t let go.

Another actress

I hate to think that I was just your type

The buzz around Sofia has grown. It’s almost impossible to ignore now. Everywhere I turn, there’s someone talking about her—whether it’s on Instagram, Twitter, or one of those gossipy tabloid sites. The latest buzz pops up on my phone screen.

“Is Sofia the New Y/N? Fans Can’t Get Over the Resemblance!”

The headline is bold, unmistakable. I don’t even have to click the link to know what it’s about. It’s one of those articles that compares her to me—like they’ve somehow decided that we’re interchangeable. Scrolling down the page, I see side-by-side photos. Me, in a dress from one of my red carpet appearances, and Sofia, looking stunning in a similar outfit at some premiere. The caption reads: "Fans can’t stop comparing the two actresses, both equally stunning, with eerily similar features."

I try to ignore it, but the more I scroll, the worse it gets. There’s a section that talks about the type of roles we’ve both been cast in, how we’ve both dated high-profile figures, how we share a certain vibe, the same public persona. There’s a pang in my chest. It’s like being erased, like I was just a stepping stone in some story that’s moving on without me. They don’t even need me anymore. They’ve found someone else who fits the mold. Another actress. Just like me.

I close the app, but the words stay with me. And the thing that stings the most isn’t that they’re comparing us, it’s the realization that I was his type too.

I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel

'Cause you played her "Uptown Girl"

You're singing it together

Now I bet you even tell her

How you love her

In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you)

It was a night much like any other. We were lying on the couch, the sound of Uptown Girl filling the room. I remember him glancing at me, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know the words better than I do,” he teased, pulling me in for a duet. And I sang with him, even though I wasn’t a big fan of the song. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way his smile lit up the room, how we shared something silly and perfect together. We were in our own world.

Now, it’s her. And I wonder if he sings it to her the same way.

So when you gonna tell her

That we did that, too?

She thinks it's special

But it's all reused

That was the show we talked about

Played you the song she's singing now when she's with you

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you?

I open Instagram, aimlessly scrolling. And then it hits me. There’s a video posted by Sofia. Rafe, standing in a dimly lit room, belting out the words to Uptown Girl. He’s singing it to her.

My heart stops for a second, the world blurring around me. I can’t even breathe. I watch them sing together, her voice joining his. They’re laughing, too, the same way we used to laugh.

I thought that song was ours. I thought that moment was ours. But now it’s hers. And I feel sick.

Do you get déjà vu? Oh

Do you get déjà vu?

Strawberry ice cream in Malibu

Don't act like we didn't do that shit, too

You're trading jackets like we used to do

(Yeah, everything is all reused)

Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh)

That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh)

A different girl now, but there's nothing new

(I know you get déjà vu)

I walk away from the booth, the hurt too much to bear. I watch Rafe glance in my direction as I turn to leave. He doesn’t even hesitate. He stands up, excuses himself from her, and follows me. As I make my way toward the door, I hear Rafe’s voice behind me. He’s standing, a moment of hesitation flickering across his face. I don’t look back. I don’t want to, but I can feel him there, trailing behind me like a shadow. But a part of me still wonder if he ever really moved on. Sofia sits at the table, still absorbed in her phone, completely unaware. I’m sure she has no idea who I am nor does she even care, but Rafe knows. He knows everything we had.

And as he catches up to me, I want to believe he hasn’t moved on, no matter how much he insists. He still hasn’t let go of me—of what we were. And maybe, just maybe, neither have I.

[k1llmehealme]

Here's another one for those who take pleasure in my misery and degradation.

There was this cute guy I've met, he was fun to talk to. He invited me to his place to smoke. His housemates (2 dudes) were there too and 4 of us had fun smoking, talking.

One of the housemates was super hot and reserved. I immediately noticed how dark, mysterious, s€xy he was. He didn't seem interested in me, as he barely paid attention to me, only talking to his friends.

Other one was more talkative, cute, and warm. He kept cracking jokes that made me laugh hard.

After a while we were out of drinks and the boy I came with, and his talkative housemate went to get drinks.

There were a few moments of silence between me and the reserved guy. But he was looking at me with a weird smile. I had to ask what happened. He got up and told me "Come with me for a second."

I followed him to his room. He closed the door, grabbed me and lift me. I was caught off guard. He was at least 6'3. I felt so little in his arms. Couldn't help but feeling worried because I was here literally for his friend, not him.

I told him so, and instead of saying something or letting me down, he laid me on his bed and laid down next to me. I tried to get up but he pushed me back down.

His hands were quick and strong. His fingers reached under my skirt, moved my underwear to the side and found my pussy. I grabbed his arm..it was strong and muscular.

I said "you have to stop.. they'll be back."

He asked if I want him to stop. I said yes. He pushed his finger inside me. "But I don't want to."

I was on my back, he was next to me on his side. One hand grabbing one of my arms, holding it back. Other hand fingering me, even though i was trying to push it back with my free hand.

I didn't know how to feel. I wanted to get up and leave his room. But I couldn't move. I wouldn't be able to move even if he weren't pinning me down. I just felt numb. All there was his breathing, the sounds of my wet pussy, and me whispering please.

Finally he removed his finger and let me get up. I ran out of his room. It was just in time because right when I managed to control my breathing and fixed my clothing, door opened.

We hang out some more like nothing happened. At the end of the night, the boy i came with took me to his room. He played some music and cuddled me, said nice things. It honestly felt really good... After a while we fell asleep.

I woke up middle of the night. Checked my phone, 4 am. Got up from the bed and went to bathroom to pee. On my way back I heard him. His roommate. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to his room.

"What if someone wakes up?" I asked as he was placing me on his bed. "No, wait, I really don't want this."

He was just silent, forcefully removing my skirt and underwear. He made me lay down on my stomach, letting my legs hang down at the edge of the bed, separated them and started to remove his pants.

As I heard him unbuckling his belt, I felt like crying. The boy who cuddled me, stroked my hair, gave me sweet kisses was sleeping next door. When I felt his d1ck rubbing against me, I couldn't hold my tears back. I grabbed the sheets, clutched my hands trying not to make any sound. As he entered me, I started to sob.

Fear, sadness, shame, numbness prevented me to get wet. I was dry, and his d1ck was tearing through its way. It was painful. But all that seemed to be making him even h0rnier. He moaned in pleasure to my sobbing.

"You need to be fucked, and that's what I'm doing. Keep crying now... cry for me."

Each thrust made me hate myself more. Maybe he was right.. Not every girl finds herself bent over for the friend of the boy she went on a date. If it's happening to me, there must be a reason for it. I knew I didn't deserved his sweet treatment.

He grabbed my hair and pulled it back, put his fingers in my mouth. His d1ck was sliding all the way in since I was wet now. But I was just whimpering.

He push my face to bed and came in deep inside me. His grip on my hair and arms loosened as his d1ck slowly slipped out of me. I felt hot cum running down on my legs.

"Bitch" he said. "Fucking bitch."

I wiped myself and put on my clothes. I was about to leave the room but he blocked my way. He smelled my hair...my neck...his lips brushed my ear... "It felt so good to own you. Now go back to sleep."

[albondiguilla007]

Bottom Tom Riddle

✨ Tom Riddle and the Quest for Vulnerability / 15k /

They found him in an old house, under the stairs. His face was pale and instantly recognisable.

aka

Auror Harry Potter has eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle bent over the table barely a day after he becomes his ward.

✨ In Your Soul is Sealed a Pleasure / 22k / “So confident,” Voldemort murmured, “to be waiting here alone, this late at night.” He let a little menace seep into his tone.

The man merely smiled in return, cocky. “Oh, is this a bad area?” he said. “I hadn’t realised, what with the lack of streetlights and the not-so-distant screams. Silly me.”

***

Harry’s been sent back in time, but he’s still not worked out what it is about this specific moment that gives him the best chance to change things for the better. All he’s managed to do so far is talk to an oddly intense man in an alley and try not to get mugged.

✨A moment of your time / 10k / “I think... it’s best if you go home,” Minister Potter says softly. Tom hears the threat underneath, gentled by the man’s compassion and empathy. Go home, it says. Leave this be.

Tom feels sixteen again, discontent and disregarded. He hates it. He won’t stand for it. “And if I refuse to?” Refuses this refusal of his person. This denial of what lies between them, the mystery of those unreadable eyes, the hum of danger that dances over Tom’s skin like pinpricks of static. He has waited too long for this opportunity to slip away from him.

✨ A matter of Perspective / 6k / Potter shakes his head before Tom is even done talking. “I... Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this. I can’t have sex with you. It’s... physically impossible.”

Tom frowns. “Physically impossible? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said. I can’t have sex with you. Or anyone, really. It just doesn’t work. Don’t look at me like that, it’s the truth!”

Tom curls his lips. “Fine, if you don’t want to help me through my heat, then I suppose I’ll be gone for a while. We’ll just have to hope that the ministry won’t fall apart in the meantime.”

✨ Prizefighter / 11k / Dolohov can predict his tastes now.

Marvolo eyes up the caged, muzzled street-mongrel in his basement. Dolohov's men have done a number on him, sure, and he looks battered. But Marvolo can spot a fighter when he sees one.

And those green eyes.

"Twelve Galleons." He makes his bid. "Put him in the rings."

✨ as long as you come home to me / 5k /

What Tom Riddle and Harry Potter have is not a relationship. It is an arrangement, one where Tom comes and goes as he pleases and takes whatever he wants. Harry seems to understand without being told what to do. He sends expensive gifts to Tom’s flat: endless sweets, luxurious clothes, and rare magical baubles.

Tom provides in return. He provides a shoulder to cry on and a hole to fuck.

✨ Karma’s a bitch / 4k / Tom betrays Harry. Harry’s not happy about it.

✨ Cane Sugar / 14k

Euphoria, invincibility, power — there’s nothing quite like the rush Tom gets when he’s high on cocaine. Nothing, perhaps, except for being with Harry, who also happens to be his dealer.

“Have you ever had one of your clients suck you off, Harry?”

Breath came in shallow bursts as Tom pulled Harry's pants down to mid-thigh. Harry shook his head, his cock springing free just as Tom ran his fingers down the length. When he opened his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling. “No one’s had the nerve to offer.”

“They mustn’t have wanted it enough.” Tom’s hand was wrapped around his cock, and Harry could feel his breath against the tip, fanning over in soft, quick huffs. Harry’s hand tightened in his hair.

✨ Hit ‘N Run / 17k / His eyes skated over the crisp lines of the stranger's bespoke robes- decidedly fancy evening wear to be clubbing in- and the large black stone set into an ugly gold ring on his middle finger. No other bands- perhaps he was unmarried, or looking to hide it.

Completely sugar-daddy material. Rich, hot and interested.

Harry threw back his drink and leaned towards the other man.

Seventeen was a ripe age for mistakes.

✨ Quid Pro Quo / 3k / Tom is a billionaire financier and buys an entire football club for the sole purpose of signing Harry Potter—the best up-and-coming striker in the British Premier League—to his team. After all, Harry has been the singular focus of Tom’s obsession for the past 20 years.

[wrenaspun]

capri prompt : might be a bit angsty but laurent timetraveling in the past because of magic or something and when he gets to his old self in arles he is whipping damen and damen hates him 🫣

“A gold coin says he lives. If you want to win it from me, you’ll have to exert yourself.”

Laurent had not said the words, but he was aware of having said them; he knew, somehow, that it had been the most recent thing out of his mouth. The statement hung suspended in the air, saturating the wide room. Laurent, now, stood very still and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

It was a courtyard he knew all too well. The sawdust, the sweeping roof, the crumbling wall which had been — or would be? — repaired. The cross in the middle of the space, to which Damen was strapped. He was insensate with pain, which was a far worse sight than if he had been glaring violently at Laurent. The whipping had reduced his awareness of the world around him to a purely physical experience. Behind him, a servant drew back his arm.

“Enough.” Laurent was barely aware of having spoken. He had returned to this place before, in dreams; but the dreams had never been this vivid, and he had never been able to act, only to watch.

The realisation was a cold horror. He was here, repeating the worst of what had been done to his husband, but too late to stop it. He was standing with a view to Damen’s face. He knew that if he walked around the post to look, Damen’s back would be raw. Even now, he could see the thin trails of blood which were trickling down his side, bright red against the brown skin.

The servant lowered his arm slowly, frowning. “Your Highness, you said —”

“I know what I said.” Laurent didn’t know how he was talking. His voice was frozen. “Consider your coin earned. Fetch the physician. Be quick about it.”

He was peripherally aware of the man backing away one step, then turning to leave the courtyard. All of his focus was on Damen. He wanted to be thinking about next steps, about what he would make of this second chance, but his mind was wholly blank. Damen’s head rolled sideways so their eyes met, and Laurent realised he had been wrong. Damen was not totally lost, yet, to pain. That had come with the second round of lashing. This was still the Damen who had called Laurent — it took a moment to remember the insult of years past; that was how thoroughly they had forgiven each other — cold-blooded and honourless. His brown eyes were flinty with dislike. Laurent felt the sharp streak of pain in his chest and curled himself around it, almost welcoming it. Damen, he wanted to say. At a time like this, he wanted to throw himself into Damen’s arms. He had no idea how to speak.

Damen’s eyes unfocused briefly, then redoubled their open scrutiny of Laurent. He was still in a great deal of pain. This was the episode which had turned his distaste into iron dislike. And Laurent had been too late to stop it. The thought came with another lance of pain. What might they have done together, if he had just come back a few days before this — even a few hours or minutes before this?

Damen said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Laurent blinked. His face had been — he didn’t know what his face had been doing. Damen seemed more unnerved now, looking at Laurent, than he had when he was on the post being whipped. His wrist moved, as though he had forgotten that it was bound in place.

Laurent forced down everything he was feeling and sealed it away. He told Damen, “You’re seeing things. Be quiet and wait for Paschal to get here.” His stomach hurt. Damen didn’t seem fooled; he had always been able to see through Laurent in the most inconvenient ways. His eyes were still narrow with suspicion. He was holding grimly onto consciousness, and this was his tether.

“Don’t tell me you’ve a weak stomach, too.”

Laurent didn’t laugh. Right now he felt weak all over.

[4lexnilsen]

“oh?   since when is having no middle name a crime,  hm?”   he inquires with a huff,  but there’s playfulness in his voice,  a hint of amusement still gleaming in his eyes.   “what’s your middle name,  anyway?   see how important middle names are?   no one asks about them in a regular conversation.   no one cares.”   unless it’s one of those pretentious hyphenated ones,  like mary-kate or lee-anne or something.   he’d never do this to his child.   “and why should i be ashamed of having a diary?   are men not allowed to have feelings and write about them?   are you a fan of toxic masculinity and the whole boys don’t cry thing?”   he teases,  twisting her words around and appearing unbothered by her threats.   he doesn’t have a diary,  and even if he did,  he still wouldn’t care what harry, who has the emotional intelligence of a potato,  or colby or any of the rich jocks think of it.

“yeah,  i hear you.”   and her don’t know what to say bullshit.   “i’m sorry about putting words in your mouth,  but since you won’t elaborate and there’s this strange look on your face,  let me just assume what’s going through your head right now?   feel free to correct me,  though.   so…   you probably think that it’s weird and wrong and that maybe i’m cheating on sarah with poppy.   believe me,  i’ve heard it all before so you don’t have to hold back.   if poppy was a man,  would it still be strange to carry on this tradition of going on the summer trip every year even now that i’m in a relationship?   it wouldn’t.   no one would bat an eye.   oh,  alex is spending the weekend with his guy friend.   everyone would just brush it off and be okay with it.   but there’s nothing romantic going on between poppy and i,  nothing romantic happens on these trips,  so why the double standards?   i’ll be crude,  but it’s not like i need to go out of state to sleep around.   if i was the kind of man who cheats on his girlfriend,  i’d do it right here in chicago,”   he rambles on,  mildly annoyed by the unspoken accusations,  feeling attacked by the one person who should always be on his side.   wrecking things on purpose.   he just rolls his eyes and ignores the comment altogether,  deciding he’s said enough.

“no,  don’t shut me out now or try to play with my feelings.   you can’t in the same breath judge me for going on vacation with a friend,  try to make me feel guilty for leaving my girlfriend behind,  and then suggest we do the same thing.   i’d love to go on a trip with you,  helena.   but i feel like you’re not being serious about it,  like you’re just making fun of it or trying to test me or something?”   if he wasn’t so annoyed,  it would surely amuse him how suddenly he’s the one doing all the talking and she’s giving him the most laconic responses.   no,  yes,  no,  yes…   just lovely.   “if you’re being serious about this,  i have the next weekend off,  we can go on a trip of our own.   and we can totally plan something bigger for the summer,  too.   or the spring break.   i’m more than okay with this.   i’d love to spend more time with you,  doing something fun.   but how can you judge me for spending time with poppy,  away from sarah,  and then ask me to do the same with you?   so,  it’s okay if i go with you,  but not okay when i go with poppy?”   he wonders out loud,  pausing his rambling only because it’s their turn to place an order.   he asks for ten churros and three dipping sauces —   dulce de leche,  classic chocolate and raspberry.   using his phone to pay for the order,  he involuntarily glances at the screen and finds a message from poppy,  asking him whether he’s free next weekend.   her brother’s birthday.   he puts his phone back into the pocket of his puffer jacket and,  as they wait for their order to be prepared,  glances down at helena with a frown.   “i really hate fighting with you,  you know that?”

“shut up. before i turn it on you and claim alexander no middle name nilsen came up with it.” the raven haired girl grumbles, hitting him once more with her heart shaped purse. not very heartfelt of her... but he DESERVED it. “and you just made it even easier, i'll expose how you have a diary too.” boys like colby would certainly eat that up, even if she would've admired it, if he actually has a journal – if he wasn't being mean to her. “nothing?” helena responds a little defensively, hating she put herself right on the spot.

"i just don't know what to say." at least that was the truth. who would? him and sarah might not be in a happy relationship clearly, but they are STILL in an active relationship so it obviously counts. hm. interesting... clearly she's struck a nerve, which would be satisfying if she wasn't getting irritated he's targeting harry when he should be calling out poppy, too. "like poppy? in her adorable way of not being nice to people who are nice to her? her adorable away of wrecking things on purpose? being a...." helena snaps back, biting her tongue, keeping herself from continuing all the things she'd love to unleash she's been holding back but won't because she’s sure he’ll go right to that snob’s defense.

“that’s not… that’s not even close.” brows crease, shaking her head, she doesn’t even do things like that with harry let alone a friend. “but okay, alex. i get it. i take it as a no. that’s all you have to say.” patting his arm to let him know he can say no to her, even though she’s doing it in a passive way because it’s odd… he’ll go places with the other friend, but won’t go with her? he’ll tell sarah he’s going to places with his other friend, but won’t tell sarah he’s going places with her? it’s suddenly a problem? that certainly agitates her and once again, feels like she’s hanging out with someone who is in a clique and she’s never allowed to be apart of it. like she’s in primary school again, getting shut out of other people’s secret clubs— it often feels like that with him. forget she asked and felt a spark of excitement of enjoying one of her favorite summer places to go with someone she actually wanted to be there with. so stupid of her not working better at being closed off.

“i’ll go by myself this summer, that’s no issue. being an only child builds you for situations like this.” smiling like it doesn’t bother her with a shrug of her shoulder with only child jokes from earlier, probably will be the best option anyway. men just ruin everything, it seems. “no.” to telling him what it means. “definitely.” definitely NOT sweethearts. but— she feels alone and embarrassed. so using harry to pretend she has someone who makes her feel involved, despite him not being here right now, is the only way she knows how to make herself feel better. living in an illusion, a fantasy, makes the void feel a tad better than admitting she doesn’t actually have a sarah or a poppy in her life. “dulce de leche.” hand lazily points to it, before dropping.

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[iftitah]

everyone prioritizes their family and that means even extended chacha ke chacha fufa ke tau etc and i can't even prioritize my sagi one i hate myself

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

man i gotta go out in the dark and pick up my pizza so i don't starve..... somebody remind me to talk abt solaris. when i get back from picking up my pizza